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 before it could sound a second time. "Hello," he said softly, turning his back to the living room in deference to his sleeping partner. "T'Dette?...He's here but--" The phone was snatched from his hand.

"T'Dette? What's wrong?" Jim asked quickly. He'd been drifting in and out most of the evening, checking briefly to make sure everything was secure in the loft before heading off to sleep, only to awaken to check fifteen minutes later. He'd heard Brown and Rafe arrive and was about to drift off again when the phone rang. Hearing T'Dette's voice had spurred him to his feet. "When?...Who?...Damnit. She okay?...That's good...Yeah...Is she there?...Could I call her later?...Yeah, I know, but I just need to hear it for myself...Okay. Talk to you later."

"Jim?" Blair questioned softly. "Something happen to Flip?"

"Other than the fact that some son of a bitch reporter scared her half to death asking about her daddy? Maybe that wouldn't have been too bad if not for the fact the last time someone came around talking about me, she ended up drugged and kidnapped!" Jim pounded his fist against the wall below the phone. "Can you imagine how terrified she must have been? And poor T'Dette. Who the hell is Edgar Masden and why the fuck is he bothering my family!"

"Oh, shit," Simon mumbled. "There's been so much going on...."

"What is it, Simon? You've heard of this creep?" Blair asked.

"Yesterday, right after you guys left, your ex called, Jim. Earlier in the day she'd been contacted by a reporter asking questions about you. She refused to comment and hung up the phone, but the more she thought about it, she realized you should be made aware of him."

"Who is he?"

"A reporter for the Cascade Gazette."

"The what?" Rafe asked, reminding the others that he and his partner were still around.

"It's the county paper," Blair supplied. "Wonder if he was around yesterday morning?"

"Better question-- what the hell does he want?" Jim snarled angrily.

Simon figured they needed to talk alone. "When I heard about Masden, I called up Larry Jordan with the Cascadian. He works well with us and I was hoping those in the industry could police their own, so to speak. He was furious and said he'd see what he could do. But it doesn't look like much. Brown, Rafe, would you mind poking around for us, please? I know you're about off duty...."

"Messing around with Jim's little girl makes it personal, captain," Brown declared. "We'll let you know what we find. And Jim? Hang in there, man. If Flip is anything like her daddy, she'll be all right."

Jim nodded. "Thanks, H. But I'm planning on making sure she's all right."

"We hear you, man. If you need our help...." Rafe offered.

"Thanks." They left and Jim faced Simon. "So what is it that you didn't want them to know?"

"When you called in this morning, I'd just hung up from talking with Al Giardello out of Baltimore. Masden tried talking to the homicide squad, but no one would give him the time of day. Then a contact of Al's out at Jessup, one of Maryland's state pens, said Masden had been in to see Ronald Prescott."

"Damn," Blair groaned. "Baltimore, New Orleans.... He's putting it all together, man. What are we going to do?"

"Stop him," Jim said flatly. He twirled around looking for his wallet and got dizzy again. "I don't have time for this!" he yelled at himself. "Demons wanting my ass. Reporters wanting my ass. I don't need this!"

"You don't need to be falling on your ass either," Blair warned sternly. "Sit down, man."

"Sandburg, I don't have time to be coddled right now. Where the hell is my wallet!" Blair walked up to him and shoved. Thankfully, the sofa was there to catch him. "What the hell was that about, Sandburg!"

Blair towered over him, keeping him from getting back up. "That was about you being as weak as a damn kitten, man! You're no good to Flip or anyone in this condition."

"She picked one hell of a daddy, didn't she?" he asked bitterly. Their "relationship" had begun as a ruse to allow Jim into the emergency room with her, but somehow it stuck and had felt so right...until now. Until he was bringing more fear into her young life. He remembered the joy he'd felt shopping for her Christmas presents and just last month, he'd sent a package to New Orleans for her eighth birthday. Poor Philip Marie. One father who didn't care if she existed, and another who had contacts who cared too much.

"Yes, she did. I knew she was a bright child from the moment I lay eyes on her," Blair said, changing the context of Jim's words. He went over to the table where Jim's valuables lay, still in their E.R. envelope. "Here's your wallet, Jim. What are you planning to do?"

"Call Whitney."

Simon frowned and decided to reenter the conversation. He'd been content to stand back and watch how deftly Sandburg handled the larger man. But now he had to voice his concern. "Why don't you call Mike Rankin, Jim?" he said hesitantly, mentioning one of the New Orleans detectives they had worked with, who also just happened to be T'Dette's cousin. "Try local pressure first. I'm not sure there's anything the FBI can do. First Amendment, you know?"

Jim shook his head. "This Masden guy is closing in fast, Simon. He needs to be stopped cold. I'm sure Whitney will think of something to close him down. He wouldn't want to miss this opportunity," he added dryly. Jordan Whitney was the regional deputy director of the Bureau and Jim had worked with him on several occasions.

"What opportunity?"

"To have me owe him a favor."

The captain shook his head. "I owe you an apology, Sandburg," he said wearily.

"For?" Blair asked curiously.

"Blaming much of what's been going on in Jim's life on you. I see now he's perfectly capable of screwing up his life on his own."

Jim ignored both of them and reached for the phone. He was surprised to find his hand was trembling and he didn't know whether it was from exhaustion, or fear. If he was found out, his life would be hell. He'd thought being the Sentinel would be the biggest secret of his life, but that was nothing compared to what he could do now. He could picture all the religious fanatics who would be on his tail, half of them wanting to kill him for being some kind of false prophet or even the anti-Christ, and the other half wanting to deify him, bow at his feet and absorb his word as manna from heaven. But he didn't want to die and he didn't want to be worshiped. He wasn't worthy of that. What he was worthy of was being Michael's warrior, and having a following would definitely get in the way of that.

Even worse than being found out and mobbed was that his friends and family would become targets. Flip, Steven, his dad, the guys at the station.... And then there was Blair and Simon, the Warrior's trusted companions.... No! This Masden had to be stopped. Without any more hesitation, he dialed the number before him.

"I thought the mama lion-- I guess jaguar in this case-- was the one you had to fear when you went after the cub," Simon commented as he watched Jim bargain with Whitney. He couldn't hear what was being said from his position in the kitchen, where he and Sandburg had strategically retreated, but he could tell from the set of Jim's jaw and the flash of his eyes that some kind of deal was being cut.

"Depends on the papa jaguar, Simon," Blair said distractedly, still worrying over the reporter. "This is so not fair that Jim has to deal with this now. He almost died today and instead of having time to absorb that, he's trying to get some fucking reporter off his back. The son of a bitch harassed a little girl, man. Masden is not going to go down without a fight," he predicted angrily.

"If it's a fight he wants, he's picked the right target," Simon said menacingly. "None of us, Sandburg, are without resources, are we?"

Blair looked at the captain knowingly and they made a silent pact. They had pledged to protect the Sentinel and the Warrior . Now this reporter, and his potential story, were stirring dangerously close to their charge. Simon was a law-abiding officer, but that merely meant he was intimately familiar with non-abiding elements, and Blair had grown up with people who, if the light were shone at a particular angle, could be considered experts in domestic terrorism. Ah, yes, the reporter could, and would, be stopped.

"He will be," Jim declared, startling them not only with his presence in the kitchen, but with the accurate continuation of their thoughts. A new wrinkle in their three-way relationship perhaps? "Whitney's working on it immediately."

"What did you tell him?"

"That this man was harassing my family and friends."

"He didn't ask for details?" Simon asked warily.

"He knew it would do no good. By the way, captain, if I call you one night and tell you I'm going out of town suddenly, remember tonight, okay?"

Simon nodded solemnly. "Whatever it takes. Now, gentlemen, Papa Jag over here isn't the only one with a cub to worry about. I need to get home to Daryl. His basketball practice will be ending soon and I want to be there when he comes in. I already told him that there's been another Lilith-related murder, but I glossed over your experience, Jim. And if you don't mind, I think I'll keep it that way. The guilt is already eating him up."

"It's your call," Jim said agreeably. "Tell him that I personally said we're going to get this bitch."

"I'll give him your message," Simon said with a grin. The affirmation would make Daryl feel better about the part he'd played in this mess. "Where's my stuff, Sandburg?"

"Your shoes are out in the hall. The rest of your things I took downstairs to put in your car, then I figured it'd be just as easy to run them across the street to the cleaners. They'll be ready first thing in the morning."

"I'll pick them up when I stop by then."

"We'll bring them with us when we come in," Jim corrected. They stared at him. "I am not going to be stuck in this loft all day," he protested.

"Fine," Simon said, knowing there would be bigger arguments to fight before this was over, "but don't rush it, Jim. Sleep late and take your time. If another body shows up, the others can handle the scene. It's not like we're trying to identify the killer."

"No, we're just trying to stop her."

"And we're pretty close to knowing how that's done."

Jim glanced at them in confusion. "We are?"

Blair nodded excitedly. "Yeah, I made contact with Willow while you were sleeping."

Simon held up his hand. "I've already heard it, so I'll see you tomorrow. With my suit."

"Roger that, captain," Blair said, saluting impishly.

Simon just shook his head. "Take care, gentlemen."

"We will, Simon."

*****

When Cindy heard the shower stop in the room next to hers, she waited a few minutes, then tapped on the connecting door. Masden, loosely tying his robe, threw the door open and went back to rubbing his hair dry with a towel. When she sat on the bed without saying a word, he threw the towel down and looked at her. "What's the matter?"

She sighed and clasped her hands in her lap. "I just got off the phone with New York."

"Yeah? You gotta go back or something?"

"We both do. Edgar, they're shutting us down. We have to drop this investigation."

"What do you mean? You told them about this?"

She flinched at the accusation in his eyes. "No! I wouldn't have done anything like that without talking it over with you."

He cursed and sat down on the other corner of the bed. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't tell them, but they knew."

"You think Larry Jordan turned us in? I know he was pissed when he tracked us down yesterday. But he's had all this time to investigate Ellison himself. Why hasn't he done so?"

"Maybe his publishers got to him too," Cindy pointed out. "This is serious, Edgar. The bosses told me very clearly that we are to stop investigating Jim Ellison and are to turn over any information we have to the FBI. They'll be here in the morning to pick it up."

"The FBI? What the hell is this?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have approached the child," Cindy hedged.

"We barely said five words to her before she started screaming for her mother! It's not our fault she's neurotic or something. You'd think with so many tourists in the area, she'd be used to being approached by strangers."

Cindy thought back to the afternoon. "She didn't freak until we mentioned Ellison. Maybe she's been conditioned to react that way. Maybe that's the way she protects him."

"Like they all protect him." Masden popped up to pace. "Why? What makes this man so special? For two days we've been trying to find out and so far we have nothing concrete. In fact, the more we learn, the more confused we become. First, we think he's a profiler. Then that killer, Prescott, says he's some kind of psychic who channeled his dead son. According to the stuff we got on his partner, he's some kind of genetically-altered android or something. Finally, we come here to New Orleans, and we discover what? That Ellison is some kind of voodoo priest or something, raising bones with a wave of his hand and some magic words? Just what kind of fucking alien are we dealing with!"

As the words echoed in the room, he looked at Cindy and she at him. "You don't think...." she began.

"Oh, shit! We have to get out of here, Cin," he said quickly, grabbing his suitcase. "If this is what we think it is, we don't want to be here when the FBI come. Or should I say, MIB?"

Chapter Twelve

"Fresh from the cleaners just like I promised," Blair said, as he and Jim entered the captain's office at 9:30 the next morning.

"How much?" Simon asked, reaching for his wallet.

"Not a problem," Blair said casually. "Jim paid."

"Ellison?"

"Think of it as prepayment for the headache you're going to have by the end of the day, sir," Jim said knowingly.

Simon grimaced and glanced at the clock. "I thought I told you guys to sleep in?"

"This is sleeping in for Jim," Blair complained. "You've spent enough nights at the loft to know how much of a morning person he is, Simon."

"Sandburg, when I spend the night at the loft, he usually doesn't sleep at all."

"Why, Simon, I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you," Blair teased.

It took a second for the captain to get it. "Can't you control him!" he yelled at Jim.

The detective bit back a snicker. "I try, sir. But you have to admit, you stepped directly into that one."

"Well, it's been a long day for an old man," the captain said wearily.

"It's morning, Simon," Blair pointed out helpfully.

Simon looked at the anthropologist and knew it was a lost cause. Blair in a teasing mood was a force he knew he could not control. So, he appealed to his friend, the detective. "Jim, please. For all we've been through together, for all those fishing trips and afternoons off...."

Jim nodded sympathetically. "Sandburg, heel!" he ordered sharply.

"Woof," his partner replied sullenly.

"Don't make me roll up a newspaper," Jim threatened.

"Woof, woof."

Jim picked up a magazine that had apparently arrived with the captain's mail. Simon shut his eyes and groaned as the two "grown" men chased each other around his desk, one tossing out insults which were instantly countered by firm "woofs". The end of their antics came when Jim moved a bit too fast for his still recovering head.

"That's what you get for acting like a child," Simon chided, as he offered a couple of his precious aspirin, earning a glare from Blair who was taking his partner through an exercise designed to stop the current undulations of the floor. Oops. Never interrupt a Sentinel/Guide moment. Bad Watcher! "You two come up with anything useful in this case?" he asked, attempting a little normalcy.

"We need to try to get into Lilith's head, captain," Jim began, taking his seat and his partner following. "We want to study the victims and their locations to see if there is a pattern in all this. In order for me to seduce her, I'm going to need to know where to find her."

Simon looked at him. "You're still not comfortable with the idea, are you?"

He shook his head. "But not for the reasons you think. It's just.... Chief, earlier you said she steals semen to make her demon babies."

"The Lilim."

"Yeah, the Lilim." Jim focused on a particular patch on the wall, slightly off-color from the rest. Hmm. Wonder what someone was covering up? "What would happen if there were 'sentinel' Lilim?"

Because he found the wall so fascinating, he missed the identical looks of horror crossing his friends' faces. "If you mate with Lilith...." Blair began hoarsely.

"Exactly."

"Oh, shit, man. Plan A may need a bit refining. Uh, excuse me while I go--"

"Leave a message for Willow?" Jim guessed. "Just be careful how you phrase the question, Chief. If this person so eagerly feeds you information, she may be servicing others in the same way."

"Got it covered," Blair said as he left.

"Do the guys have the reports on the murders or do--" Jim stopped as Simon reached the files to him. He started to stand.

"Stay for a minute." Simon looked at the man settling back into the chair. "How you doing, Jim?"

Jim smiled at the concerned question. "I'm fine, Simon. You know how hard my head is and since I was on the floor, I didn't inhale too much smoke. And there were no burns."

"I know."

Jim detected a slight shudder weave through his friend. "How do you know, sir? Aside from the obvious?"

"Something was there in the room, protecting you and keeping the flames at bay. When I reached you, it just blended into the smoke."

"Probably the jaguar. He has powers.... Sandburg calls him my spirit guide, but I think there's more to him than that."

"Arson can't find a point of origin for the fire. One of the investigators confided it was as if someone had thrown up his arms and said, 'Abracadabra' and the fire began."

Jim shrugged. "That's probably what happened, Simon. Lilith can control fire."

"Another offering from your secret cache of Lilith lore?" the captain asked.

The detective grinned. His partner was going to love that one. "Actually, I got this from Sandburg's research. Something about Lilith being a beautiful creature from head to navel but a burning fire from navel to toe."

"Is she?"

The image of the naked Lilith filled his mind. "No. Navel to toe is pretty much as expected."

Simon regarded him with an appraising stare. "I'm going to ask you a question, and since Sandburg isn't here, I expect you to be completely truthful." A reluctant nod. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I thought I was doing a rather clever job of covering that up," Jim admitted sheepishly.

"You were with Sandburg. Somehow you've learned to...to reflect his energy? But I don't have any to spare so now that we're alone, there's nothing to reflect. Was it our current slate of problems that had you pacing the balcony, or has something new cropped up?"

"Isn't what we're facing already bad enough? Please don't bring anything new down of us, Simon," he warned. The saying, "speak of the devil and he will come" meant a lot more to him now than it used to.

"Getting superstitious on me, Ellison?" The question was accompanied by a smile. If Jim wasn't superstitious by now, he was a fool. "Heard from Whitney this morning?"

"Not a word. But then, there haven't been any reports of Masden bothering anyone either?" Simon shook his head. "Then I'm hoping for the best."

"We spend a lot of time doing that lately-- hoping," Simon observed.

"Remember the good ol' days when we were sure of everything? When hope was just a word we used and took for granted?" Jim asked wistfully. "Now, it's more than that. It's almost a living entity. It's as if I know hope personally, a shining light far more beautiful than Lilith will ever be. But hope is capricious and fickle...."

"Which is why we have faith, Jim," Simon reminded him gently.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Brown stuck his head in. "Sorry, captain, but we have another one."

Jim looked at the Watcher as they both stood. "Faith, Simon?"

"Faith, Jim."

*****

"This is useless!"

The whole Major Crimes bullpen flinched as they heard Ellison's voice. The tightly pressurized forces had been building all day, and everyone had been grateful that Sandburg was around to siphon off some of the steam. But they had known his partner was fighting a losing battle, and that eventually Ellison was going to blow. They were just hoping it would be after 5 o'clock, when they were safely at home.

"Ellison! Sandburg! In my office now!"

As one, the men and women of Major Crimes looked gratefully at their leader. In their opinion the office was bomb-proof. Ellison has exploded in there on several occasions without any casualties whatsoever. Well, maybe a coffee mug or two....

"Guess I don't have to ask if you've come up with anything," Simon began, not really having anything to say. But the pleading looks for relief from his unit couldn't be ignored any longer. Ellison was making everyone edgy.

"You would think with four dead men, there would be some kind of emerging pattern," Jim griped. "But there's nothing connecting these guys. Not a single one of them has a feature that would have attracted Lilith's attention."

Simon looked at Blair in confusion. "He hasn't figured it out yet?"

"Haven't figured out what!"

Those closest to the glass-encased office moved deeper toward the center of the bullpen as Ellison's voice penetrated through.

"I think he knows, but he's waiting to hear it confirmed by an outside source, which isn't likely because nobody is feeling particularly masochistic today," Blair said, pointedly ignoring the searing stare his partner sent in his direction.

"Is he too personally involved? Is he likely to jeopardize the investigation?"

"What I'm likely to jeopardize is your lives," Jim said between clenched teeth. "What is it that I've overlooked? What do I already know, but am too afraid to admit? What is it that I'm going to freak over?"

"Jim, this morning's victim?" Blair questioned, a hand coming to rest on his friend's shoulder.

"Robert Ashe," Jim replied obediently.

"Describe him for me."

"A little over six feet tall, short hair, muscular...." Blue eyes that stared up at the ceiling of his hotel room. "Shit," he said softly. "She went after him because he reminded her of me, didn't she?"

"That seems to be the prevailing theory," Simon replied. "I know what this must be adding to your guiltload, Jim, and I need to know if you can hold it together. This investigation means jack in the real scheme of things, but I have people to answer to. It has to appear that Major Crimes is doing it's best to stop these killings. I need reports to turn in and paperwork signed off on. Clues need to be sorted, ideas floated around, evidence examined and re-examined. This is what I need from my lead investigator. If you can't produce...."

Jim nodded tersely and left the office. His friends watched as he exited the bullpen. "That was rather harsh, wasn't it?" Blair accused.

Simon sighed. "Sandburg, this whole thing is about to blow up, okay? Four men are dead, for no apparently reason other than the fact they were men. The commissioner and the mayor are planning a news conference in the morning or sooner, depending on how much the press already knows. If Jim can't work the CPD investigation along with Michael's, I need to know. Because once the press knows the name of the lead investigator, it can't be changed without a lot of explanation. Jim knows this."

"And now he knows just how little confidence you have in him," Blair charged.

"I'm a police captain, Sandburg, not a damn anthropologist. I don't have the luxury of coddling one of my 'subjects' just because he's having a bad day."

"He's not a subject, damn it. He's my friend. And I thought he was yours too!"

"You think I'd put up with all this shit if he wasn't!" Simon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as he counted silently. He and Blair had no business being at odds with each other, not while all this other stress was being aimed at Jim. "Listen, kid, I wasn't trying to hurt his feelings or label him incompetent. He's carrying a lot, and dealing with the press, and the brass, on this investigation isn't going to be a walk in the park, especially since we all know that in the end we're going to have to come up with some crappy explanation that is going to be less than satisfactory to those groups. He's already not sleeping and--"

"What do you mean not sleeping?"

"From what I was able to deduce, he spent the night out on the balcony, probably searching for Lilith in one of his odd ways."

"He told you this?"

"As I said, I deduced it, Sandburg, but he didn't deny it."

"Damn," Blair sighed. "He was doing fine when I went to bed. He'd called Flip--"

"How is she? Daryl was about as mad as Jim when I told him about the reporter."

"She's fine. You know little kids-- resilient as hell," Blair said in wonder. "She was so excited about talking to Jim that I think she'd forgotten all about Masden by the time the conversation ended. She had to catch him up on everything that had happened since they talked on her birthday."

"And, of course, he listened to every word as if it were crucial testimony."

"Of course," Blair said with a smile. "He makes a good father."

"Wonders of wonders," Simon scoffed.

"Not really. He had a good role model."

Simon looked at Blair over the top of his glasses. "William Ellison?" he asked in disbelief.

"No. Simon Banks."

"Shit, kid," Simon said gruffly. "Why the hell does Ellison put up with you?"

Blair grinned, understanding the words Simon couldn't say. "You're welcome, captain."

Before the conversation could get any more sentimental, Jim returned. "SWAT just got a call. There's a hostage situation over at Booker Elementary."

"Wonder why I--" Simon stopped as his phone rang. He hung up quickly and walked to the door."Listen up! We have a hostage situation at Booker Elementary School. Let's roll." The duo behind him tried to slip past his imposing figure in the doorway. "Where do you think you two are going?"

"You can't expect me to sit this one out?" Jim asked incredulously.

Simon sighed. The Sentinel gifts would come in handy, but.... "No heroics, you hear me? You 'find' out anything, you come to me. I mean it, both of you. Ellison, you're on edge and you know it. Masden, Lilith, your daughter, the victim who resembled you.... Getting yourself killed won't solve anything, you know."

"I'll just feel the place out, Simon," Jim promised. "Scout's honor."

Simon shook his head. "Probably the only person in the place who could say that and mean it. What are you waiting for? Get out of here. I'll meet you there."

The two nearly ran past him, as if they feared he would change his mind. But there was no chance of that happening. Even if they didn't know it, he did...Sentinel and Guide had the Watcher firmly wrapped around their little fingers.

Shit. Who needed demons when he came up with thoughts like that on his own? With a chomp of his cigar, he picked up his jacket and did what was now eerily comfortable-- followed his favorite team into danger.

Chapter Thirteen

"Where are we headed, Edgar?" Cindy asked as they entered the airport.

"Back to Cascade."

She tugged on his arm until he stopped his headlong rush. "Are you crazy?"

"It's probably the last place they would look for us," he argued. "Besides, this Ellison, whatever he is, seems to be on the side of right. I can't see him condoning our murders. If we can get to him, he'll protect us."

"You really believe that?"

"I...we have to believe it, Cindy."

"Why?"

"Because he's the only hope in hell we have of getting out of this alive."

*****

"How many hostages are we talking about?" Simon asked as he left the SWAT commander and jogged to the blue and white pickup parked a block away-- which didn't seem so strange because the entire block was full of police cars. Booker Elementary was on the edge of the downtown area, one part facing the towering skyline of Cascade, the other nestled against deforested suburbia.

"Thirty-two. Twenty-six kids and six adults. What was it, a parent-teacher conference or something?" Jim asked.

"Practice for a Black History Program scheduled for the end of the month," the captain said distractedly, wondering how he could get the information to the SWAT team. They had no hard numbers. A couple of kids who had gone to the bathroom had managed to escape and call 911, but they were too upset to give any more detail, other than a man with a gun was in the auditorium. And they weren't too sure about that. "How many gunmen are there?"

"Just the one."

"Where is he?" He unfolded the blueprint of the school and spread it out on the hood of the truck.

Jim's fingers danced as he sent his senses in the direction of the school. "Center of the auditorium. He has all of them around him, as a barrier."

"Bright bastard, huh? Figured that much when he took out a cell phone and dialed 911 to inform the SWAT team that he had explosives on one door, or window, then dared them to make a choice. We can't rush in, or take a shot, even if he's in the clear." The auditorium had a row of windows along the top of the wall facing the parking lot. Two cherry-pickers, trucks with mechanized buckets that raised and lowered men to work on utility poles or pick fruit, had arrived to lift snipers into place. That was what had prompted the gunman to call 911 and warn them of the danger.

"Explosives?" Jim frowned. "I don't smell any."

Simon looked at him. "You know all of them by smell?"

Blair answered. "We've worked with samples of most of the common explosives in the lab-- dynamite, C4, plastique, nitro, a handful of ones a certain ATF acquaintance of Jim's let us borrow. We pretty much covered our bases."

"Even more importantly," Jim supplied, "is that I don't smell anything that could be used as a fuse. No chemicals of any kind. No electrical scents, either, other than the wires overhead."

He smelled the wires overhead? "Shit. So he's bluffing?" Simon asked angrily.

"Yes," Jim said with complete assurance.

"Great, fucking great. How the hell am I going to pass that information along? Maybe if I suggest they try to find out where he got the explosives from, maybe--"

"We don't have time for maybe's, captain," Jim said quietly.

"Why? What are you hearing?"

"This guy is close to snapping. I--" the SWAT leader called out a telephone number using a bull horn, "-- personally don't want him snapping with a room full of kids."

Blair looked at Jim carefully. What had just occurred? When the SWAT guy used the bull horn, both he and Simon had slightly jumped at the sudden noise. Jim hadn't even flinched-- even though his hearing was in enhanced mode. At least, he assumed that was how Jim was getting the information about the going ons in the auditorium. He hadn't gotten around to seeing through walls yet, had he?

"What am I supposed to do, Jim? Go up to Lt. Akers, and say I got a hunch the guy is bluffing? That I have it on good authority that there is no bomb, but I can't tell you where I got the information from? Oh, I'm sure that would go over well," Simon said sarcastically.

"Well, if you can't do something, I can," Jim replied, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"What happened to that Boy Scout's promise of yours?"

"That was before thirty-two lives were at stake." Blue eyes met brown ones steadily. "I suggest, captain, that you go on back up front with the lieutenant and you do what you have to do. I'll do the same."

Simon jerked his head once. "You be careful."

"We will. Oh, and can you unlock your trunk as you go by?"

Simon's eyes widened, and he refused to acknowledge the frisson which shook his body. "Sure, Jim."

Blair was intrigued by that last request. Simon's trunk was an interesting melange of modern-day police equipment. A foray into its contents could unearth bullet-proof vests, canisters of tear gas, a portable PA system, surveillance equipment of all kinds, and an assortment of weaponry. "And he talks about my backpack," he fussed as he bent over the trunk with Jim.

"I worry about you both," his partner replied.

"What's the plan, O Great Worrier?"

"That's Warrior, brat, but in this case, Great Sentinel. And bow when you say it," Jim replied flippantly as he found what he was looking for. Ah. The good ol' reliable M16. Just what he needed. Thanks to excellent military training, calculating trajectory for the rifle was as automatic as pulling its trigger.

"Think SWAT is just going to let you swagger in with your toy?" Blair asked, eyeing the rifle distastefully. Although he'd worked with cops for years, had once or twice thought favorably of Jim's gun and the handy dandy ankle piece as well, he still wasn't comfortable with armaments as a whole.

"Who says SWAT is going to see me?" He turned around and pointed at the tall buildings behind them. "The roof of one of those should give a clear view into the auditorium."

Blair nodded. Yeah, the roof and a mile long telescopic lens would work perfectly for the general population. Good thing, Jim wasn't in that group. "You can make the shot?"

"I can make the shot."

"But?" He heard the minute hesitation in the Sentinel's voice.

"I need him to stay in place long enough for the bullet to reach him. He's not moving around much, but I don't want the shot hitting him, say in the head, and the kids having to see that."

"So, you're not only trying for an impossible shot, but a precise one as well?" Blair shook his head. How the hell could you argue such compassion? "You need him like frozen for several seconds?" Jim nodded. Blair searched around until he found a case containing miniature comm units. He took one of the earpieces and a microphone, holding them out. "Here. Take this and go find your spot. Hopefully, by that time I will have thought of something."

"Okay," Jim said, perfectly confident that his Guide would come through for him once again.

Blair watched him leave, then turned back to the trunk. Hmm. Surely a lifetime of studying man, watching his behavior, predicting it at times, surely that could help him now. What would stop a man in his tracks other than a direct attack like a bullet? People froze in horror all the time when they saw something bad...or heard a particular sound.... Damn, would this work, he thought, as he pulled the portable PA system and its battery pack out of the trunk. He stopped by the truck and fumbled through a collection of tapes, relieved when he found the one he was looking for.

Having learned something about moving invisibly from his former Ranger roommate, he slithered into an alley near the school without anyone noticing. "You planning on scaring the gunman with what goes for music in your universe?" a voice asked in his ear. "Just might work."

"If I was planning on doing that, I would have grabbed your Santana tape, aka, music from the Dark Ages," he retorted automatically. Then his head flew up and he looked around, scanning the rooftops. He couldn't see a thing except street lights and night. "You can see me? Where are you?"

"Cascade Savings and Trust. You know, they should really do something about their security. Made it all the way to the roof without having to flash my badge once."

Blair squinted in the direction he knew the building to be, but could barely see the building, much less a figure on its roof. "What tape is this?" He held up the empty cassette cover.

"The Sounds of Nature Come Alive? You're going to serenade him?"

"Jim, you couldn't read the cover if you were using your infrared sight. Have you discovered a new level?"

"Changed to a premium channel, Chief."

"We're going to have a long talk when we get home," he warned, shivering at the thought of the magnification Jim's sight must be set on to see so clearly at such a long distance. Just what kind of channels have you been flipping through, my Sentinel, and when the hell were you going to tell me about them? "I knew my days as an AV assistant back in high school would come in handy. And everyone thought it was such a geek thing," he said as he forwarded the tape to the point he wanted it.

"It was."

"Up yours, Ellison."

"Nothing wrong with being a geek, Chief. My best friend is one."

"I'm not sure if I should feel proud or insulted." He checked his connections and turned up the volume as high as it would go. "You set?"

"I have him, Chief."

"Okay, at the count of three, I'm going to hit the play button. It's going to be loud."

"Not a problem."

Just wait until this Lilith stuff is over. I'm going to have your ass in the lab so fast, and so long.... "One...two...three!"

Simon had been on edge ever since he'd left Ellison and Sandburg. He had no idea of what the two would come up with, but knowing Sandburg's peculiar mind and Jim's peculiar talents, he had prepared himself for just about anything. Still, he froze like everyone else as the sound of a howling wolf cut through the night, the eerie call drowning out the crackle of radios and the soft chatter of the waiting policemen. For several long seconds, everyone paused, a visceral reaction of prey to a predatory call.

Then the reaction became typically human. What the hell was that? Where did it come from? There aren't in wolves in Cascade, are there? Before the questions could get sorted out, the doors of the auditorium were thrown open and the hostages started pouring out. Yells about the gunman's weapon shattering. No, no sign of explosives. No, no injuries except for the gunman's hand.

"Look like we picked a fine time to go for coffee," Simon heard a familiar voice say. He turned to see his detective and observer standing behind him with a tray of coffee cups. "So we missed it all, huh, captain?"

"Give me that coffee," Simon said brusquely.

"Nothing like coffee to soothe the savage beast, huh?" Blair said jokingly to the Major Crimes officers standing nearby. ""What happened?"

Rafe shivered. "There was this...wolf's howl or something--"

"Then everyone ran out of the school," Brown concluded.

"The guy let them go?" Jim asked in amazement.

"He had no choice. His gun blew up," Zack supplied.

"Guns just don't blow up," Joel said thoughtfully, having worked the Bomb Squad for most of his years on the force.

"Maybe he screwed up with the explosives he said he had," Zack argued.

"Forensics will figure it out," Simon told them. "Why don't you help get these people out of here in an orderly fashion? Then you're free to go. I'm sure there are enough witnesses that you won't be needed."

"Yes, sir," they chorused, taking a coffee and spreading out.

Simon looked at his remaining men. "What are you grinning about?"

Jim shrugged. "Just glad that things worked out. A little more time and it could have ended very badly."

"Yeah, they say timing is everything," his partner agreed.

Simon just rolled his eyes. "Well, I guess it's safe to assume you two won't be questioned. After all, you were gone for coffee when everything went down."

"That timing thing again," Blair pointed out. "By the way, captain, about that trunk of yours--"

"Go home," Simon said crisply. "And...thanks for the coffee. If it keeps me up tonight, " he added meaningfully, "it was worth it."

"To us too, captain," Jim said sincerely. "And, Simon, if you still need a lead investigator...."

"I think I already have one. I'll let you know the details of the press conference when they get sorted out. See you gentlemen in the morning."

Jim was whistling as they made their way to the truck. "You seem pretty jazzed, man," Blair said as he scrambled into the familiar passenger seat.

"Why not, Chief? Finally, I had a chance to do something. I wasn't just an onlooker, or even worse, a pawn, in somebody's fantasy. It felt good to be fighting a...mortal again. Kick his ass and he stays down. With demons, you're never really sure what will keep them down."

"Think Simon will have any trouble when forensics discovers the bullet that took out the gun?"

"Why should he, Chief? It wasn't his operation, and if some vigilante sniper took a big gamble right under the SWAT team's nose, that's not his fault. If anyone has to do any fast talking, it will be Lt. Akers. Did I ever tell you how pissed he was when I turned down his offer to join his precious SWAT team when I first came aboard? Nasty fellow, he was, just because I called them Neo-Nazis with a badge."

Blair laughed. "Remind me never to get on your bad side. Oops. Been there and done that, haven't I?"

"Same here, Chief. But with us, it's a family thing; with Akers, it's an enemy thing. That makes a big difference. By the way, nice move with the wolf's howl. Why am I not surprised?"

"The cry of the jaguar would have been just as petrifying, man. Just didn't have one on tape. When the predator calls, the prey freezes, then runs. You just didn't give the prey time to run."

"Didn't matter, Chief. He had a jaguar and a wolf on his tail. He was dinner from that moment on."

"And so will Lilith be, Jim."

Jim grinned at his partner. "You got that right."

Chapter Fourteen

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?"

Edgar Masden looked at his companion and smiled. "For the first time since this quest of mine started, I'm sure, Cin. You'll be safer in New York than with me." His eyes flickered up to the Arrivals/Departures screen in Chicago's O'Hare Airport. Cindy's flight left in an hour and his to Cascade was a half an hour later.

"Then why don't you come to New York too?" she pleaded worriedly.

He shook his head. "I've been doing some heavy thinking." God knows, he'd had enough time to do it. It had taken them nearly four hours to get from New Orleans to Chicago. Of course, they hadn't exactly taken a direct route, hoping to lose any tail they may have picked up. "The signs that maybe I should let this one drop were there. No one talked. It's usually hard to get a consensus like that just by threatening people. And I didn't sense fear or even resentment when they refused me. It was as if they all agreed the secrecy was for the best. Then Larry Jordan tried to warn me and I brushed him off as competition. But he's had Ellison to himself all these years. Surely, he's noticed all the irregularities I have, yet he's been content to get crumbs from him-- crumbs which, I may add, have given him a shitload of awards. But I don't think it's for the awards that he's kept his silence. I just think he studied the same information a lot deeper than I did."

"Maybe he kept quiet because he didn't want to ruin his reputation with a story about aliens on Earth," Cindy pointed out, playing devil's advocate.

Masden laughed. "With Jordan's credentials, everyone would have taken it as gospel."

"With your reputation as well."

He shrugged. "Maybe. There's enough hard evidence that would be hard to dispute.... But that's beside the point. Jordan wouldn't, and I won't, be telling this story."

"Why?"

"In all the stuff we have on Ellison, he hasn't done one thing that is even remotely malevolent. Most of what he's done has been for children-- finding their killers and stopping them from killing again. After talking to Prescott in Maryland, I'm sure the man would have taken more lives eventually. It excited him, both the murdering and getting away with it. But Ellison stopped him, the old guy in Cascade, and the cult in New Orleans. Who would benefit if I 'outed' this man, not from the closet, but his spaceship or whatever? Me, the publishers, and all the freaks and perverts he could have possibly stopped. I think that's what Jordan figured out. It's what I would have figured out earlier if I hadn't fried my brain."

"You think that's why Ellison is here? To help mankind?" Cindy asked softly.

Masden shrugged. "Maybe he just crashed here and when someone helped him, he decided to help us."

"What about his birth certificate, the records of his childhood and youth?"

"Documents can be faked, but I'm partial to the theory that it was indeed Captain Jim Ellison who crashed in Peru. However, he died just like the others and this alien took over his body."

"With the government's blessings?"

"I'm not sure. Seems to me, if the Army knew about it, they would have kept him in service longer. No, I don't think they knew. He got himself discharged and went to Cascade, spending the next five years getting to know who he was supposed to be. Either he was lucky, or he'd done his homework, because Ellison had been estranged from his family for years so they were no risk. By the time the anthropologist showed up, and the weird stuff started happening, he had his identity as James Ellison down pat."

"And this Blair Sandburg?"

"Possibly he discovered him. He has a pretty full passport. Maybe he found this being and patched him up. Then they concocted this plan and agreed to meet x number of years later to divert suspicion."

"So now they've teamed up together to save the world." Cindy paused, rubbing her forehead wearily. "It sounds like something on television."

"Most fiction is based on fact." He smiled. Maybe he didn't have the story of the year but, perhaps, he had the bestseller of the year.

"When do you think the government figured it out?"

"I think the CIA caught onto it first. That's why they sent out that supposedly rogue agent to test him. When Ellison was able to bring him down, they backed off. The FBI handled it much better. When Ellison helped them, they decided to work with him. But, then again, he was already doing their job-- protecting us from domestic terrorism."

"Are the Feds killing for him?"

"No. Ellison wouldn't trust them if they did. I think a government faction, the infamous Men In Black, perhaps, is cleaning up behind the man, without his knowledge."

She looked at him wonderingly. "You have been thinking about this, haven't you?" He nodded solemnly. "So, what are you planning on doing when you get to Cascade?"

"Contacting Ellison and giving him his entire file. Then I'm going to tell him about my suspicions-- the MIBs. That should give me some protection."

"If you can reach him before they reach you," Cindy said hollowly.

Masden placed his hand on top of the one on the chair arm beside him and squeezed. "If something happens to me, Cindy, I want you to get to Ellison and beg for his protection. Just tell him what you know and if he laughs in your face, that'll be okay; I wouldn't admit to any of this either. But if he is what I think he is, he'll make sure you're safe. Promise me, Cindy. Promise me you'll go to Ellison."

"I promise, Eggie."

*****

"That went well," Simon said as he and Jim exited the elevator onto the sixth floor and headed toward Major Crimes.

"The press was more interested in the hostage situation last night than any murders. I guess live children play better than dead men," Jim said. "Maybe there's hope for this world after all."

Simon grunted. "I doubt it. Just wait until it hits them that we're talking about serial killings. Of course, here in Cascade that may not be big news. Hell of an interesting territory you have, Sentinel."

"It makes me feel so needed," Jim said, feigning a sniff and wiping an imaginary tear. "Don't you feel needed, captain?"

Simon flicked a glance his way. "I can tell someone got a good night's sleep for a change."

"It was a unique and thoroughly enjoyable experience, sir."

"The press conference?" Blair asked curiously, overhearing the last comment as he joined the two men. He was returning from the copy room, still warm duplicates of the diagram he'd made of Lilith's movements in his hand.

"Not bad, Chief. But I was referring to sleeping last night. We miss anything around here?"

"Nah. Still no body this morning. Maybe Lilith is so hot for you, Jim, that she just can't picture herself with another man," he teased, delighted to see the flush spread across his partner's face. It was just so...delicious that this big, experienced man still could blush.

"What you got, Chief?" Jim asked quickly, hoping to change the topic.

"Oh, I overlaid Lilith's strikes over a map of Cascade County." He passed them each a copy as they neared Jim's desk. Movement caught his eye, and he looked toward Simon's office to see Daryl opening the door. He started to smile, then saw the gun. Without hesitation, he moved, putting himself between the bullet and Jim. The shot hit him in the shoulder, slamming him back into his partner. The Sentinel automatically caught his partner, then whirled to shield the Guide from further danger.

Simon had his gun drawn as soon as he heard the shot, but blinked in horror as he aimed toward the shooter, and found himself looking at his son-- a son who was once again aiming at his friends. "Daryl, no!" he yelled, taking one step over to block the teen's view of Jim and Blair.

"Move, Dad," Daryl said calmly. "Gotta kill Jim."

"No!" Simon repeated, and he wasn't sure whether it was to his son, or to the officers now surrounding them with their guns drawn. God, Daryl, don't you know how dangerous it is to shoot in a police station? Do you know how hard it's going to be for me to keep you alive? "Put the gun down, Daryl."

"Can't. Jim's not dead yet."

The words made it through Blair's pain. He opened his eyes and found himself sitting on the floor, slumped back against a familiar solid surface. Hands were fumbling at his shoulder. "Jim," he said, knowing the chest supporting him.

"I'm here, Chief," Jim murmured as he pressed his balled up T-shirt against the heavily bleeding wound. He didn't remember easing his burden to the floor, or tugging off his sweater and shirt to start first aid on his friend. His total focus was on Blair. Whatever else was happening in the room, he'd let the others take care of.

"Help, Daryl."

"Simon--"

"Help, Daryl," the Guide commanded.

"I'll keep up the pressure," Taggert offered, kneeling beside the two of them. He had been stepping out of the break room when the incident occurred. "Medics are already rolling."

Jim nodded tersely and surrendered his charge. When he stood, the Warrior faced Daryl. "Simon, move aside."

"Jim, no," Simon moaned.

"Let me take care of him."

Simon turned. "He's just a child."

"I know, Simon. I won't harm him and I won't let him be harmed. Trust me."

The Watcher nodded. "I do." He dropped back behind Jim.

Daryl tensed as his target came into view. He raised his gun and Jim held his hands out. "You want to shoot me, Daryl?" The teen nodded. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Surely, she told you why I should die."

"She...she said you should die." Until now, he thought that was enough. The gun bobbed in his hand.

Jim took a step forward. "Look at me, Daryl. Look at me!" he demanded. The brown eyes snapped to attention, locking with the blue ones. All around the room, officers, their weapons out and aimed, stood as frozen as Daryl, their eyes following Jim as he approached the captain's son. He reached for the gun, and Daryl let go without protest. Then Jim touched his shoulder, and he crumpled without a sound.

For the second time in minutes, Jim caught a friend in his arms and lowered him to the floor. "It's all right now, son. I got you," he crooned to the unconscious teen. "I want all weapons holstered now!" At the order, officers blinked as if they had been in a trance, and the weapons disappeared, even as the tableau in front of them registered. "Someone let them know we're going to need another ambulance," Jim continued, taking charge because Simon couldn't...which he understood perfectly.

"I'm on it, Ellison," Brown called, picking up the phone.

"Jim?" Simon questioned tentatively.

"He's in shock." The captain kneeled beside them. "You can take him, Simon. He needs his father."

"He needed you."

"And now my partner does." He laid Daryl's head in Simon's lap. "They will both be fine."

Simon dropped a kiss on his son's warm forehead, gathering him closer. "Thank you," he said softly to the only man who would be able to hear him.

A head nodded in acknowledgment.

Chapter Fifteen

How did we get here, Chief? Last night we were sure we could tackle the world, and less than twenty-four hours later, you're here in the hospital. Shot by a kid we both consider a friend. How? Why? It's my fault...okay, our fault. We forgot to keep watch. We were careless. We became arrogant after last night's victory and we failed Daryl. He got into this to help us, and now his future hangs in the balance because we didn't protect him. *I* didn't protect him. I know what you're going to say, that we're all in this together, and I know that. But ultimately, protection is my job. As a cop, as the Sentinel, as the Warrior. I failed.

Jim's eyes searched the silent figure lying in the bed. A normal person may have commented that the room was too quiet. The machinery had been carefully disconnected and rolled back as Blair gradually became capable of taking over his bodily functions. But the room wasn't quiet to Jim, and for that he was thankful. His Guide's heartbeat filled the small area, singing a familiar tune, a lullaby that he never wanted to end. They had gotten lucky this day. Daryl had aimed for Jim's heart and ended up hitting Blair's shoulder instead. Only soft tissue damage. By tomorrow, his roommate would be back home where he belonged.

A fine, gold thread wove through his being and Jim smiled. "Decided to wake up, did you?"

Blair blinked and focused on his partner. "Someone had to teach you how to sleep in, Jim. Now, when am I getting out of here?"

"Whoa, Chief. You just got out of surgery a few hours ago."

"I'm aware of that, Jim. Remember, I woke up from the anesthesia and you said, 'You're gonna live, go back to sleep' and like a good little Guide, I obeyed. So, when am I getting out of here?"

Jim grinned. "In the morning, Chief."

"No sooner?"

"'Fraid not. It was the best deal I could get you."

"I guess I'll take it, then. Thank you."

Jim reached out for the arm that wasn't taped in place to limit movement, and folded his hand around the wrist. Automatically, his senses did a quick scan. Pulse, blood pressure, temperature-- all within normal range. "Thank you, Blair. You saved my life today."

"And you saved Daryl's. How is he?"

Jim closed his eyes and a silver filament began interweaving with the gold one. "Simon's on his way. We'll ask him."

"Well, then, how am I?" Blair indicated the hand on his wrist.

"Good, Chief."

"Then I'm doing better than you. You look like shit, man. Please don't tell me you've been sitting in that chair since I was moved from the recovery room." He didn't even wait for Jim to conform or deny it. "And I hate to be the one to tell you this, Jim, but pink is not your color."

He looked down at the medical scrub top he was wearing. Just his luck that this floor wore pink. "Next time you bleed, we'll use your shirt to plug the hole, okay?"

"What? And deprive the female population of the view of your pecs and abs, man? I wouldn't be that cruel...." He looked up eagerly as someone tapped on the door. "Come on in, Simon."

"Since you're up to your old tricks, I guess everything is okay," the captain said, not letting on that he was getting used to them knowing when he arrived.

"Jim says they're going to spring me in the morning," Blair informed him happily.

"That's good, Sandburg. I'm glad that...that Daryl didn't do anything more...permanent," the tall captain said unevenly.

"Hey," Blair reached out with his good arm, touching Simon lightly on the sleeve. "It wasn't Daryl who did this, man. We know who was behind this attack. Don't forget that, Simon." The dark head nodded reluctantly. "How is Daryl?"

"Still ten million miles away. He's been tested for drugs and had brain scans, but so far they doctors have found nothing." Simon rubbed his hand across his face, weary in body and spirit. "It's like Jim in one of his zone outs. They still scare the shit out of me, but at least I know he'll come out of it eventually. With Daryl...."

"He'll come out of it too," Blair promised. "Jim can make it better, can't you, Jim?"

Jim made it worse, Chief. Jim's carelessness is the cause of all of this. Why do you still have such faith in me? Blue and brown eyes made their silent appeals. "I reached him in the bullpen. Maybe I can again."

"No maybe about it, Jim. You are stronger than Lilith. Her powers are no match for yours, especially where Daryl is concerned. Love and friendship outweigh sex and mesmerism any day," Blair stated confidently.

Jim nodded. "Stay here with him, Simon?"

"Of course. Uh, Joan's with Daryl at the moment. I know she's not too happy with me, so she may show some resentment of your presence," Simon warned.

"I can handle it, captain." He left the room, feeling the delicate connection to the two men following obediently. It strengthened him, even as he struggled with doubts.

"Hey, man. You look like you just lost your best friend," Brown said as he intercepted him near the elevators. "You didn't, did you?" he added, slightly panicking.

"No, H, Blair is going to be fine. I'm on my way to see Daryl," Jim explained.

"Oh. You think that's wise, man? Rumor has it that he's still wigged out. He was pretty adamant earlier about killing you," the Black detective reminded him gently.

"It'll be fine, Henri. Daryl won't hurt me. Joan Banks, on the other hand...." Jim dredged up a smile from somewhere to flash at his friend. "If anyone else from the station is hanging around here, tell them to go home. I have...I have everything under control here." The elevator arrived and he stepped on.

"Hey, Jimbo?" Brown called just before the doors closed.

As testament to his exhaustion, Jim merely sighed at the obnoxious nickname. "Yeah, Brown?"

"Whatever it is you're planning to spread around, don't forget to hang onto some of it for yourself, man. You're hurting too."

Jim felt something tickle the back of his eyes. "Thanks for caring, Henri."

"We all care, Jim. We always have."

*****

Jim eyed what should have been a heart-warming picture of a mother and her son. Instead, it was a mockery of such a scene. The mother was distraught, silent tears running down her face; the son was there in body only, his eyes staring vacantly at the walls. What had he told Daryl earlier? Some things that have been done, can't be undone.... I sure as hell hope this isn't one of them.

"Mrs. Banks?"

Joan stiffened and wiped her face before turning. "Detective Ellison. I should have known you'd be lurking around somewhere. How is your partner?"

"He's resting comfortably. Simon, I mean the captain, is keeping an eye on him for me at the moment."

"I see. I have often wondered when push came to shove, which he would choose-- his men or his son," Joan said bitterly.

Jim took a deep breath, conscious of the misery surrounding this woman. She deserved to be angry, but had no right questioning Simon's love for his son. "It's not a question of choice, Mrs. Banks. Simon feels I may be able to help Daryl. I got through to him at the station. I may be able to reach him now."

"And what do you feel, detective? Do you feel you can help my son?"

"I would appreciate the time to try."

Joan gave a final sniff, before turning to Daryl and patting one of his clenched hands. "I'm going to be right out in the hall, baby. If you need me, all you need to do is let me know." Without looking at Jim, she left the room.

"I don't think your mother approves of me, Daryl," Jim said as he perched on the bed, scanning the teen's vitals. A moment later he relaxed. He had indeed broken Lilith's influence over Daryl at the station. What was controlling the kid now was fear, something Jim knew intimately. "What is it, Daryl? Are you afraid that you're going to be in trouble? You shouldn't worry. Your dad and mom wouldn't let anything happen to you. You know that. You won't be held responsible for what Lilith...." Daryl's heart began racing. "Lilith. You're scared of her, aren't you? You're scared that she's going to come back and hurt you, or make you hurt someone else. Like you hurt Blair."

Jim bowed his head, figuring Daryl didn't need to see the tears in his eyes. Hell, the kid was already frightened enough; adding his own weakness to the mix would be too much. "Listen to me, my friend. I'm going to ask you to do something and I know it's going to be hard. You feel betrayed, and rightly so. You trusted us...you trusted the Sentinel to protect you and I failed. I doubt if you'll ever begin to understand how sorry I am about that. But, son, I need you to trust me one more time, okay? I can make you safe." He raised his head and reached out both hands, palms up. "Give me your trust, Daryl, and I promise Lilith will never harm you again."

He waited patiently as the fists uncurled, then hesitantly moved outward. When the cold, dark hands settled against his, Jim wrapped his warm ones around them and murmured a quiet thank you. Then he began to recite the words that appeared in his head. Unknown to him, his voice took on a deeper, resonant quality as he snagged energy from the air and molded it for his own use:

In this appointed hour,

I place the Universe with all its power,

And the Sun with its brightness,

And the Snow with its whiteness,

And the Fire with all the strength it hath,

And the Lightning with its rapid wrath,

And the Winds with their swiftness,

And the Sea with its deepness,

And the Rocks with their steepness,

And the Earth with its starkness,

All these I place,

With my own Presence and Faith,

Between thee and the Powers of Darkness.

The hands within the Sentinel's twitched and awareness flooded Daryl's eyes. "Jim!" he cried, launching himself into the detective's welcoming embrace. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to kill Blair. You have to believe he was my friend!"

"Whoa, Daryl! Blair isn't dead," Jim said quickly and compassionately.

Daryl pulled back. "But I shot him."

"Yes, you shot him. But he's alive." The teen looked at him suspiciously. "Daryl, Blair's death is nothing I could ever lie about."

"Oh, God. I didn't kill him?"

"No, you didn't kill him. Lilith didn't kill him," Jim emphasized.

The relief caused a trembling to wrack through Daryl, and Jim once again gathered him in his arms. The teen cried, sobbing out the story of how Lilith had appeared while his dad was busy with the hostage situation. She had seduced him, bound him to her with sex. Then she had asked one thing of him, and he had agreed without hesitation: she had asked him to kill Jim Ellison.

"It didn't sound like such a big deal, Jim. Take your father's spare gun and shoot him, she said, and I just said okay," he admitted, confused by his actions. ""It was like she was asking me to do my homework, man. I didn't have a clue as to how wrong it was until you spoke to me at the station after...after I'd shot Blair. Even when Dad was standing in front of me, all I could think of was that he was blocking my shot. I wanted you dead, Jim."

"I know, Daryl." Jim released him and gently thumbed away the tears rolling down the brown cheeks. "Do you still want that, son? Do you still feel the need to kill me?"

"No, man. No."

"Good. I'm going to leave now and let your mother come back in, all right?" Daryl nodded. "You know you are safe, even though I'm leaving, right?"

"I see it, Jim. I know I'm protected."

Blue eyes regarded him sharply. "You see what, Daryl?"

"The protective bubble." The boy looked at him, panicking. "You...you can't see it?"

"Hold on, son. I don't know whether I can see it or not until you tell me what it is you see," Jim said reasonably. Maybe he hadn't helped the kid after all.

"It's like a thin mesh made up of silver and gold strands, wrapped around light gray, faintly metallic bars. It's all around me. Isn't it?"

Jim's responsive eyes narrowed their focus until the mesh came into view. It was as Daryl described; enclosing him in a protective sphere. Thank you, Alicia. It's exactly what Daryl needs. "It's there. And no darkness can breach its perimeter. Do you believe that?" The dark head nodded vigorously. "Rest, then. I'll send your parents in."

"Jim?" the teen called out as he reached the threshold.

"Yes, Daryl?"

"Trusting you was never the problem. It never will be."

Jim had to clear his throat before he approached Joan who was in conversation with a nurse. "Mrs. Banks, Daryl wishes to speak with you."

"Speak?" she repeated hopefully. Jim nodded and the nurse picked up the phone to page the doctor.

"I'll send Simon up as soon as I take care of one more thing."

Joan reached out a hand to his arm. "Thank you, detective."

He smiled and asked the nurse which room Myron Whittaker was in.

Chapter Sixteen

Edgar Masden, standing in the middle of Cascade International, scanned the evening edition of the Cascadian with dismay. Ellison's partner had been shot in the police station...by their captain's son? Shit. That meant there was no way he was going to be able to contact the man tonight.

His best bet would be to check into a hotel, get a good night's sleep, then try Ellison tomorrow. Maybe he could even catch him at the hospital. The less "official" people who saw them together, the better. But he didn't want to go to a hotel, not when he had an apartment he would reach before he got to any of the good hotels in the city. Why couldn't he just crash at his place? So far, he hadn't picked up a tail and if he were careful, he wouldn't. It should be safe.

He hailed a cab and gave his home address. He checked the dark streets and saw nothing amiss, so he let himself inside. Bypassing everything else he head straight to the bedroom. Tired, he dragged his overnight bag to the bed and dropped it, along with the stuffed attache. Then he dropped, sagging onto the mattress wearily. It had taken forever to get to Cascade and the nervous energy which had carried him so far, was just about used up.

A shower would be good. But I have to get up to take a shower. How about I just take off my shoes instead? Don't have to get up to do that. Just toe into heel...good and then the second one...yes! Guess I should check in with Cindy, make sure she reached New York okay. Where's the phone?

He reached up and cut on the light beside the bed. That was when he realized he'd made a fatal mistake.

*****

"Jim?"

"He's not back yet," Simon told the awakening Sandburg.

Blair yawned and raised the head of his hospital bed. "Sorry for nodding off on you, captain."

"My son shot you, Sandburg. I don't think you have anything to apologize for."

"Neither do you."

"That's debatable."

Blair frowned and glared at his friend "Don't start the guilt thing, Simon. Because if you start it, then I'm going to have to follow along, and we all know that Jim is way ahead of both of us. Lilith is the one to blame for everything. We have to remember that."

"But we were the ones who let her get to Daryl. I don't understand how it happened, when it happened."

"I do," Jim said as he entered the room. "Daryl told me."

"Told you told you?" Simon asked excitedly.

"Opened his lips and waggled his tongue," Jim assured him. "He's going to be all right, Simon. He wasn't under Lilith's spell this time. He was just scared and decided retreat was the best option."

"He...he wasn't scared of me, was he?" the captain asked worriedly.

"He thought he had killed Sandburg, so yeah, he was scared of you, me, the whole criminal justice system. But what he was truly frightened of, was Lilith coming back and making him do something else."

"You told him I wasn't dead, didn't you, Jim?" Blair questioned.

"Of course I did, Chief. Couldn't keep news like that to myself, could I?" His hand reached out to touch one of the brown ringlets framing his partner's face.

Something in the touch felt wrong, but Blair ignored it for the moment. "Is that what brought him around?"

Jim shook his head. "I made him feel safe, so he started talking. Go on up, Simon. He's expecting you."

"Thanks, Jim." The big man was out the door.

Blair watched Jim slump tiredly into the chair Simon had vacated. "You okay, partner?"

"I'm not the one who had a bullet removed from his shoulder."

He remembered Jim's touch and shivered. "Obfuscations will not be accepted. Answer the question."

Jim raised an eyebrow and eyed the IV. "What are they feeding you? Tyranny-In-A-Tube?"

"Obfuscation #2. Keep pushing it, Jim. I already have a battery of tests set up for you after this is all over. Should take two weeks. Wanna make it an even month?" Blair threatened. Frustration flared. Once again, he was in a hospital bed, something he desperately tried to avoid since he hated needles and actively despised the meds constantly being force-fed to him. But mainly he hated the guilt that was on Jim's face every time he awakened in the familiar setting. And this time, there was an odd exhaustion accompanying it. Daryl was not the only one who was scared.

"I'm tired, Chief. Just tired."

"Why?"

"You have to ask me that?"

"Yes. I've seen you go for days without sleep and not be this wasted. But you slept last night."

"Yes, I did. And look what happened."

"Jim?" He motioned to his partner and obediently, Jim moved the chair closer to the bed. "I'm going to tell you what I told Simon. Lilith is the responsible party here. Not you."

"I hear you, Chief, but you know me," Jim replied with a grim smile.

"Which is why I'm not wasting any more energy battling your guilt," Blair agreed. Jim leaned forward, resting his head on the edge of the bed. Blair reached out and traced the white bandage at his temple. Damn. He'd forgotten about the fire and the concussion. One night of sleep wouldn't make his Sentinel one hundred percent. Still.... His finger strayed from the bandage, touching the bare skin of the side of his face. Blair jerked back from what he sensed. "What have you done?" he asked in a shocked whisper.

"What do you mean?"

"Your energy levels are way low, man." He was as close to "E" as Blair had ever sensed.

Jim blinked and sat up. "You can feel my energy levels?"

"I'm your shaman, you idiot. The title may not come with all the neat talents you possess, but it does allow me to monitor you. Did breaking Daryl free of Lilith do this?"

"Some. I also stopped by a few minutes ago to see Myron Whittaker."

"The man who hit you?" he inquired bitterly.

"Another one of Lilith's victims," Jim reminded him.

"And you broke him free too." The man was sometimes just too giving for his own good.

"Yes. Thankfully, he only remembers us stepping out onto the eighth floor. After that, everything's a blank. He doesn't remember a thing about Lilith and her shape-shifting," he added with relief. He had wondered how he would explain his way out of that one.

Okay. Maybe two Get-Out-Of-Hell Free cards had depleted him. But why do I feel there's something else? "You said you made Daryl feel safe. How?"

Jim sighed and wondered why Blair's medicine wasn't dragging him back to sleep like it always did. "I put him under protection."

"Meaning?"

"I said some words."

"You said some words," Blair repeated with a frown. Then his eyes widened. "You performed magick? The kind with a 'k'?"

"I don't understand."

Blair desperately wished he had both hands, but waving one in the air sufficed. "Magick with a 'k' is not the slight-of-hand, abracadabra stuff. It's more supernatural, elemental. If I follow you, you said a spell, right?" A jerky nod. "And?"

"A sphere of protection formed around Daryl."

"Cool! I didn't know you could do something like that," he said excitedly.

"Alicia directed me."

"She still watches over you?"

"She always will, Chief."

Blair smiled. For a girl he'd never met, he was starting to consider her a close friend. "I'm thankful for the friends you have beyond this world, Jim."

"Me too. But no more thankful than I am for the ones I have here." Jim wiggled, trying to find a comfortable position in the chair. "Enough talk. You need to rest."

"So do you. Go home."

Jim sighed. "Make up your mind, Sandburg. Do you want me to rest, or do you want me to go home?"

Understanding flared between their eyes. "So, it's like that, huh?"

"Yeah, Chief. It is."

"Rest then, my friend."

*****Jim and Blair were both zoned, but in a good, relaxing way. Idle chatter and concerned glances had eventually faded away. Content to be together, alive and reasonably well, they had fallen into the companionable silence that reigned many a night at the loft. The only thing missing was a stack of books for Blair and a magazine for Jim, but tonight their thoughts were sufficient.

Jim suddenly stiffened and Blair looked at him curiously. "Simon's returning. I wonder if anything is wrong?" He turned an anxious face towards the door.

The captain peeked in, probably expecting to find both sleeping. When he saw they were awake, he entered. "Any room down here? Daryl kicked me out."

"Why?"

"He kicked Joan out too. Said we needed to go home and rest, that he was okay, that he was protected. Then he winked at me. What the hell did that mean?"

"Jim put him in a protective orb."

"What the hell does that.... No, I don't want to know," he said abruptly. "Guess I'm out of here. Joan and I are meeting with a lawyer in the morning."

"You can't go home alone, Simon," Blair reminded him. "Jim, Daryl had a point. You need to go home too. And take Simon with you."

"All right." Blair eyed him suspiciously. Jim never simply caved in. "But I'm putting you under protection first."

"No. You're already weakened. Besides, this is a hospital. Lilith can't come in because of the flyer."

"Don't count on that," Simon warned. "I know there were newspapers in my house."

Jim shook his head. "Daryl thought he was doing you a favor by cleaning up, captain. He piled up the papers and put them on the curb to be recycled. Nevertheless, I don't want to worry about you all night, Chief. Protection, or I stay. Your choice."

"And you called me a tyrant," Blair muttered. "Fine. But use some of my strength in the mix, okay?"

"I did before, Chief. Daryl was able to see the bubble thingie and finally I did too. There were gold and silver strands reinforcing it."

"So?"

Jim smiled sheepishly at his companions. "In my mind, Simon becomes a silver thread and you become a gold one, Blair."

"About that month of testing, Jim? Let's add a month of talking too."

"I hear you, Chief."

Blair adjusted his bed. "Okay, let's get this show on the road. What do I have to do?"

"Just give me your trust."

"Done."Jim took one hand in his and carefully maneuvered the other one into position. "Simon, stand behind Jim, and put your hands on his shoulders."

"I don't need protection, Sandburg," the captain informed him.

"I know-- because you're going home with Jim."

"Why can't Jim go home with me?"

Jim looked at him apologetically. "Because Daryl had sex there with Lilith, Simon. The smell would probably drive me crazy."

"I just had to ask, didn't I?" Simon muttered.

"I want you to lend your strength to Jim, captain. You heard him-- you are the silver strand. He needs you," Blair pronounced and Simon put his hands on Jim's shoulders.

The Sentinel recited the spell and maybe because he was with the Guide and Watcher, this time he actually saw the sphere form. The gold and silver strands were thicker, the light gray bars slimmer. "Do you see it, Chief?" he asked when he finished.

"It's beautiful, man. So, I'm gold and Simon is silver and you're...." He smiled as his mind touched the metallic substance. "Titanium is so you, Jim."

"Is that what that is?" he asked in amusement.

"The strongest substance known to man. He's right, Jim. It is fitting," Simon agreed.

"You can see it too?"

Simon glanced at him in surprise. "If Daryl could see it, why would you think I couldn't?"

"Because Daryl needed to believe...." That was the only reason Jim could come up with when he thought about the teen actually seeing his "magick".

"Maybe I need to believe too, Jim," the captain replied quietly.

They all knew what it took for Simon to admit that. Of all of them, Simon was the biggest skeptic. Blair, of course, avidly adjusted to the changes in their lives. Thrilled and excited described what he experienced every time the Sentinel learned a new skill, and the whole Warrior aspect had him bouncing off the ceiling for weeks. Whatever benefits he gained from being the Guide and a shaman, he fully embraced, eager to help those he could. Jim, who dearly wanted to be a skeptic, but found it foolish to deny what he himself was actually doing, quietly accepted his growing accumulation of talents, sometimes holding back more than he should, but never at the expense of another's life or well-being. Simon, however, preferred the ostrich approach. He didn't exactly bury his head in the sand, but he was really good at looking away. He maintained the attitude of "it happened, but I don't want to think about it." When his Watcher alarms went off, he responded, but with as little actual involvement as he could get away with. Now, he was confessing, without any pushing, to seeing a sphere created by mere words.

Blair touched the Watcher's arm. "Then believe, Simon. You can go back to unbelieving tomorrow or the next day."

"Or never again," Simon said softly.

"That's acceptable too." Jim placed his arm on the captain's without breaking contact with Blair. The sphere around them danced, the colors brightening, the lines broadening.

"Wow," Blair said, at a loss for more descriptive words.

"I agree, Sandburg."

Jim smiled. "We do good work, Chief. I think for once I can leave you in the hospital without feeling like I'm doing something wrong."

"That's great, Jim, as long as you don't forget to come get me in the morning," Blair said sternly.

"I won't forget, Chief. Come on, Simon. There are a couple of beers at the loft with our names on them. Oh, and the best part, sir, is that you came over here in the ambulance with Daryl, which means you get to ride in my truck."

"Whoohoo, your lucky day, captain," Blair exclaimed, laughing as Simon stomped out to the hall. "Hey, Jim," he said, his voice dropping to Sentinel softness. "Take care of him, okay?"

"I will, Chief."

Chapter Seventeen

"Can't sleep?"

Simon shook his head, realized it was dark and was going to make a verbal reply, then remembered who was asking the question. "Told you not to give up your bed, Ellison. Then I wouldn't be disturbing you."

Jim flicked on a lamp so Simon could navigate down the stairs. "You also said when you were at the loft, I never slept. That was true too. What's got you walking the floor?"

"Thoughts. Too many of them."

"Daryl."

Simon shrugged. "Got any of that pizza left?" he asked brusquely. On the way from the hospital, they had stopped for take out.

"In the fridge."

Simon grabbed a napkin and slapped a piece onto it before keying in the microwave for thirty seconds. Just enough time to take the chill off. "He's fine, Jim. Just like Sandburg. What's keeping you from sleeping?"

"You want that list alphabetized or random?" Jim asked dryly, not stirring from his position on the sofa.

"Beer?"

"Sure."

"How do you stand this, Jim?" Simon asked as he handed him the cold bottle and plopped onto the loveseat.

"Stand what?"

"The guilt, the maybe's, the waiting, the wondering, the would have's and could have's...."

"Ah. So you did want them alphabetized," Jim replied with a dry chuckle. "I have two good friends I can unload on, Simon. That how I stand it."

Simon stared at the pizza, knowing there was no way he could eat it. "Sandburg's turned you into a damn Chatty Cathy," he snapped, recalling a popular talking doll.

"Maybe. But you have to admit, I'm a lot easier to take these days." He knew what he was like before Blair. Sometimes he looked back at that life and wondered why he had any friends left. Blair had made the loft a home, a place where he could be himself...whether ranting and raving or merely letting the occasional tear fall. In honor of that gesture, he would pass it on. "You know you can talk to me, Simon, and what goes on here, goes no further."

"You think I don't know that? You think I didn't recognize this 'you need to be protected' ruse for what it was? I was, am, a detective, you know. I know when I'm being played, even by the great Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg. I don't know which of you scares me more. You're both too damn slick for your own good. Sandburg has you wrapped around his finger. Hell, he's got everyone in the unit under his thumb. Then there's you. You do some of the wildest shit and we don't even blink any more. Like standing up in front of Daryl. The boy says that he wants to kill you, and you stand dead in front of him and ask him why. Damn foolish stunt. Then you look at him and he collapses...." Simon's voice broke and he reached for the beer.

"From the moment Joan told me she was pregnant, I wanted that baby, Jim," he continued. "I didn't care whether it was a boy or a girl. The guys at the station were always patting me on the back, saying they knew I was secretly hoping for a son, but I really didn't care. I just wanted it, him or her. I would talk to Joan's stomach. Boy, how she used to laugh at that. 'Your daddy's being silly', she would say and I would counter with, 'No, your daddy's just letting you he loves you.' Babies. They grab you that early, wrapping your heart around little fingers that don't even resemble fingers yet," he said with a fond smile. Jim nodded, grateful the captain was finally talking.

"In her seventh month, Joan's blood pressure skyrocketed. Pre-eclampsia, the doctors called it. She had to stop working and stay in bed. That helped for a while, but in her eighth month, they finally had to do a caesarian to save both her and the baby." He shuddered as the vivid memories came back to him. "You have a son, the doctor's told me. Everyone assumed he was going to be named Simon, Jr., but I absolutely refused to do that. I wanted my son to be an individual. I wasn't looking for a clone or someone to follow in my footsteps. I looked at that tiny being and I told myself that he could be whoever he wanted to be. That's why when he got the dreadlocks, I held my temper. I wanted him to be an individual and hell, that's just what I was getting.

"I was up-front with him about the divorce. Told him straight out that it had nothing to do with him, that his mother and I had just decided that it just wasn't working anymore. He took the news quietly and every so often, he would do something just to let me know he was still pissed at me for leaving. But all and all, he's been a good kid, Jim, a good son. We had to work for our relationship, but that's what you have to do when something's worth it, right? I think it was here in the loft that I realized what kind of man I had raised. When the demons came that night and they tried to get him to betray us...Daryl spoke and there was such conviction in his voice. He was standing by his dad and his friends, no matter what. Even when the secret of the Sentinel was revealed, he didn't consider it a betrayal. He knew why it was kept from him, why it's been kept from most people.

"I was also proud of the way he kept your Flip busy, the way he responded when he heard what that cult had wanted to do to her. I think taking responsibility for her, made him understand me better. I think he finally realized what my job was, how important it was for me to take care of the rest of the world, even though he wanted me all to himself. For the past few months, when we've been together, it's been as two men, two adults who care for each other and are not ashamed to admit it.

"That's a good thing, Jim. A lot of parents and kids never reach that stage. The parent will either baby the kid his whole life, or the kid never gets over that teen rebellion stage. We see it all the time in our line of work, don't we? Kids killing parents for their money or possessions, beating them up for past sins and slights, or the parents berating their grown children, meddling in their lives, telling them everything they do is wrong.... So much needless violence...."

Simon stood and ambled over to the balcony doors, peeking through the shades covering them. "You wanna go out?" Jim asked.

"Nah. It's too cold, isn't it?" Simon replied, even as he unlocked the doors.

Jim stood and grabbed a couple of jackets. Both men were dressed only in sweatpants. "Sometimes even a wide-open loft becomes confining," he commented in complete understanding as he followed his friend outside.

Simon nodded as he shrugged into one of Jim's jackets. He didn't care much for Jim's sense of style in everyday clothes, but the man had good taste in outerwear. "Stars!" he exclaimed. "Someone told me Cascade had them, but all I ever see is clouds."

"They come out every so often," Jim explained. "Just so we won't forget they're up there." The Sentinel adjusted his temperature dial, having given his heavier jacket to the captain.

"Were they up there today, Jim, when I did something I thought I would never do? Were they watching when I pulled a gun and aimed it at my son? I didn't even know it was Daryl. Sandburg moved, then he was down, and I just reacted. I'm a cop, damn it. I hear a gunshot, I draw my weapon. It's automatic. The whole room did it. The whole fucking room, Jim. Just think of what could have happened if it had been in the main squadroom instead of the Major Crimes bullpen-- a place where everyone wouldn't have seen the captain's son, but just one more drugged up Black teen...."

He turned and in the starlight, Jim could see the tears glistening on his face. "I could have lost him today, Jim. He could have been bleeding from a hundred holes before I knew it. I could be making funeral arrangements this very minute, wondering who to get as pall bearers for my son, my Daryl. I could have...." The sobs he'd been holding back, exploded in a hail of strangled cries and a wash of tears.

For half a second, Jim considered leaving Simon to give into his grief privately. For all of his talk about Jim being a lone wolf, the captain was one as well. His position made him so. He could only get so close to his men because when push came to shove, he had to be a captain first and a friend second. The fine line he walked got narrower every day where a certain team was concerned, but it hadn't been crossed yet, and Jim wasn't certain whether he should, or even had the right to, push Simon over it.

If Simon had been like the rest of the paper pushers and had a home life to turn to for comfort, this wouldn't be an issue. He would have sent him home for some good old-fashioned spoiling. But Simon was divorced, with an unsympathetic ex, and a son he saw only during planned visits and outings. So, if the captain had cried in the past few years, he had cried alone. Jim knew how that felt...and couldn't condemn his friend to that fate.

He didn't say anything, didn't even croon a soft assurance. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the larger man and gave him something to clutch as the world he knew crumbled around him. When the storm was over, and Simon padded softly into the loft, climbing docilely into the bed he'd been given, Jim stayed on the balcony and watched the stars.

*****

Mrs. Krebbs had told the nice man next door that she would pick up the paper, which was delivered each morning, and keep it for him while he was away. He always greeted her when they passed in the hall, and never complained about the number of cats that sometimes escaped into the hallway, so she thought picking up his paper was the least she could do.

At 8:00, she looked out into corridor and saw the paper laying where it should be. She took a few steps and bent to pick it up. That's when she noticed his door wasn't completely closed. Had he arrived in the middle of the night?

"Mr. Masden?" she called, tapping lightly on the ajar door. At her slight touch, it swung open.

And then Mrs. Krebbs screamed.

*****

"About time you arrived, man," Blair said eagerly as his partner's face appeared in the door. "You got my clothes?"

"Right here, Chief," Jim answered, holding up a small duffle bag. "What's with the hurry? You afraid the hospital is going to change its mind about letting you go?"

"No, man, I'm fine, fit as a fiddle. See for yourself." He held out his arm. Although the Sentinel could monitor him without touch, Jim always seemed to need that reassurance when Blair was in the hospital. "I just want to see Daryl before I go. He's still here, isn't he?"

Jim nodded at the results of his scan and allowed Blair to get dressed. "I dropped Simon by the station earlier, so he could get his car, go home, and get dressed for the meeting with the lawyer. Daryl won't be released until after a battery of psych tests-- which will be for his benefit."

"How is Simon?"

"He's hanging in there, Chief." Jim guided Blair's sore arm through a sleeve.

"Hanging as in barely grasping, or hanging as in secure grip?"

"He'll go the distance."

"Good. I knew you could get through to him." He adjusted his sling while Jim tied his shoes. "Now, lets get upstairs and see how his son is."

"What about your discharge papers?"

"The doctor has already checked me out. I told Marilyn, my nurse, where I was heading. She'll either page me or bring the final copies to me. Get the lead out, big guy," he called as he nearly galloped out the door.

Jim merely shook his head and gathered all the personal items Blair had left behind. When he was satisfied the room was clear, he zipped up the duffle and followed his partner who was still waiting on an elevator. "I was going to ask you to remove the sphere when you arrived," Blair said as if Jim had been standing beside him all the time. "But then, I thought it would be a good idea to let Daryl see it, let him know someone else needed it too."

"Especially someone like his personal role model?"

"I'm not a role model, per se, Jim. I'm more like...a friend paddling the same river. We've had similar experiences and I always seem to have them first or at the same time, so he looks to me for advice," Blair reasoned. "I mean, look at this right now. Just a few months ago, I was in his exact position; something had invaded my body and tried to make me kill you.... Gee, Jim, if it wasn't for your friends, who'd be left to off you?" he teased.

"Just the rest of the world, Chief," Jim replied as the elevator finally arrived. The car was crowded due to the early hour, and they remained quiet until they got to their requested floor.

"He's listening to cartoons," Jim said as they approached the room.

"Great! I haven't seen a morning cartoon since--"

"Since you decided morning was the enemy?" Jim interrupted wryly. He'd fought with Blair many a morning, threatening all sorts of bodily harm just to get his partner out of bed. The fact that once he was up, he hit the ground running, just made the exercise more difficult.

"So I'm a little grumpy in the mornings. Maybe if you let me watch cartoons--"

"No way, Chief. One tinny laugh track and I'd probably shoot the television. And if an officer discharges his weapon, he has about sixteen forms to fill out. Now, if you feel like doing that much paperwork--"

"Me? You would be the one who shot the TV!"

"But you would be the one who watched the cartoon."

Blair sighed. "We'll just stick with you screaming at me as usual in the mornings, Jim."

"It does get my day off to a good start," he said with a sly grin. He put out his arm to stop his partner outside Daryl's room. "Let me go in first." He pushed through the door. "Morning."

"Jim!" Daryl called.

"How you doing, buddy?"

"How do you think?" He waved his arms to indicate the bubble still around him. "How's Blair?"

"Ask him yourself." He opened the door wider.

"Hey, Daryl!" He bounded over to the bed.

"Watch the shoulder," Jim warned.

Blair scowled at him, then hugged the teen one-armed. "You had me worried, my friend."

"I had you...I shot you, Blair."

"No, Lilith did," Blair replied firmly. "And we don't have to worry about her, do we?"

Daryl's eyes widened as he glimpsed the shield around Blair. "You got one too! Oh, man. If only I'd had this before that night."

Jim figured he'd leave the two alone. If anyone could get Daryl through the guilt, it was Blair. "I'll be out in the hall, looking for your paperwork, Sandburg."

Blair nodded and concentrated on his young friend. "Bet you're feeling pretty crappy."

"The doctors say I'm physically healthy."

Blair shrugged. "So, your body's feeling great, but what about the rest of you?"

Brown eyes skidded to the side. "I shot you, Blair. How should I feel?"

"That's what I'm asking you."

"I'm sorry. You know that, don't you?"

Blair waved away the unnecessary apology. "I'm going to be fine. But I need you to talk to me, Daryl, before I can go home and rest like I should. I need to know you're going to be okay."

Fingers kneaded the thin blanket covering him. "Dad taught me how to use a gun a couple of years ago. Made me go to the shooting range and everything. Bet he hates he did that now."

"Bet he hates he took you to the range, or bet he hates you?" Blair questioned gently.

Shoulders slumped. "I remembered all his instructions when I pointed that gun at Jim. If you hadn't stepped in the way, the bullet would have gone straight into his heart. I knew that. It's what I wanted to happen. I did my damnedest to kill my dad's best friend. I shot another of his friends. In the police station. In front of everyone he works with. How can he not hate me?"

"Because he loves you."

Daryl made a sound which was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Love can only forgive so much."

"Wrong! Love can forgive anything. I should know." Blair sighed and pushed back his hair. Should have let Jim pin it back for me. "Remember that evening at the loft, Daryl, when Jim's face was all scratched up and he'd busted a few ribs? You said, 'I guess I should see the other guy, right?' Well, I was the other guy, Daryl. If you had checked my fingernails that night, Jim's flesh would have been under them."

Shock marred the young features. "Why, man? You two are like brothers."

Blair swallowed. When he'd began, he hadn't realized the incident would still be so hard to talk about. "I wasn't myself, Daryl. You see, Lilith got into your head and made you go after Jim. Well...a demon got into more than my head. It possessed me, man, my entire body. And it didn't just want to kill Jim, it wanted to hurt him first."

"Jim's bigger than you are--"

Blair nodded. "If he'd wanted to, he could have crushed me like a bug in the first minute. But the big idiot was worried more about me being harmed, than himself. When he should have been defending himself, he was watching out for me, making sure I didn't get damaged.... When the demon saw it couldn't kill Jim, it tried to kill me. Most of the injuries Jim received were from saving my life."

"Shit."

A weak laugh. "Couldn't have said it better myself." Silence as both relived their nightmares. "I didn't tell you that story for sympathy, man. I told you to show you the power of love. Jim forgave me, fully and completely. If he can do that, then you know you have no reason to fear losing your dad's love or respect."

"You ever wonder why they put up with us?" Daryl questioned, finally accepting the fact that his dad would always love him. He'd known it; he just needed confirmation from an outside source.

"I wonder all the time. But just remember when you're feeling down that we are the chosen, Daryl. Some people can go a whole lifetime and never be loved like we are. Biology gave you your father and fate gave me Jim." Actually, biology played a big part in our relationship too.

"I guess that means we're pretty special."

"And lucky as hell."

"That too," Daryl agreed and smiled a real smile for the first time since hearing the name Lilith.

Chapter Eighteen

After Jim left the two younger people alone, he took a seat in the floor's waiting area. Fifteen minutes later, he felt Simon's presence approaching. "Captain, Mrs. Banks," he greeted as the couple got off the elevator with another man.

"You here to see Daryl?" Simon asked.

"Sandburg's with him. I thought the two of them should talk alone."

"Sandburg?" the other man questioned. "Is that the young man my client shot?"

"Yes," Simon said. "Jim, this is Paul Brickman, Daryl's attorney. Mr. Brickman, this is Detective Jim Ellison."

"The intended target?"

"Yeah," Jim answered. "But neither I nor my partner hold Daryl responsible. He was influenced by outside forces."

"So I've been told. According to the captain, Daryl was brainwashed by a murderer you're after?"

"That's right."

"Would you be willing to testify on Daryl's behalf?"

"Of course. Sandburg too. Did Captain Banks mention Officer Myron Whittaker?"

"The other person this woman also tried to get to murder you? Yes. I plan to see him immediately after meeting Daryl. Tell me. Do you have proof of the existence of this woman?"

Simon noticed Jim focusing on the elevator so he wasn't surprised when it opened and two of his detectives stepped out. "Captain, Ellison, we got something," Brown said as he as his partner approached.

"New body?" Simon asked.

"I'm going to go talk to the nurse," Joan said quickly. "Why don't you join me, Mr. Brickman?"

As if I wasn't in enough hot water with her. "What do you have, gentlemen?"

Rafe held up a note encased in plastic. "This was found on the door of a room at the Hilton."

Simon took the package, knowing Jim could see it from his position. "Det. Jim Ellison: Couldn't think of a better way to say I'm sorry. This was found on a door? Anybody check the room?"

"Yep. Inside was Jerry West, in town to attend a dental conference," Brown answered.

"Dead?"

"Very much alive," Rafe said. "Hell of a way to apologize-- not killing someone. Guess she didn't mean it when she sent to kid to take you out, Jim."

"Yeah, well, it seemed like she meant it at the time. Who found this?"

"Bellboy. He was bringing up the cart to pick up a guest's luggage, saw the note-- nosy bugger that he was-- and called the cops. Seems he saw a clip of your press conference yesterday and remembered your name," Rafe explained.

"You mean I have to thank the press for something?"

Brown exchanged a glance with his partner. "There's something else, Jim. That reporter you had us looking into? A neighbor found him OD'ed in his apartment this morning."

Jim frowned. "I didn't even know he was back in the city. Overdosed on what?"

"He was shooting heroin. Still had his arm tied off. Apparently, he had a history of drug use. One of the reasons he was here in Washington instead of his usual haunt of New York."

"Any files about Ellison with him?" Simon asked quickly.

Another furtive glance. "Uh, after we drop off this note to forensics, we were going to head over to the crime scene and check around."

"Crime scene?" Simon asked.

"Have to keep all our options open until we hear from the M.E., captain," Rafe said professionally.

"You do that, detectives. I'll see you back at the station."

Jim looked at the captain. "Wasn't Brickman saying something about proof, sir?"

"That he was, my friend. Let's go tell him we just got it."

*****

"Chief?" Jim called as he came down the stairs from his room. Both he and Blair had napped for part of the afternoon. An hour ago, Simon had called and awakened them, telling them the good news that Daryl had "passed" all his psych exams and was being released from the hospital.

"Yeah, Jim?" his roommate replied from where he sat at the table, pecking one-handed on his laptop. Thanks to getting shot, he was one day behind in his daily journal. Of course, this wasn't the first time he'd been behind and he was lucky it was only one day.

"I'm going to ask you something that I've never asked you before, and I don't want you to freak. Just close your mouth and give yourself time to consider my request, okay?"

"O...Okay," Blair agreed anxiously.

Jim walked to the center of the living room. "Why is your heart racing?"

"Because you're scaring me, man," Blair replied honestly.

"Don't worry, Sandburg. I'm not going to ask you for your soul or something."

"Wouldn't be a problem; you already have it." Jim just stared at him. Oops. Forgot the big guy doesn't like hearing stuff like that. Gonna have to work on that. "What's your request, Jim?"

"I want to borrow those candles you use to meditate."

Blair was the one staring this time. "Why?"

"To meditate."

Duh, Blair. The man wants meditation candles because he wants to meditate. Nothing to frazzle yourself over. Just because it took two years just for him not to mumble something nasty when *you* meditated and another year for him to join you when you *insisted* it had to be done, doesn't mean he's not entitled to meditate at his leisure, without any prompting or arm-twisting from you, without there being anything wrong with his senses.... "Everything working properly, big guy? Senses doing okay? Concussion isn't causing any problems, is it?"

Jim sighed. "Didn't I tell you not to freak? I'm fine. This is just something I have to do."

Have to do? "Oh, you're going to contact Michael?" So that's how you communicate with an archangel. Makes sense.

"No, I'm going to contact myself."

"Uh, that sounds like something I would say," Blair mumbled as he went to his room and got the requested materials.

"Does that mean I have to grow hair down to my shoulders and listen to tom-toms go bump in the night?"

"Only if you're fortunate," Blair quipped. He could tell Jim was serious about this, so he didn't make any more comments, just merely arranged the candles in a circle and got the matches. "Grab a pillow. The floor can get pretty hard if you're under a while."

Jim looked at the preparations and smiled. "Thanks, Chief. Have you ever had the feeling that the answers you're looking for, you already know?" Blair nodded as his partner folded his long legs, and got comfortable on the pillow. "So, I don't have to chant or anything, do I?"

"No, man, just relax." Blair kneeled down behind him and massaged his shoulders. His voice dropped to Guide mode, lower, smoother. "This should be easy for you, Jim. You know your body. Push out the negative energy and breath in clear. Take that jumble of thoughts and move them to one side. Now, take one at a time and examine it. If it's not the right one, go to the next. Filter them as you do your senses."

When Jim had reached the correct level of relaxation, Blair backed away. He stared at Jim, completely at ease in the circle of candles and for a moment, he flashed onto a picture of Jim in a jungle by a campfire, dressed in camouflage, a black jaguar curled at his feet. He blinked and the image disappeared. Cool.

Two hours later, when a knock came on the door, Jim was still searching for his answers. Blair checked to see if the sound had disturbed him but the Sentinel remained in his relaxed state. "Hi, Simon," he said softly as he opened the door.

"Why the whispers? Jim asle--" He stopped as he saw his detective and the candles. "What's going on?"

"He said the answers he needed were inside him."

"And so you...?"

Blair threw up his hands. "I didn't suggest anything. He asked me for the candles."

Simon shuddered. "Do you have any idea of what's going on with him?"

"In a word? No. On the surface, he appears more open, more..." He searched for the correct word.

"User friendly?" Simon supplied.

"Exactly. He's more tolerant of mistakes. He manages his stress better. He's less demanding of others. He encourages talking and sharing."

"But?"

"But it's bogus, man. Sure, he wants everyone else to talk and share, but he's clammed up more than ever," Blair admitted in a burst of frustration. "In less than a year, he's gone from being a mere Sentinel-- and the word mere doesn't mean what it usually does-- with five heightened senses, to an enhanced Sentinel with senses that are beyond the realm of the imagination. That's got to be mind-blowing, Simon. He saw into that gymnasium from the roof of the Cascade Savings and Trust building."

"You're kidding?" Simon said breathlessly. "That's where he took the shot from? Forensics is so boggled by where a shot could have come from that they're just saying the fragments they found came from the gun itself. Bad manufacturing is the official ruling."

"Count the ammo for the M16 in your trunk, man. You will find one-- and only one-- missing."

"Shit. How?"

Blair shrugged. "There was no discussion about it. I asked him if he could make the shot and he said sure. No hesitation. No doubt. Pure self-confidence. I asked him how he was seeing, and all he told me was that he'd discovered other channels. But he'd never mentioned these channels before. How the hell am I supposed to be his Guide when he doesn't talk to me?" He turned away from the captain. "Maybe he doesn't even need a Guide anymore."

"Then be his shaman," Simon suggested quietly.

"A confidant in whom he doesn't confide?" Blair snorted. "He's buddies with an archangel, Simon. What does he need me for?"

"I didn't see Michael at his side when he woke up in the hospital. And it wasn't Michael who made him go home last night or noticed how much energy he used to make the protection thingamajigs," Simon argued. "Maybe the Sentinel doesn't need a Guide anymore. I doubt it, but for argument's sake, let's say it's true. And maybe the Warrior doesn't need the shaman. But what I do know, Sandburg, and what I would swear to in a court of justice, if necessary, is that Jim needs Blair."

Blair slumped into his chair at the dining table, amazed at the comfort those simple words gave him. But then, maybe they weren't that simple after all. "Thank you for that, Simon." He clicked off the computer and motioned for the captain to join him. "How are things with Daryl?"

"He's home with Joan. I figured he was safe there since he still has that orb thing around him. I see yours is gone."

"I had Jim remove it when we got home. No use expending energy that could be used elsewhere. Daryl's holding up okay?"

"Solid. It amused him that I could see it too. He called me his New Age Dad."

"Hmm. That's what they call my mom. Maybe the two of you...." Blair looked at Simon and Simon at Blair.

"Nahhhh," they said in perfect unison.

"Mind if I add a third 'nah'," Jim asked as he returned from his 'journey'. "The thought of Simon and Naomi makes my skin crawl."

"Everything makes your skin crawl, Jim," Blair pointed out. "Now, what would be wrong with my mom meeting a nice guy like the captain here?"

"Other than the fact she thinks all cops are fascists, that Simon is a stay-at-home kind of guy and your mother runs all over the globe, and that you would have to call Simon, dad? Why nothing at all is wrong with that, Sandburg," Jim said patiently.

"He makes sense," Blair whispered to Simon.

"He makes a lot of sense. That's why we had both said nah to begin with. Remember that, Sandburg?" Simon reminded him.

"Sorry. It's kind of an automatic thing to come to Naomi's defense. So, Jim, find any answers?"

"'For every ailment under the sun, there is a remedy or there is none; if there be one, try to find it; if there be none, never mind it,'" Jim quoted.

"He's scaring me again," Simon protested.

"I resemble that emotion," Blair declared.

Jim laughed. "Sorry, maybe I dug too deep. That's a Mother Goose rhyme I remembered, that's all. There was indeed a remedy to our ailment. Thanks to your guidance, Chief, I found it."

"And?"

"And tomorrow, Lilith goes back to where she belongs."

Chapter Nineteen

Cindy Hartwell dropped the phone back into its cradle numbly. Edgar Masden was dead. According to the Editor-In-Chief, he'd died by his own hand-- whether accidently or on purpose didn't matter. What mattered was that moving him to Washington had done no good. Apparently his habit had moved with him and grown from cocaine to heroin. All it took was one hit too many to the heart. Of course, they would spin it as best as possible. The press release would read sudden heart failure. If they were lucky, they could start a rumor about how he'd been moved to the Northwest because of problems discovered during his last physical. The shakes he had that everyone had ascribed to alcoholism were due to one of those named diseases like Lou Gehrig's disease or Guillain-Barre Syndrome or something. Maybe ask memorials be placed in his name to the appropriate organizations.

But as Cindy slumped into a chair and stared at the fire in her fireplace, she wondered how the company spindoctors would react if they knew the truth; they weren't putting a spin on drug abuse, but murder.

*****

"You're just going to sit here and wish her to appear and she will?" Blair asked skeptically as he paced in nervous circles around his partner.

"Yes, Chief. Lilith enters through the mind, remember?"

"Yeah, and I also remember the part about preying on the flesh of single men. Newsflash, Jim! You're a single man," he said agitatedly.

"Whom Lilith wants. She'll come."

"Uh, that's the part I'm worried about, Jim. If you send me and Simon with the kids to recreate the invocation, you'll be here alone with Lilith. That can't be a good thing, man."

"Well, if you expect me to seduce her while you watch, you can forget it. Get your jollies elsewhere," Jim ordered indignantly.

"I'd probably get a bigger thrill out of one the PG13 flicks down at the mall. Hell, I'd better get a bigger thrill out of the movie," he warned, waggling a finger in Jim's direction. "Guiding one Sentinel is enough; I will not tolerate having a hundred little Lilim running around, crying for the Guide to turn their dials down. You hear me, man?"

The imagery had Jim laughing until he nearly cried. "That was a good one, Chief. Now, get ready to leave. Simon and Daryl will be here in a few minutes to pick you up."

"Hey, Jim," Blair called as he disappeared into his room, in search of his backpack. "If Lilith can just phase in and out, why didn't she do that at the Sandy Creek Motorlodge? Why did she let the investigator see her?"

"She was newly released and didn't have the energy for her usual tricks. She's come a long way in a couple of days."

Blair returned, with his backpack draped across a shoulder. "You sure about this, Jim?" he asked one last time.

"I'm sure, Chief." He cocked his head to one side. "They just pulled up. Go meet them. I'm nervous enough without having to watch Daryl and Simon eye me speculatively. Simon would probably make me put on a suit."

Blair scanned the man sitting casually on the sofa. Soft blue sweater with the sleeves pushed up, pale khakis. Jim Ellison at his quintessential best. "You're good, man. You'll have her eating out of your hand in no time."

"Thanks for the ego boost. Now, get out of here. I'll call when the deed is done."

Jim heard him get into the car, the greetings, the worries, the jokes for Daryl's sake. After a mile, he stopped his eavesdropping and decided to get on with the business at hand. Damn, he thought as he tried to settle his mind. The boys back in Covert Ops would get a kick of this. The Master, J. J. Ellison himself, balking at seducing a beautiful and willing lady. But, hell, it wasn't the seduction itself he was worried about. Sex was Lilith's weakness and he knew exactly how to exploit it.

That was the problem: the act of exploiting. It bothered him, always had, but before he'd been able to chuck his self-disgust into a mental closet and get on with the job. As he got older, it had been harder to snow himself, however. That's why he hadn't lasted very long in Vice. It had hit him in the middle of a bust he had helped arrange, that he was arresting men and women for doing the exact same thing he himself was getting paid to do. Paid to do. Whoring, Jim. You whored for your government. You whored for the police department. And here you are again-- whoring for the world this time. The end may be just, but the means suck.

Well, that kind of thinking was just getting him further away from his objective. Trying to mentally jumpstart himself, he went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. It was time for J.J. to make an appearance; J.J. Ellison, the U.S. funded, NATO-approved, all purpose slut. His mission (always his mission): to gain the enemy's trust by any means necessary. That usually meant feigning interest, both personal and sexual. Your husband doesn't understand you, but I do. Give me the combination to the vault and I'll take you away from the bad man. You are so beautiful. Looking into your eyes reminds me of a Colorado morning just after a snowfall, a clear, crisp blue which beckons me to come and play. But before we do, you don't happen to know where I can get my hands on a couple of top-secret documents, do you? I don't know what it is about you. I've never felt myself attracted to another man before.... That one had been the one to break the camel's back, so to speak. He hadn't had to go as far as sleeping with the man, but he had become his best friend, his right hand in his questionable dealings. The man had confided secrets to him, about his past, about his fears, and he had used them against him-- broken him through sheer brutal betrayal. Damn. If he hadn't had the chance to volunteer for the Peru mission right after that, he probably would have blown his brains out.

He forced his eyes to find the mirror. Objectively, he tried to find anything that a lover would find appealing. Maybe they wouldn't; after all, he was now older. But then it was never the looks, but the attitude. Stick enough sincerity into your words and people fell. Praise them enough, tell them what they wanted to hear, appeal to their insecurities, and wham, they were putty for you to mold or mash. He'd done it automatically in the hotel room. He could, and would, do it automatically here. After all, he had a world to save.

He went back to the living room, sat casually on the sofa, and silently sought Lilith. Just as Daryl had described, she formed-- at first just a dark outline, then the woman herself, her nudity raiment fit for the goddess that she was. Full, red lips smiled at him. "So, apology accepted?"

J.J. smiled, a slow, deliberate process. "Appreciated, but I'm not sure about the accepted part yet. You did try to have me killed, not once, but twice."

She winced as she reached out toward the bruise still vivid at his temple. "I was confused."

"I'm not. There's been no one but you on my mind since the day I saw you." He caught the hand she held out and carefully stroked its palm.

"I can say the same. What is it about you, Detective Jim Ellison, that appeals to me so?"

He lifted the hand to his lips. "Where did you learn my name?"

"The boy. He told me all about you."

"As you seduced and entranced him." He tried to hide his anger but couldn't.

"Jealous?" she guessed.

"Immensely. But mostly disappointed. You knew how it would be between us, yet you chose not only a boy, but another man as well."

"A poor substitute, I'm afraid," she said as he tugged her onto his lap.

"But now you have the real thing." He kissed her to show her the difference. His senses instantly let him know the places she wanted touched and his body responded to her needs. At his will, he made her gasp, moan, writhe with ecstacy until she panted her desire for completion. All he had to do was whisper a simple request, "Submit to me," and the job would be over. Lilith would be banished forever (at least for his lifetime) and once again he would be the unnamed savior of mankind.

But as they grappled on the sofa, something jabbed into his hip from the cushions and as he reached for it, the sensitive fingers identified it as one of Blair's hairclips-- bought in some country on some anthropological expedition. If he concentrated, he could remember the details of anything Blair said to him with startling recall. But at the moment, his focus wasn't on Blair...not directly, anyway. It was on the Jim that Blair knew, the Jim who now based his relationships on trust. He had accused Blair of violating that trust once and the pain had almost been too much to bear. Now, he was deliberately doing the same thing. And couldn't.

He shoved Lilith away, and walked over to stare into the fire of the gas stove in the far corner of the room. "I won't do this," he told her without looking back.

"You won't lie down with me?" He was confusing her again. In the hotel room, she had figured out what the game would be this time. The great Lilith, hoisted by her own petard; caught in the web of lust she herself had woven many times. It was so classical, so Michael. She had thought to free herself of the particular web by killing the spider that spun it, but he kept surviving...adding to the already strong attraction she felt for him. Finally, she admitted to herself that this was a man worthy of her. If going back into exile was the price for having him, so be it. However, he was suddenly changing the rules on her. What was this human up to?

"I won't use you. You deserve better." I deserve better. On that alternate plane where Helaire took me, I defeated Ellison, and J.J., and all the others who were created for the purposes of men. I will not resurrect them. Not even at the cost of my own soul.

Black eyes widened in surprise. "I am a demon. I deserve worse." No, no, no. Something was definitely wrong here.

"But you were once a woman, a woman betrayed by the one person whose respect she wanted the most." Lilith gasped and he knew he'd hit a nerve. He turned then and smiled, not a J.J. smile, but the grim one that typically accompanied Jim's memories of the past. "You were Adam's equal. You walked beside him. You shared the sunrises and sunsets. He should have been grateful for your presence. Instead, he wanted to break you, to change your nature. And you said no."

"How do you know this?" she asked wonderingly. These were feelings and thoughts she had locked away in her heart, then allowed the organ to shrivel up into its original dust and blow away.

"I was a child once, a child who wanted more than anything to please his father. But all his father wanted to do was to change his nature." He turned back toward the fire. "I wasn't as strong as you. I couldn't say no. I changed who I was, who I was born to be...and guess what, he still wasn't pleased. Once I was of age, I did as you did; I fled. I ran further and further from my destiny and perhaps, I would have ended up like you-- the complete opposite of what was intended for me. But burying seven men I had known, worked with, respected...that made me stop running. You never returned to Eden, but I came back to Cascade."

"To your father?" His story was compelling, touching...except she had nothing to touch. Then why was her chest aching for him?

"No, to me. It was a long search and I never would have made it if I hadn't found...no, if a very special friend hadn't found me. He gave me a very special gift which allowed me to be me again." Arms slid around his stomach and felt a kiss pressed against his bare back, the sweater having been shed earlier. "I want to give that gift to you, Lilith. We are so much alike, you and I."

Strong receptors pinpointed the single tear that wet his back. "We were so much alike, love. But it is far too late for me to go back. I am what I am, what I have become over ages, not years. Even if I could change, I wouldn't," she admitted. Tears? No, I can't cry. To weep means to feel. But I don't. I can't. What kind of lust is this?

His kissed the hands that had knotted against his abdomen. "That's the gift I want to give you." He tugged her around until she faced him. "Lilith, I accept you as you are, without reservation or censure, without conditions or stipulations. In the short time I have known you, you have brutally killed four people and nearly destroyed a young man who means a lot to me. I accept that as being part of your nature. But unlike your fellow demons who have also accepted that part of you, I also accept the independent woman who was hurt by the man she loved, the caring mother who tempered a curse with compassion, and the gracious lady who spared a life to show me she was remorseful for her attempts on my life."

She looked up at him, eyes dazed and unfocused. "You can't," she said softly.

"Can't what?"

"Accept both parts of me. It can't be done. You must revile me as a demon or embrace me as such," she argued. Millennia of existence had taught her this. Men feared her, hated her, or sought her for the pleasure she could give them. Those were the only three choice humans had.

"But you're not just a demon; you were first a woman."

"Then hate me for that, ridicule my shows of mercy," she counseled. Her fellow demons did.

He cupped the fine flesh of her cheeks in his hands and kissed her gently on the forehead. "You are accepted, Lilith, love. Learn to live with it." He had. After getting to know Blair, getting to like him, he had been wary of dragging him along on his cases, cases which showed not just the evil of strangers, but the evil of Jim Ellison also. He could maim, destroy, and kill with the best of them. He could also be vulnerable, weak, and needy. Blair had calmly accepted the whole man, strengths and weaknesses alike, allowing the Sentinel to emerge at his own pace.

"What does this mean? That you accept me?" Her breath caught in her chest, and for a second, she wondered if she was dying. But that was impossible...but so were the emotions she was feeling.

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. If I can find a way of sending you back into exile without making it personal, I will. And if Michael sends another to deal with you, I won't get in the way. See, I have to be true to myself, and all that I am tells me you belong elsewhere. It's just the method I was using that was deplorable; not the action."

"Still, you invite the wrath of Michael," she pointed out, surprised to hear worry in her voice. Why did she care what the archangel would do to his very disobedient soldier?

"Perhaps, but that is something I can live with. Betraying myself, and the honor I have somehow managed to salvage, would not be survived." He kissed her, tenderly this time. "Go. I have explanations to make to friends and bosses."

"Can you explain?" Lilith asked, her voice vibrating against his chest as she pressed her lips against the hard muscle. Lust, Lilith. That's the only feeling you should have for this man. You want his body and that's all. You don't care about him. You can't care.

"Probably not at first. But my closest friends will eventually understand and those who do not, do not. I have changed myself for others for the last time," he said adamantly.

She stroked his arms, enjoying the play of corded muscle just below the warm, soft skin. The her hands brushed across the brands. "You had these covered the first time we met. Did you think I would not recognize you without them?"

"No, that wasn't it. I bled each time you took a victim. Because you have not killed recently, the wounds have healed."

Shock stilled her movements. "I hurt you with my killing? I did not know."

Beneath his hands, her black tresses felt like satin. "I know, Lilith."

Something clouded her vision and she realized it was another tear. Although she had coerced two men into making attempts on his life, Jim actually understood when she apologized for hurting him accidently. Ah, Michael. I have no defenses against this one. "Satrina," she whispered so softly that even the Sentinel had difficulty hearing her.

"What?" he asked.

"Satrina. Say it," Lilith demanded.

"Satrina," he repeated obediently. "What does it mean?"

"That is my secret name. Now that you have said it, you have dominion over me. I am yours to command," she said quietly, accepting that he had managed to find within her the one mote of dust which remained of her heart. Found it and claimed it for himself.

Jim blinked and stepped back so he could look at her. "I never asked for that."

"I know. I think that was the coup de maitre, the masterstroke." She threw her head back, the long dark hair swirling with her action. "I cannot be redeemed, Jim Ellison. I have existed as I am for far too long. But for this brief moment in time, I see how I could have been, and I am grateful. My name is my gift to you."

"What does this mean?" he asked, remembering her similar question.

"That the children can do their little recitation, and once again, I will walk alone in the desert."

"You would go willingly to that fate?"

She nodded. "I would have gone willingly just to have a taste of what you offered. Now, when I know I will never have it, why should I stay?" And long for just one hour in your arms. I will not demean your nobleness by groveling at your feet...I think.

"You would sacrifice your freedom for sex?"

"Still accepting me for who I am, detective?" she smirked. Where is your understanding now? Do I disgust you?

"As long as you accept me for who I am," he replied, sweeping her into his arms.

"A pity fuck?" Lilith questioned as he carried her up to his room.

"If it were, would you have a problem with it?"

"Hell no. I'll even let you be on top." One of Michael's monks had told her sacrifice had its own rewards. She finally understood what he meant. Pity she had killed him.

"Thought it was my choice, my command" he growled against her neck.

"Your choice is always lady's choice." She kissed him, savoring the sweet taste of his mouth. "Just accepting you as you are, darling."

"Shut up and make love to me."

Now, that was a command she would follow. "My pleasure," she purred.

Chapter Twenty

"So how does this work?" Simon asked as he watched the teens set up the candles. "The whole ritual is done in reverse?"

Blair shook his head. "Not quite. Mainly key parts of the ceremony are recited backward, sort of like a black mass."

"No bloodletting, I hope."

"With Lilith's acquiescence, the power of blood is not required to send her back."

Simon frowned. "So it's all dependent upon Jim getting Lilith to submit."

"You don't think he can do it?" Blair questioned in surprise.

"I've seen him undercover and while he's good...."

"He's better than good, Simon. You've never really seen him work his magic, have you? I guess not. He's either working a case or hanging around the guys when you're with him. But I've been with him in other settings, captain. Like at the university." Blair smiled as he recalled an incident. "I made the mistake of having him come by one of my classes one day. He was mobbed, man. They were even admiring his gun."

"A bunch of college kids, Sandburg. That doesn't prove anything," Simon argued.

"What about the women at the station?"

"Most of them flirt with you."

"Merely because I'm more approachable than Jim."

"How's that?"

Blair ticked each point off on his fingers. "1) I'm not really a colleague, so I'm safe; 2) I don't have an ex-wife who a lot of them knew personally; 3) Jim spent years as the station's resident grump, and 4) I don't physically intimidate them."

Simon nodded in agreement, amused at the time Sandburg must have spent coming up with all this. He knew the man had spent years studying Jim, but he hadn't realized the scope of the study. "Yet, you assert that they are indeed attracted to Ellison?"

"Oddly enough for the exact same reasons," Blair said excitedly. "1) He is a colleague and there's that whole forbidden fruit thing happening; 2) he had an ex-wife in the department and I'm sure Carolyn had some tales to tell in the ladies locker room; 3) he was a grump and now he's not and 4) he's a big, strong man whose very demeanor cries out 'safe haven'. Put those qualities together with his Sentinel directive to protect, and superb bone structure, and you've got a serious babe magnet. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if there aren't a few men who are attracted to him as well."

"I think I've had enough of this conversation, Sandburg," Simon said uncomfortably.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed Jim is an attractive man, Simon. It's perfectly all right to notice. In fact, advertisers bank on the knowledge that men do indeed notice other men. Do you really think they use male models just to influence female buying?"

"Didn't I say enough?" the captain muttered, but the anthropologist was on a roll.

"This is a typical American male hang-up, you know. Europeans considered us prudes and they are absolutely correct. Look at how the Renaissance artists reveled in the male form. They appreciated every angle, every--"

"Gee, looks like Teo is giving Daryl a hard time. Think I should do something, Sandburg?" Simon asked quickly.

Blair stopped talking and focused on the two teens posing in traditional confrontation stances. "Let him work it out for himself, Simon. He needs the confidence."

The voices got louder as the scene continued. "I said let it drop, Teo," Daryl ordered sharply.

"C'mon, man, you slept with a demon. You need to share the experience," Teo bullied.

"I need to forget."

"Why? Were you that bad, Banks? Did you fumble your way through the whole experience? Hell, you probably came before you got it in her, didn't you?" Teo taunted.

Blair felt Simon tense and he put out his hand, just to remind the captain not to interfere as Daryl exploded. "Fine! You want to know what happened, Teo? You want to know what it felt like to fuck a demon? It felt damn good. It felt so damn good that even now just the thought of it gets me hard. But you know what, man? It came with a price. You see, for letting me into her body, I then had to let her into mine. No. There was no letting about it. She forced her way into my mind and raped it, Teo. Everything I did was against my will, but she was stronger, and there was nothing I could do but lie back and take it. I took a gun and I went after a friend. I took that same gun and shot another one...." He took a deep breath and incredibly sad eyes engaged Teo's. "I fucked a demon, man, and then she fucked me. It wasn't worth it, Teo. It wasn't worth it at all."

"Shit, Banks," Teo replied awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, let's just get this bitch back where she belongs. And then, I swear, man, if you guys pull something like this again, I'll be the one you need to worry about, not the Sentry," Daryl warned and went back to completing the circle of candles.

"Should I feel bad about eavesdropping?" Simon whispered. Damn, he was proud of his kid.

"Probably. But after living with a Sentinel for so long, I'm kind of used to the activity. You know, I wish I had it together as well as Daryl."

"You do. That's how he's able to handle this, you know. You and Jim."

"And his father," Blair concluded. Simon shrugged, but didn't answer as Blair's cell phone trilled. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief, it's me. We're on our way."

Blair frowned. Something about Jim's voice.... "Everything go okay?"

"Lilith will be with me. And she'll go quietly."

"Okay, man. We'll be waiting." He clicked off the phone and slowly put it back into his pack.

"Problems?" Simon inquired.

"Apparently not."

"But?"

Blair shrugged. "He just sounded strange, that's all."

"Strange?"

"Sad, maybe. Melancholy." He looked around at the kids. "Let's get ready. This is about to happen," he informed them.

"Sandburg?" Simon pushed worriedly.

"The man said he was bringing her in, captain. The rest we will deal with when we have to."

*****

Jim sat the phone back in its cradle and looked down at the woman in his bed. "We have to go," he told her softly.

"I know." She stretched like a satisfied kitten. "Should have known you were a man of your word."

"Meaning?"

"You promised me I would be the one dying in your arms. You were right; and never has death suited me more." She reached up and traced his face, memorizing the angles. "Why so sad? It wasn't good for you?"

His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. "You have to ask?"

Lilith grinned knowingly. Eons of experience told her he had enjoyed himself. "Then why the sad face? It's not for me, is it?" He nodded. "Ah, love. I am eternal. Whatever time I spend in exile is like mere seconds for me and for once, I have something to think about other than revenge. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He reached for his clothes, but a touch stopped him.

"I need to leave for a few minutes, Jim Ellison. I promise you, I will return." Her mind skipped around, looking for the words to convince him to let her go. The errand was very important.

"Sure. I'm going to take a shower."

She sat up, shaking her head in frustration. Foolish man. "You know, you really shouldn't trust me so easily. Didn't Michael teach you anything before he threw you out into this battle? Tell me, did you even take time to consider the fact I may be lying to you?"

"Then you would betray me, which is more acceptable than me betraying myself," Jim said calmly.

She muttered a curse and pulled him into a hard embrace. "Damn it! Don't make me spend exile worrying about you, Jim Ellison. You're too much of an innocent for this job. What the hell was Michael thinking? Heaven's already had one sacrificial lamb. It doesn't need another one."

"You're a funny lady. Go. Do whatever it is you have to do. I'll wait here for your return." He kissed her and headed downstairs.

He sensed her return as he was using Sentinel sight to scan the back of his closet. There. He reached for a box, and turned around to greet her. "You came back. Should I feign surprise?"

She ignored him. "What's in the box?"

"A gift I'd bought Carolyn for her birthday. We didn't last long enough for the date to come around again."

"Carolyn, the stupid daughter of Eve, who let you go. If anyone deserved Adam, that witch did," Lilith said spitefully. "And all her children are just as useless."

"Well, I was going to give this to you, but now--" The box was jerked out of his hand.

"I'll never turn down anything you offer, love." She ripped off the lid and revealed a beautiful satin robe, black, trimmed in red. "It's gorgeous. And absolutely perfect for me." She let the box drop and slid into the robe.

"I just thought you needed something to cover you up. You just can't seem to remain dressed in my presence."

"Even if you weren't one of Michael's little demon hunters, I wouldn't stay dressed around you, Jim," she murmured, running her hands over the fabric. "It feels so good. This was more for you than her, wasn't it? Your magic fingers...." She walked over to the mirror. "I hate mirrors, you know. They are the gate to my desert, and they also reveal me to myself."

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to cover it?" Jim asked sympathetically.

"No. For once, I can actually stand to look at myself. I am beautiful, am I not?"

"You are."

"You make me beautiful. In fact, I think I am reflecting your beauty."

He chuckled as he came up behind her. "I am not beautiful."

"Stupid daughters of Eve and sons of Adam. To not speak of your beauty should be a sin. Take it from someone who has seen the world since it began, Jim. You are beautiful."

He figured it wasn't something worth arguing. "Thank you," he said politely.

"Never thank someone for the truth."

He lay his hand against her back. "It's time to go."

She leaned against him. "I know." He sighed and kissed the top of her head. "I want your promise that you won't regret this, love."

"Sending you back?"

"Sending me back, sleeping with me, giving me something I never had. If you had never done these things, I would not know such innocence was possible. I would not understand why mankind is worth saving."

Jim grabbed his keys. "You know, I don't understand this innocence you keep harping on. I am not an innocent, Lilith."

She held his hand as they went down the stairs. "Yes, you are. But only in the best sense of the word, my love. Only the best."

Chapter Twenty-One

Blair didn't like the way they were touching. Jim's hand had guided Lilith into the small mountain cabin. Her hand had brushed against his as she surveyed those staring at her. He followed her closely as she stopped before Daryl and when she leaned back, his arms had naturally wrapped around her tiny waist.

"Why are you still shielding him from me?" Lilith asked her lover. "You know I cannot hurt those under your protection." Jim whispered something in her ear and she nodded. "I wronged you, Daryl Banks, but I will not ask for forgiveness. Instead, I offer you this: from this day forth, you and yours have nothing to fear from Lilith and that which is Lilith's."

Daryl looked at Jim, who nodded encouragingly. The teen relaxed into a surprised hug from his dad. Lilith continued her perusal of the occupants of the cabin. "You were foolish children, playing with powers you should leave to those who can handle them. I thank you for my freedom, but I warn you never to attempt such an action again." She gave them a stern glare, breaking it only when she felt them accept her warning.

Another step and she was in front of Blair, who returned her stare with one of his own. What the hell had happened between his Sentinel and this thing? It was obvious that they had slept together, but it seemed to have been much more than that. Had Lilith somehow bewitched the Warrior?

"The opposite, Blair Sandburg," Lilith said as the others moved to light the candles. "I am the one bewitched."

"You can read my mind?" he asked defensively.

"Surely, if I can enter it, I can read it," she said indulgently, as if explaining to a child.

"Be nice," Jim prompted.

"I don't need a demon to be nice to me, Jim," Blair argued sharply. He looked around. How long did it take to light a candle, damn it?

"But I will be nice. My master orders it."

"I am not your master," Jim bristled, not wanting to be compared to Adam, who thought her no better than the animals rooting in the Garden.

"Whatever minuscule piece of heart I have, you own, my love. Therefore, you are my lord, and that is the way I wish it to be," Lilith declared. She looked at Blair. "He says you have given him a great gift, and I say you have been given a greater one. Take care of him."

That shook Blair for a moment. This demon bitch was lecturing him about caring for Jim? "I know what I've been given. How do you know?"

"Because evil recognizes good as easily as darkness recognizes light. Your partner, as you call him, is of Heaven, because surely one such as he could not have sprung from the loins of Adam. He is to be cherished and protected."

"Lilith," Jim began uneasily.

"No, love. I don't have much time left. Please, let me have my say before I am banished." He stepped back slightly, hearing a hint of desperation in her plea. "You are his chosen caretaker, you and the tall dark one." A hand casually waved in Simon's direction. "You have a great responsibility. I cannot help but see your heart is up to the challenge, at the moment. Make sure it stays that way. He has given you his trust. If you betray it, I will destroy you." Eyes, once dark, flashed a red warning.

"If I betray it, I will destroy myself," Blair countered with equal determination.

She bowed graciously, recognizing his words for the oath they were. "Forgive me. I should have known he had chosen wisely. If he ever has need of me, you have only to contact me. I have powers that can transcend the mirror if I so choose. These powers are his to command."

"Because he commands you?"

She shook her head. "Because I love him."

"We're ready," Simon informed them.

Lilith nodded and walked toward the mirror. When Jim moved to follow, she halted him with her hand. "No goodbyes. I will always be watching you, Jim Ellison. From the sky above on the darkest nights, from inside your heart when it is hurting. And I will also warn other demons of your presence."

"To protect me?"

"To protect them." She smiled and faced her reflection in the mirror. "Begin," she ordered.

"Serif ruo hcneuq dna emoc. Elcric cigam eht fo neeuq, su ot emoc..." As the ritual unfolded, the silvery mirror wavered as if liquid. With a final glance at the man who had given her what she had craved her whole existence, respect, Lilith stepped through the fluid, and the mirror reverted back to the simple reflection it was.

"That's it?" Simon asked as the chanting stopped.

"That's it," Blair said and turned to his partner. "You okay, man?"

"I'm fine, Chief. Just a bit tired."

"Probably lack of sleep, big guy. Let's get you home."

"Maybe you'll feel better with your energy back," Daryl offered. "I don't need the shield anymore."

"You're comfortable with me removing it?" Jim asked worriedly. As far as he was concerned, the kid could keep it until he was thirty-five if he needed it.

He nodded. "She's gone and besides, she promised she wouldn't hurt me again."

"Don't trust the promises of a demon, son," Simon cautioned.

Daryl shrugged. "She may be a demon, Dad, but not the same one who came from that mirror, is she, Jim? You changed her, somehow."

"She changed herself. I only gave her the tools to do so. But you're right; she won't harm you again." With a wave of his hand, Jim released the energy, allowing it to flow to its rightful place.

"Now what?" Teo asked.

"Now, we clean up this place and we work out a Community Service project for each of you," Blair declared. He, Jim, and Simon had agreed that not punishing the teens would send the wrong message."

"Think I could work with little children?" the erstwhile Main Operator asked timidly.

Blair smiled. "I'm sure we can work something out, Shannon. Let's take care of these candles, first."

"I shouldn't have doubted you," Simon said softly as Blair led the kids away.

"Yes, you should have, sir. I didn't exactly follow the rules," Jim admitted.

"Hell, Jim, when have you ever?" the captain said with a laugh. He stopped in mid-chuckle as his cell phone sounded. "Banks...Yeah? Where?... Okay, we're on our way." He snapped the phone closed. "You get all that?" he asked the Sentinel.

Jim nodded and called to Blair. "Come on, Chief. Rafe just called with some interesting news."

"What's that, Jim?"

"Seems he and his partner just found our serial killer."

*****

"What's going on, Jim?" Blair asked as the truck bumped along the narrow country road.

"I don't know. It seems a body was discovered and something on the scene makes it appear that it's the killer."

"You don't think Lilith has anything to do with this, do you?"

Jim thought back to the time Lilith had left. "I don't know, Chief. I'll have to wait until I get there."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

Blair figured if he got too personal, Jim would let him know. "You sleep with Lilith?"

Jim focused on the captain's taillights ahead of them. "Yes."

"To win her submission?" He had thought it kind of funny that Jim would be so reluctant to seduce Lilith. Then he began to understand that such a seduction was akin to extortion, blackmail, coercion in the worst way. That was so not Jim.

"No. That she gave willingly. I never asked her for it."

"Why?"

"Why did she give it, or why didn't I ask her?"

"Both," Blair said quickly before Jim retracted the offer to answer.

"She told me it was her gift to me."

"For services not rendered?"

"Exactly."

Exactly what? Let's try another tactic. "Why didn't you ask her to submit to you?"

"I don't do that anymore," Jim replied tersely.

"Don't do what anymore?" Curiouser and curiouser.

"Use my body to manipulate people."

The picture began to clear. "Like in Vice?"

"Like in Vice. Like in Covert Ops. Couldn't do it, Chief. Not even for Michael."

Holy shit. The man had bucked a direct edict from an archangel? "Uh, but you got the job done and that's all that matters, right?"

"I guess."

He guessed? Damn it. He didn't even want to think of the possibility that they could be in a fight with Hell and Heaven. But Jim was a soldier for Michael, and soldiers followed orders. What was Heaven's equivalent of a court martial? Would there be a trial or just a sentencing stage? How did a mortal argue a case to an immortal? Maybe he better start studying up on that, just in case. No way he'd let Jim tackle something like that on his own. Uh uh. Simon would help too, of course. And Lilith had made that offer at the end. Did she suspect Jim was in trouble for not seducing her? Wait a minute. If he hadn't seduced her.... "Why did you sleep with Lilith?"

"We were both consenting adults."

O...kay. "You were careful?"

"I was responsible."

Stupid question, Sandburg. The man was born responsible. Have condom, will travel. But to his knowledge, Jim hadn't done all that much "traveling". He usually had to feel something first-- maybe not love, but deep like at least. So, did this mean he felt something for Lilith? Was that what all the touching was about? The sadness in his voice? And Lilith had been quite blunt about it. "I love him," she had said. No, no, no. What was this? "Jim, man, you have these powers now, you know? So you have to be careful about what you say, what you do. You and Lilith...the two of you didn't perform a ritual or anything, did you?" he asked anxiously.

Jim chuckled. "Think I sold my soul to Lilith, Chief?"

"No! Of course not, Jim. I just think--"

"You think too much, Sandburg. I'm a man, Lilith's a woman. It was just that basic."

"Lilith is not a woman, Jim. She's a demon or goddess or whatever the hell you want to call her. But she is not a woman."

"But she was," Jim said softly. "She was the first woman, Chief, and no one ever respects her for that."

"But you."

"But me." He stopped behind Simon, adding his flashing lights to the ones already surrounding the apartment building. "Can we table this discussion for now?"

"It's your dime, man." He followed his partner into one of the apartments, where Brown and Rafe met them.

"Ramona Watson. Age 32. The super found her with her wrists slit in the bathroom. He'd come to replace a burner in her stove," Rafe reported.

Jim smelled the blood and clicked the scent down. "What makes you think she's our perp?"

"Another love letter to you, Ellison," Brown replied, handing him a sheet of stationary wrapped protectively in plastic.

"Dear Det. Ellison: I feel you now. Everywhere I go, every time I consider renewing my mission, I know you are there watching, and I can't do it. My purpose was never evil. I merely wanted to cleanse the earth of men who broke promises, men who cheated on loved ones, men who would take advantage of a woman just because she knocked on their door. But I can't do that anymore because you are watching. Therefore, my life is worth nothing. It is best that it ends."

Jim looked up from the note. "Anything else that links her?"

Rafe nodded. "We found a paralyzing agent in the bathroom. Forensics is expecting a match with the residue found on the first victim."

"This is it, then?" Simon questioned.

"Appears to be, captain," Rafe said. "We'll finish up and give you a written in the morning, if that's okay?"

Simon nodded. "Good job, gentlemen. Guess Cascade can sleep again tonight." He looked around. "Where's your partner, Sandburg?"

"Taking a look at the body." His eyes spoke volumes.

"Oh. I'm heading out to let the mayor and commissioner know the situation has been resolved. I'll meet you both outside."

"Yes, sir."

Simon had just finished his call as the two exited the building. He indicated they should get in the car. "Well? Was this Lilith's parting shot?"

"It was a suicide, captain," Jim said, his relief evident to a certain Guide. "Dan Wolfe should find that the woman has been dead about three hours. However, Lilith is responsible for the note."

"Why?"

"Because she was protecting Jim," Blair replied before his partner could. "She knew there would be questions, and so she arranged for there to be answers."

Simon looked at them skeptically. "Why would she care?"

Jim quietly got out of the car.

The captain blinked at the sudden departure. "Explain, Sandburg," he demanded.

"You protect the ones you love, Simon. Lilith loves Jim."

"She what?" Simon didn't even bother to turn around to see Blair nodding his head. "Shit. And I worried he was going to have trouble merely seducing her. Just tell me the opposite isn't true?"

"I have no idea." But he did. That little show of relief told him things Jim never would.

Simon looked in the rearview mirror and with the help of the still flashing lights, saw the figure leaning over the steering wheel, slightly lost, too much alone. "Take him home, Sandburg. I'll call with details about what, and when, we're going to tell the press."

Blair slid out of the back of the car and walked over to the driver's side of the truck. "Slide over," he ordered.

"You were shot in the shoulder a couple days ago, remember?"

"And I'll feel more comfortable with me driving one-armed, than worrying when you're going to zone." He jerked the door open. "Move over."

"Been mainlining more of that tyrant juice?" Jim muttered, even as he obeyed.

Blair ignored him and started the engine. "Simon said he would call about the finishing touches on the case."

"Okay."

He moved the gears into drive, then turned to look at his partner. "You thought Lilith may have killed this woman in order to pin the murders on her?"

"As you're so fond of reminding me, she's a demon, Sandburg. Anything is possible."

"But that would have basically meant she would have murdered in your name?"

"Yes." He was shocked at how much the thought of Lilith betraying him had hurt.

"Jim?" Blair pulled out and headed for home.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"You can't talk about my dates anymore, man."

"Understood, Chief."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Cindy Hartwell flagged a cab and wearily slid inside. The red-eye flight from New York to Cascade had been draining. But it had been worth it, just to get out of New York. Edgar's associates inexplicably had treated her as Edgar's grieving widow, and while the grieving part was accurate, they hadn't been nearly as close as everyone assumed. She blamed herself for that; maybe she hadn't been pretty enough for him...or aggressive enough. Anyway, she had suffered through the unwanted attention of his friends until the lawyer had called. Said he wanted to talk to her about Edgar's will. A will in which he'd left all his worldly goods to her.... As soon as she'd hung up, she called the airport. She had to get away...and there was only one place she could go.

On the plane, she finally felt as if she could breathe. At first, she thought her main problem was going to be keeping it together during the long flight. She kept remembering being on the plane with Edgar, how eager he'd been as they flew to each city in search of another piece of the puzzle that was Jim Ellison. That was the way she would always think of him; eager, ready to sniff out the latest story. Okay. Maybe it wasn't great that he was murdered, but at least he'd died doing what he did best: working.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked, hitting the meter.

"Cascade Police Department-- Central Precinct."

The cabbie's eyes flew to his rearview mirror. He took in the haggard appearance, the wrinkled suit, and the briefcase bulging at the seams. Ah. Not a criminal or someone with some bad ass chasing them. Just another underpaid public official. A dirty job, but someone had to do it. Sympathetically, he turned the meter off. He had special fares for her type.

*****

"Well, that's it, Jim," Simon was saying as he and his lead detective walked into the station at the end of the press conference. "It's all signed, sealed, and delivered. Case closed, my friend."

"And there's not a happier person on earth," Jim swore, as he turned his head to the side, trying to ease a tight muscle. Maybe if he cooked dinner tonight, he could convince Sandburg to massage his neck. Nah. A massage wasn't going to ease the tension he was feeling. Nothing was going to ease until Michael contacted him. He'd kept waiting all night for the brands to disappear, a sure sign that he'd been "relieved of duty", pending further action. So far, the marks remained.

"Detective Ellison?"

He looked around to see a petite woman, pulled to one side by the weight of a leather satchel. Her brown hair was slightly mussed and her eyes were rimmed in red. "Yes?"

She reached out a hand. "My name is Cindy Hartwell. I was Edgar Masden's research assistant."

Instantly, Jim and Simon were on guard. "I'm sorry for your loss," Jim said curtly, "but I have nothing to say to you."

"But I have something to say to you, sir, and I promised Edgar, Mr. Masden, if anything happened to him, I would come to you. I keep my promises, detective, even to dead friends," she said solemnly.

There was nothing Jim could say to that but, "Come with me upstairs."

"Use my office, Jim," Simon said as they walked into Major Crimes. "I need to check a couple of things with Rhonda."

"Thanks, sir." He led the woman into the office and motioned her into a chair as he headed for the coffeepot. "Cream or sugar?" he asked as he grabbed a couple of cups.

"Both, please." She sipped the hot brew gratefully. "Thank you. I needed this."

"I know."

Cindy's eyes flew to the concerned blue ones staring at her. "Edgar was murdered."

"The autopsy report says it was an accidental overdose of an illegal drug."

"You saw the report. Why?"

Jim shrugged. "I was aware Mr. Masden was making inquiries into my life. Therefore when he died, I made note of it."

Cindy focused on the coffee remaining in the cup. "Edgar was no longer doing drugs nor alcohol. He had been clean for months. But his former excesses were not unknown. If I were planning to murder someone with his history, I too would have chosen this method."

"Are you confessing, Ms. Hartwell?"

She smiled and the coffee wavered in her hand. "Only that I aided and abetted him in the story that got him killed."

"Which was?"

"You."

Jim was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"I want you to know that in hindsight, Edgar saw he was wrong. He was planning on coming to you, and handing over all his research. That's why he was back in Cascade. Why he didn't come to you straight from the airport...." She shook her head.

"Two nights ago?" She nodded. "I was in the hospital with my partner."

"Is Mr. Sandburg all right?"

It startled Jim that she knew Blair's name. But then, she knew just about everything about him. "Yes, he's fine now. What was Masden wrong about?"

"He realized that your story was one that shouldn't be told. You were too valuable to be exposed."

"Valuable?"

"Your abilities are sorely needed, detective. Edgar finally got it that what you did, outweighed the public's right to know," Cindy replied earnestly.

"My abilities?" Jim frowned. "What abilities exactly?"

Cindy struggled to lift the satchel from the floor. Jim reached out to help and she shoved the whole thing into his lap. "This is all of it, sir. Every scrap of evidence. Every note. Every theory. I heard Edgar's copies weren't with him when he died?"

"No." Rafe and Brown had found nothing.

"Then I guess his killer took them."

"That's the part I'm not understanding, miss. Why do you think he was killed because of me? Or do you think I'm the one who killed him?"

"No. I'm sure you're innocent." He frowned. There was that innocent word again. Why the hell was everyone associating it with him? She saw the frown and thought it was a sign of confusion. "You really don't know, do you? Edgar thought they might be keeping it from you."

"Keeping what from me? And who are 'they'?" Jim asked in exasperation. The woman's steadfast belief in what she was saying was getting to him. Sometimes having the ability to tell if people were lying or not could be strangely disconcerting.

Before Cindy could answer, Simon came in. "Sorry to interrupt. The Chief wants to see me about a budget request." He snatched a file off his desk and flipped through it. The department, whether right or wrong, used the budget as an incentive for its workers. Make the police look good, your requests go to the top of the list; screw up and you may as well start bringing paper clips from home. Hmm. At the rate his unit was going, he was going to have to start a bigger wish list.

"No need to apologize, captain. It is your office," Jim reminded him.

"Since when?" Simon muttered. Between briefing Ellison and Sandburg, debriefing Ellison and Sandburg, or Ellison and Sandburg hiding away to deal with some sensory problem, the captain spent precious few minutes in his office alone. Quite frankly, it didn't even seem strange that Ellison was holding a private conference in the office without him. Speaking of.... "Everything okay, detective?"

"Yes, sir. Ms. Hartwell was just sharing some information with me. If there is anything of importance discussed, I will report to you later."

Simon nodded, figuring the reporting would be done at the loft. "Carry on, then." He put the file beneath his arm and shut the door firmly behind him.

"He's one of the lucky ones."

"Lucky?"

Cindy nodded. "He knows and is allowed to live."

Jim had had enough. "You will explain that comment right now!"

She gulped at the sudden ferociousness on his face. Then she realized it was that strength which was going to keep her alive. "There are people out there, detective, who would do anything to keep your secret-- even murder."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Simon sauntered into his office-- a spring in his step due to the success of his meeting with the Chief of Police-- and stopped, instantly on alert. For one second, he thought about calling a forensics team, then noticed the still figure in the midst of the chaos and decided to make a different call. He stuck his head out into the bullpen, keying in on a voice just now coming down the hall. "Sandburg," he said simply as the anthropologist walked in with Joel.

Blair didn't comment, merely rushed into the office instead. There was a note in Simon's voice that told him the Watcher was asking for the Guide, and that meant the Sentinel was in trouble. More words were unnecessary. Just as Simon had stopped upon seeing the room, so did Blair. It looked as if a hurricane had swept through the office, blowing papers, folders, and assorted debris around. But if it was a hurricane, the eye remained. Carefully stepping over or around, Blair made his way to his partner's side.

"Jim, you with us, man?" he asked tentatively. He didn't think the Sentinel had zoned, but Jim hadn't reacted to the presence of Watcher nor Guide.

"Just debating whether I should be laughing or crying, Chief." He blinked and suddenly noticed the damage surrounding him. "Sorry, captain. Things got a little intense." He started to gather the contents of Cindy's briefcase, actually his now.

"The reporter?" Simon asked.

"What reporter?" Blair demanded. He loved working at the university, but sometimes the hours spent there left him out of the loop here.

"Masden's assistant."

"You let him meet with this person alone?" the Guide asked the Watcher accusingly.

"He was in a police station, and outweighed her by a hundred pounds. I thought he was safe," Simon said helplessly. Damn, the kid could get scary when his partner was threatened.

"I was safe," Jim announced. "Apparently I'm a hell of a lot safer than I ever knew."

"What does that mean?" Simon asked quickly.

"It means, according to the information Masden found, that I'm being protected by some outside faction, a faction willing to kill so my secret won't get out."

"What secret?"

"That I'm an alien."

Blair's fear melted to laughter. "As in 'phone home', Jim?"

Jim nodded, sweeping his arm around the mess sprawled about the room. "You should read some of this stuff, Chief. Written the right way, and from what I hear Masden was a master at what he did, the idea could have sold. After all, it would explain the amazing things I can do."

"So Jim Ellison is a spaceman?" Blair was still highly amused.

"No. Jim Ellison is dead. He died in a helicopter crash in Peru. That's when I assumed his identity."

The humor was suddenly gone. "This is fucking fiction, man. Why the hell were you about to zone on it?" Blair protested angrily.

"Cindy Hartwell says Masden didn't overdose. He was murdered."

"By whom?" Simon asked.

"By this faction, who for want of a better name, Masden called the MiB's."

"The Men in Black?" Blair scoffed. "We saw the movie, Jim. The police for Earth's alien community. The reporter was apparently on drugs all along, man."

"The person who took these notes and made these interviews wasn't high, Chief. His interpretation was off, but not his logic skills."

"What about this is rubbing you wrong, Jim?" Simon asked, knowing his detective wouldn't be freaking about this unless something in the mess rang true to him.

"According to the toxicology tests on Masden, the only drug in his system at the time of death was the heroin. That seems a little strange for an addict, don't you think?"

"What else?"

"Masden had this same set of material with him. Where is it?"

"Damn." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. "This Hartwell woman wants you to investigate his death?"

Jim rubbed a hand across his face. "No. She came here to get my protection. She's afraid she's next on the list."

"Where the hell did they come up with this cockamamie theory anyway?"

Blair looked up from the papers he'd scanned. "Harold Reagan died mysteriously in his holding cell. Helaire Delacroix died mysteriously in prison. Dr. Anthony Bozeman has mysteriously disappeared."

"As if we would care if someone took out that son of a bitch," Simon snarled. "We know exactly what happened to Reagan and Helaire."

"And the MiB theory makes a hell of a lot more sense, captain," Jim pointed out. Reagan's conscience had been attacked by the forty-two children he'd murdered and Helaire...Helaire had made a deal with the devil and hadn't delivered. Yeah. MiBs were a lot easier to believe.

"Where is this woman now?"

"In a room at the Cascade Towers. She's scheduled to go back to New York tomorrow."

"And she's just going to go? What about her fear?"

"I took care of it."

"You took care.... Another magick orb, Jim?" Blair asked. "Man, you can't be sending off little parts of yourself like that."

"And how much of myself would I lose if Cindy Hartwell is murdered?" Jim countered. He rubbed at his uninjured temple.

"You have a headache?" Blair asked worriedly. "Is it the concussion? Because I know your senses haven't caused one since you found the Lost Ones in the bayou."

Jim shrugged. "Maybe Alicia's power is wearing off early."

"That's not it, man." Blair looked at Simon, who silently told him to continue. "Jim, Alicia's power is not going to wear off. It's a permanent gift. The enhancements will always be with you."

"How do you know?"

Blair let out the breath he was holding. No explosion so far. That was good. "Alicia wrote me a letter." He reached into his backpack and found it in one of the zippered pockets.

"You carry it with you?" Simon asked, even as he wondered why Sandburg's behavior still puzzled him. Weird was always the word of the day with the young man.

"I felt that was my penance for keeping a secret; I had to carry my guilt with me." He focused on Jim who read the letter and handed it back to him.

"Guess Alicia got to know me real well, didn't she? She was right, you know. I would have rejected her legacy." He gave a sad smile. "She would have grown into a hell of woman."

Frantic glances were exchanged. "Uh, Jim, now that you know the truth, how do you feel?"

"Relieved, Simon. I would have...missed the enhancements."

Relieved? Missed? No! Jim was supposed to be furious. I have not hauled around all this guilt for nothing! "How do you feel about us, Jim? I've known since we got back from New Orleans and I told Simon the night we watched The Lion King," Blair challenged.

"It's okay, Chief. If anyone knows me better than Alicia, it's you." He finished picking up his litter. "Wonder what we should do with all this? Maybe I better get a larger safe deposit box at the bank."

It was okay? All this time spent worrying, and it was okay? What the hell was the man talking about? "If anyone knows me better than Alicia, it's you." Yeah, right. Maybe Masden knew what he was talking about when he called you an alien, man.... Masden. Shit. "What about the copies Masden had? What if this woman is wrong and whoever murdered him isn't protecting Jim, but spying on him? What if he's gathering information to blackmail you, man?"

"Then he killed for nothing, Chief. If I wouldn't compromise myself for an archangel, I'm sure as hell not going to do it for a mere mortal," Jim said firmly.

"That's it," Simon said sharply. "We need beer, gentlemen. And lots of it."

"Uh, it's the middle of a workday, sir," Jim reminded him, although the idea sounded perfect.

Simon stalked over to the door. "Joel, come here a minute, please." He made sure all the evidence had disappeared into the briefcase before letting the man in. "Can you take over for me this afternoon? I, we, need to get out of here."

Joel surveyed the tense group in front of him. "Sure, Simon. See you in the morning." The three men picked up their things and left. A minute later, Joel called Rafe, Brown, and Zack into the office. "Pay up."

Grumbling, they good-naturedly made good on their bet. When the captain had called Sandburg into the office, Zack had said Jim would leave on a stretcher. Brown had disagreed and bet that the captain would send the two men home. Joel used his knowledge of the men to put his money on all three leaving. Rafe had gone out on a limb, and made the wild suggestion that everyone would emerge from the office and go back to work. That one was definitely a longshot.

"So?" one of them asked as they looked at each other. "Any bets about tomorrow morning?"

Chapter Twenty-Four

Cindy Hartwell spent the night crying, cursing, smiling, then finally just thinking. She had cried for the loss of her beloved Eggie, cursed herself for not telling him her true feelings for him, smiled as she remembered the times they shared, and thought about what to do with her life now that he was no longer in it.

She had been truly content to do Eggie's research, Eggie's legwork, Eggie's typing, but she wasn't looking forward to doing it for someone else. Talking to Ellison had assured her of a long and healthy life; how she knew this, she didn't know. All she knew was that she had looked deeply into the blue eyes, placed her hands in his, and peace had descended. Abso-fucking-lutely amazing, her Eggie would have said and he would have been so right.

Cindy had left the detective with the research and checked into the hotel. She had gone directly to bed, waking only after eleven hours of straight sleep. Hence, the ability to watch the sun rise over Cascade without a single yawn. Now it was time to check out and she felt strangely unencumbered as she walked out to the street with only an overnight bag, and a letter of resignation, hastily typed on a computer in the hotel's "Business Services" room. The letter went into a mailbox and she got into a cab. Eggie's body had been shipped to his hometown of Asheville, North Carolina. He'd talked about the city on occasion. Sounded like a nice place, and she really didn't think he'd mind if she went to keep him company there. Maybe she'd write that novel he was always talking about. Dedicate it to him. He'd like that. She'd like that.

It was time she did something she liked.

*****

Jim surveyed the familiar desert setting with something akin to relief. Finally. He turned to face the being he felt approaching.

"What do you have to say in your defense?"

Ah. No haggling here. Just directness. Good. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I have nothing to defend."

"You had your orders."

"Yes."

"You disobeyed them."

"Yes."

"Yet you say you have nothing to defend? Explain."

"I got the job done. Lilith is back where she belongs."

"That is not the point," Michael argued. "You were given directions you did not follow."

"I was given directions that I *could* not follow."

"You *chose* not to follow."

"I *chose* to be the man I became here in this place. I thought that was the man *you* had chosen. If it wasn't, I'm sorry. As I told Lilith, I am through changing who I am."

"'As you told Lilith.'," the archangel repeated scornfully. "Lilith is a demon."

"I know that, sir."

"Then why did you show her respect?"

"At first, I was merely respecting myself. I could not do what you wanted me to do."

"At first? What about later, soldier? Later, you allowed her to leave, without regard to what she might do during that time. She could have committed a series of horrors in the mere minutes she was gone. But you *trusted* her, a demon."

"A woman, created as I was created."

"A woman once, but now a demon."

"Who did not betray the trust I handed her."

"She cannot be redeemed. It is too late," Michael said sternly. Who would have thought this particular human would be so naive?

"I thought it was never too late," Jim replied softly.

Michael opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes widened, then relaxed. "Outmaneuvered by a mortal," he said in disbelief. "I'll never hear the end of this one, you know. The Seraphim never know when to let something go.... It seems we were fighting different battles, Jim. I fought to contain a demon. You fought to find a soul."

"And save my own," the mortal interrupted quietly.

The archangel smiled. "I was warned this was going to be an humbling experience." He shook his head as he tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong. "I think my major problem is that I think too much like an angel, a higher angel that is. We dispense mercy without thought, Jim, and that makes our compassion a sham. We also have forgotten what hope is. We have all that we need; we forget there are others who require more, who 'hope' for more." He looked at the human who had redeemed him from the fall he was about to take. If only Lucifer had had such a good teacher.... "Come. Walk with an old general, Jim. Impart your human wisdom to me."

Human wisdom? Suuure. "Okay. That'll take care of the raising of the right foot. After that, you're on your own, I'm afraid."

Michael laughed and clasped him on the shoulder. "I love that sense of humor of yours."

Jim smirked. *Take that, Sandburg.*

*****

Blair stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Then he blearily made it to the kitchen, hoping beyond hope Jim was already up and had coffee ready. After an entire afternoon and night of drinking everything-- but coffee-- the caffeine would be a welcome relief. He peered into the coffeepot and found it empty. Damn. Was Jim still asleep? He forced his feet to carry him out to the living room so he could check the loft. That was when he saw the figure out on the balcony. The remains of the alcohol quickly left his system.

"Should I panic?" he asked as he passed through the door.

"Too late. You're heart's already racing," Jim informed him. "Good morning, Chief."

"Is it? Is it a good morning, Jim?" He waited for the answer, thinking that if Jim thought his heart was racing before, he was really getting an ear-full now.

"It's a very good morning." Blair padded over to his partner's side. "Keep wearing those socks outside and they're going to be unsalvageable. Why don't you ever wear slippers?"

Blair looked down at his feet. "This is as domesticated as I come, Jim." He raised his eyes to look at his fully dressed Sentinel. The man appeared more well-rested than he had in days, but that wasn't possible. He'd had just as many beers as he and Simon, and the captain had had to call a cab to take him home. Then he noticed the bruise on Jim's temple was gone. "You've been with Michael."

"Yes."

"You in trouble?"

Jim shook his head. "Thanks to your influence, I was able to talk my way out of any potential problem."

"Glad I could be of help."

"You're always 'of help' to me, Chief. Never doubt that," Jim professed. "I know I don't talk to you enough, and I don't inform you right away when I discover I can do something new, and--"

"There are more 'and's? Geez, Jim. How out of touch am I?"

"Not very, Chief. I'll catch you up, and then I'll try to make sure you're never behind again."

"Scout's honor?" Blair teased, knowing Jim's word was promise enough.

"Scout's honor. And in respect of that pledge, I need to show you something." He pulled his sweater over his head to bare his arms.

Blair's eyes widened when he saw something was scripted above each brand. "What is that? An archaic form of Hebrew, perhaps?" He felt the top of his head for his glasses but realized they were still in his bedroom. "Can you interpret it, Jim?"

He nodded and pointed to his right arm. "Strength of mind." Then he read his left. "Conviction of heart. Michael says it is a reminder to himself that one must have both to achieve a pure victory. If not, then victory comes at a cost."

"I understand," Blair said as he traced the odd lettering. "The heart must believe in order to guide the mind. The mind must be strong in order to follow the heart's directions."

"Sounds like a Sentinel/Guide pair I know," Jim said. "Now, go take your shower before we're late for work."

"What's the hurry? Simon's probably moving a bit slow this morning himself. Has he come for his car yet?"

"Nah."

Blair, heading back inside, looked at Jim. "And you would know, wouldn't you?"

"I would know," Jim agreed.

"Eight to nine p.m., daily." Blair mentally cleared his schedule.

"What?"

"That's when we're going to talk, Jim. Every day. We're going to sit down and you're going to tell me every sense you used during the day and how you used it."

"Come on, Chief, you can't be serious," Jim argued. A daily report. No way.

"You owe me, Jim."

"Yeah, but--" Blair crossed his arms and Jim gave up the argument, knowing he had neither strength of mind nor conviction of heart to continue it. "Eight to nine. But if we're working...."

"I can be flexible. We can move the time up or back. But it will be an hour a day. Got it, Sentinel?"

"Got it, Guide."

"Good. And you can be the one to tell the Watcher he's included too."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"Come on, Chief."

"Wuss."

"Geek."

"Friend."

"Best friend."

Blair relented. "We'll tell him together."

Jim sighed and draped an around his partner's neck. "Together is what we do best, Chief."

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah."

"It is a good morning."

"Told you so."

*****

Tony Bozeman swallowed a handful of pills, chased them with a shot of whiskey, then sat back to watch his tidy bonfire spit and crackle on the cold Cascade ground. Every so often, when the fire ran into the chemical-filled plastic of the microcassettes and computer disks, the flames would leap higher and give off a dazzling display of colors. Very nice.

How dare that reporter try to interfere! Didn't he understand the future was a delicate balance, its scales easily tipped? Now that he had finally come to understand what was to be, it was his duty to make sure it unfolded properly. How had someone put it..."prepare ye the way", that was it. Maybe the unknowing would call him a murderer, but those who'd had the future revealed to them, they would understand, they would know he was just preparing the way...for the new millennium...for the new messiah.

He smiled and continued to watch the paper burn.

THE END