Lilith

by

D.L. Witherspoon

God may still be in His Heaven, but there is more than sufficient evidence that all is not right with the world.

Irwin Edman, Adam, the Baby, and the Man from Mars, 1929

Chapter One

The girl shivers as the black satin robe settles against her bare flesh. The material is cold but soon warms to her skin and a moment later she shivers again, the reaction more sensuous than anything else. She sways to the throbbing music that pulsates through the darkened room, allowing the smooth fabric to caress her like a familiar lover. She twirls and loses herself in sensation.

Only when she feels the tingle throughout her whole body does she dance into a circle of black candles, mimicking the movements of the flames as she breezes past them, urged on by the undulating shadows on the walls. She crooks her finger and is joined by another dancer, this one obviously male as his sleek lines and angles are revealed by his clinging robe. The fabric swishes over them, between them, and the gentle rasp heightens the erotic power that exists in the incense-filled room.

Others now join them. One brings a silver chalice overflowing with red wine. Another offers an intricately etched dagger, its blade finely honed to perfection. The dagger is passed among the dancers, each piercing a finger and painting an inverted cross upon his or her forehead before squeezing one precious drop into the chalice. When all have made their sacrifices, the cup is offered to she-who-will-lead, and they draw back. In the center of the circle she stands, facing a full-length mirror.

"It is our Will to invoke the goddess Lilith, so that by her spirit we will be empowered with all that praises the body." She pauses and admires the reflection, her hands stroking the lithe frame, pressing the satin flat against her curves.

"I am the Daughter of Fortitude and Understanding. I am shadowed with the Circle of Stars and covered with Morning Clouds. The Lion cannot follow my steps nor the eagle my flight. Happy is he that embraces me, for in the night season I am sweet, and in the day, full of pleasure."

"Flesh she will eat, blood she will drink," the others recite.

One steps forward and kneels at her feet. "Dark is she, but as bright as the sun at midday. Black are her wings; red as roses are her lips which kiss the Universe. She is Lilith, who leads the hordes of the Abyss and fulfills their desires. A virgin to the virgins; a wanton to those who drink freely of lust. Come to us, Queen of the Magic Circle. Come and quench our fires!"

"Lilith! Lilith! Lilith!" they all shout as the one in the center lifts the chalice and drinks.

The mirror shatters.

*****

"No!"

The cry reverberated through the loft and Blair Sandburg, coming instantly awake, felt the hair on his body stand on end. Even before he was aware of his actions, he was scrambling out of his bed and running toward the stairs which led to his partner's room. The shout was familiar; the panic beneath it was not.

At the top of the stairs, he found Jim Ellison sitting up in bed, carved in stone for all the movement he exhibited. Zoned, Blair realized as he approached his best friend who faintly glowed in the weak light reflected from the lamp below, a lamp Blair had clicked on in order not to kill himself as he raced up the steps to the loft. He shivered as he stared at the figure and the hairs which had settled, once again were at full alert. It wasn't fear prompting the response this time, but awe. The man before him was mortal, maybe too much so at times, but he was not like other men. He had not been born the same and as he journeyed along his life, he was becoming even less like the people around him.

Jim Ellison had been born a Sentinel, a person with all five senses enhanced. The young Jim did not realize he was different but as he grew older, his father noticed and urged the child to repress his talents. Anger drove an older Jim into the Army and the Army lost him in a jungle in Peru. There the senses emerged to help him survive, yet once he was found, he pushed them away again. But now that his adult mind knew of them, they could not be held back. Lacking the ability to control the barrage of sensory input, insanity knocked long and hard at the edge of Jim's mind, beckoning seductively to him.

Fate had stepped in then, in the form of Blair Sandburg, anthropology grad student. He had become fascinated with the idea that ancient tribes had bred extraordinary watchmen to guard their territory-- men and women who could see, hear, taste, touch, and smell better than anyone else. The fascination had turned into an obsession and the obsession had led to the discovery of one such person, a detective on the brink of madness as his powerful senses ran rampant.

What started as one man in search of control and another in search of a dissertation became something far more gratifying. Blair became Jim's Guide-- his teacher in the ways of the Sentinel, and it quickly became evident that this was more than just a student/teacher relationship. In each other, the men found the missing parts which had prevented them from being whole; pieces which had been actively searched for, and chunks that filled holes which neither had known existed. They became partners, friends, brothers, soulmates.

A bond formed between them, a mental link they called the Sentinel/Guide connection. It gave Jim the ability to know when Blair was in trouble and Blair the ability to reach Jim when his senses carried him away. Which was the problem now. Sometimes when Jim reached out too far with one of his senses, he would become overwhelmed and lose contact with the actual world around him as he sank deeper and deeper into a particular smell, sight, sound....

Blair made his way to the bed and placed his hands on Jim's shoulders. "Jim! It's Blair, man. Time to come back. Follow my voice, Jim. It's time to come home." The shoulders beneath his palms shuddered and Jim drew a ragged breath. Blue eyes focused on their darker counterparts, recognition evident. "That's the way, Jim." The smile which had crept to Blair's face when his partner recognized him faded as the eyes glittered with unshed tears. "What is it, man? Are you in pain?"

"She's free, Chief. What have they done? Do they not realize the chaos which will follow?" Jim asked bewilderedly.

Blair reached out to cup his partner's chin in his hands. "Who's free?" he inquired softly, understanding that it was his duty to unscramble what Jim had told him.

"Lilith."

Blair stared at him, his Jewish heritage coming in handy. "Lilith, as in Adam's first wife?" Who was reportedly a demon. Shit. It was starting to make sense now. Reason No. Two why Jim Ellison was not an ordinary man: recently he had been chosen by the Archangel Michael to fight in the war between good and evil. Sure, everyone had to fight an occasional bout or two with his conscience, but Jim was part of the front line. Forget mental demons; he took on the actual embodiments of evil.

"The harlot that devours men's souls," Jim continued tonelessly. "Created as human, but not suffering death as Adam and his children because she had been cast out of Eden long before that curse. A seductive demon who attacks our baser desires. Men who sleep alone, sleep forever in her wake. She walks among us, Chief. There will be death."

"How do you know this, Jim?"

"Turn on the light." Jim raised his arms and Blair sat back as he gazed upon the brands on the powerful forearms held out for his inspection. They were the marks of Michael-- a sword to designate his status as a warrior and a balance to weigh the evil souls he fought. At the tip of the sword and in the lefthand pan of the scale were single drops of blood.

"You're hurt," Blair said quickly.

"I bleed for those souls she devours."

Blair shook his head. This was all too much for-- he glance at the clock-- 2:30 in the morning. And Jim was not sounding like Jim at all. Yet, when he looked into the eyes, he knew it was Jim, and not some spirit he was channeling. Uh, that was something else Jim Ellison could do. A more complicated man had yet to be found, but Blair knew he would stand by his side no matter what. "Let's get those cleaned up, okay? Then we'll take care of Lilith."

Jim slid to the edge of the bed. "May as well shower and get dressed before we bandage them."

"It's 2:30, Jim. Why get dressed?"

"Because Simon will be calling soon." Simon was Captain Simon Banks, head of the Major Crimes unit of Cascade, Washington's Police Department, good friend to both men, and Watcher to the Sentinel and Guide. He not only knew all of Jim's secrets, but he actively supported him in his duties as protector of the tribe and warrior against the dark forces. "Lilith has already begun her reign of destruction. The department will call him because Lilith does not murder 'prettily', and he will call us--"

"Because we handle all the 'unpretty' murders," Blair completed tiredly.

A hand fell on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, Chief."

Surprisingly, he found a smile. "It's okay, big guy. This is not your fault. But it is someone's, isn't it? You asked why 'they' did it. Who, Jim? Who did what?"

"Lilith was bound. Someone called her forth. I do not know who."

"Do you know how to chain her again?"

"No," he replied despondently.

Blair patted his arm. "That's okay. We'll figure it out. We always do, Jim."

Jim nodded and padded downstairs to the bathroom while Blair leaned back against the bed, trying to devise a game plan. This would actually be the first test of Jim-- and therefore all of them-- as a soldier for Michael. Jim had had an altercation with Helaire Delacroix, a disciple of the demon Ahriman. She had promised her master Jim's soul and Jim had objected, even when faced with the greatest of temptations, even when faced with his own death. That had proven him worthy to be named to Michael's army but this was the first actual siege. And it would be against Lilith no less. He wasn't sure of what her powers were, but he was aware she was not a minor demon. Not that he was surprised; it was a given Jim would be tested only against the best.

Hmm. They needed a plan. First, a thorough research of their enemy. That would be his task, of course. Finding Lilith and kicking her ass, well, that pleasure would belong to Jim. And Simon would do what Simon did best-- protect them while they did their jobs. That was simple. He smiled, drifting to sleep in the warmth of Jim that remained in the bed.

Of course, it wasn't going to be easy. But nothing they did ever was.

Chapter Two

"Yeah, captain?"

Simon Banks fought the urge to bang his head against the phone. Ellison and Sandburg lived to freak him out with a display of their Sentinel/Guide talents, and he should really be quite used to it by now. But just when he thought he had it all figured out, one of them would add a new trick. "I am going to assume you knew it was me because no one else would be calling you at 3:15 in the morning," he said, crossing his fingers.

"Actually, I knew it was you because Jim said you would be calling," Blair replied, grinning as he "heard" Simon shaking his head in disbelief. Poor Simon. "So, where's the body?"

"Sandburg, that partner of yours is going to be the reason my pension will be paid to an asylum," the captain warned. "And the answer to your question is the Sandy Creek Motorlodge, out off Route 2."

"Okay, Simon. As soon as Jim comes in from the balcony, we are out the door," Blair said meaningfully.

"Oh, shit," Simon moaned into the phone. The Sentinel surveying his territory from his third story terrace meant that someone or some "thing" was threatening his people. "This isn't a run-of-the-mill murder, is it? Keep him in the truck until I arrive, all right? If he goes all wiggy, I want to be there to run interference. What are we facing, by the way? Ghosts, general madmen, or demons?"

"The latter." A rather vile curse, then the call was violently disconnected.

"Good thing we bought him a phone for Christmas," Jim said as he locked the balcony doors behind him.

"At this rate, we'll be buying him another for his birthday," Blair predicted, catching the jacket Jim hefted in his direction. "You hear everything?" Jim nodded. "You planning on going 'all wiggy'?"

A glare was the single reply as Jim stalked out and left him to lock up the apartment. Blair nodded and followed his partner. If the scene in Jim's bedroom was any indication, yeah, 'wiggy' was going to be the word of the day.

*****

Simon's car was nowhere to be found when they arrived at the scene, so Jim and Blair stayed in the truck as flashing lights illuminated the night sky. People stood scattered in little clumps. Most were obvious guests at the motel, in various states of undress and wakefulness. The rest appeared to be there in some official form. From what Blair could tell, it was the County Sheriff's Department answering the call, not Cascade P.D., so somewhere along the route they must have crossed the city limits. "We're out of our jurisdiction," he commented.

Jim shrugged. "Just makes investigating this thing easier. No matter what side of the line it's on, it's our case, Chief."

Blair nodded. "Those things you said about Lilith earlier. How did you know them?"

Jim sighed and mentally urged Simon along. Blair with too much time on his hands meant questions. "I don't know. I just did."

"I mean did it come to you in a dream? Or was the information whispered into your head or something? At times, it was as if you were quoting something you were hearing... or reading? And how did you know she had escaped? Was that a dream too, or was it just a sudden thought that popped into your head?"

"I don't know, Chief. One second I was asleep, the next you were telling me to come back. I assume I zoned?" Blair nodded. "But I don't know on what. I don't remember."

"I'm not trying to be nosy, Jim. This is important. We've never had an archangel on our side. How does he contact you? What information is he willing to share, and how much of it will we have to get on our own? Will you have special abilities, apart from the ones you already have? You already have so many, man. I thought it was kinda neat finding someone with Sentinel senses, but we've gone way beyond that now, haven't we? Like your ability to talk to ghosts. And now that your enhanced senses are intensified by Alicia's gift..." the aforementioned Helaire had had a daughter, Alicia Delacroix, who had been a young psychic. Before she was killed by her mother and a cult called La Societe de Sang, she had been in psychic contact with Jim and left him the energy which would have fueled her talents. Instead, they now took Jim's abilities to new and as yet, undetermined, heights.

"But that won't last, remember? The year will be up soon," Jim pointed out.

Blair sucked his lip guiltily. Jim was under the impression that the energy from Alicia was temporary. However, the girl had managed to send a letter postmortem to Blair, explaining that the gift was permanent, but she'd thought Jim wouldn't have accepted it if he had known. Blair agreed with her; Jim wasn't overly concerned about his new abilities because he figured they would go away, but if he knew they were around to stay, he would definitely overreact. Change was something he hated.

To Blair's relief, Simon arrived before he had to make a reply."We aren't stepping on any toes, are we, Simon?" he asked nervously as they joined the captain at his car. He was particularly sensitive on that issue since he wasn't actually a policeman, although most of the Cascade P.D. would disagree. In their opinion, the paperwork said he was just an observer, but his actions proved he was a cop.

Simon shook his head. "Sheriff Robinson is a friend of mine. Called me up himself. Here he comes now." Introductions were made.

"I almost didn't recognize you without your cigar, Simon," the sheriff commented with a grin.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you are forced to make changes in your life," he replied, glaring at a certain overly sensitive detective, "whether you want to or not."

"All that government regulation, huh?"

"Something like that, John. How can we be of help?"

"Sorry to call you and your men out here tonight, Simon, but I took one look at the scene and knew I was going to need some kind of expert help. From the papers, I know your Major Crimes unit has handled some weird shit and quite frankly, I'd rather work with y'all than the feds," Robinson explained.

"That's what inter-departmental cooperation is all about. What do you have?"

"One Mr. William Porter in Room 112. Poor bastard got his throat ripped out and apparently he was getting a fuck when it happened. Dick as erect as if he was still deep in her... or I guess it could be a him. Transit workers stay out here mostly. Never quite know what kinda shit they're into. Anyway, the coroner's in a tizzy. Can't figure out how rigor mortis set in so fast. His banner should have wilted long before then. Damn thing would have been funny, if it hadn't been for all the blood. The night manager was making his rounds and noticed the door wasn't completely closed. He peeked in and discovered the body."

"Where is he now?"

"In the office with my investigator, Lee Harvey, giving his statement and getting the paperwork on Porter."

"Your investigator okay with us taking over? Because if we start this case, my men will be the ones working it." He pointed to Jim and Blair. "They're specialists and they have their own way of doing things. It'll all be legal, but it won't always be by the book. They need to know the waters won't be muddied by hurt feelings and they'll also need authorization to question potential witnesses." Simon wanted his friend to know up-front how it would be.

"Lee nodded like one of them toy dogs in the back of a car window when I told him I was giving you a call, so I don't think he's going to be much of a problem. As for authority, raise your right hands, gentlemen," Robinson said to the city duo. "You swear to get this sicko and stay within the law doing it if you can?" They nodded. "Then you are hereby sworn deputies of this here county." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of badges. The three of them looked at him. "Hell, anytime there's an emergency around here, I have to swear in some of the citizens. No big deal."

Blair looked at Jim as Sheriff Robinson led the way to the crime scene. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," he remarked softly.

"But I don't think we're going to see the wizard," Jim replied as his nose caught the scent of spilled blood. "Be prepared, Chief. This is going to be messy."

Blair nodded and made sure he was centered before stepping into the room behind Jim. The first notable thing was that the mirrors were covered. Both the one over the dresser and the one at the back wall above a sink were blocked by thin, coarse-looking, almost white towels. He was about to comment on that when he caught sight of the body. Even though he'd had some idea of the carnage, the sight of the man frozen on the bed still shocked him. The sheriff had described his erect state to perfection but had failed to mention the slack mouth and wide open eyes. Further inspection revealed long gashes in his chest and of course, the raw, gaping hole where his throat had once resided.

Blair bit back the panic rising in him and turned to apologize to Jim for being such a wuss, when he noticed the Sentinel's fingers doing a quick dance in the air. For Jim's normal enhanced senses, he had taught him to mentally picture a dial which he turned up and down to control their intensity. With the recent "improvements", he'd had Jim picture a television remote control: the channel button switched him from enhanced to super-enhanced, and the volume button indicated the level. Evidently, Jim was switching to super mode.

The anthropologist caught Simon's eye, as the captain stood near the door with the sheriff and the county coroner. There had been introductions earlier but he'd been too drawn to the body to participate. Simon looked quickly toward Jim, noticed he was deep into Sentinel mode, and quickly urged everyone out the door before coming to stand beside Blair.

"What's he doing?"

Blair shrugged as Jim lightly ran his hands along the body, keeping about an inch of space between his flesh and the cadaver's. "Jim, which sense are you using?"

"Touch."

Blair once again noted the space and made a mental addendum to his list of things to test in the lab. Damn. He was getting as list-anal as Jim. "What is it telling you?"

"He was paralyzed before he was killed. That explains the unnatural stiffness of the body. The coroner should find traces of the drug here in these long scratches." He indicated the marks on the chest. "She either had it under her fingernails or maybe it's painted on like polish. Can you cut the lights?" The room plunged into darkness, except to Jim whose eyesight switched to infrared. "After she killed him, she walked to the bathroom and took a shower. Forensics needs to check the drain."

"There's still enough residual heat from her movements for you to track them?" Blair inquired eagerly. "How do you know it's her movements you're following? There's probably been quite a number of people through here."

Jim frowned. "What left these traces is not human, Chief. The signature colors are different from ours. Hotter and it's not dissipating all that quickly. I can even tell that she stood here for a while, making decisions. Then she paced beside the bed. I don't think she was satisfied. She was trapped on the other side for a long time. The blood, the sex, wasn't enough. She needed more." He walked to the door and opened it. Ignoring the officers outside, he sniffed the air and proceeded across the parking lot. Blair and Simon were at his heels.

"What the hell is going on?" the coroner asked the sheriff as the Cascade officers trooped past them.

Sheriff Robinson folded his arms and watched the trio. "I don't know how he managed it, but I think Simon has a goddamned profiler working for him."

Chapter Three

"A profiler?" Dr. Andy Hartsell nearly exclaimed as he stared at the sheriff. "Like on TV? I thought only the FBI had them?"

"Yeah, me too," Robinson agreed, but knew what he knew. "You were listening at the door like I was, heard him say the blood and sex wasn't enough for her and that she needed more. What does that sound like to you, Andy? He was getting into her head, just like one of those freaks." The sheriff watched the tall detective lead his captain and partner to a specific door and stop. They exchanged words, and before the captain could turn around and make a request, Robinson was tugging a man in their direction. "This is the manager. He'll open that door for you."

Simon gave a quick nod and surreptitiously shoved Jim back from the door so the man, his hand visibly shaking, could insert the key. Jim turned as the light switch was hit and Blair noticed his fingers dancing again. Why the physical manifestation, man? The dial you controlled in your head. But it took months for you to get used to that and I still have to prompt you at times. The remote has become automatic. Is it because it's physical? Damn. While we were waiting for something like this to happen, I should have been testing you, Jim. My bad. Give the Guide one demerit. But just wait until this is over....

Lost in his thoughts, it took Blair a moment to realize the crime scene was slightly different from the other. When Jim had led them across the parking lot-- using smell-- to this room and said another victim was behind the door, he figured it was another bloodbath. But it wasn't. Except for the covered mirrors, the room was as neat as a pin. The body in the bed was covered to his chest in a sheet. Instead of a gaping hole in his neck, it appeared that she had merely nicked his carotid artery and drank as prissily as a six-year-old at a fantasy tea party. Sure, the man was just as dead as the other victim, but the violence was missing.

"What happened here, Jim?" Simon asked softly.

"He pleased her, therefore she made sure his death was gentle. Also, and I think the coroner will confirm it, she was here with him even as the investigation of the first murder was beginning. So, she had to be quiet and keep him quiet as well. But it was mostly out of respect for him that she killed so cleanly."

"So it is the same killer?" Sheriff Robinson asked, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Yes."

"Where is she now?"

"Gone. She walked out the door and left, unnoticed in the crowd."

"I thought we had evacuated all the occupied rooms, Lee?" the sheriff asked his investigator, who had belatedly joined them.

"We did, sir."

"Who came out of this one?"

He flipped through a battered notepad. "Veronica Alden. The name matched with the info on the registration sheet-- V. Alden."

"Except the 'V' stood for Vernon, not Veronica," the night manager said from his position by the door. He'd already walked in on one dead body tonight; no way he was going to look at another.

"Shit," Lee Harvey said sheepishly. "Guess I fucked up, sheriff. Good thing you called in some real detectives."

"Could have happened to anyone," Jim said kindly, earning him a shocked stare from Blair and Simon. "Can you remember what this Veronica looked like?"

The investigator closed his eyes. "Short, dark hair. 5'5" or so. Petite build. When Ernie gets in, I'll see if I can put together a composite. Ernie's our local sketch artist."

"Thanks," Jim said with a gracious smile and handed Harvey a card. "This has my FAX number and email address along with my other numbers. Just send the information the best way you can when you have it. Come on, Chief, I think we're done here. Meet you back at the station, captain?"

"Uh, sure," Simon said cautiously, wondering what the hell his detective was up to. No time to worry about that now. John Robinson was looking at him speculatively and he realized that they hadn't been too discreet in their actions. It was just so much easier doing this stuff in the city, where everyone knew to ignore them. But before he could think of something to say to explain the behavior of his lead detective, Robinson spoke.

"How'd you pull this one off, Simon? I always knew you were a sneaky, pushy sonuvabitch, but even I didn't think you could manage something like this."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, John," Simon replied with complete honesty.

"Dispense with the innocent routine, you ol' coot. How'd you end up with your own private profiler while the rest of us have to go to the suits for one?"

"Profiler?" Simon's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. Then it hit him. "You mean Ellison?"

"'You mean Ellison?'" Robinson mocked. "Of course I mean Ellison. Or do you have a better explanation for what I just witnessed?"

"I can't think of one at the moment," Simon mumbled. "You might want to keep that thought under your hat, John."

"Gone and forgotten," the sheriff said amiably. "Still, I don't envy you at all, my friend. There's something spooky about people like that."

Simon watched the blue and white truck pull away, barely making out the two familiar figures in the pre-dawn light. "You don't know the half of it, John. You just don't know."

*****

Edgar Masden was a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist. In his apartment in New York, one whole wall was devoted to his expertise-- plaques, figurines, pictures of him with noted persons worldwide. Politicians in Washington feared him, queens asked for him personally, and a certain underworld figure had asked him to tell his story. What a life. At least it had been until living on the edge caught up to him. Drugs and booze. How trite of him. But not as trite as the Pershing Group, his publishers, sending him to the boondocks until he dried out. The Cascade Gazette. Not even the Cascadian, a medium-sized regional rag for the Northwestern part of the country. No, he was stuck at the Cascade Gazette, Serving the Rural Community of Cascade County. God, he hated it.

Especially when his editor called him out of his bed to come out to some fleabag motel because a guest was found dead in his bed. Real big news, he thought as he leaned against his car and waited for the police to give a press conference. He laughed at the term as he recognized the only other journalist besides him. The Cascadian hadn't even sent their best writer, which meant the story was crap. But then everything in this godforsaken county was crap. The only thing keeping him from pulling out the remaining hairs on his head was the thought that maybe he could get some ideas for the novel he was writing. Bestseller, of course. Far less accomplished journalists had found success in that arena. Surely, he would too.

He looked around briefly as a blue and white pickup pulled into the parking lot. Great. More hicks. Just what this party needed. The truck was later joined by a silver Intrepid and a tall well-dressed Black man stepped out. Now, he looks like someone who might actually know what he's doing. The pair from the truck joined him.

"Damn."

Masden looked over at the young woman beside him. Laurie Stokes was the Cascadian's "B" writer. Her work was good, but not good enough to be the "ace" reporter for the paper. "What's the problem, Stokes? Who's the Black guy?"

"Captain Simon Banks. He heads Cascade P.D.'s Major Crimes unit. And the problem is that this is no longer my story. I have to call Larry."

Larry Jordan was the Cascadian's top reporter. Masden had no idea of why Jordan was wasting his talents out here when he could have had a job in New York or L.A., but the man managed to rack up national awards anyway. "Why do you have to contact Jordan? Is Banks that important?" It was interesting that the city cops were being called in, but so what?

"Not Banks himself, but his men. See them? The shorter one is Blair Sandburg. The other is Detective Jim Ellison. Larry had it put into his contract that he gets all stories involving Ellison."

Masden's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't get it." He didn't see anything special about the two men, other than the department let the shorter one get away with a ponytail. Probably worked Vice or Narcotics before Major Crimes.

Laurie raised her hand for silence as she spoke into her cell phone. "Larry, it's Laurie. I'm at the scene of a murder at the Sandy Creek Motorlodge out on Route 2. Ellison just arrived... Yeah, okay. Bye." She stuck the phone back in her pocket. "He's on his way. Wants me to keep notes until he gets here. How long you been here, Masden?"

"Three months, fourteen days, eleven hours and counting."

She laughed at his aggrieved tone. "Well, that should have been long enough for you to figure out the major players in Cascade. Maybe your editors were right to stick you out here. Definitely off your game, Edgar. And before the word 'bitch' crosses your tongue, remember I have information you need."

"Please continue, Ms. Stokes," he said with forced politeness.

"Ellison and his partner always get the big cases. We're talking international politics, conspiracies, terrorist activities... I'm talking Washington D.C.-sized shit, Masden. Not to mention serial killers, big-time psychos, and 60 Minutes-worthy criminals. A guaranteed headline every time."

"You're joking, right?" He looked at the sweater and jean clad duo. "Those two detectives are responsible for saving the world? Yeah, right."

Laurie shook her head. "One detective and one graduate student working on a dissertation in anthropology."

Masden laughed so loud that others glanced in their direction. "Now I know you're shitting me, Stokes. What is this? Some kind of snipe hunt for new reporters? I may be new to the area, but I'm not fresh from J-school."

She shrugged. "Believe what you want, Masden. I'm just telling you how it is. And I think, you're getting ready to eat your words." She pointed to where Ellison was leading the cops toward another motel room. "Hmm. Wonder if we're going the serial killer route this time?" she asked, leaving him as she moved to get closer.

He followed, taking note of everything that occurred. It was obvious that Ellison was the key to what was going on. He always took the lead and most questions were directed toward him. Who the hell was this guy? How had he known there was another victim? Why didn't he have a real partner? And why the hell was a student working for the police department?

"Dispense with the innocent routine, you ol' coot. How'd you end up with your own private profiler while the rest of us have to go to the suits for one?" he overheard the sheriff asking Banks later. The captain's reply was too soft to overhear and a moment later, the tall man got in his car and left.

A profiler? Working for a local force? Masden grinned and slid behind the wheel of his own vehicle. He hit the one speed dial button on his cell phone that he had refused to erase. "Cindy, it's me... Yeah, I know what time it is out here and no, I'm not high on anything. Look, I want you to do me a favor, babe... I know, but this is important... Honest to God, I haven't had anything since I been in this godforsaken place... Thanks, babe. I want you to get me everything you can on a Jim Ellison. He's supposedly a detective on the Cascade Police force. But I have a hunch he's more... much more."

Chapter Four

"Okay, gentlemen, what's the long version?" Simon inquired as they settled in his office with their coffee mugs steaming. Because it was still early, the rest of the unit hadn't come in yet. He was hoping to get the story before the others arrived. That way he didn't have to monitor his reactions. And he was sure he would react. No matter how firmly in his heart he accepted his position as Watcher, his mind still rebelled on occasion. Especially now that Jim had accepted this supernatural mission as a soldier for an archangel. What did that mean? That angels were real? That God was real? Or was it less precise than that? Maybe it provided no answers, only questions.

Jim shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Somebody called forth a demon last night. I felt, sensed, her presence."

"And yelled so loudly, I almost wet the bed," Blair added, earning him an icy stare from his partner. "Hey, he wanted the whole story, remember?"

"Maybe I should amend that to just the pertinent facts," Simon said, although he understood why Blair had interrupted. If Jim was irritated with him, he wouldn't focus so much on what he was admitting to. The captain was fairly certain that sensing demons hadn't been on the detective's list of future accomplishments. "What do you mean by 'somebody called forth a demon.'? This was a deliberate action? Some kind of Satanic ritual?" See? I can pretend this is all normal. And if Jim senses the shaking of my bones, well, he knows how to keep a secret.

"They had to use the power of blood to free her."

"Her?"

"Lilith."

"She's the one who killed to the two men at the motel?" Jim nodded. "So I take it she isn't exactly a harmless demon?"

Blair cleared his throat. "Legend has it, captain, that Satan took Lilith as a lover, but she was too much for him to handle, so he banished her to the desert."

"Shit, Sandburg. I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing that one," Simon replied, wondering if he should have stopped by the drug store on the way in. His aspirin stash was running a bit low. "You got a dossier on her yet?"

Blair straightened out crumpled pages in his hand. "According to the generally accepted mythos of Lilith, she was the first wife of Adam. She was created from the dust at the same time he was and therefore she considered herself his equal in every way. Adam had a different opinion, however. He claimed God had created Lilith as a help mate, which made her no better than the beasts of the field. The argument reached its pinnacle when it came time for them to make love. Adam demanded to be on top, thereby putting Lilith in the submissive position. Lilith said no way. She went to see God and seduced him into telling her his sacred name which no one knew. Speaking that name gave her power and she flew away from the Garden of Eden. She took demons as her lovers, and as I mentioned before, Satan as well. From these matings, thousands and thousands of demon children, called the Lilim, were spawned, and thus the world was populated with demons.

"Now, here's where I get really worried. After a while, Adam decided he wanted Lilith back. So he went to God and God sent three angels after her. The three were named Senoy, Sansenoy, and Semangeloph. They found her and demanded her return, telling her that if she refused they would slay one hundred of her demon children each day until she decided to come back to the Garden."

"Wait a minute, Sandburg. I'm getting confused as to who are the bad guys and the good guys in this tale," Simon admitted. "I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for Lilith. Sounds as if Adam was a jackass and she's the one paying for it."

"That's why she is revered by some as a goddess, a symbol of the Liberated Woman. Navigating through some of the web pages dedicated to her, I started feeling sorry for her too. But Lilith ain't the type girl to quietly sit back and take it, Simon. She told the angels that losing her children was a better fate than going back and submitting to Adam. Then she told them that as long as they slay her offspring, she would slay the children of Adam. She swore to attack women during childbirth, and all newborns-- baby girls for twenty days after their birth and boys for eight."

"Shit," Simon groaned. "How the hell are we supposed to protect all the pregnant women and their babies? Do you know the birthrate around here?" He shuddered, remembering how close he'd come to losing both Joan and Daryl at his son's birth. If everyone in Cascade had to go through that, Lilith would be the least of their problems.

"That sympathy you were feeling for Lilith earlier? It's warranted because she gives an out to her curse; if she sees the names of the three angels somewhere, that place and everyone in it are safe from her wrath."

"So we...?"

"We print up a flyer saying the three angels are looking for a roommate or having a yard sale or something. Most hospitals and clinics have a community bulletin board where anyone can post news and requests."

"Good thinking, Sandburg. What about the babies who go home before those days are up?"

Blair looked at Jim who replied, "We put the same notice in the newspaper and hope for the best. We probably can't protect them all, but we should cover most."

Simon grinned. "Maybe I should get you guys in here this early every morning. Your brain cells seem to be at top speed. Now, what about the murders? No babies were involved, so am I to assume Lilith has another agenda? Like maybe she's a succubus?" Jim and Blair stared at him. "I wasn't always a captain, remember? I worked a task force dealing with cults for a while. For some reason, sex demons were always a favorite with those types. And considering Lilith wouldn't sleep with Adam, but enjoyed an occasional demon lover, I'm thinking that maybe she's into kinky. Which would explain the deep scratches on the first body, and the violent loss of his throat."

"There is a school of thought that considers Lilith a vampire," Blair added. "And the rumors are that she is responsible for 'wet dreams'. She supposedly steals the semen to make more demon babies." Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably, remembering their youths. "But for the moment, I think we can get by with just dealing with her being a murderer."

"Thank you, Sandburg. You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that. So, Lilith is a murderer. Her targets will be...?"

"She enters through the mind, preying on the flesh of single men: seducing them and luring them to their deaths in her embrace," Jim answered in his "recitation" voice.

Simon looked quickly to Blair, silently asking, Where is he getting this from? Blair shrugged, then tapped his forearms. Simon removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. The brands.... It had been discovered later that only the three of them could see the marks. When he had been included in the exclusive group, that was when he finally had had to admit to himself that his destiny was irrevocably entwined with theirs. "Okay. How do we stop her?"

Haunted eyes glanced in his direction. "I have no idea."

"But that's not a problem," Blair said quickly, never one to let his partner wallow in despair. "Getting rid of demons has been a time-honored activity since time itself began. Therefore, the information exists somewhere and we will find it. Lilith was banished once; Jim will make sure she is again."

"I agree," Simon said firmly. "Jim, I think you should check the files we have on our local demon-lovers. See if there has been any recent activity among known pagan groups, especially those who practice tantric rituals. Also, see if there have been any complaints about strange lights or fires in the woods." He glanced at a roster on his desk. "Brown and Rafe are pretty caught up. I'll assign them to help you. Sandburg, you get on the internet and see what else you can get from those web pages. Does anybody have anything else to add?" Jim frowned. "You have a concern, Jim?"

"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, sir, and Chief, I know you're going to take it the wrong way, but you're both going to have to stay away from women while Lilith is on the loose."

"I beg your pardon, detective?"

"Get real, Jim!"

"You're both single men. If she discovers who I am, you will be targets."

"You're single too," Blair pointed out in concern.

"But I will be able to recognize her, if not by these," he pulled up his sleeves to reveal the bandages on his arms, "then by my nose. That's how I found the second victim. I followed her scent."

"Then if Sandburg and I meet someone new, we'll be sure to bring her by and let you sniff her," Simon said, half-jokingly.

"Not just someone new, Simon."

"You're afraid she may possess someone like I was possessed?" Blair asked, remembering the shame of walking into a trap, which left a demon in control of his body and trying to kill Jim.

"No, not possession. Lilith is a shape-shifter."

"She's a what!"

"I don't remember that in any legend, Jim. Granted, I should have been catching up on my demon lore the past few months..."

Jim sighed. "I saw the way the two of you looked at me when I didn't explode after the county investigator admitted his goof. But I needed to know what this woman looked like. He said she had short, dark hair. They will find long, blond hairs in the shower of the other room."

"A wig?" Simon hazarded.

"No. Her scent was slightly altered in the second room. I suspected what she had done, but I wasn't sure until then."

"So, you're saying she could transform herself into any woman we know?" Blair asked hesitantly.

"I think so, Chief."

"Damn. That certainly puts a crimp into my social life. What about you, Simon?"

"Yeah, I agree. But, Sandburg, we knew from the beginning that we were going to have to make sacrifices, if we were going to stand with Jim in this. I guess this is the first one," the captain said nobly. "Of course, I expect you to deal with this demon in a timely manner so that this sacrifice won't go on too long," he admonished his men.

"Of course, sir," Jim said apologetically and stepped out of the office.

Before Blair could join him, Simon tugged on his arm and said softly, "What social life, Sandburg?"

"The same as yours, Simon," Blair replied with a grin. "Where in the world did he get the idea we had social lives?"

"Hey, he's your roommate. Not mine."

"Except when we're fighting demons," Blair said gleefully. "Got your bag packed, sir?"

"I am not camping out at the loft every time some demon comes to town," Simon said forcefully.

"But, captain," Blair said, throwing Simon's own "noble" words back in his face, "we knew from the beginning we were going to have to make sacrifices if we--"

"Maybe I'll just decide to sacrifice you, Sandburg," Simon grumbled.

"The others are coming," Jim warned, having heard everything. He wondered if they knew how much he counted on their lighthearted bickering to keep him balanced even when things seemed hopeless. Not that they did now. Simon was handing out assignments. Blair was on the 'net. He was...not doing much, but that wasn't as discouraging as it sounded. However, days from now who knew what they would be facing.... Keep up the good spirits, guys.

"Rafe, Brown, got a special assignment for you. We picked up a case this morning from the county sheriff..."

*****

"I think we may have a break," Blair called excitedly as he rapped on Simon's office door several hours later. Simon motioned for him and his partner to enter. He held out a sheaf of printouts. "This is the Invocation of Lilith. It's probably what they used to call her into this world."

"And?" Simon prompted as he glanced at the pages. The Invocation of Lilith, it read. A Rite of Dark Sexuality. Hmm. What kind of freaks went for that? You worked the task force, Banks. You know exactly what kind of freaks. The whips and chains kind.

"There are some items they would need that we could possibly trace. For instance, they would need black or purple candles. There are maybe a dozen or less New Age/Wiccan stores in the area that would carry these."

"And you would know this because..." the captain asked, then shook his head. He really didn't want to know. "Let's get Brown and Rafe on this. They're probably tired of sitting in the office all morning anyway. What else do you have?"

"Uh, they would need a silver chalice. Maybe check the jewelry stores or antique houses. Oh, and then there's a dagger--"

"A dagger?" Jim asked, speaking for the first time. "I remember a... A piece of paper, sir." Simon slid a sheet of paper and a pen to the edge of his desk, and Jim began drawing from his memory.

"He kept that too, I see," Simon commented. Jim had never been able to draw until he was involved in the Society murders.

"I've had to start another notebook on him," Blair said, watching his friend sketch so effortlessly. "What I used to know rarely applies anymore."

"As long as you stay just one step ahead, you'll be okay, kid," the captain said, hearing the frustration in Blair's voice.

Blair gave a hollow laugh. "A step ahead? I'm just trying not to be left in the dust, Simon."

"I am still in the room, remember?" Jim questioned dryly as his friends talked around him. "No one's going to be left behind, Chief. As far as I can tell, these things," he fingered the brands, "are only good for alerting me to the presence of a demon. So the big changes have come from Alicia and they'll be leaving soon. Then it'll just be plain me again with regular Sentinel senses." He smiled. "Never thought I would consider them normal."

"Jim..." Blair began, wondering if it was time to come clean. He had known the deception couldn't make it past the year mark.

"Sorry, Chief. I don't mean to interrupt you, but this is a sketch of the dagger used." He handed it to his companions.

"The detail is exquisite, Jim," Blair said with no little amount of awe.

"Maybe if we could show it to some of the weapons dealers around here, the antique shops..."

Simon nodded. "Guess it's time to bring Joel and Zack in on the party," he said, referring to two of his other detectives, Captain Joel Taggert and Zack Dalton.

"Let us do it, Simon," Jim pleaded. "I could use the air."

Simon frowned, but nodded. "Okay, but don't spend a lot of time on it. You two are better utilized here in the office, coming up with leads. You're wasted doing legwork. So go out, get lunch, check a few places, then come back in and let me hand it off. Okay?"

"Thanks, captain."

"Make copies of the sketch and--" He was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. "Banks... What? That doesn't sound like him... Okay, I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and looked at Jim. "You heard?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't intend to eavesdrop--"

"It's okay. Our lives overlap too much to have many secrets and if that boy doesn't give me any straight answers, it's not going to be a secret much longer anyway," he added, grabbing his coat and leaving.

"What was that about?" Blair asked in concern.

"That was Daryl's school. He's being held in the principal's office for fighting."

Blair looked disbelievingly at Jim. "Daryl doesn't fight." He was good friends with the captain's teenage son. Daryl was just a half a semester away from being a senior. He wouldn't jeopardize that by fighting.

Jim shrugged. "It'll be okay, Chief. Simon will get to the bottom of it. Now, go out there and see if you can sweet talk Maggie into running some copies of this before finishing the commissioner's thirty-page report."

"Sweet talk? I thought I was supposed to be wary of women, Jim," Blair reminded him nicely.

"Don't worry, Chief. I'll sniff her first."

Blair gave a loud guffaw. "I can read the sexual harassment suit now, 'Detective Sniffed Me'. All I can say, Jim, is please be discreet."

Jim clapped him forcefully on the back. "You know me, Chief. Discretion is my middle name."

"And I thought it was--" The rest of the comment was lost in sounds of mock pain as Jim swatted the back of his head.

Chapter Five

Edgar Masden glanced at the pages of scribbled notes and wondered what they added up to:

James Joseph Ellison. Born February 23, 1962 in Tacoma, Washington. Father: William Ellison. Mother: Mary Margaret. Army Ranger. Rank: Captain. 1988: Helicopter crash, missing eighteen months, recovered after completing his mission, resigned with full honors. 1991: Joined the Cascade P.D. Worked Narcotics then Vice, before joining Major Crimes in 1993. Partnered with Jack Pendergrast, who subsequently disappeared and reappeared dead a few years later. Next partner: Blair Sandburg. Graduate student in Anthropology at Rainier University. After the addition of Sandburg, Ellison, always a good detective, becomes a star detective. Best solve rate in the Northwest. Officer of the Year Award. Works closely with the FBI and the Secret Service. Some conflicts with the CIA and NSA. Details: Classified.

Plenty of information, but what did it all mean? After gathering the basic facts, he'd tried getting the rest by using his incredible interviewing skills. Hell, at his peak he'd had priests confessing to him. But either the alcohol and drugs had robbed him of his gift, or Ellison was very well protected. No one he talked to would go past, "he's a good detective, a fine man, we're lucky to have him." Nobody was that well-liked. The whole thing smelled fishy.

He frowned at the knock at his apartment door. Before answering, he looked at the clock and noticed it was after one. Damn. He had spent the entire morning trying to get something on Jim Ellison and was still batting zero. "Cindy!" he exclaimed in surprise as he opened the door and found his former assistant, Cindy Hartwell, waiting patiently. "What are you doing out here where the buses don't run?"

She shrugged and walked past him into the room, eyeing it judiciously as she plopped down an obviously stuffed briefcase. "You intrigued me, Edgar. Thought I'd come and see for myself that not only have you changed, but you may have stumbled upon a worthy story during your exile."

"You found something on Ellison?" he asked hopefully.

"Something? Damn, Eggie. You're talking about a national hero." She opened the briefcase and pulled out the News Update magazine whose cover story was "Beyond the Call: G.I. Survives Jungle Ordeal."

"Got it. What else do you have?"

"Why the interest in this man, Eggie?"

He grinned at the familiar nickname. She was the only one he allowed to get away with using it. "Come on, Cin. I know you wouldn't have come all this way with just the magazine. What else do you have?"

"Answer my question first," she bargained, delighting in the look in his eyes. Just like before when he was onto something big. Maybe sending him to Washington hadn't been such a bad idea.

"Went out to cover a murder this morning. Ellison showed up even though it's out of his jurisdiction. Not only investigated that murder but discovered another body while he was at it. Stokes said--"

"Stokes? As in Laurie Stokes?" Cindy asked with a hint of jealousy which totally went over Masden's head.

"Yeah. The Cascadian had sent her out to do the story, but when Ellison arrived she had to call in Larry Jordan. Apparently the man had it put into his contract that he covers whatever Ellison is into. Seems Ellison and his partner-- get this, an anthropology grad student-- are assigned to all the top crimes. What the hell is a grad student doing working directly with the cops? Need to run a check on him too."

"So, we got a cop working with a grad student. I understand that seems a little strange, but I'm still not getting your interest in this," Cindy pressed.

"I overheard the sheriff say something this morning, Cindy. I heard him asking Ellison's superior how he managed to get a profiler working for him. A local level profiler is more than a little strange, don't you agree?"

"Yeah, if it's true. Did the superior confirm it?"

"I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. So after I called you, I came back here to do some checking around. No one, and I mean no one, will say anything bad about Ellison. I even called his ex-wife and if any of my ex-wives talked about me like that, I'd still be married to them. It's as if everyone's taken a vow of silence about the guy. I've made a couple of contacts in the area, both sides of the fence, you know. My street people will only say you don't want to mix it up with Ellison, and my contacts within the department talk about his record and little else. The only thing I've discovered is that the grad student lives with him."

"A couple?"

Masden shook his head. "I would say no. They're too open about the arrangement. I think there's something else going on."

"And that would be?" Cindy prompted impatiently.

If he had been a nail-biter, his fingers would be bloody by now, he thought, as he debated how much to tell her. The idea was crazy and he really wasn't sure he was ready to voice it yet, but he trusted Cindy as he did no one else in the world. "This is going to sound like something from Oliver Stone, but what if Ellison wasn't missing those eighteen months? What if he was involved in some secret government project? The thought came to me when one of the clerks at the police department mentioned Ellison had come to them from the military.... You didn't see how he behaved at the crime scene, Cin. His movements were almost robotic at times. He just walked from one murder to the other, as if he was following an invisible line or something."

Cindy put up her hand to quiet him. "Let me get this straight: you think he was experimented on while he was in the Army, and that they turned him into some kind of super profiler or crime-solver? Why would the Army care about crime?"

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "This police ruse is only a training scenario. He's learning to control whatever it is they've done to him."

"And the grad student?"

He shrugged. "Maybe he designed all this. Anthropology could be a sham major. He's probably a geneticist or a bioengineer. Or maybe, he's some kind of shrink." He looked at the woman staring in disbelief at him. "You think I'm a fool, don't you? That the coke and the gin have eaten whatever brain cells I had left?"

She crossed the room and stood before him, her hands reaching out to cup his chin tenderly. "Actually, I was thinking you're brilliant."

*****

"The captain send us to track you down," Joel Taggert was explaining to Jim and Blair, who had walked out of an antique dealership only to find Joel, and his partner, Zack, leaning against the truck. "He says we're to continue looking for the dagger while the two of you get your butts back to the station. And let me tell you, he's not in the mood to argue with. He had his son with him and neither was looking happy."

Jim sighed. He wasn't looking forward to going back to the station. Simon was going to expect him to have more insight into the murders and Blair, he eyed his partner warily, was going to be asking questions he didn't necessarily want to answer. But, he was going to ask the questions anyway... "Okay, guys. Here's the list of dealers we've been to. Call in if you get anything."

"Will do, Jim."

The detective looked at his oddly silent partner as they made their way back downtown. "Spill, Sandburg," he ordered, finding the silence unnerving.

"What?"

"Something's going on in that head of yours. I want to know what it is."

"It's called thought, Jim. You should try it some-- Ouch!" He rubbed the back of his head where Jim had gently cuffed it. "Okay, fine. I wasn't going to bring this up until we were home, and you had a nice cold beer in your hand, after having enjoyed an excellent meal cooked by my talented hands, but if you insist..."

"I insist," Jim said firmly. Blair's questions couldn't be nearly as bad as the questions he was imagining Blair was going to ask.

"What's with the hand movements, man?"

Jim stopped at a light and looked over to the passenger's seat. "What hand movements?" Definitely not a question he had anticipated.

"When you switch to 'overdrive' on the senses, you actually finger the remote."

"I do?" he asked with a frown. "I hadn't realized it. Sorry."

Blair shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about, Jim. I just want to know why you're doing it."

"I didn't do it before?"

His partner started to answer in the negative, then he flashed back to a few months before when Jim had tuned into the voice of a little girl named Flip who had been kidnapped. They had been in Simon's office and Jim had... the thumb had moved that time too. Why hadn't he noticed it? "Never mind, Jim. It's not important. Just as long as you feel comfortable, keep doing what you're doing. Besides, it gives me a clue as to what mode you're in."

"For the time being."

"About that, Jim..." They pulled into the station's parking garage. He glanced over at his partner to watch his face as he heard the news and was surprised to see the fingers moving. Now what? "Jim?"

"I smell her, Chief," he said, hopping out of the truck and racing toward the stairs.

"She's here in the station?" Blair called as he hurried behind Jim.

"Not her. But someone who's been in contact with her. Possibly one of her callers." He poked his nose through the door on the first floor landing, closed it, and ran up the next flight.

Blair, not knowing what else to do since Jim seemed to be perfectly in control, dogged his partner's steps as he sniffed every floor before going to the next. He did manage a quick apology to the officers Jim almost bowled over on the fifth floor, which made him slightly behind Jim as the detective entered the sixth floor. With the little breath he had left, Blair sighed. Of course whoever this person was would end up on the sixth floor-- home to Major Crimes. If he had been thinking, he would have just caught the elevator and gone on up.

Jim was thinking similar thoughts as the trail led down the hall and into the Major Crimes bullpen. When it continued into the captain's office, he reached back to draw his gun. Silent steps took him across the room and through the office door... to face a startled captain and his son. He focused first on Simon, then quickly to Daryl. He did not like what his senses told him, and cold blue eyes engaged the brown ones staring back at him.

"Damn," Daryl swore softly. "I've been busted."

Chapter Six

"You don't know how scared I was that you were going to recommend an asylum for me," Masden said, as he and Cindy settled into their first class seats and clasped the restraints.

"I'm not sure what's going on with Jim Ellison, but I knew from the moment I saw copies of his recent cases that something wasn't kosher. What's a cop from Cascade doing working cases in Baltimore and New Orleans? And the nature of these cases were so similar."

Masden nodded. "He's obviously been 'altered' to seek out dead bodies, starting with those forty-two in Cascade. That must have been the first big test because they sent a profiler in as a cover on that one. What's his name?" He flipped through the files that spilled from the briefcase. "Dr. Anthony Bozeman. Have you contacted him yet?

"According to my source, he's no longer with the Bureau and no one seems to be able to locate him."

"I wonder if he's still among the living," Masden said softly, quieting as the stewardess bent over to check their seatbelts. "Maybe he knew too much and had to be silenced. I mean, he accompanied Ellison to Baltimore, yet is barely mentioned in the final report. And he's nowhere to be found in the New Orleans case."

"I still don't understand the purpose of this skill they've given Ellison," Cindy worried.

"Think of MIA's, Cin, or the killing fields of Bosnia. 'No, Uncle Sam, there hasn't been any mass killings.' Then Ellison comes in and pinpoints every dead body in the area. Sorta puts an end to the lies, doesn't it? Or maybe dead bodies is just a beginning. Think of the things that are buried underground or undersea. Most of the bodies in New Orleans were underwater, right?"

She nodded. "I just hope the people in Baltimore are a lot more forthcoming than those in Cascade."

"Well, even if we don't get anything from the cops, Ronald Prescott sounded eager to talk. I wonder if he realizes how lucky he is. He's the only one of the perpetrators that is still alive. Conveniently, Harold Reagan, the killer of those forty-two in Cascade, and the infamous Helaire Delacroix are both dead. Wonder how they missed the Baltimore killer?"

"Someone's getting sloppy," Cindy agreed. "You know, I really should call the New York office and tell them what we're on to."

"Not yet. All we have is speculation, and maybe once upon a time that would have been enough coming from me. But I screwed up, Cin. They aren't going to trust me to pour coffee unless I take a urine test first. Let's just get the facts lined up, okay?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand. "You know I'm starting to like this new, humble you. You wear it well, Eggie."

"Thanks, babe. Thanks for keeping the faith." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

"My pleasure, Eggie," she said softly. "My pleasure."

*****

"What the hell is going on here!" Simon bellowed as his detective crashed through his door and confronted his son.

"You want to tell him or should I, Daryl?" Jim asked, his stance softening as he sensed the tremors running through the teen. He carefully returned his weapon to its holster.

"You really know, don't you?" he asked hesitantly and Jim nodded. Instead of the guilt he thought he'd feel from Daryl, relief flooded the kid instead. "I thought you would, man. At least I hoped. That's why I had the office call Dad instead of Mom. I told myself you would see me and you would know. I couldn't tell you, you see. They made me take a blood oath and after what I saw last night, well, I knew better than to break it, but I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, right? I wanted to come to your place last night, right after it happened, but I think I was being watched. I was the newest one. I don't think they fully trusted me. God, Jim, I'm so glad you know, man." He collapsed into a chair with a dramatic slump.

Simon had had enough. As soon as Blair jogged into the office and shut the door, he was on his feet, leaning over his desk at the two people seated in front of it. "One last time, gentlemen. What the hell is going on?"

Jim looked at Daryl who nodded. "Daryl was one of people who called Lilith."

Simon blinked, rubbed his forehead, then took off his glasses. "Say that again, Jim."

"Daryl was part of the group who called forth Lilith last night."

"Is that true, son?" he asked calmly.

"I--" Jim began.

"I'm not talking to you, Ellison," he said sharply. "I'm talking to my son. Is it true, Daryl, that you're some freaking Satanist, that you've been running around in the woods calling up demons?"

"Dad, it isn't--"

"Just answer the question, boy!"

"Chief, take Daryl outside," Jim ordered softly. Blair hesitated as Simon flicked him an icy glance. "Do it," the Sentinel commanded. Blair motioned for Daryl to join him and they fled the room.

"Don't even pull that 'your Sentinel commands you' shit on me, Ellison," Simon warned angrily. "This doesn't concern you and all this weird crap you've dragged me into. Or maybe it does. Tell me, O Great Warrior, is my son chanting up demons because of what he went through at your loft? The boy who was there that night knew squat about demons. Now all of a sudden, he's a devil-worshiper. What? Destroying my sanity wasn't enough for you, Jim?" he asked, smacking his hand against the desk. "Did you have to destroy my son too?"

When Jim didn't comment, didn't move an inch in the chair, Simon walked around the desk. "How am I supposed to tell his mama, huh? How am I supposed to tell her that her baby boy is out dancing naked in the moonlight and participating in orgies? I know about these cults, Jim. I know what goes on in them. Wonder has Daryl been whipped? Or is he the one doing the whipping? Better check at home to see if I'm missing a set of handcuffs. They work well with the chains. You should see some of the things I've found where these cults have met. But you know what I've never found? Condoms, Jim. All that sex, all that bloodletting, and I've never found a condom. Tell me, Mr. Sentinel, can those senses tell you if my son has contracted AIDS? Or do I have a year of testing hell waiting for me in the future? He's a kid, Jim, my only kid. What have you-- we-- damned him to?" He buried his face in his hands.

"Simon, please, let's not jump to conclusions," Jim begged softly.

The captain looked up, laughing slightly. "Jump to conclusions?" he repeated. "My boy was there last night, Jim. He called a murderer into this world, this dimension, whatever. That's a fact. You knew it when you ran in here, didn't you? What happened? Did you smell her on him?"

"Yes."

"Damn it, Jim. Why? Because his mother and I got divorced? Because I'm not there every day to be his father? What drove him to finding answers by worshiping demons?"

"We don't know that's what he was doing, Simon-- looking for answers. He seemed rather eager to be caught," Jim pointed out.

"He did, didn't he?" The captain perched on the corner of his desk and sighed. "I was so disappointed in him when I went to the principal's office... and so angry because every time I or the principal would ask a question, he would completely clam up. In the car over here, I think he tried to give me a hint to what was going on, but I didn't want to hear it. Just like I wasn't ready to listen to him about last night." Thoughts and recriminations warred in his head for several minutes and he looked at the man who patiently sat there through the silence. "Thanks, Jim."

"For?"

"For keeping me from saying something to my son I couldn't take back."

A shrug. "You were in shock and didn't know where to direct your anger. I just showed you the right path."

Simon looked a bit ashamed. "You didn't deserve my anger either. Whatever Daryl was doing with those demon-worshipers last night--"

"Had to do with me," Jim said softly. "That part you were absolutely right about, sir. Whatever Daryl did last night, he did because of me. And for that, I am very, very sorry."

*****

"It's because of what happened at the loft that I happened to participate in the invocation," Daryl explained to Blair as the grad student handed him a cola in the break room. "You see, the reality of demons was really wild, you know. So I did the library thing, looking up stuff and cruising the 'net for 411. It really helped me develop the computer game. I named it Sentry because that means the same thing as sentinel. I'll download a copy of the prototype to you and let you get a feel for it," he offered. A night at the loft had introduced him not only to demons, but had also revealed the Sentinel to him.

"Thanks, Daryl," Blair said distractedly as he fought the guilt Daryl's words brought. And if he was feeling guilty, God help Jim and Simon. "Curiosity took over after all the stuff you found, right? You felt the need to reaffirm what you had experienced at the loft?"

Daryl shook his head. "Uh uh. I swear to God, man, if I don't have another 'up close and personal' with a demon, that'll be all right with me. I was just trying to help you out. See, my digging got me eyeballed by people who practice this stuff like Teo Augustino. He's in my computer lab, which means he got to test Sentry, and he noticed it was about fighting demons. He like started asking me questions about why I was interested in demons, and had I ever called one up, and stuff like that because he and some of his friends were down with that shit. I started to tell him to fuck off. I still remember what Jim said about the people who were into this crap wanting to hurt Flip and I knew I didn't want to be anywhere near them."

Daryl knew Flip was Jim's daughter some kind of way. Well, he guessed he knew what kind of way, although Flip's mom, T'Dette, and Jim seemed more like friends than lovers. But his dad had told him during "the talk" that love didn't have a lot to do with making babies. At least Jim was being a man about it, accepting his responsibility and stuff. But, then again, Blair always called his partner "the poster boy for responsibility" and hell, how much more responsible could you get than fighting demons in your spare time. In fact, that's how Daryl had gotten to know Flip so well. She had been kidnapped from her home in New Orleans and brought to Cascade by a cult who sexually abused children. While Blair, Jim, and his dad had fought demons, he'd taken care of Flip and her mother.

He looked at Blair, who was patiently waiting for him to continue. "Telling them off was my first instinct. My second one was to come to you guys and warn you that some of my classmates were into this. Probably should have stuck with that one, but I didn't want to get you stirred up just to find out later it was just some dumb kidstuff without any real demons. So I pretended to go along with them, see if there was anything to it. That Lilith chick wasn't even really supposed to come in real form. It was just supposed to be like those voodoo scenes you see on TV-- you chant a little, a spirit takes over somebody, lots of sex, and everybody's happy."

"Sounds pretty dangerous to me," Blair said, reminding Daryl of the times.

"I went prepared."

"For the sex?" The teen nodded. "But what about the bloodletting beforehand?"

Daryl looked away sheepishly. "I knew the ritual called for cutting ourselves, but I honestly didn't think anyone would go through with it. But they had this music pumped up in the background and the air was full of incense... It was so hard to think, Blair. It didn't take me long to realize I was in way over my head. But I couldn't get out of it... I didn't want to get out of it," he added with surprising honesty. "Anyway, we completed the ritual, but instead of Lilith entering Shannon--"

"She was the Main Operator?" Blair interrupted, knowing the leader of such a rite was called that.

"Yeah, but instead of this spirit leaving the mirror and entering her, the mirror breaks apart and there's this dark form shimmering in front of us. For a second I wonder if someone's not burning more than incense, but the woman becomes real. She is so beautiful, Blair. Long dark hair. Really red lips, and huge..." He used his hands to illustrated her shapeliness. "She walks up to each of us and kisses us on the lips, even the girls. Then she's gone and we're all standing around like 'what the hell was that' and it finally hits us that Lilith had come to life. My first thought was that I had to tell Jim. I was about to jump in my car and head to the loft when Teo reminds all of us that we'd taken an oath before the invocation and that it still held. As I tried to explain in Dad's office, after seeing what just happened, I was pretty skeptical of breaking the oath, you know."

"What happened this morning at school? Did you find out about...." Damn. Did Daryl know about the murders and if he didn't, should he tell him?

Daryl looked at him curiously. "About what? After not sleeping last night, I decided to try again to get out of the oath, but Teo wasn't having it so we got into a fight. Then I had the brilliant thought of calling my dad, and I was hoping beyond hope that Jim would be able to tell what I'd done. When he came bursting through those doors, I knew my prayers had been answered." He smiled and leaned back in the chair. "Now, what were you talking about? What should I have found out earlier?"

Blair debated how much to tell him but in the end, the decision was taken from him as Jim opened the door and closed it. "Lilith has already killed twice, Daryl," he told the youth.

"No," Daryl said slowly, looking at Jim with horror. "It's only been a few hours. She couldn't have... What have we done?"

Jim squatted before him. "Some things that have been done, can't be undone, Daryl. But putting Lilith back where she belongs can be done. But we're going to need your help. We need to know who was in this with you and the ritual you used. If you want, I'll go over to your school and pick them out myself so that--"

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll tell you, Jim. I'll tell you everything," Daryl vowed.

Chapter Seven

"Your ass is mine, Banks!"

"I want a lawyer!"

"My mom's going to kill me."

"It's his word against ours!"

Blair looked at the teenagers and shook his head. He had convinced Jim and Simon to let him sort of "head" the interrogation of the six kids involved in the invocation ceremony-- three girls and three boys. In fact, the questioning was being held in a nice, very unofficial and non-threatening psych lab at Rainier (it paid to have friends who owed you one). Simon had eagerly agreed to all the preparations. He hadn't wanted to go the legal route because a) his son was involved and b) although he'd brought in people for messing around with demons before, he hadn't really known demons were involved. This time he did know, and the thought of how to write up such an event with stomach-turning.

The teens had arrived sullen and silent, but that hadn't lasted long-- the silent part anyway. Blair had tried to bond with the group, but they would have nothing to do with that, so he had switched to the professor approach. But apparently these kids had no respect for their teachers. So, he had recruited Jim to play the bad cop to his good cop. That hadn't gone over too well either. As an aside to his main thoughts, Blair wondered about their parents, what influence they had on the behavior of their children, and was this why they had ventured into the world of demonology. Demons expected to be obeyed and if you failed to do so, you were punished. In other words, behavior mattered to demons which meant the kids themselves mattered-- something they probably weren't too sure of at home.

Behind him, Blair could feel Jim getting restless as he sat backwards in a chair in the far corner of the room, indolently leaning his chin against the back of the chair and watching the group as calmly as a predator watches his prey. That wasn't good. Not that he didn't think his partner could get them to talk; he just didn't want them having nightmares afterward. Then again, maybe what these kids needed was a lesson in respect.

"Enough!" he said, raising his voice as if to carry across an auditorium instead of a small lab. "I've heard enough whining, accusing, and sniveling for one day. If you think you're adult enough to do things in the dark, then you're adult enough to pay the consequences when the lights come on. So stop worrying about what your parents are going to say, and who told what. Believe me, you have enough to worry about without adding to it."

"Oh, so now we're supposed to be terrified, right?" one of the brats sneered.

Blair's stormy gaze scraped across Mateo Augustino, the leader of the mini-coven. "If you're smart, you would be, Teo."

The teen laughed nervously. "You're a cop. You have to obey the laws even more than we do."

This time it was Blair who was laughing. "I'm not a cop, man. I'm a grad student here at Rainier. And even you should be bright enough to know how well college students obey the law. But now, my friend here, he is a cop. Maybe you can make that appeal to him." All eyes fell on Jim.

The detective shrugged. He had already left his gun with Simon. Now, he stood, took out his badge, and tossed it out the door. "No badge. No weapon. At the moment, I'm just like you guys-- able to do what I want. You want to have me brought up on charges later, be my guest. But for now, I suggest you answer my partner's questions." He casually resumed his seat.

"You were all involved in a dark ritual last night," Blair began.

"According to Rat Man Banks," Teo corrected. "Should have known better than to include the spawn of a cop."

"Shut up, Teo, or I'll finish that ass-whupping I started this morning," Daryl muttered angrily.

"You know, I'm getting tired of all these threats being made in my face," Jim said. "Daryl, I suggest you be quiet because you're in enough trouble as is. Teo, I'm sorry, son, but you're going to have to take responsibility for your actions. You just can't keep on blaming Daryl for your troubles. Daryl hasn't told me anything that I didn't already know."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Jim," Blair warned.

He looked at his partner and smiled. "Who's going to believe them, Chief? They sit around chanting up demons and sniffing incense and who knows what else. They are not exactly what we, in the law enforcement world, would call 'reliable sources.'" He picked up a folder beside his chair and distributed copies of the dagger he'd drawn. "Look familiar? And before you go lashing out at Daryl, think. Did he see the weapon long enough to remember it in such detail? He only held it when he pricked his finger, then passed it on to the next person, correct?" That got their attention and held it.

"You know the invocation?" Shannon questioned hesitantly.

"I know that each of you cut your index finger except for Teo. To show how daring he was, he chose another so that he could draw the cross and flip off everyone at the same time. Is that not right, Teo?"

"Who the hell are you, man?" Teo asked suspiciously. "What the hell are you?"

"Think about it, Teo." Jim had heard Daryl tell Blair that Teo had tested his game.

"You're the... the Sentry?" Jim nodded. "Nah, man. He's just some freaking fantasy," Teo argued.

"Yeah, just like Lilith," Jim said flatly as he opened his folder again and handed out photos from the crime scene-- the second, less messy, one. "But freaking fantasy or not, this man is dead and Lilith killed him. Before he becomes your father, brother, favorite uncle, or best friend, I suggest you help me put your little fantasy back in her cage."

They looked at the picture, then at him. All nodded in agreement.

*****

"Mr. Prescott, thank you for seeing me," Masden said as Ronald Prescott was led into the chamber in chains, then cuffed to the desk. The interview room at the Maryland Correctional Institute at Jessup was as dreary as the others he had visited in his long career, and he was doubly glad Cindy had had to go back to the hotel to wait on a fax on Sandburg's background. This was not the place for her.

"First visitor I've had since I got in here. Wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth," Prescott said jovially as he absently rubbed his wrist. "A reporter, huh? Whatcha doing your story on? Serial killers? Child murderers? Men Who Kill Without Remorse?"

"Actually, Mr. Prescott, as I mentioned on the phone, I'm doing an expose of James Ellison. He's the--"

"Oh, I know who the hell he is. He's the pig who busted me. For eleven years, no one knew nothing. Then he waltzes in, makes like he's my friend, and nails me.... You said you're doing an expose? So you know about him, right?"

Masden had to fight to keep his excitement from showing. "Know what, Mr. Prescott?" Always call the prisoners 'mister', he remembered one of his early teachers telling him. It showed you respected them and whatever crimes they had committed.

"That he ain't normal. You know how he catches us, don't you? If I hadn't been so mad, it probably would have scared me to death," Prescott added with a shudder. "I don't know how he handles it. He has to be one tough son of a bitch. No wonder he looked like the walking dead. The walking dead..." he repeated, laughing at his unintentional joke.

"I'm not following you," the reporter interjected, smiling nevertheless.

Prescott leaned over and said softly, "You really don't know, do you? Your detective becomes the dead. One minute, I'm talking to this big blue-eyed man and the next, I'm facing my brown-eyed son-- the one that I murdered. Scary as hell."

Masden wasn't sure what he was expecting but this wasn't it. Ellison channeled the dead? Was it possible to turn a person into a psychic? Well, there had been cases where near-death experiences started people into have psychic bouts, especially traumas involving the brain, like lightning strikes or concussions. Like maybe a concussion after a helicopter crash? What had been the extent of the good captain's injuries? But if this was the case, there went his government conspiracy. Now, all he had left was something fit for a tabloid. No! There had to be more. Too many people were covering for Ellison. The FBI had sent a profiler to shield him, and he'd gotten nowhere questioning the Baltimore cops. In fact, all he had received from talking to them was a couple of thinly-disguised threats. He shook his head in denial. No. This channeling business was just part of something bigger, something more clandestine.

"You know when they get me in the gas chamber, I plan to pay the detective a visit. See how he'll like having a big ghost take over his ass. Should be fun," Prescott concluded.

"Yes, it should be," Masden said distractedly. "Has anyone else questioned you about what happened with the detective? Maybe someone from a government agency?"

"Nah. As I said, you're my first visitor. I didn't have too many friends on the outside, I guess."

"Well, thank you for your time, sir. You have been a big help." He gathered his notepad and pencil. They wouldn't let him carry a pen inside.

"You don't want to ask me how it felt to kill my own flesh and blood? Or the other boys?" Masden shook his head and Prescott sighed. Oh, well. Maybe after he hit it big with this story. "You'll send me a copy of the article when you finish it? And it'll have my name in it?"

Masden nodded. "All of my sources will be accurately documented. Goodbye, Mr. Prescott."

Cindy was waiting for him as he walked out of the depressing place and into the sunshine. "Well, Eggie? You get anything?"

He shrugged. "Just more strangeness. Maybe I have done too many drugs, Cin."

"Maybe not. I got the report on that Sandburg guy. It may have the info you've been looking for."

Masden grabbed her arm excitedly. "Tell me, Cin. You don't know how much I need good news right now. Is he more than just some dumb, anthropology student?"

"He is an anthropology major, Eddie. In fact, he has a master's degree in it. His paper was on something obscure-- people called Sentinels."

"Never heard of them."

"They purportedly died out a long time ago."

"Who the hell were they?"

"They had heightened senses... perhaps so heightened they could smell bodies long buried?" she broadly hinted.

"Or maybe not so buried across a parking lot?" He grinned and threw his arms around her. "You're a godsend, Cin! Now, tell me all you know. Theses senses? How many of them are heightened? How are they heightened? Is this a hereditary thing? Doesn't matter now with all this gene altering crap going on. Could you imagine the kind of army you could have if they didn't need to haul around all the technical shit and didn't have to worry about dampening fields or radio signals being traced... And where would you train such a being, to see if he works the way you want him to work? Make him a policeman, of course. Put him into various situations, no matter where they occur, assign him an observer..... How clever. What time is our flight to New Orleans?"

"Two hours," Cindy answered as she drove back to the hotel.

"Good. That gives me time to go back over Ellison's case files, looking for instances of extraordinary uses of his senses. If we're right, you know what this means? It means the government has been doing genetic experimentations on humans since at least 1988. No wonder people have been dying over this. Can you imagine the flack if this got out? Turning men into sensory automatons.... My God, Cindy. We just may have the story of the year!"

Chapter Eight

"So what do we have so far?" Simon asked wearily as he looked out into the empty space of Major Crimes. It was late. Everyone else had gone home. Except for the Demon Busters.

"Not much," Jim replied with a frown. "The kids used the same invocation Sandburg had already found."

"But we now know how the embodiment of Lilith was able to cross over into our plane of existence," Blair said, trying to pretend they were making progress. "Usually with this rite, a part of her spirit weakly possesses the Main Operator, then the spirit is banished back to where it came from. But in mythology Lilith is known as the 'Black Moon'. It rules the night sky in our regular moon's absence, you know on those 'moonless nights' in horror stories where it's so dark you can't see your hand in front of you. Last night was like that, and I think the ritual plus the Black Moon created some kind of portal. It was a fluke, an accident."

"Accident or not, two men are dead and there will be more by morning," Jim pointed out in frustration.

"And my son helped cause this," Simon muttered.

"Daryl was trying to help us, Simon," Blair said quickly. "And he did. Now we know the callers and they will be necessary when we send Lilith back."

"How?"

"You hadn't said anything about that, Chief."

He held up his hand for silence. "I just found out myself. Willow left some information on my email."

"Willow?"

Blair shrugged. "Don't know if it's a male or a female. We met in a chat room, and I'm going to guess and say she because I hate saying he/she. It's so stupid--"

"Chief."

The simple warning put him back on track. "Willow seems to have access to an incredible occult database which she calls 'The Library'. According to what she told me, the original callers are the only ones who can send her back by doing the ritual in reverse."

"Then why did we let them walk out of the lab?" Simon demanded.

"Because Lilith isn't ready to go back yet."

"What does that mean?"

Blair shrugged. "Willow isn't sure. She's going to do more digging and let me know."

"How do we know this Willow is reliable?"

"She was the one who told me about the holy water before." The holy water which had kept the demons out of the loft and gotten the one out of him.

Jim knew how guilty Blair still felt about that, so he quickly stood and stretched. "Well, the best thing we can do right now is go home and get some rest. Everybody has a partner, right?" Lilith attacked men who slept alone, so he wanted to make sure none of the principal players could succumb to her.

"Teo and Josh are doing a sleepover at Teo's, Daryl is bunking with me, and I'm sure you and Sandburg have your plans."

Jim nodded. "Then we're all set for the night. It'll probably be another early morning call," he warned.

"We may not be able to work the crime scenes, Jim, if they are not in the CPD's jurisdiction. Not everyone is like John, although I did notify the surrounding authorities that we are working a possible serial, and would appreciate being informed."

"That won't be a problem, Simon. She's in the city."

He nodded, taking Jim's word for it. "When I get called, you're next on the list. Go home and relax while you can. That's what I'm going to do as soon as I pick Daryl up from the Y."

They said their goodbyes and left Simon closing up his office. "Well, it's happened, Jim, and I hope you're proud of yourself," Blair said as he settled into the truck's passenger seat.

Jim sighed. "What have I done now?" he asked, resigned to everything being his fault.

Blair dug into his pocket. "Got me carrying a badge, that's what," he replied with as smile as he flashed the shiny medallion Sheriff Robinson had tossed at him. "But I am not giving up my ponytail, man. Got it?"

"Aye, aye, Deputy Blair," Jim replied laughingly.

Blair examined the badge. "You think he buys these things by the gross in a novelty catalog?"

"Lighten up, Chief. He's shorthanded and gets by the only way he can."

Blair stared at the figure beside him. It looked like Jim. He bounced as the truck zoomed around a corner. It drove like Jim. But it sure as hell didn't sound like Jim. "Where is all this tolerance coming from, man? Is this something Michael infused in you?"

Jim shook his head. "Not Michael-- life. I can't afford to be intolerant, not anymore. Just the idea of how intolerant people would view me, the me I've become, makes me cringe at the way I used to behave. Despite your supportive words, I am not normal and there are people out there who would scorn me, exile me, or more than likely, kill me because of what I am, what I can do. I have knowledge, Chief, of spirits and demons and angels.... I know now it's not safe to ridicule anything, for the impossible is just likely to be possible after all."

Blair looked over compassionately at his partner. He had not fully appreciated the depth and breadth of the changes Jim had had to accept in the past year. Sure, he'd known he was a bit uneasy conversing with ghosts and the experience he'd shared with Alicia had been enough to shake a pope's faith. But Jim had also had to contend with raising the remains of the girls in the bayou, traveling to another plane of existence and wrestling with demons, and to top it off, he had been in the presence of an actual angel-- no, an archangel, who had empowered him to be a warrior for all of mankind. It was no longer about a tribe, nor a city, nor even a nation. No, Jim fought for the hope of a species, for its future.

The weight of that responsibility had to be heavy and even though he and Simon had pledged their support, the majority of that weight would always rest on Jim's shoulders. And the wonder of it was that Jim had not balked, had never once bemoaned his fate. It was as if after embracing his status as a Sentinel, he was resigned to whatever life handed him. Hell, maybe he had been expecting further changes. That enhanced sixth sense of his....

"You worry me when you're this quiet," Jim remarked apprehensively.

No matter how much Jim had grown, Blair instinctively knew he wouldn't appreciate the sympathetic thoughts, so he pointed out something he'd meant to mention before. "You really threw me when you confessed to those kids that you were the, uh, Sentry."

Jim shrugged. "They had seen Lilith, Chief, and knew that demons, evil, actually existed. I just thought they should know that the alternative existed too, that they had a choice."

Blair couldn't help it. "You amaze me, man," he gushed. "No wonder you're such a good detective. You understand people. You know how they think, their motives, their desires and needs. That's what's so confusing."

"What?" Jim asked, knowing he should long be over being embarrassed when Blair praised him, but felt his face warm nevertheless.

"Why you were such a jerk before you met me."

Jim laughed, grateful for this man at his side. "Jerks are ignored, Sandburg. They don't participate in conversations, but they still hear and see. How else could I do such a thorough study of people?"

"So, you're saying there was method in your 'jerkiness'? I ain't buying it, man," Blair challenged with a smile.

"Can't blame a man for trying," Jim said with good grace.

"Just wait until I tell Simon...."

*****

"Look at this," Masden said, shoving a crinkled piece of paper beneath Cindy's nose as the plane soared toward Louisiana. "He spent some time at Ellsworth Air Force Base after doing some rescue work."

"In South Dakota?"

"Yeah, the detective gets around," he agreed. "Oddly enough, those Baltimore cops were with him there too."

"You think they're involved as well?"

"I think anyone who works with him is subject to extensive review. If you pass, you live. If you don't.... Apparently, the ones he worked with in New Orleans had to fly to Cascade recently. Wonder if that was some kind of test?"

"So it's a pretty safe bet that they're not going to talk to us, right?"

"Probably not. But the New Orleans gig was a big operation. Lots of people were involved," Masden pointed out.

"So back to the prisons?"

He shook his head. "Nah, once they took out the leader, I doubt anyone else will have the guts to say anything. But as I said, a lot of people were involved, not just cops and cons. Like those who helped retrieve the bodies from the swamp, and the family members of those girls. I think we'll find at least one person willing to talk."

"And then what?"

"And then maybe we'll have enough to convince Ellison that it would be in his best interest to cooperate with us."

Chapter Nine

"We got to sleep through the whole night. What does that mean?" Blair asked as he sat down at the breakfast table across from his roommate.

"That demons don't keep timetables?"

Blair sighed. "I still say Michael could have improved your sense of humor while he was repairing your body."

Jim picked up a forkful of egg, ignoring the slight to his humorous nature. "Although there have been certain rumors, Lilith is not a vampire, Chief. She can operate in the sunlight."

"And you know this because...."

"I just do."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Is that going to be your standard answer, Jim? 'I just do.' That's not a big help, you know."

"I'm not trying to be difficult," Jim defended himself. "I know that we need to collect all the information we can and share it with each other. If I could tell you that the information appeared to me in a dream or I saw it scribbled in the steam on the bathroom mirror, I would. But it's nothing I'm conscious of, Chief. It's like the sky is blue. How do I know that? Do you remember when you learned the sky is blue, Sandburg? No. But nevertheless, you know it, right?"

"You're talking about the sky in general, right? Not Cascade's, which is mainly gray and leaking?" Blair teased. "I hear you, man, and I'll back off. For now."

"'For now,' he warns," Jim muttered as he refilled both their coffee mugs. "We have a reprieve of sorts. Anything you need to get done before duty rears its ugly head?"

"As a matter of fact, there are a couple of errands I need to run at Rainier, check my mailbox and stuff like that. Think you can spare me for about an hour or so?"

"Yeah, I'll just head down to the station and see if the information from the sheriff's investigator has come in yet."

Ten minutes later, both men headed out the door. "I know it seems calm, but be careful, Chief," Jim warned as he got into the truck.

Blair smiled gratefully as the Volvo started on the first try. "I will. You too, Jim."

"You got it." At the first stoplight he came to, Jim took his cell phone and dialed Simon. "Hi, Simon. Just letting you know I'm on my way in...He's stopping by Rainier for an hour or so...No, I don't think this means she's decided to change her ways. She's probably just gathering her energies...Of course I've been around Sandburg too long, but the same could be said of you...How was Daryl when you dropped him off at school?...And the two of you?" He frowned as he pulled into a space at the Cascade Towers. Why the hell was he stopping here? "What?...I don't know what's going on, Simon. I'm at the Cascade Towers and..." He breathed deeply. "Lilith is here!...Wait for backup? Come on, Si--...Fine! I'll wait!"

Jim fumed beside his truck as he waited for a patrol unit to respond. Lilith was somewhere in the hotel, killing some poor unfortunate and he was standing around waiting for backup. But he had promised not only Simon and Blair, but Michael as well, that he would listen to his Watcher and Guide. And if Jim Ellison was anything, he was a man of his word. Even if his jaw cracked while he waited.

As soon as he spotted the patrol car, he took off for the hotel lobby. Because he had to wait until an elevator reached the ground floor, the officer managed to catch up with him. Breathless, the young cop glanced at the detective and asked, "What floor?" as his fingers paused above the buttons. His companion didn't reply and Officer Myron Whittaker glanced over at him questioningly. Det. Ellison's eyes were unfocused and his mouth was slightly agape. He wondered briefly if the man was having some sort of seizure, but he didn't bother him. As soon as he'd been assigned to the Central Precinct, he'd been told never to interfere with whatever the detective did. Ever...unless you wanted to face the wrath of Captain Banks. So he waited patiently and was rewarded with a terse, "Eighth."

The elevator's door slid back and Jim ran through. At Room 826, he pulled his weapon. At 828, he kicked in the door. Whittaker started to mumble something about warrants, but remembered in the nick of time that questioning the detective was taboo. Then he saw a sight which ripped all rational thought out of his head. A woman kneeling on a bed. Her hair was ash blond, her eyes hazel, height 5'5-ish, weight 120. He noticed this because he was a cop. She was naked. He noticed this because he was a man. She was covered in nothing but...blood. But not her own. This he noticed because he was human and so was her victim. Male. Brown hair. Nude. Quite dead.

Lilith looked up, startled as the door flew open just as she was finishing her breakfast. Some called her a vampire, but she wasn't. Vampires required blood to exist; she just liked the taste of it. Her first thought, as she stared at the pair, was that room service had provided lunch and dinner. Then she noticed herself changing, her body growing thinner and longer, her hair also lengthening and darkening to a jet black. Only one kind of human made her revert to her true form.

"My, I must compliment Michael," she said approvingly as she took in the luscious male who had destroyed the door. Those eyes, those muscles, that..... "You certainly are a step above his usual sackcloth-wearing monk. Young, beautiful, virile. Don't tell me Michael is into collecting 'trophies' now. I always did think he was a waste as an angel. You can put down the gun, darling. You know it won't do any good."

Jim shrugged and tucked it into the small of his back. "Came with the badge, along with the words 'you are under arrest for the murder of the poor bastard you have between your legs.'"

"And a sense of humor as well," she said as she lifted herself off the corpse and sat on the edge of the bed. With her change of form, the blood covering her had disappeared, and Jim and Whittaker were left in the presence of a very beautiful, naked woman who was taking her time crossing her legs. "So how do you plan to trick me, handsome? I don't mean any disrespect, but I doubt if anyone as pretty as you are could possibly outsmart me. That's how it was done before. Of course, I'm not sure if the monk was that wise or I was just that bored. Tell me, is the little friend behind your back part of the game too?" she asked, eyeing the young officer speculatively. "He's a bit plain, but sometimes you need bland. A balanced diet and all that."

"Go for backup," Jim ordered without looking back at Whittaker. His senses felt the officer backing away nervously.

"Gee, I thought we'd never be alone," Lilith said silkenly. "So, what manner of man are you?"

"Flesh and blood, just like the one behind you. Of course, I'm a little more lively."

"I'm sure you are. But there is something different about you, yes? How did you find me? What secrets do you hold?"

He walked a few steps toward her. "I am the keeper of many secrets, Lilith. Would you like to hear one?"

She smiled, lips blood red against her fair skin. "Do tell."

He leaned forward conspiratorily. "I have magic fingers."

"And what magic do they create?"

"The kind you like." He used his eyes to indicate he wanted to sit beside her and she nodded. Fingers traced her spine until she gasped. "See? I told you you would like it." His hand went to her neck. "I can find spots like that all over your body." He pressed her neck to demonstrate. She went limp against his hand. He angled her head until she was facing him. Then he kissed her deeply, allowing his senses to lend him expertise.

"Show me more," she invited when their tongues untangled.

He shook his head and stood. "I'm not into threesomes," he replied, angling his head toward the body in the bed.

"Not a problem." She shoved the corpse onto the floor.

"Maybe later."

"You dare to walk away from me?"

Cool blue eyes engaged black shining ones. "I do."

"Even when you contemplate the pleasure I could give you?"

"Even when I shiver at the thought of the pleasure I could give you," he replied, his eyes making promises she hoped his body could keep.

"There are arrogant men--" she began.

"And then there is me, Lilith. I may be a mere man, but I am all man. The only one who would die in our union would be you-- over and over again."

She shuddered, her mind painting vivid images. "Brave words."

"True words."

He was so confident. "Prove them."

Jim shrugged. "Like I said, maybe later."

Black eyes glowed red, yet Jim didn't flinch. Arrogant human! I *will* sample that which you offer so boldly, but not before you are made to suffer. She gathered her thoughts, then lost them as a growl distracted her. Her eyes widened in wonder as a sleek midnight-hued jaguar slinked around her adversary's legs. The man's hand immediately appeared to caress the silken head. The jaguar purred.

"He's precious," she said delightedly, her anger departing as quickly as it had arrived. "Come to me," she called, holding out her hands to the animal. The only reply was a warning hiss. She looked at Jim in confusion. "I command all beasts and have so since my days in Eden. Why does he refuse me? No beast, especially one as beautiful as this, has ever come to harm by my hands."

"But you meant harm to me."

Her eyes widened. "You and he are linked?" The animal looked up and for a second, his eyes flashed a familiar blue. "You and he are one. Ah. Another of your secrets. Perhaps that is why I am so drawn to you. The wildness in you calls to me as no other has, not even the evil ones. I see now that Michael has been very clever. He has studied my weaknesses. I shall endeavor to remember that."

"Meaning?" Jim inquired, then whipped around as he sensed a presence behind him. But it was too late, and he only caught a glimpse of his attacker before his world went dark.

*****

"You worked the recovery team?"

The man nodded, his white hair startling against the darkness of his skin. "Ah did. The last one befo' Ah retired. Nevuh got over dat one. Dem girls had been down there a long time."

Masden nodded as he sat down on the end of the pier where the man fished. Cindy, in deference to her white skirt, remained standing, shades filtering the harsh Louisiana sun from her eyes. "Can you tell me what happened that day, sir? Some of the things I've heard have been hard to believe."

Amos Moffat nodded. "Ah was there and Ah still don't believe some of what Ah saw myself. Dat detective from up north, he say he know where dat missin' girl be, so we follow him out to da bayou. We got our boats and standard 'quipment with us. People always droppin' things into da bayou dat don't belong there so dis be nothing new. But befo' we can deploy, dat man go wadin' in da bayou and he brung dat little girl out. Pretty little thin' she was too. Anyway, we be thinkin' this job be over, but he say there be others who wanna go home too. So we get out in da bayou and we was gonna start a pattern search like we always do, when he put his hand out over da water and start sayin' somethin'. Ah was out in de middle so Ah couldn't hear him, you understand. But somethin' did. All of a sudden-like, dem bones just come a-poppin' up. Been goin' to church ever since, Ah have."

Masden looked back at Cindy, shaking his head. What the hell is this, he questioned silently. "So, you saw him chanting and holding out his hand, then the bodies appeared. It wasn't like he was seeing or hearing something before?"

"Nope. Don't 'member anything like dat. You can ask da others if you like. They seed the same thin' Ah seed, though." The reporter nodded. He'd talked to others on the recovery crew and the accounts eerily similar. Now he was more confused than ever.

"Glad dat cop went back up north. He scared dis ol' man," Moffat continued, squinting at the red and white bobber at the end of his pole. "But dis wasn't his first time here and Ah guess it won't be his last."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah hear tell he got a little girl of his own over in da Quarter, so Ah'm guessin' he been here befo' and he'll come visitin' again."

A daughter? According to the records, Jim Ellison didn't have any children. Cindy was already whipping out her cell phone as Masden shook Moffat's hand and stood. It would take them at least an hour to reach the French Quarter. By that time, they should have the information they needed.

Chapter Ten

Captain Simon Banks didn't like that Detective Jim Ellison was not answering his cell phone. He was somewhat appeased that there was indeed a police cruiser next to the blue and white pickup, but that relief quickly faded when he walked into the hotel and discovered a fire alarm had just gone off on the eighth floor. Well, at least he didn't have to wonder where his missing detective was.

Refusing to wait for the fire department, he led his own charge up the eight flight of stairs, his officers following obediently. Smoke had started to seep out into the corridor from one of the rooms and in front of said room, a uniform stood at attention. "Where's Det. Ellison?" Simon demanded. No response. He tried to step into the room and the officer blocked him.

Simon knew he could have tried to reason with the man, could have tried to figure out what the hell was going on, but he knew without a doubt that his detective, his friend, no, damn it, his Sentinel, was in serious danger and he didn't have time to reason. So he reached out, batted the officer out of his way, and pushed through the door, which upon closer inspection, was barely on its hinges.

The smoke drove him to his knees and to a little clearer air. He spotted Jim crumbled on the floor, the carpet around him burning and indeed the bed as well. But the flames stayed clear of the detective and Simon blinked as a dark, sleek form seemed to meld into the smoke as he crawled toward his friend. Deciding the smoke was getting to him, he reached out for Jim's nearest body part, which happened to be his feet, and tugged Jim into the hallway. Hands helped, then pulled him away, as newly arriving paramedics took over.

Coughing, he was handed a bottle of water and he took it gratefully. Concerned eyes grazed over him. "I'm okay, Joel. How's Ellison?" he asked.

"He's breathing on his own, but unconscious. They think that's from the blow to his head. He's being transported to Cascade General."

"Blow to his.... Attempted murder then."

"Yes. And, Simon, it looks like Whittaker is our perp."

Simon wiped at his eyes and Joel stuck his glasses in his hand. He hadn't even realized they were missing. "Whittaker? The officer in the hall? He tried to--"

"I know. The men you had with you struggled with him after you moved him out of the way. They took his gun, of course, and that's when they noticed blood on the butt of it. We're pretty sure it's going to match Jim's." He glanced around, checking to make sure no one was too close. "What's going on here, Simon? Why would one of us try to take out our own?"

One of the firemen extinguishing the hotel room called out, "We got a body in here!"

Simon took in a deep breath and started coughing again. When he got it under control, he nodded to Joel. "Ask if it's male or female."

"You don't think it's Blair, do you?" Joel asked in alarm.

"No," Simon replied quickly. "He's over at the university, or at least he was. I sent Brown and Rafe to get him. Just find out for me, Joel, please?"

While Joel went to get the information, Simon got to his feet, scowling as he realized his suit was in dire need of cleaning. Ellison and Sandburg were hell on his wardrobe. "Well?" he asked his returning friend, as well as detective.

"Male."

Simon grimaced. "When Dan gets here, tell him to contact the County Coroner's Office. They will have two similar murders on record from yesterday morning." Dan Wolfe was the city's medical examiner.

"This is part of the serial case we've been working?"

Simon nodded. "I'm headed to the hospital. I'll have Brown and Rafe drop Sandburg there and send them back here to help with the investigation. Your partner picked a perfect day to take off."

"Zack always has perfect timing. Tell Jim I'm thinking about him."

"Will do."

"Hi, captain," Rafe said when he saw Simon enter the E.R.

"Your partner must have been driving," Simon remarked dryly, coming up with the only explanation for them beating him to the hospital. "Where is everyone?"

"Ellison started coming to, so they summoned Sandburg. And Brown went to check the snack machines. They usually have this extra-special cinnamon bun here that he just can't seem to find anywhere else."

"Then I guess he's lucky to be friends with Ellison and Sandburg," the captain replied. All their friends spent way too much time in this E.R. "Well, round him up and get over to the Towers to give Taggert a hand with the investigation."

Rafe nodded and Simon went in search of Sentinel and Guide. One of the staff directed him to a cubicle where a nurse was detaching lines from the patient. "You can't be on your way home already?" he exclaimed.

"Sure I--" A fit of coughing halted Jim's quick reply and it was at least a minute later before he could continue. "I'm fit as a fiddle, Simon."

"Yeah, for someone who was cracked over the head with a pistol and shut up in a burning room, you're doing just dandy, Ellison. You know your butt belongs in the hospital."

"So they can what? Feed me painkillers and wake me every few hours? I can get the same attention at the loft." He lowered his voice. "And we need to talk where someone isn't interrupting us every five minutes to put another hole in me," he added for good measure.

"Why aren't you helping here, Sandburg?" Simon asked in disgust.

"And have Jim throw it back in my face the next time I want to get out the hospital? I don't think so, Simon," Blair replied, looking at the captain as if he had been brain damaged at an early age.

Simon closed his eyes and counted to ten. "I have some calls to make. I'll be in the waiting area when you're ready," he grumbled.

Forty minutes later he was grumbling again. "If you pass out on me, Ellison, I am not going to catch you. Do you understand? I'm going to let your ass hit the floor, and maybe then you'll know why you weren't ready to leave the hospital." Despite his words, he wrapped an arm firmly around Jim's waist while Blair unlocked the door to the loft.

Jim smiled weakly. "I'm not going to pass out. Just a little dizzy from the concussion."

"No shit," Simon snapped.

"And if I don't get away from the smell of smoke, I think I'm going to be sick," Jim realized with a frown.

"Take a shower, man," Blair said quickly. "I'll bring you some clothes." Jim disappeared into the bathroom.

"Should he be getting his bandage wet, or even trying to stand in a shower?" Simon asked with concern.

Blair just smiled. "We've gone through this so much, captain, that we have it down to an art form. In the cabinet are waterproof bandages to cover whatever injuries we've managed to accrue. And there's a stool we place in the tub in case of head injury and/or dizziness. And as the last resort, we never lock the bathroom door, just in case we need a rescue."

"You people are scary."

Blair laughed and went on with his errands. Fifteen minutes later, Jim was out of the bathroom, and Simon was being shoved in. "I knew I should have gone back to the office."

"Then you'd just be using the showers in the locker room," Blair pointed out. He looked over to where Jim was sprawled across the sofa. "He's managing a lot of pain, man. The smoke smell is just too much and since you were the one who played hero...."

Simon would have sighed, but he felt that was getting to be a bit redundant, so he merely shut the bathroom door, and loudly clicked the lock.

"Now, how am I suppose to bring you your clothes?" Blair asked with an evil grin, which grew as he heard a curse and the lock being disengaged.

"This better be worth it," Simon said as he settled onto the loveseat, dressed in sweats and looking quite "uncaptainy". Blair folded himself into the floor at his feet and both focused on Jim. "What happened?"

"I was headed for the station," Jim began, adjusting a pillow so that he was sitting up more than lying down, "when suddenly I realized I was parking in front of the Cascade Towers. That's when I let you know I smelled Lilith, Simon."

"Why didn't you call me?" Blair inquired. "You should have known you needed backup. Especially in that place. Damn. The Towers got an open-door policy on demons or what?"

Belatedly, Jim remembered that was where Blair had gone and ended up possessed. No wonder his pulse is racing. "I was already talking with Simon, Chief, and backup-- eventually-- seemed like a good idea to me too. So I waited for help to arrive before I went into the hotel. Now, I sorta wish I hadn't."

"So you know," Simon observed.

"He knows what? What happened?" Blair asked in confusion. The only thing he was aware of was that Jim had gone to the hotel looking for another one of Lilith's victims, and had ended up passed out cold in a burning room.

"The backup officer was the guy who knocked Jim out."

"What!" He swiveled his head around to stare at Simon. "One of his fellow officers did this? Why?" he demanded.

"We don't know yet. He was taken to the station for questioning, but was so unresponsive, he was transferred to Cascade General for a psych evaluation."

"Son of a bitch would have needed more than a psych evaluation if I'd been around," Blair swore angrily.

"Sandburg!"

"Don't you 'Sandburg' me, Simon. Not this time. Jim could have been killed!"

"Easy, Chief," Jim soothed from the sofa. "Whittaker is about as mild as they get. I think Lilith was influencing him. Maybe she still is."

"Lilith was there, man? You actually saw her?"

"Saw her. Talked to her." Felt her up.

Blair's anger disappeared as curiosity took over. "Start from the top, Jim."

Jim leaned back against the pillows. "I waited for backup, then entered. We went to the eighth floor and found Lilith with her latest victim."

"How did you know where she was?" Blair interrupted. "Was it her scent again?"

Jim started to shake his head, but then remembered that it was 'dented' again. "No, it was another one of those 'I just knew's, Chief. Sorry."

"That's okay. Did she just open the door and let you or what?"

"He kicked the door in," Simon supplied. "I recognized the footwork."

"I didn't really think she would just invite me in," Jim explained dryly. "So Whittaker and I went in. Lilith was naked and straddling a very recently dead body. She was this petite ash blonde, but as soon as she saw me-- or maybe I saw her-- she changed. She became taller and her hair turned black and lengthened. This is her true form, I think, and that's what alerted her to what I am. She apparently reverts in the presence of Michael's hired help."

Blair smiled at Jim's choice of words. Hired help, indeed. "She reverted and then what happened?"

"We, uh, talked."

Jim's reluctance made Blair nervous. "About...?"

"She told me my gun was useless against her, and that she was surprised Michael hadn't chosen his usual monk to fight his battles. She mentioned Whittaker in a way that made me nervous, so I sent him out to wait on backup."

"So he was out of the room?" Simon questioned.

"Yes. I thought he'd be safer that way."

"What about your own safety?"

"I was protected, Simon. When I pissed her off and she wanted to retaliate, my personal kitty came to my rescue."

"Really?" Blair asked excitedly. "She saw him too?"

"Yeah. She apparently has this thing for animals, and she was actually distressed when he wouldn't go to her when she called him. That's when she noticed our connection."

"Back up!" the captain demanded. "Who or what came to your rescue?"

"Jim' s spirit guide, Simon. We've told you about him-- the black jaguar?"

"But I thought he was just something mental, imaginary?"

"I think he's whatever he wants to be, Simon," Jim concluded.

"And your connection?"

Jim shrugged. "We sometimes look alike."

Simon faithfully tucked that information into the little corner of his mind reserved for things he knew, and never wanted to think about again. "So, you pissed her off. How?"

"I wouldn't give her what she wanted," he mumbled in reply.

"Which was?"

"Me."

So that's why Jim was so uncomfortable. "It's okay, man. Seduction is Lilith's M.O. That you were strong enough to deny her--"

"She wasn't the one doing the seducing, Chief."

"I beg your pardon?" Simon questioned sharply. "What the hell does that mean, Ellison?"

"It means, captain, that I told her I had magic fingers, then proceeded to show her," Jim ground out, furious at himself for blushing.

"Damn it! What is it with the two of you? You know, I had an old hound when I was growing up. He was much better behaved after a trip to the vet!"

"Hey! Why are you including me, Simon? I haven't done anything," Blair objected.

"Today, Sandburg. You haven't done anything today. But if your past is any indication--"

"Whoa. The number of good relationships I've had far outnumber the bad. You just don't hear about the good ones, okay? They don't make the bullpen gossip column--"

"Stop!" Jim shouted, sitting up suddenly. The room spun crazily for a couple of seconds and he teetered on the edge of the sofa.

"Jim, man, just breathe in and out slowly. Follow me, man, in and out." Arms held him stable on the sofa.

"I knew he shouldn't have left the hospital!"

Jim risked opening an eye and was pleased to find the room remained in a stationary position. "I'm okay, guys. Just moved a bit fast, that's all. I just wanted you to know before a certain someone pulled a Lorena Bobbitt, or Hugh Hefner here started to list his conquests, that what I did was deliberate."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked, reaching for Jim's forehead to make sure his temperature wasn't up.

"I think I 'm supposed to seduce her, Chief. That's the master plan."

"Plan for what?"

"I don't know, Simon. But she was taunting me earlier, wondering how I was going to trick her. Said she didn't think anyone as pretty," he blushed again, "as I was could possibly outsmart her. There's something I'm supposed to get from her and sex is her weakness. She even admitted that Michael must have studied her vulnerabilities."

"So, in other words, you're bait," Simon said.

"And I don't care much for it," Jim griped.

Blair laughed. "C'mon, man. You're both cops. You send your fellow female officers out to do this kind of stuff every day. Don't tell me you didn't do worse when you were in vice, Jim."

A shudder ran deep inside the Sentinel, but he covered it with a terse, "Now you know why I transferred. The real issue here, however, is not how I'm supposed to get the information, but what it is I'm supposed to get. Any clue, gentlemen?"

Blair popped up. "I'll check in with Willow. Maybe she's found something for me. Captain, if you wouldn't mind, would you please just sit there for a few minutes and make sure he doesn't try to get up? He has all these special gifts, and sometimes I think he gets confused and really believes he is Superman."

Simon snickered. "Maybe Lilith would like him in those tights."

"Spandex is the way to go, Simon. Definitely spandex."

"You two will gets yours. I promise you," Jim threatened as he reclined once again on the sofa.

"Aw, Jim. Don't worry. We know you're just a tease."

An excellent display of verbal vituperation was promptly drowned out by uncontrollable laughter.

Chapter Eleven

"Willow says that Lilith has to be willing to go back into exile, that she must be made submissive for the reversal to work," Blair explained quietly to Simon, peering over to make sure Jim hadn't awakened. The Sentinel had been asleep for a couple of hours, allowing his companions to get a few things done, Blair on the computer and Simon on his cell phone.

"Wouldn't sex just send her running in the opposite direction?"

"But what if she can't get what she wants?"

"Ellison playing hard to get isn't that difficult to picture, but can he really get her to desire him that much?" Although, he had heard rumors from Vice, well actually whines when Jim had transferred to Major Crimes, about the man's ability to attract.

Blair shrugged. "Apparently he provoked enough emotion in her to try to kill him."

"But she does that to every man she meets."

"Yes, but she kills them. With Jim, she used a third party."

"Because he works for Michael and she can't touch him?"

"Or because she doesn't want to touch him, not that way anyway. He was down as soon as he was hit on the head. She could have taken him right then. But she didn't."

Simon shook his head. ""I don't, can't, understand women. Guess that's why I'm divorced," he remarked just as someone knocked on the door. He hurried to open it before they could wake Jim.

Detectives Brown and Rafe stared at their commander-- a commander not in a suit, but a set of sweats...and white socks. "Cap...Captain Banks?" Brown finally managed to say.

"What? I can't relax like the rest of the world?" Simon groused and ushered them inside. "Ellison's asleep so be quiet and quick. What do you have for me?"

Rafe looked at his partner. Yep. It was definitely the captain. "The victim was William Baker, a businessman from Portland. He checked into the Towers two nights ago. A local company was considering hiring him and that's why he was in town. It seems his wife had divorced him and he was looking for a change."

"Well, he certainly got one, didn't he?" Simon said acerbically. "Anything on Whittaker?"

"We checked on his personal life like you asked, captain. His last girlfriend couldn't take that he was a cop, so she left him about six months ago. According to his friends, he isn't over her yet."

A lonely man-- the perfect target for Lilith. Still, he had to be weak for her to influence him so quickly. Gonna have to reevaluate his psych profile. "You gentlemen have steady women, don't you?"

"Captain?" came the startled, harmonized reply.

"Stop trying to analyze everything I say and answer the question!"

"Yes, sir. We both are in relationships," Rafe said quickly.

"Good. Make sure you stay close to your ladies tonight."

"Are they in danger, sir?" the dapper detective asked worriedly.

"No, you are. Don't ask. Just accept. Please."

The detectives looked at each other, then to Sandburg who was listening from the kitchen, and finally to Ellison asleep on the sofa. A light dawned in their eyes. This was one of those Ellison things. Should have known when dispatch told them the captain was at the loft. "Sure, captain," Brown said obediently.

Simon nodded and was about to dismiss them when the phone rang. Blair caught it b