"Blood Seduction"

Wolfram and Hart is the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions

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Ian tried to convince Sara to stay home from work, to rest and regroup. She declined. She wanted, even needed to plunge herself into the normal part of her life. The fact that normalcy translated to snitches, guns, and killers, among other things, said a great deal about what her existence had become. Before she could leave for the Precinct, her cell rang. She answered with her usual: “Pezzini. Go.” It was Danny. “Have you heard about Irons?” he asked. Sara snorted. He didn’t know the half of it. She kept it simple. “Yeah,” she said, then asked, “Who caught the case?” There was a brief pause while he checked. “Baxter and Ripley,” he replied, “I’ve been asked to pass along that the Powers That Be want to talk to both you and Ian. This case is about as high profile as it gets. I’ve also been asked to find out if you know someone named ‘Devian’.” She thought for a moment. It was all going to come out now. They might as well control how it went down. She made a quick decision. “Devian is Ian’s twin brother,” she responded, “I’ll see if I can find him and be sure that he comes in for an interview. Ian and Dev may actually show up on their own. They both want to do whatever they can for the cook; the alleged perp.” There was another pause before Danny said, “So Devian is the evil twin that I heard so much about, huh – very interesting. I have to go, Pez. This place is jumping today. I just didn’t want you to get blindsided with the news about Irons. See you soon?” She took a deep breath. “You bet,” she agreed. You had to love Danny, she thought, he always rolled with the punches.

Sara stood still, staring off into space, trying to work it all out in her tired brain. Her cell was in one hand and an empty coffee mug was in the other hand. Freshly showered and dressed, Ian vaulted off the sleeping loft. He came to stand beside Sara, an adoring Hannibal glued to his heels. She was still deeply lost in thought. When Ian slipped the mug from her fingers, she started violently, gasping in shock. He stepped back, golden eyes widening. “Sorry,” he apologized, then asked, “Who called?” She blinked. “Danny,” she responded, “Irons murder is going to be a real red ball. They want to talk to us both at the Precinct as soon as possible. Dev too.” Ian nodded. “That isn’t really a surprise, is it?” he asked, “First on my list today was to try to see Mrs. Strauss anyway; talk to the lawyers. Do you want me to call Devian?” She grimaced. “I don’t want to see him,” she murmured, “Not yet.” He caught her hand in his, brought it to his lips, and pressed a warm kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Give yourself a little time,” he said, “It will get easier. Don’t think about it today; don’t obsess. Stay busy.” He released her hand and went to put her mug in the sink. “Do you know where he is?” she asked, putting on her jacket. Ian reached out to hold the jacket for her while she worked her arm into the sleeve. “At the mansion, I assume,” Ian replied, “He must be. He has nowhere else to go.”

Sara suddenly stiffened under his hands. “Ian,” she said, “The surveillance.” She had just had an image of the clone in a dark room somewhere filled with monitors, watching them, watching Vicki. It wasn’t a vision from the Witchblade; more like a hunch from her suspicious nature. Ian nodded and said, “That’s second on my list for today,” he admitted, “This time, I’ll do it once and for all, so that it can’t be turned back on again.” Her disordered thoughts shifted and she changed the subject yet again. “Will you bring him with you to the Precinct?” she asked. Ian nodded and said, “Sure. I’ll try. If I can’t find him, I’ll call you right away.” He studied her carefully. She still seemed so subdued, turned in on herself. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, “You could take today if you needed it. Whoever needs to talk to you could come here.” Sara shook her head. “Nah, I’ll be fine,” she replied, “I need to do the job.” Ian understood. She needed to reaffirm to herself who she was; she had to be the New York City Homicide Detective again.

Although It was still in Its chosen place of residence on her wrist, Sara wanted to put some distance between herself and the Witchblade. In an essential part of her, she felt that the object of power had betrayed her. It had forced her to do things that she would never have done if left to her own devices. She needed a break and, Ian decided, she needed a diversion. “Are you up to a special night tonight?” he asked, “I’d like to make some plans. If you don’t feel like it, just tell me.” Her eyes softened. “I think that would be lovely,” she assured him, “I missed you, baby.” Ian gave her a gorgeous smile. “I missed you too, love,” he replied. She seemed to gather herself, pull herself together. Then, she caught his wrist, glancing at his watch, and said, “I have to go.” Ian bent to kiss her rather chastely on the lips. Knowing what she had just been through with his brother, he didn’t want to push anything physical between them yet. As he had said, she needed a little time to regain her equilibrium. Sara returned his kiss, then headed to the door. She looked back at him as she opened the door. “Stop by when you come in to the Precinct. Okay?” she asked. He nodded. “I will,” he assured her. She hesitated a moment before she added, “Keep him away from me if you can, will you?” He studied her for a moment, concerned, and said, “I’ll try. But he’s going to want to see you, Sara.” She raised an eyebrow in question. He shrugged. “If it were me, I would,” he explained. She nodded, looking resigned. “Try,” she repeated, “Later.” He smiled again. “Later,” he replied.

Ian’s first call was to the law firm on retainer to Vorschlag, Wolfram and Hart. Knowing that he was Irons’ heir apparent, they were bending over backwards to make him happy. Ian confirmed that they had assigned their best criminal lawyer to help Helga Strauss. In fact, he was told, the lawyer was meeting with her new client now and would represent her later that morning at Mrs. Strauss’ bail hearing. He confirmed that he would pay whatever amount was required to free her on her own recognizance. He also asked them to let Helga know that he or Dev would be at the courthouse to take her back to the mansion when the hearing was over. That done, Ian took a deep breath and dialed the number of Devian’s cell phone. As far as he knew, only four people had the number: he, Sara, Irons, and Immo. It only rang once before the clone answered, saying, “Sara?” Ian sighed. “No,” he said, “It’s me.” There was a pause before Dev said, “So, what? You call to rag at me some more? I can only say I’m sorry so many times. You want to hear me say it again?” Ian smiled ruefully. His little brother was already starting to regain some of his edge. He had looked so completely whipped when he’d left the loft earlier. “I called to tell you that I’ve arranged for a lawyer for Mrs. Strauss. Her bail hearing is this morning. Can you take her back to the mansion afterwards?” he asked. There was a pause before Dev asked, “How do you know they’ll set bail? Irons was a prominent man. What if the district attorney turns out to be ambitious?” Ian struggled to keep his temper. “I know because we have engaged the best attorney that Mr. Irons’ money can buy,” Ian replied, “Mrs. Strauss will make bail.” Devian made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a snort. “There’s a satisfying irony in that, isn’t there?” he asked rhetorically, adding, “I’ll be happy to get her and take her home. She’s a good woman and we owe her a great deal.”

“There’s something else,” Ian said. There was another pause before Dev cautiously asked, “What is it?” Ian replied, “The police want to see you. You need to go in to talk to them today. If you don’t, they’ll come for you.” Another pause. “How do they know about me?” he asked, “Mrs. Strauss wouldn’t have said anything.” Ian smiled. Did the clone think he had squealed? “The police talked to others at the mansion,” Ian said, “Obviously, someone mentioned you.” Dev sighed and agreed, “Obviously. Sara’s Precinct?” Ian tensed. “Yes,” he said, “It’s her Precinct but she’s not in charge of the case. Stay away from her, Devian. She doesn’t want to see you right now. Give her some space.” The pause was longer this time. “Did Sara say that or are you running interference?” he asked quietly. Ian shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Why couldn’t he just accept it, why did he always have to push back? “She said it,” Ian confirmed, “She doesn’t want to see you right now. Do you understand?” Ian heard the clone’s deep sigh. “Yeah,” he rasped, “I understand. She wants to forget that last night ever happened. I won’t allow that.” Ian’s temper boiled over. “Force it, brother,” he shot back, “And you and I will have a problem.” With equal temper, Dev hissed, “We already have a problem, Ian. We’re both in love with the same woman. I’d say that’s a problem.” If Ian hadn’t been so pissed, so jealous of what had happened, he probably wouldn’t have said it; but he was and he did. “It’s only a problem for you, Dev,” he barked, “She loves me back.” There was a brief, heavy pause, then Ian heard a dial tone.

After he had left the loft, Devian had slipped unnoticed back into the Observatory at the mansion. Ian was right. He had nowhere else to go. Even though the place was crawling with cops and other crime scene personnel, both Nottingham brothers knew the back ways to get in to the rambling estate. Only Devian and Irons had a key to the elevator that gave entrance to the Observatory. Wherever the old man had secreted his key, the police had not yet found it. Once inside the mansion, the clone had simply waited until he could get to the private elevator without being seen. Now, he was back in his aerie; secure, alone once again. The first thing he had done was strip off Ian’s clothing. Beneath those clothes, he could still smell Sara on his skin. He hadn’t showered because he didn’t want to lose her scent. Another scent clung to him as well. At first, he had not been able to identify the odor, but then he suddenly realized that he smelled of sex. He didn’t want to wash that smell off him either. Sara might want to pretend last night had never happened but he wanted to relive every minute of it while it was still fresh. That brought a new thought to his mind. With a jolt, he suddenly realized that his night with Sara had probably been captured on tape. He wanted that tape. It might be all he would ever have to show what he knew was between them. Sara could blame it all on the Blade if she wanted to, but in his gut he knew there was something there – a spark, something – that had nothing to do with the blade or the fact that he looked like Ian. There was something that was all his.

With typical paranoia, Irons also kept the room containing the surveillance equipment locked. Dev needed to get in there to get his tape and to destroy the tapes that Irons had made of Ian and Sara. After all, it wouldn’t do to have someone from her Precinct get their hands on a collection of porno tapes starring Detective Sara Pezzini. That was something he could do for Sara that had not even occurred to his perfect older brother. Of course, he could never mention that he had held one tape back. That would be his reward for saving her from embarrassment or even blackmail at the hands of the philistines that she worked with – except for Danny and Vicki, of course, both of whom he liked. Devian froze for a long moment, thinking back. Maybe he would also save the tape of Ian and Sara in the kitchen. That was his favorite of the training tapes that he had watched. He liked to pretend it was him with Sara in that one, not Ian; and now he knew how it would feel. He didn’t have to imagine Sara’s touch any more because he had felt it. He dropped his head to his bare chest and inhaled deeply where she had lain on top of him, her naked skin pressed to his. He shut his eyes and tried to remember the sensation when she had licked him.

His body responded immediately, breathing deepening and groin tightening. After a few moments of savoring his memories, the golden cat eyes flicked open, gleaming with determination. He wanted to feel Sara’s touch again. He wanted to be inside her again. Nothing was impossible. He didn’t expect to take Ian’s place in her affections or her bed, but she could have more than one lover if they all agreed. They were adults, after all, and it harmed no one. Best of all, it was what the Witchblade wanted. Devian would gladly accept the role of Protector if it meant that he could also be Sara’s lover. He wanted that more than anything and would do whatever was necessary to make it happen. He took a deep breath and thought it out. Sara would never take him back to her bed if Ian objected. So, perhaps, the first step was to win over his brother. Become his friend. Soothe his jealousy and somehow turn it into acceptance. If she thought that Ian was alright with it, maybe Sara would go along. Maybe she would open her arms to him again, touch him again, hold him again. Devian shut his eyes, aching for it. He wanted to return to her right now. He wanted her to look at him the way that she looked at his brother. He shook his head a little. He had to let this go for now. There were other priorities at the moment. He had to take care of the tapes and destroy the remaining surveillance equipment. Well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just keep one camera active and reroute it through the Observatory. Dev smiled in anticipation. No one had to know. Thinking of Sara back with Ian ignited an unfamiliar stab of jealousy. He shrugged it off. As he’d told Ian, he was a pragmatist. Beggars could not be choosers. And second best always had to try harder. With Sara, Dev knew that his big brother would always come first. His lips twitched as he thought: “No pun intended.”

Devian picked up the in-house phone on the desk and pressed the button that connected him with the kitchen. The cook’s first assistant answered the phone and growled, “Yes?” Dev had found that he could usually charm the knickers off of older women, but this one didn’t like him one bit. He asked to speak to one of the scullery maids. He knew she had a crush on him. When she said a tentative hello into the phone, the clone verified, “Heather?” There was a soft gasp from the other end. “Master Devian?” she whispered. “Yeah,” he replied, turning on the charm, “Hi. How are you?” There was another soft gasp before she said, flustered, “I’m fine, sir. Do you need something?” Now there was a hell of a question, he thought. Aloud, he said, “Uh huh. Are the police still there?” There was another pause. He figured the eagle-eyed first assistant was probably watching the girl. Finally, she answered, “No, sir. The last one left just a few minutes ago. Have you had your breakfast, sir?” As soon as she asked, his stomach growled loudly. Amused at himself, he thought that he must be in love if he had forgotten about food. “No, I haven’t,” he replied, “Thanks for asking. Do you think you could leave something by the elevator for me? And throw in a big pot of coffee?” He could hear the pleasure in her voice when she responded, “Of course, sir. I’ll get it ready right away. Was there anything else?” He sighed. Why couldn’t the Wielder be this accommodating? “No. Thanks, Heather,” he said, “You’ve been a great help.” Flustered again, the girl just managed, “Right away, sir. Goodbye.” The clone said goodbye and hung up.

Although he didn’t plan to be seen, Dev picked up the discarded shirt that Ian had given him and slipped it back on. He didn’t bother with the boots; barefoot made less noise. He wormed the elevator key into the back pocket of his tight jeans and tied his hair back with a band to keep it out of his face. The clone thought for a minute, then he went back to the desk and rummaged through the drawers. He found what he was looking for – a small pocketknife and a metal file were also now secreted in his jeans. He didn’t have the key to the locked surveillance room either and he had no time or inclination to search for it. He would have to pick the lock. Twenty minutes later, he had managed to reach and access the small room with its double banks of monitors unnoticed. He locked the door behind him. He was surprised to see that the cameras were still running. He blinked, absently noticing that Vicki had a pretty vase of bright daffodils in the middle of her coffee table. Dev had forgotten that Sara’s former loft was still being watched. He tilted his head, grinning. So, maybe he would check out some of Vicki’s tapes too – before he destroyed them, of course.

Devian found the two tapes he wanted to keep for himself and he slipped them inside his shirt – Ian’s shirt. He pulled the big, brown trash bag out of the can in the corner of the room and emptied it. Then, he filled the bag with the remaining tapes. After all, he was going to have some downtime before the will was read and Ian signed Irons’ empire over to him. He might as well fill that time with some quality viewing. Who knew what he might find? Finally, he disconnected one of the cameras and added it to the bag, thinking that he might find a use for it. When that was done, he damaged all of the rest of the cameras and monitors so that they could not be reconnected and put back into use. Once safely back in the Observatory, he would call the security room and have one of the drones there clear out this room before the police could do another sweep and find the surveillance equipment. If they did, the next logical action would be to assume that there were tapes and to search for them. That could become unpleasant; not just for him, but for Sara. Dev stood still in the center of the little room, looking around him, trying to determine whether there was anything that he had missed. He nodded. All done, he decided; time to take his booty back to his hideaway.

The clone slipped like a ghost back through the eerily silent rooms of the mansion. Even though Irons had been largely incapacitated during the final months of his long life, he had kept the mansion and its large staff in a constant state of controlled chaos. Without him, the place seemed almost peaceful. When Devian reached the private elevator, he found a silver tray with a full breakfast and a large pot of coffee on a portable serving table beside it. Grinning, he lifted the heavy silver cover protecting the plate. The food beneath it was still steaming hot. He jimmied the elevator key from his tight pants and opened the conveyance. He pushed in the big garbage bag with the tapes and camera inside, and lifted the heavy tray from the table. He was about to step into the elevator with it when a soft voice said, “When I saw the tray, I knew that if I waited I would find you here, that you had returned.” Dev stiffened and turned, annoyed that he had let Dr. Frankenstein get the drop on him. Immo stepped out of the shadows of the corridor. The clone put the tray on the floor of the elevator and pushed the button to hold open the door. He turned to face Dr. Immo. “Something I can do for you, doc?” he asked pleasantly. “I warned him about you,” Immo hissed, “I told him you were dangerous, that you could not be controlled the way that Ian had. He would not listen to me. He had his plans and he knew better.” Devian tilted his head, the cocky grin back in place. “Guess you were right,” he replied, “Too bad you can’t say ‘I told you so’ to the old man. As for me, I don’t really give a shit what you think. In fact, why are you still here? There’s no one left to torture or maim. You’re unemployed.”

Immo took a step closer and shrilled, “You are a disease!” Dev assured himself that both of the doctor’s hands were in view and were empty before he replied, “Get a grip, doc. I’ll consider the source of that statement and won’t take offense. It’s all in your perspective. Yes? For example, I see myself more as a sort of cure. Speaking of which, you might want to start scanning the want ads. Maybe the neo-nazi party is in need of a few good men.” Devian turned to get on the elevator. He had had more than enough of the old man’s toady. Immo stepped forward again. He looked slightly maniacal in the dim light of the hallway. “You think you’ve won,” he said softly, “You and Ian. And that bitch Pezzini. It is not over yet.” Then, he started to laugh. It was chilling. Dev was damned if he would let Dr. Frankenstein see that he was unnerved. And he didn’t like anyone bad-mouthing Sara. The clone gave Immo his cocky grin, looked directly into the doctor’s nearsighted eyes, and suggested, “Bite me, you crazy old fucker.” He pressed the button to close the doors and watched the doctor watching him until they slid slowly shut. As the elevator ascended, he shivered. He wished that he could simply dismiss Dr. Immo’s threat as a toothless effort to intimidate him; but he couldn’t. He existed because of Immo’s genius. The guy might be a fruitloop but he was a fruitloop with an impressive brain. He needed to talk to Ian.

Rumors were flying around the Precinct. The big news, of course, was the murder of Kenneth Irons and the confession of his murderess, Helga Strauss. In the opinion of most, she was crazy as a hatter. She told a story of Irons and a magical bracelet; how he had tried to force it on her only daughter forty years ago and how it had rejected her, pushed her into madness, and driven her to suicide. And through it all, Helga, the good servant, had watched it happen. Then, after it had, she had grieved and waited for her chance to exact revenge. In the meantime, Mrs. Strauss had done what she could to alleviate the suffering of the master’s other victims, including both Ian and Devian. In the opinion of most, the powerhouse shyster from Wolfram and Hart would go for the insanity defense and the old woman would wind up in the loony bin – which was precisely Ian’s plan. Mrs. Strauss would go to an expensive, mental institution until he could fake her death and relocate her with enough money to live very well for the rest of her life. Vicki Po had even caught the buzz as she went about her work down in the bowels of the Precinct. Now, she was taking a break, personally delivering an autopsy report to Danny. She stopped in the open door of their office, her eyes meeting Danny’s. They exchanged a searching look and both shifted their gaze to Sara, who sat, head in hands, eyes fixed on her desk, staring through the report she was studying.

Vicki looked back at Danny, lifting one eyebrow. Danny shook his head, then shrugged. She came into the office and handed him the report. He thanked her. Through it all, Sara never moved a muscle. The petite coroner perched a hip on the edge of Sara’s desk and said, “Yo, Pez. What’s shaking?” Sara’s head shot up and her chair flew back as she started, gasping. “Whoa,” Vicki observed, eying her, “You okay?” Sara tried to catch her breath. Her heart was racing. “Vicki,” she said, breath still uneven, “What do you want?” Vicki frowned and said, “Well, hello to you too, detective. It’s nice you’re so glad to see me.” Sara rubbed her forehead and shut her eyes. Images from the night before kept popping into her head. He wasn’t even here and she couldn’t get rid of the damn clone. “Earth to Sara,” Vicki called. Sara blinked. She went with the path of least resistance. “I have a headache,” she said. Her friend’s expression became sympathetic. “Oh, kiddo, I’m sorry,” Vicki replied, “Want some aspirin?” Sara shook her head and asked, “Did you need something?” Vicki studied her. “Nope,” she responded, “I just came up to schmooze about the Irons case. I figured you might have some inside dirt. This whole story about the magic bracelet is really…”

Vicki’s voice simply stopped, her eyes suddenly fixed on Sara’s right wrist. She was remembering when Sara came to her after the episode in the Midtown Museum; she remembered talking to Sara about her new bracelet, doing tests on it for her, and Sara not knowing how the bracelet had come into her possession. She glanced across at Danny. It was obvious that similar memories were running through his head. They were both adding that to Sara’s strange connection to Kenneth Irons and his bodyguard, Ian Nottingham, who was now her lover. Sara watched them. She could almost hear the gears clicking in their brains, see the connections falling into place. “Ah, shit,” Sara thought. Could this day possibly get any worse. She heard Vicki gasp and followed her gaze to watch Ian and Devian walk together across the main floor of the Precinct. Turning heads followed their progress. The effect created by the two of them in tandem was, she had to admit, devastating. Ian wore a beautifully cut black business suit with white shirt and tie. Devian, on the other hand, had paired a midnight blue suede shirt with a black leather jacket, pants, and boots. They both had their hair pulled back, accentuating the sculpted planes of their handsome faces. They were, quite literally, breathtaking.

When Vicki had recovered, she hissed, “I thought he was in China.” Sara sighed. I only wish, she thought. “He came back,” she said softly. Sara looked up and Vicki looked down; their eyes met. There was no mistaking the intent in Vicki’s eyes. “Shit, shit, shit,” Sara thought, the litany running through her head. Vicki smiled. “You were right,” she purred, leaning over to follow those tight leather pants for as long as they were visible, “He is definitely not Ian.” On that, they could certainly agree. “No,” Sara murmured, “He is not.” Danny looked bemused. He was still pondering Sara’s bracelet and its place in the story of Helga Strauss. “I feel like I walked into the second act of a play,” he said, having watched the two women as they watched the Nottingham twins, “Anybody care to fill me in?” They both turned to look at him and said, “No,” simultaneously. Ian and Dev had disappeared into separate interrogation rooms to be interviewed by the lead detectives investigating the Irons murder. The noise level on the main floor of the Precinct had risen several decibel levels in their wake. Vicki stood and looked back at Sara. “When were you planning to tell me that he was back?” she asked, voice cool. Sara pushed a hand roughly through her hair. “A lot of stuff has been going on, Vick,” she replied, “I didn’t keep it from you on purpose.” Vicki did not respond, her eyebrow remained up. Sara sighed. “You can believe that or not,” she mumbled, “I don’t really give a fuck at the moment. I’ve got other problems.”

Vicki held up her hands. “Okey-dokey,” she said, “I’ll leave you to your misery. I’m going over to hang out by the interrogation room. I have a bone to pick with Mr. Nottingham.” She glanced at Danny, who still looked very confused. “That’s Devian, not Ian,” she clarified. She left the room with a wide, anticipatory grin on her face. Danny looked at Sara and said, “I’m so confused.” She managed a weak smile. “Join the club,” she replied. Vicki was waiting when the detective accompanied Dev out of interrogation. The interview hadn’t taken long. Mrs. Strauss had not told anyone that the clone had provided her with the sedative that she had used to kill Kenneth Irons. As far as the police knew, Dev was only involved at the periphery of the case and had simply been brought in to provide background information. Ian, who was much more intimately involved with Irons, was still being questioned. When the door of the room opened, Detective Ripley said, “Hey, doc. You got something for me?” Vicki smiled at the look on Dev’s face, where he stood just behind the detective. Vicki shook her head. “Nah, John,” she said to him, “I’m actually here to see Mr. Nottingham.” The man’s eyes widened a little. He waved at them as he turned to leave, saying, “He’s all yours.” For a moment, they both stood perfectly still, staring at each other. Then, Vicki said, “That was a shitty thing that you did to me. It’s Devian, isn’t it?” He tried the charming smile, but it was a bit tentative. “It was a shitty thing to do,” he admitted, “And I’m sorry. My sense of humor sometimes leaves something to be desired. Please call me Dev.”

When she didn’t say anything, Dev’s smile faltered a bit and he asked, “You aren’t going to hit me or anything, are you?” Vicki was lost in those big, golden jungle-cat eyes. “Wow. He’s a real heart-breaker,” she thought. Aloud, she said, “Not if you make it up to me.” He tilted his head and asked, “How could I do that?” She shrugged and suggested, “You could take me out for a late lunch at a ridiculously expensive restaurant. That would make a nice start.” His eyes suddenly shifted over her right shoulder in the direction of Sara’s desk. Vicki watched something she couldn’t identify flicker through the expressive eyes. Pain? Regret? Anger? Need? Defiance? All of them and none of them, maybe. And what the hell was that? she wondered. Then, he replied, “Sure. Why not? Do you have a preference?” Now, she grinned. She’d thought he was going to politely brush her off. She slipped her arm through his and a little thrill shot through her at the shock of the supple muscle she felt under the leather. She suddenly remembered the whole hard length of him pressed against her as he kissed her. Vicki shivered. He frowned and asked, “Cold?” She looked directly into those eyes and replied, “Not at all.” It was his turn to grin. “Just let me dash down to the morgue to pick up my coat,” she said. He nodded, his eyes flicking over her shoulder again. His attention back on Vicki, he asked, “Shall I meet you at the front door of the Precinct in five minutes?” Reluctantly, she disengaged herself from him and agreed, “That would be good. Five minutes then.” Vicki turned and headed for the stairs, smiling with anticipation.

And Devian crossed the room to Sara’s office. When he reached the doorway, Danny looked up to ask, “Can I help you?” It seemed bizarre. This was a man that the clone had recently spent a pleasant evening with, sharing relaxed conversation, even confidences; but, of course, he had been masquerading as Ian then. As far as Danny knew, he and Dev had never met. Devian shook his head, shifting to look at the other desk, and softly asked, “Sara? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Danny stood and said, “I’ll just get coffee.” Her head came up and she gave her partner a desperate look. Danny stopped in his tracks and asked, “Sara? Do you want me to stay?” Her lips thinned and she told herself to stop being such a baby. She had no cause to drag Danny into the middle of this mess. She shook her head and replied, “No. It’s okay. Thanks, Dan.” Danny gave Devian a rather intense look but left the office, carrying his empty coffee mug. Dev stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Sara studied the blotter on her desk and said, “I have nothing to say to you.” He sighed, fighting himself not to take the hurt out on her. “Do you blame me for what happened between us?” he asked. She couldn’t look at him. Head still down, she answered, “No. I know it was the Blade. But that doesn’t change anything.” He moved closer to her and her eyes glanced up in alarm. Dev stopped moving. “Has the Witchblade made mistakes in the past?” he asked softly, “Given you bad information? Led you in false directions?” Not wanting to get into this with him, she just shrugged. “That’s no answer, Sara,” he said, a little anger finally creeping into his voice, “Stop running away from me. Admit to yourself that the Blade pushed us together because maybe that’s where we should be.” That brought her head up. The emerald green eyes blazed into his. “Like hell,” she replied, “I belong with Ian.” Devian met her glare. “I don’t dispute that,” he agreed, adding, “Have us both.”

Before she could answer, Danny came back into the room and said, “Vicki Po sent up word that she’s waiting for you downstairs. She says you’re not off to a good start.” Dev smiled absently and nodded. As he turned to leave, Sara hissed, “You be careful with her, Devian. She’s my friend. You hurt her and I’ll teach you what pain really is.” Without turning, he softly replied, “You already have,” and left, closing the door gently behind him. Danny watched Dev walk away. His eyes shifted back to Sara whose head was down again. The tension in the room had been so thick you could have cut it with a katana. “Whew,” he observed, “What the hell was all that about? What have you gotten yourself into this time, partner?” Sara looked up, eyes filled with tears. Danny started to stand and she held up a hand to stop him. “I’m okay,” she whispered. He looked at her, dark eyes filled with concern. “Like hell you are,” he argued. Her eyes shifted and she saw Ian leaving the interrogation room. He turned and his eyes found her. He smiled and began moving toward her. “You’re right,” she agreed, “I’m not. But I will be soon.” Still smiling, Ian reached the office door and waved to Danny. When they both turned toward Sara, she was smiling too.