"Blood Seduction"

Devian prowled through the halls of Wolfram & Hart, carefully avoiding contact with man and beast. He still found the effect of wearing and using Excalibur disorienting. Dev could not get used to people looking him dead in the eye and staring right through him because, for them, he simply wasn’t there. When it happened often enough, he actually began to feel like a cipher. He caught himself and put his wandering mind back on a short leash; this was no time for wool gathering. Ducking into an empty alcove, the clone stopped to take another mental fix, aiming his connection to the Wielder and her Protector like a compass. Dev frowned when, this time, his big brother was no longer there. He was receiving no energy from Ian at all. The clone fought down the shiver of misgiving that made him want to careen blindly off in search of Ian just to ensure that he was alright. If Devian’s carelessness resulted in his own capture, they would all be screwed. It was not only his own life at stake; others were counting on him. The clone settled himself down and shifted his mind, this time focusing on Sara. He was relieved when that connection was both immediate and strong. She was many, many floors below him – underground, it felt like – and at the opposite end of the building.

Through some further magic of Ian’s ring of power, Devian was able to sense that their enemies were looking for him. They knew that someone had pierced their defenses but, so far, they had had no luck in finding him – and it wasn’t for lack of trying. The trackers that Wolfram & Hart had dispatched were impressive. A lot of people, and other things, were searching for him. Getting the Wielder and Protector out of this place was not going to be easy; especially if Ian was incapacitated in some way. “Okay,” he asked himself, stifling his tendency to dive into all-out, unconsidered pursuit, “What would Ian do?” The answer came almost immediately. First, he had to find them. Once he had found them, he could determine what would be required to break them free. That done, he could figure out how to do it. He nodded, as if acknowledging his thanks to his absent brother for his borrowed gift of calm, methodical logic. Dev began moving again, working his way with stealthy grace toward his charges in the bowels of the building. Because he had to avoid the intensive search that was underway, invisible or no, it took him almost ten minutes to reach the holding cell where Sara and Ian were being kept. They were well guarded by three big, nasty-looking creatures that he suspected could tear him limb from limb without breaking a sweat; assuming, of course, that they perspired.

Devian took another calming breath and scoped out the situation. They would be watching for him so the first thing that he had to do was neutralize the cameras. He had a fancy gadget that Ian had given him that blocked a camera’s live feed and substituted an endless loop instead. Those watching would see none of the commotion he was about to unleash. If they didn’t know that anything was wrong, they wouldn’t send reinforcements until it was too late. Moving very carefully, he blocked all the cameras trained on the holding cell. Next, he had to take out the guards. The first one would be a gift. Then, the element of surprise would be gone and, even though they couldn’t see him, they would know he was there. Each of them had a good half a foot on him and a lot more heft. Dev suddenly wished he had consumed all those extra portions of food that the new cook was always pushing at him. He hadn’t been either eating or sleeping very well since Sara had ended their brief liaison. He missed her terribly. The clone took a deep breath and silently unsheathed the katana that was strapped to his back. He gauged the lines of sight and edged toward the creature guarding the farthest corner of the holding cell.

As Devian neared it, the thing swung its head around and lifted its chin, as if it was scenting the air. Before it could voice a warning, the clone moved like lightning and slit the creature’s throat in a single stroke that he hoped also severed its vocal chords; assuming, of course, they were where he thought they were. It died without making a sound. He caught it as it dropped to the floor to muffle the noise, almost collapsing under the weight of the thing. The other two creatures were guarding the door of the cell. They were around the corner and Dev couldn’t see them. Tensely, he held still, waiting to see whether they had heard anything and would come running. They didn’t. One down, two to go. He edged carefully past the corner of the hall until the remaining two guards came into view. One of them was facing forward, guarding the hall in front of it; but the other had turned to the side and was facing him. Its ugly face was thrust out. As the clone watched, it took a step in his direction and let out a sound that was somewhere between a honk and a growl. It was unmistakably calling out to the one that he had just killed. “Shit,” he thought sourly, “No more time.” The thing moved closer, making that sound again. Now, the third guard also turned its head toward Devian.

In one fluid motion, Dev bent, unsheathed the throwing knife that was strapped to his calf, and hurled it at the approaching guard. With a wet, meaty thunk it embedded itself deep in the creature’s left eye. It was meant to be a killing blow to the thing’s brain; assuming, of course, that its brain resided behind its eyes. The knife slowed the creature down but it didn’t stop it. It was coming straight at him and, although it couldn’t see him, it was making snuffling noises like a bloodhound. It was probably tracking him by his scent. To test his theory, the clone shifted to the left as the thing barreled towards him, claws raised. The guard adjusted its trajectory, moving to the left as well. Devian waited until the last possible moment before sliding smoothly under the guard’s outstretched arm. With balletic grace, he pivoted back and beheaded the creature with his katana. Unfortunately, there was one more guard and it hadn’t been idle while Dev was dispatching its companion. It was now upon him and, through scent, it had fixed his position exactly. As the clone was straightening, the remaining guard raked his back open with its six long, razor-sharp claws. Devian hissed at the searing pain that shot through him. Blocking it out, he immediately crouched and rolled to avoid the follow-up blow that the creature was leveling at him.

Before he could regain his feet, the thing had found Dev again. This time it landed a blow with the back of its arm; hitting him squarely in the center of his chest with enough force to lift the clone off his feet and hurl him through the air to connect solidly with the wall. Devian hit the back of his head against the concrete wall of the sub-basement with a dull crack. For a moment, everything went black and then bright stars danced against the back of his eyelids. He slid to the floor, where he sat, shaking his head to try to clear it. At the same time, he began pushing himself away from his last position to try to buy some time. It had all taken seconds. When his vision cleared, Dev saw that the thing was nearly upon him. By the angle of its body, the clone could tell that the creature knew that he was now lying on the floor. It obviously intended to pick him up, perhaps to simply rip him apart. It would have to bend over him to get a grip. Devian braced himself. He ordered his body to remain still when all his instincts were screaming at him to get out of the way. As the creature bent down to pick him up, Dev pushed the katana upward with all his strength, embedding it in the center of the creature up to its handguard. The forward momentum of the thing actually assisted in its own demise. Keeping the guard skewered like a shish-kebab, Devian pulled back out of the range of its claws and twisted the sword that was impaling it. The thing screamed and bled thick, stinking, greenish goop. The clone wrinkled his nose delicately. “Ewww,” he breathed softly, squinting at it, “You are really rank, buddy.”

A moment later, the final guard went limp at the end of his katana. Dev stood and, putting his booted foot on the body for leverage, pulled his sword free. He wiped the long knife against the creature’s clothing to clean it off. Resheathing the katana, he began walking back toward the door of the holding cell. He was almost there when a wave of dizziness swept over him. The clone blindly stretched out a hand to brace himself against the wall but lost his balance anyway and dropped to one knee. The movement dragged his jumpsuit along his back, which felt sticky. He realized that he was also losing a fair amount of blood from where the guard had scored him with its claws. He stayed on his knee for a moment, willing his head to clear. His ears were ringing. It occurred to him that he probably had a concussion. “No time for this now, you ass,” he told himself, annoyed, “You’ve got to keep moving.” Listening to himself, he managed to get back up and reach the door, using the wall as an anchor. Naturally, it was locked. One of the guards would probably have a key. He turned his head a fraction, eying the two bodies in his view with distaste. Instead, he pulled a small, suede case from this pocket. He untied it; removed a thin, metal tool; and went to work on the lock. When it took two, full minutes for him to pick the lock, Devian knew that his motor skills were seriously impaired. His head was now throbbing; which made the next task even more difficult.

Trying to ignore the pain, Devian stretched his mind to touch Sara. His lips twitched in wry humor. He was getting inside her in one way at least, even if it wasn’t the way that he wanted. He didn’t think that she would appreciate the irony. In the large room beyond the door, Sara sat on the floor, Ian’s head cradled in her lap. She would have preferred to have his body resting on something soft – a bed perhaps; however, the room was entirely devoid of furniture. It consisted of stark white ceiling, floor, and walls; softly pulsing strobe lights; and three cameras. The cameras moved in an apparently prearranged pattern to scan every corner of the sterile chamber. Sara sighed, pushing her free hand through her messy hair. Ian’s eyes were still wide open and staring at nothing. Mild convulsions continuously shivered through his inert body. She had just stretched out her other hand to stroke her lover’s hair when a voice inside her head said, “Sara?” Sara was so relieved that the clone hadn’t abandoned them that, if he were there, she could almost have kissed him. She shut her eyes and cleared her mind enough to reply, “Devian. Thank god.” A second later, when her characteristic annoyance with him kicked in, she added, “Where the hell have you been?”

The clone’s own annoyance shot back at her. Without it being couched in words, she got from him a sense of what he had gone through to be standing on the other side of the door across from her. A moment later, however, his annoyance had given way to amusement. They were on familiar ground; this was, after all, the usual effect that he had on Sara. “It’s nice that you’re glad to see me, Wielder,” he drawled in her head. Then, he was back to business. “What’s wrong with Ian?” he asked. Her strong worry and fear for Ian flew back at him, making his head ache more. “They’ve done something to him with strobe lights,” she replied, “It must be some sort of conditioning that Irons put him through. He went into convulsions. He’s still completely out of it, almost comatose.” Dev frowned. He got a vague picture of what she was seeing around her. “Are those lights flashing now inside the room?” he asked. It was strange; getting a mental picture of what someone else was seeing through their eyes. “Yes,” she confirmed, then asked, “Are you going to get us out of here?” She felt another flash of Devian annoyance. “I’m working on it,” she heard in her head, the crankiness clearly coming through. That, of course, unleashed her own temper. “Work faster, Sparky,” she shot back. He had no idea why he grinned as he continued to pull supplies from hidden pockets in his black jumpsuit.

All this mental conversation was doing a real number on Devian’s damaged head but it couldn’t be helped. Until they were face to face, it was the only safe way for them to communicate. He fought off another wave of dizziness and nausea before he asked her, “Are there cameras in there?” She turned her head to look at each of them in turn so that he could “see” where they were positioned. “Okay,” he said in her mind, “I need you to create a diversion to keep the camera on your left occupied. That’s the one that has the door in its line of sight. Do it on a count of ten. Clear?” In his throbbing head, her snort of disdain was unmistakable. “Yeah. It’s clear, Sparky. Get on with it,” she flung back at him, “Ian needs help. We’ll have to figure out some safe way to get him to a doctor once we get out of here.” Feeling the clone’s amusement roll through her again, Sara belligerently wanted to know, “You find my concern for Ian amusing, Devian?” She felt him try to rein it in before she heard him respond, “Not at all. I find the situation ironic. We actually have our own doctor. At this moment, she’s sitting in her car in an alley across the street excited about the prospect of driving one of the getaway cars.” He could feel Sara’s relief. It washed over his pounding head like a soothing balm. “Vicki,” he heard her muse to herself, “Bless her heart, the disobedient little shit. After I get done ripping her a new hole, I’m going to kiss her.”

“On a count of ten,” Dev reminded her. Inside the room, Sara gently eased Ian’s head off of her lap and stood. “Yeah, yeah,” she thought back at him, “Put a sock in it.” His lips twitched as he counted the time off with her. At ten, Sara started flailing her arms, looking directly into the camera and pacing to her right. As she directed a tirade at the camera and, by extension, her captors, entreating them to turn off the lights, to help Ian, Devian slipped quietly into the room. He went to each of the cameras and attached a small device. When the feed from each was blocked and they were transmitting looped images, he removed Excalibur from his right hand and slipped it into one of his many pockets. He turned around to find her standing right behind him. Her cool hand skimmed across his burning back and came away bloody. Looking up into his glazed, golden eyes, Sara said, “You’re hurt.” Devian put a hand on the wall to steady himself as he murmured, “It’s nothing.” She frowned. “Then why do your eyes look all funny and unfocused?” she asked, “Are you getting spacey from loss of blood?” He stared at her, fighting to remain conscious. “No,” he replied logically, “I’m getting spacey from having my head slammed against the wall. I think I have a concussion.” Her eyes went wide and she felt panic scramble up her back. She gripped his arm, feeling solid muscle through the heavy fabric of his jumpsuit. “Oh no,” she hissed, her eyes shifting to the prone Ian, “Damn it, Sparky, you’ve got to hold it together! You can’t pass out! I can’t get Ian out of here on my own.”

Irrationally angry that it always seemed to be about Ian, Devian pried her fingers from his arm none to gently. “I’ll hold it together just fine,” he hissed right back at Sara, “Help me get him up. I don’t want to lean over too far. I’ll carry him over my shoulder. We have to get moving." She shrugged, not having the time or patience for his sibling jealousies right now. Their major concern had to be Ian. Working together, they got Ian up off the floor and securely placed across the clone’s broad, left shoulder. “How are we getting out?” she asked. He was already heading for the door. His soft voice drifted back to her as he kept moving, “We’re going through an old duct that leads into the sewers. We should be able to get to it through a maintenance room at the other end of this floor. Pray that they haven’t sealed it up since the diagrams that we studied were drafted. You can also hope that we don’t run into any more armed minions – people or otherwise.” She caught up and moved in front of him. “Let me take point,” she whispered, “You’ve got your hands full. Just keep me going in the right direction.” Dev didn’t argue with her. It was taking all he had just to stay alert and carry Ian. They moved fast, keeping to the shadows, avoiding any confrontations. They had just found the maintenance room and gotten inside when a piercing alarm went off. “Shit,” Sara barked, “They know we’re gone. How far do we have to go?”

“The duct should be right over in the corner there,” Dev said faintly. She turned back quickly, alarmed by the sound of his voice. “How are you doing?” she asked. He made an indefinable sound and rasped, “Find the fucking duct, Sara. I need your help to get us out of here. Hurry!” She immediately headed for the corner of the room, pushing aside boxes and large trash cans. Panic edging her voice, Sara mumbled, “I don’t see anything, Sparky. I don’t think it’s here.” The clone perched on a large box to rest, balancing Ian carefully against him. “Keep looking,” he murmured, “It has to be there. Don’t give up.” He sounded exhausted. She stopped, tossing one quick glance over her shoulder. Dev was still sort of on his feet but he looked like he might not be for much longer. Sara dragged in a ragged breath to calm herself and dug around deeper, searching more carefully. As she shifted a large, dusty packing crate, a dank breeze washed over her and she knew that she had found it. Sara shut her eyes and said a brief prayer of thanks before she called softly, “It’s here, Dev. I found it.” There was no answer and she tried to see him. In the dim light, he was just a large shadow. Finally, he whispered tightly, “Thank god. Can we get through?” Using all her considerable upper body strength, she pushed large boxes aside until there was a narrow opening into the dark, evil-smelling duct. “We can get through,” she whispered back, “Bring Ian.”

Sara turned back to see the clone stagger to his feet and almost go down when Ian’s weight shifted on his broad shoulder. At the last moment, he caught his balance and got his feet under him solidly. Her breath left her in a rush; she hadn’t realized that she had been holding it. Moving unsteadily, Devian made his way to her side. In the low light of the room, he was as white as parchment. “Not much farther,” she encouraged him, having no idea whether or not that was the truth. “Don’t worry, Sara,” he replied faintly, “I’ll get Ian through. I won’t leave you alone and in trouble. I promise.” She felt a sudden, inexplicable rush of affection for the blasted clone. “Okay,” she agreed, “Go ahead. I’ll follow you.” Dev managed to work himself sideways through the small opening she had created, Ian still held steady on his shoulder. When he was through, he turned his head to whisper, “When you get through, pull the boxes in as far as you can to cover the duct again. Buy us more time.” She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “You just take care of yourself and Ian, Sparky. I know what I’m doing. I’m a law enforcement professional. Remember?” Even half dead, she could hear the grin in his voice when he responded softly, “How could I ever forget. I beg your pardon, my lady.” She grunted in response as he set off down the center of the filthy, dripping duct in a shambling gait, Ian a dim lump draped over his shoulder.

Sara followed him. They kept moving at a good clip and soon came to the juncture where the duct emptied into the sewers below. There was a downward drop of about five feet from the duct to the sewer; looking down, Sara saw an approximation of her own face reflected back at her from the murky water it contained. Turning her head back, she saw Dev slide limply to the floor of the duct, where he slumped, panting, Ian resting against him. As she watched, Ian stirred and asked faintly, “Where am I?” Sara immediately scooted over and took his face in her hands. His golden eyes were dazed but clear. “Oh, thank heaven,” she breathed, “How do you feel?” He shook his head a little and said, “Like I’ve been beaten all over with a two by four.” She bent forward to kiss him softly and felt his smile under her lips. “Can you walk?” she asked. Ian nodded. She turned her head to the left and said, “Let’s go, Sparky. You just have to worry about yourself now.” There was no response. A sharp jolt of fear stabbed through her. “Sparky?” she asked, nudging him. Dev’s body canted over to the side, his head lolling forward. “Oh no,” she whispered, panicked, “Ian, we have to wake him up. He’s got to stay awake. He has a head injury. We can’t let him go to sleep. He could slip into a coma.” Her mind added, “Like Conchobar. Don’t do this to me again. Please don’t do this to me again.”

Ian moved around in the narrow duct until he was positioned directly in front of his little brother. He lifted Dev’s face and slapped his bearded cheeks, saying his name sharply. At first, there was no response and the expression on Ian’s face suddenly grew grim. A little desperately, he slapped the clone harder. Both Ian and Sara laughed softly, and a touch hysterically, when Devian coughed raggedly and sputtered, “What are you trying to do – wake me or bruise me? Cut it out.” He lifted a weak, ineffectual hand to push Ian away from him. “That’s more like it,” Ian agreed, then asked, “Can you walk?” Dev snorted softly and replied, “At the moment, I seem to be having trouble sitting. I don’t think so. Go ahead and leave me here. You can send one of the Notties back for me.” There was a moment of silence while Ian considered that. Into that silence, Sara said harshly, “Bullshit. We’re not leaving you here alone. That’s not a option. If Ian can’t carry you, then I’ll stay with you until he gets help. We are not leaving you here, Sparky.” They both turned their heads to study her. Ian looked considering. Dev looked first stunned, then thrilled. Devian smiled at her sweetly and said, “It’s okay. Really. I don’t mind now.” Sara shook her head stubbornly and simply said, “No.” That single word brooked no argument. Ian smiled at his little brother and said, “I guess it’s my turn to carry you. Your job is to stay awake. Do you understand?” Devian weakly grunted assent. Sara touched Ian’s arm. “Are you strong enough to carry him, baby?” she asked, “Half an hour ago, you were staring at the ceiling and twitching.” He nodded and responded, “I’m almost back to full strength. I’m not weak any more, just sore.” He glanced apprehensively back the way that they had come and added, “We have to get moving. This delay is costing us.” She nodded.

Ian dropped down to the sewer below them and reached up to get Devian. Sara helped the clone move into the open end of the duct where Ian pulled him down and over his shoulder. Sara followed. The nasty sludge on the floor of the sewer came up to the middle of Sara’s thighs. She tried not to look at the debris that was floating on its murky surface. It was better not to know. The stench was terrible. “We’re going to have to burn these clothes,” she murmured. When she came up beside Ian, she saw that he was looking at his hands. They were red in the murky light. Ian turned toward her and said, “There’s blood all over his back.” Sara nodded and said, “I know. One of those big things slashed him.” A soft voice from the vicinity of Ian’s back husked dryly, “Hey. I’m right here you know. Don’t talk about me like I’ve passed on.” Ian chuckled and took off down the center of the sewer, moving as fast as he could against the drag of the deep, thick water. Sara tried to keep up with his long stride. By the time they reached the ladder up to the street, they were both exhausted. They paused at the bottom. “Is he still conscious?” Ian asked. Sara pushed her hand into the clone’s thick curls and felt a golf ball-sized lump, sticky with both dried and oozing blood. As she gently stroked his scalp trying to turn his head, Devian croaked, “Do that again.” Sara snorted and said, “He’s conscious all right.” She bent to look into the glazed, golden eyes and ask, “How are you doing, Sparky?” He smiled back at her crookedly, face upside down against Ian’s back and whispered, “I love you.”

Startled, she straightened quickly and glanced at Ian. He was studiously ignoring their conversation and studying the ladder above them. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded. He stepped back. “You go first,” he said. Her eyes narrowed and she replied, “Why? In case you fall? Not a chance. You lead. I’ll lend a supporting hand if it’s needed.” Ian sighed. He recognized the stubborn set of her lips and started to climb, the ailing clone draped over his shoulder like a cape. They were half way up the ladder when Devian moaned in a strangled voice, “I think I’m going to be sick.” The swaying and thumping against his brother’s back as he climbed, coupled with the nausea, had pushed him to the brink. Sara looked up at him, head hanging upside down above her, and growled, “It will be the last thing that you ever do.” The clone swallowed hard and struggled to master himself. Ian kept climbing. Seconds later, he was pushing at the heavy manhole cover above him. With a grinding sound, the cover gave way and slid to the side. Sunlight flooded into the dank hole and everyone squinted. Ian crawled out into an alley that, fortunately, was deserted. Sara followed and pushed the manhole cover back into place. Ian carefully rolled Dev off of his shoulder and laid the clone down flat. Devian hunched up, turned to the side, and vomited with an awful wrenching sound.

Sara was immediately at Devian’s side, holding him to her gently, pressing a tissue to his lips. He groaned deeply and curled away from her, getting sick again while she held him. When he was finished, she wiped his lips with infinite care. Sara turned to Ian and said, “We have to get him to Vicki.” Ian blinked. “We don’t know where Vicki is,” he replied. She suddenly realized that Ian had been unconscious when Dev had told her about Vicki. “She’s waiting in her car in the alley across from the Wolfram & Hart Building,” Sara said. Ian frowned. “Fuck,” he said with feeling. She looked confused. “What?” she asked. He shook his head and replied, “It’s one of the first places that they’ll look. We’re only a couple of blocks from there now. You stay here with Dev. If they haven’t already got her, I’ll go get her and bring her back with me.” Sara sighed. She didn’t like them splitting up but she couldn’t see any way around it. Devian was hurt too badly to be moved and she wasn’t about to leave him alone in the alley. “Alright,” she agreed, “Hurry.” Ian bent to kiss her quickly on the lips. Before he could go, Dev said weakly, “Wait.” Ian crouched down beside his brother. The clone pushed shaking fingers into one of his pockets and his dirty fingers came out clutching Excalibur. “You might need this,” Dev added. Ian nodded and slipped his ring back into its usual place on his right hand. Ian reached out to squeeze his little brother’s shoulder. “Hang on,” he said softly, “Help is coming. Stay awake.” Dev snorted. “I’m getting really tired of everyone telling me that,” he joked. Ian stood, smiling, his eyes briefly meeting Sara’s. Then, he was just gone.

Using his ring, Ian passed among the crowds on the sidewalks of Manhattan like a zephyr. Only a few, highly sensitive individuals even glimpsed him. To the majority, he simply wasn’t there. When he reached the opening to the alley across from the Wolfram & Hart Building, Ian angled his head to look down the length of it with great trepidation. He loosed a loud sigh of relief when he saw the nondescript sedan with the small woman perched behind the wheel. A startled pedestrian who had been passing close beside him, stepped backwards, wide-eyed. Ian grinned and sauntered over to the closed, driver side window of Vicki’s car. He tapped it hard with his fingernail. The roguish grin intensified when Vicki jumped, rapping her head on the roof of the car. She swiveled her head and craned her neck, frowning as she looked out the window. Ian realized that she couldn’t see him. He willed himself to be visible and, to Vicki, he suddenly materialized just outside her window. She jumped again and again hit her head on the roof. “If this keeps up, we’ll have two patients,” Ian thought. He made a motion indicating that she should lower the window. A disgruntled look on her face, Vicki lowered the window. “Move over,” he said, “Let me drive.” Her pixie face screwed up as she prepared to argue. He cut that short by barking, “There’s no time. Do it. Do it right now.” She did.

As Ian peeled the car out of the alley entrance, there was a loud shout from a brutal-looking thug who had been crossing the street toward the alley that they were leaving. Ian grinned and shouted, “Hah,” as he gunned the accelerator and pushed the small car out into the jammed, midtown traffic. He wove around cars like a maniac and in less than five minutes, pulled into the alley where he had left Sara and Devian. During the short drive, he had given Vicki the condensed version of what had happened and a fairly detailed description of the clone’s condition. As soon as he turned off the ignition, Vicki was in the back of the car moving suitcases, finding her medical bag, and clearing a place in which she could take care of Dev. Ian had also vaulted out of the car immediately, his heart sinking when he didn’t see them. Then, some large, cardboard boxes at the side of the alley shifted and Sara poked out her head. “We’re here,” she called, “A police car cruised down the alley and we had to hide.” Ian hurried over, asking, “Is he still awake?” She turned a worried face up to him and replied, “Barely. He’s not talking any more.” Sara held the quiet clone draped in her arms, his head lolling back against her shoulder. Ian crouched down and gently pushed his brother’s tumbled curls back out of his face. Devian was so pale that he seemed almost transparent. “He needs blood,” Ian said tensely knowing that look, “He’s lost too much of it.” Sara shifted Dev’s inert body a little, replying, “You must be his blood type. Vicki can give him a transfusion.”

Ian nodded and bent to lift his brother into his arms. He carried Devian to the car and eased him into Vicki’s arms, where she waited in the back seat. As he slid into the driver’s seat, Sara jumped into the passenger seat. Ian pulled out into traffic again, now heading toward their safe house/command center. Sara shifted to look in the back. Vicki was taking the vital signs of a semi-conscious Devian. “How is he?” Sara asked. Vicki was frowning; not a hopeful sign. “Not good,” the petite doctor replied shortly. She was too busy for casual conversation. “How far is it to where we’re going?” she asked Ian. He made eye contact with her in the rear view mirror. “Twenty minutes,” he replied, “Do you want me to make it less?” Vicki gave him a tight smile. “That would be good,” she agreed tersely. The speed of the small sedan increased. Sara watched Vicki work on the clone. It was easier on her nerves than watching Ian weave through traffic. Vicki lifted her head. Her concerned eyes met Sara’s. “His blood pressure is way too low,” Vicki murmured, “We need to get him somewhere safe and warm so that I can stabilize him. We need to get him there soon or we might lose him.” Sara’s eyes widened and her heart lurched. “No,” she gasped, “Oh, Vick, no.” Vicki shook her head and took his blood pressure again. “I can’t do anything really useful for him here,” she murmured, frustrated.

Ian skidded the car into an alley beside a large warehouse. He pulled a remote control out of his pocket and pressed a button. A large door slid smoothly up in the side of the building and Ian drove the car down a dark ramp. They emerged in the large basement of the warehouse. A few cars were already parked there, but the space was largely empty. Ian parked Vicki’s car by the door to a freight elevator. He turned off the ignition and they all hurried to care for Devian. Sara pulled up the door of the elevator while Ian got Dev from the back seat and carried the clone in his arms into the elevator. Vicki grabbed her medical bag and followed quickly. When they pushed up the elevator door on the top floor of the warehouse, Gabriel was waiting for them. “Hey, Chief,” he started, “This place is…Whoa! What happened?” Sara grimaced. “Long story,” she replied, “I’m glad you’re safe.” He nodded, serious again. “What can I do to help?” he asked her, adding, “That must be Devian, huh?” She smiled tightly, saying, “He’s not at his best at the moment. He’s usually a lot more lively than this.” Vicki went into high gear, telling Ian, “Take him into a bedroom.” Her head swung toward Sara and Gabe, dark curls flying as she barked, “Get me some clean cloths, hot water, plastic baggies, and some rubber tubing or straws if you can’t find that.” They flew off in all directions to obey her.

An hour and a half later, Vicki had Devian stabilized. She had taken blood from Ian and had transfused the clone with it. His face had some color again. She had cleaned and bandaged the deep claw wounds on his back. She had also taken care of the open cut on the back of his head. He was resting comfortably and seemed more alert. If he continued to improve, she would soon feel it was safe enough to allow him to sleep, which was what he really wanted and needed. The clone had asked for a cup of tea. Sara was making it for him now while Vicki continued to fuss over him. When Sara came back into the room, carrying the steaming mug, Dev gave her a weak smile. She handed it to him, then reached out to brush an errant curl back from his forehead. The clone shut his eyes and leaned into her hand. She quickly pulled it back and he sighed. Vicki looked away, frowning. Sara cleared her throat and asked, “How do you feel, Sparky?” His eyes had never left her. He was too weak to mask his feelings the way he usually did around her; his heart was in those wide, golden eyes. All he said, however, was, “Better thanks.” She sat down on the side of the bed and he unconsciously snuggled closer to her. Vicki had been returning medical supplies to her bag. Catching the tableau on the bed from the corner of her eye, she paused and stiffened. She could sense that the clone wanted to be alone with Sara. She was damned if she’d let that happen.

“You look better,” Sara said, running a finger down the back of the hand that didn’t have a needle in it. Dev shivered at her touch. She was caught in his melting gaze when she whispered shakily, “You did good.” He tilted his head and grinned at her cheekily. “Did I?” he asked rhetorically, “High praise indeed considering the source.” She shrugged, adding, “You proved yourself today, Dev. You really came through when it counted. I won’t forget it.” His grin got a bit broader. “I can think of lots of ways for you to show your appreciation,” he suggested. She stiffened and shifted to stand. He quickly caught her hand in his and squeezed it, saying, “Relax, Pez. I was kidding. You don’t owe me anything. I do what I do for my own reasons. I don’t expect payment.” She relaxed again, shaking her head. “Well, I think that was a new record,” she observed, “I think you actually went a whole five minutes before you pissed me off.” Still grinning, he pointed out, “See? I am trainable.” Fed up with their teasing banter, Vicki jumped in. “You should be resting,” she told Devian. He made a face. “Come on, doc,” he complained, “The Wielder perked me right up. I think she has a restorative effect on my body.” Sara snorted. “Is that what you call it?” she taunted. He gave her a sexy, suggestive chuckle. That’s it, Vicki thought. “Okay. That’s enough,” she said aloud, “You need to get some sleep. Your body requires rest to start to heal.”

Sara stood and Dev sighed theatrically. He looked up at her longingly. “I don’t suppose that I could convince you to ‘rest’ with me, could I?” he asked. She snorted, lips twitching. “Right,” she scoffed, “In your dreams, Sparky.” He nodded, repeating her words, “Yeah. I can always have you there, my lady; in my dreams.” She shook her head. The clone was incorrigible. She started to turn away and he caught her hand, begging, “Kiss me goodnight?” She might not be feeling this kindly toward him again for a while, he might as well take advantage of it. Sara hesitated a moment, cast a glance toward Vicki, and then bent down, intending to brush his lips with hers in a quick, chaste kiss. But, as weak as he was, his hand snaked up to catch the nape of her neck, holding her face to his. He pushed his hot tongue against her lower lip, licking and sucking. Dizzy, she opened her mouth to him, sucking his tongue inside and twining it with hers. He moaned softly and she immediately pulled back, panting. He followed her retreating lips, eyes still shut, and she stopped him with a gentle hand to his chest. “Goodnight, Dev,” she whispered, “Sleep well.” His feline eyes opened, amber now and heavy with passion. He was breathing hard. Sara stood and, without a backward glance, left the room. His eyes never left her.

Vicki cleared her throat but the clone’s eyes stayed on the closed door, as if he was hoping that Sara would change her mind and return. Vicki conceded defeat – this time. She went to the bed and gently tucked Devian in. Finally, his eyes, rich gold again now, shifted back to her. He sighed softly. Her heart melting, Vicki reached out to brush back a pale-streaked curl from his forehead. “Goodnight,” she said, turning the light down low, “Call if you need anything. I’ll be right outside.” The clone shut his eyes and mumbled, “Thanks, doc, for everything.” He was already half asleep. She adjusted the covers one more time and then headed to the door, leaving him to his dreams.

The next morning, there was good news and bad news for the small “Band of the Witchblade,” as the terrible two had dubbed them. The terrible two were Gabriel and Devian, who had become fast friends. Alone, each of them was a force to be reckoned with in the realm of “annoying to live with” but together, they were – well, terrible. This assessment was made by Ian, as he tried in his usual considered, methodical manner to get the command center functioning and began planning strategy for their counterattack. The women seemed to be more amused than annoyed by their antics – at least, so far – but they were already driving Ian crazy. After a solid ten hours of sleep with a minimum of disturbing dreams, Dev had woken feeling a bit stiff and headachy but considerably better. Vicki had checked him out and declared that he was well on the mend. She wanted him to stay in bed one more day to ensure that there were no residual effects from the head trauma he had sustained. If he was going to pass out, she didn’t want him doing it at the top of a stairway. Now that the clone was feeling better, he, of course, vociferously resisted those medical orders. He had learned to hate being alone and now here he was in a house full of people and they were making him stay in his room. It was like he was being punished and the large part of him that was still a child pouted. He could hear voices and lots of activity going on beyond his closed door but he couldn’t be part of it. It was driving him crazy.

It was in that frame of mind that Gabriel had found the clone when he knocked on his door. Dev had eagerly called, “Come in.” He had hoped that it was Sara, who had not come by that morning to visit. The clone was surprised when a complete stranger had poked his head in the room. He had immediately assumed that the young guy with the shaggy hair was a Nottie. Without preamble, the stranger said, “Well, you look a lot better than you did last night.” Devian gave the guy his cocky grin. “You might get an argument from Ian on that one,” he suggested, “I think he prefers me unconscious.” Gabe gave a sharp snort of amusement and replied, “With Nottingham, I’d guess that quite a few people fall into that category, including me.” Dev tilted his head. That didn’t sound like the blind adoration of a Nottie. Really interested now, he asked, “Who are you?” Gabe looked chagrined. He came toward the bed, holding out his hand, “Jeez, I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m Sara’s friend Gabriel. Gabriel Bowman.” Dev took the proffered hand and shook it. As he released the clone’s hand, Gabe noticed the expression that flitted across Devian’s face at the mention of Sara’s name. “Whoa,” he thought, “Another one; another guy that loves Sara. And all locked up in the same house together. This should be interesting.” Dev looked thoughtful now. “Sure. I remember,” he mused, “You’re the guy that sells all that weird shit – the talismans, artifacts, antiquities – that kind of stuff. Right? I thought that you’d be older.” Gabriel grinned back at the clone and observed, “I’m sure that I will be before all of this is over.”

Dev chuckled; he liked this guy. He didn’t seem to take things too seriously and he was too young to be yet another competitor for Sara’s affections. Those were two big pluses in his favor. Gabe dropped into the chair across from the bed. “So, how are you feeling?” he asked. Devian made a face. “I’m fine,” he replied, “But Vicki is making me stay in bed because I whacked my head.” Gabriel uttered a soft sound of commiseration. “Bummer,” he said, “Would you like me to scare up a walkman for you or is your head bothering you too much?” Dev tilted his head, curiosity evident on his face. “What’s a walkman?” he asked. Gabe looked flummoxed. “You’re kidding. Right?” he countered. Dev shook his head, wincing a little at the sharp pain produced by the movement. “Wow,” Gabriel said, “So, what, you’re like not into music?” The clone shrugged. “I haven’t really had much chance to find out yet. I’d like to learn about it though. Will you teach me?”

Gabe’s face lit up as he thought of all the music that he could share with someone who was hearing it for the first time. “Sure,” he agreed, “I’d be happy to. Hang on. I brought an extra walkman with me just in case. I’ll go get it. We’ll have you fixed up with some tunes in no time. That will help to pass the time, but my bet is that you’ll be up and around before the day is out. You don’t seem like someone who can be kept down for long.” Dev watched as Gabriel headed off to get his spare walkman and some of his favorite CDs for the clone. The kid barely knew him and already had his number, Devian thought. When Gabriel had knocked on the door, he had been working on ways to get around Vicki’s edict. And, just that suddenly, the solution had occurred to him. There had to be a couch or something in the living area where they were all congregating. If he had to stay prone, why couldn’t he do it there? Then, he could still be in the thick of things instead of being so isolated from everyone. There was the added benefit that Sara couldn’t avoid him if he was in their common area; at least, not as easily as she had been doing because he was stuck up here by himself. The kiss that they had shared the night before had electrified him. He had missed her so much. Devian wanted to be close to her. He ached to be close to her; the thought of it alone made his heart start to race. The door opened, and Gabe came in carrying the walkman and a stack of his favorite CDs. Ah, just the accomplice that he needed, Dev thought.

An hour later, Dev was ensconced comfortably on an overstuffed sofa in the large room that they were using as their command center. In addition to the sitting area that held the sofa, a love seat, and a couple of big easy chairs, there was a substantial work area that contained three long tables with chairs. The tables were covered with a variety of supplies. One held an assortment of sophisticated electronic equipment such as cameras, bugs, portable scanners, blockers, and other arcane devices. Another table held stacks of reference material to supplement the library in the bookcases against one wall of the room. There were maps, charts, scrolls, and even some artifacts that Gabriel had contributed to the mix, thinking that they might come in handy. The remaining table supported several top-of-the-line computers with all the bells and whistles; supplemented by accompanying paraphernalia like printers, faxes, copiers, and scanners. Two additional rooms adjacent to the main area completed the command center. One was the armory. It was part of Ian’s original design and held all manner of deadly devices, including guns with ammunition, knives, explosives, and other weapons of destruction. The second room, a laboratory, was new. It was a storeroom that had been converted in deference to the latest member of their command team, Dr. Po.

At the moment, Ian and Gabriel were manning the computers. Sara was doing an inventory in the armory; guns were something that she understood and it got her away from Devian’s adoring gaze. Vicki was setting up her lab. Dev was humming softly to himself on the sofa, about a quarter of the way through the large stack of CDs that Gabe had given him to play. Their first morning in the command center had presented them with a flood of breaking information. The good news was that everyone was safe and secure in their individual hideouts. Danny and his family had set up housekeeping in a deluxe brownstone in Chinatown, a place where they could blend in as wealthy locals. They even had a live-in Nottie nanny/tutor for the kids. Jake had woken to find himself already ensconced in his safe house. His anger with Vicki and Ian had given way to depression. Ian, like a master spider weaving a great web, had felt the tug on one of his silken strands and had immediately taken action. If any of his charges became seriously unhappy, they were likely to do something stupid and they simply could not afford stupidity; too much was at stake.

In response, Ian had made a switch in the Nottie that was responsible for Jake. He had replaced Brian with Megan. Megan had been smarting over her failure to keep Dr. Po under surveillance and, consequently, was eager to redeem her standing in Ian’s network. She had the added advantage of being a nubile blond transplanted from California and a former surfer; not in McCarty’s league, but not a novice either. So far, it looked like a match made in heaven and Jake was recovering from his depression quite nicely. In the command center, they were also settling in. No one had killed anyone else yet and Devian appeared to be recovering well from his injuries. The bad news was that Kendall Irons had been as good as his word. They were all over the front page of every newspaper in the city; the top story on every local T.V. station and, from early indications, it looked like a media blitz was beginning to build.

According to “irrefutable evidence” from “sources close to the investigation,” Ian had been identified as the mastermind behind Kenneth Irons’ murder. The newspaper said that the undefined evidence proved that Helga Strauss had only been a dupe, a willing tool that Ian had manipulated to acquire Irons’ billions. His lover, Detective Sara Pezzini, was accused of being Ian’s accomplice, as was his twin brother, Devian. It was also now emerging that the original investigation into the murder had been tainted; not by the detectives assigned to the case but by others working covertly within the Precinct. Detectives Woo and McCarty, Sara’s partners, were implicated in the cover-up, as was Coroner Vicki Po. The fact that they were all now missing and, presumably, on the run just threw gasoline on the rumors and innuendos already flaming out of control. It was going to be a big, big story. All over town, hack reporters were rubbing their hands together in glee. The only one who hadn’t been identified and pulled into the gathering scandal was Gabriel, and that was simply a matter of time. Although his business didn’t tie him directly to either Ian or Sara, except for his knowledge of the Witchblade – which was something that Kendall would never expose – Irons would find some way to implicate him and turn him into a fugitive as well.

The mood in the command center was grim. Ian had had conversations with both Danny’s and Jake’s Nottie guardians already that morning to gauge how they were responding to the unfolding situation. Although both detectives were distraught, they would hold tight for the moment. Until they had concrete proof of their innocence, they could do little else. That was the cage that held them all. They could rattle the bars as much as they wanted but until they found a way to disprove the lies that Irons had spread, they were trapped. Vicki wandered out of her new laboratory, running a hand distractedly through her already spiky curls. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Devian. The clone’s eyes were shut and his long, lean body was stretched out on the sofa, bouncing to music only he could hear through the headphones just visible in his ears. Her lips twitched. He certainly didn’t look like he was ailing any longer. At one of the computers, Ian lifted his head to look at Vicki and then followed the path of her eyes. Watching his brother boogie, his lips also curved into a reluctant smile. He’s such a kid, Ian thought. His eyes shifted back to Vicki and, still smiling, they shared a “Dev” moment. “Want a cup of tea?” she asked him. Ian nodded, adding, “Thanks.” Hearing voices, Gabriel’s head shot up. He had been so absorbed in his web surfing that he hadn’t noticed Vicki come into the room. Now, her eyes turned to Gabe and she asked, “Tea?” With a little moue of distaste, he countered, “Coffee?” She nodded. Her eyes caressed the oblivious clone one more time before she headed toward the large kitchen that was tucked behind the command center on the ground floor of the building.

The plot thickens, Gabriel thought. He turned to look at Ian who was working at a computer farther down the long table. “So,” he observed, “Dr. Po has the hots for Dev, huh?” Ian frowned and growled, “How is that any of your business?” Gabe’s eyes widened slightly and he held up his long, agile fingers in a gesture of surrender. “Whoa, pal. Don’t get bent out of shape,” he suggested, “Just making an observation.” In the pregnant pause that followed, Ian sighed softly and struggled to rein it in. He was cranky. Their world was disintegrating around them and he didn’t know how to stop it; that wasn’t this kid’s fault though. Nottingham shrugged and apologized. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “All this is making me a little testy.” He waved a hand vaguely at the computer screen. Gabe’s eyes returned to the banner headline he had been reading in the online version of one of the city’s leading newspapers. It blared: “Irons Murder Conspiracy Revealed!” For once, he could understand where the assassin was coming from. Gabriel imagined that they were all sharing the frustration of having someone else suddenly control their lives. Sara came into the room from a doorway to the left, wiping her hands on a dirty rag. Three male heads rose, simultaneously swiveling in her direction as if they were attached to a homing beacon. She smiled at Gabriel, then turned her full attention to Ian; studiously ignoring Devian whose wide, golden gaze avidly followed her like an adoring puppy.

Sara sat in a chair next to Ian at the long table, still wiping oil from her hands. She had been cleaning guns. It was one of those familiar, mindless tasks in her offbeat life that calmed her. Meeting his concerned eyes, she smiled and asked, “Are we going to have a powwow?” He returned her smile. “If you think that would be helpful,” he replied. She shrugged. “We might as well give ourselves the illusion of power,” she suggested, “Right now, we’re all feeling as if he’s taken over our lives; like he’s pulling all the strings. If we brainstorm to try to come up with some solutions, some actions that we can take, maybe we’ll feel like we’re getting some of our own back. What do you think?” He stretched out a hand to gently brush his knuckles against her cheek. It was the intimate gesture of a lover and both Gabriel and Devian, for different reasons, averted their eyes. “I think that you’re very wise,” he murmured. A pleased flush crept into her cheeks. “Nah,” she responded, “I’m antsy and being cooped up is already starting to drive me crazy. I need to do something.”

There was a pause before she added, “Is Vicki still setting up her lab?” Ian shook his head. “She came out a little while ago,” he told Sara, “She’s in the kitchen now making coffee.” Sara’s green eyes lit up and she snickered, “Girlfriend must be reading my mind. I was just thinking that I needed a good jolt of caffeine. That’s really what brought me back out here.” Her eyes flicked nervously over to the sofa and she visibly relaxed. Ian followed her gaze. Dev’s eyes were shut again; his head thrown back against the pillows as he listened to music only he could hear. Ian reached out to take her hand. “You’re going to need to acknowledge and come to terms with your feelings for him, Sara,” he said softly, “This living arrangement will be impossible for all of us unless you do.” Her eyes widened and her fingers clutched his spasmodically. “What do you mean?” she asked. Ian shrugged. “You know what I mean,” he replied, voice still soft. His eyes dropped now; no longer willing to meet hers. She knew what he meant alright. She just hadn’t realized that Ian was also aware of her conflicted feelings for the clone. “Shit,” she thought, “Here we are. Just a big, happy family locked together under one roof with the rest of the civilized world searching for us with blood in its eye.”

Sara cleared her throat. “I…, she began in a slightly strangled voice. She was granted a reprieve when Vicki returned carrying a large tray with a carafe, several mugs, cream and sugar. Before that consummate gentleman, Ian, could even move, Gabriel had shot to his feet to take the heavy tray from Vicki. He carried the tray to the coffeetable in the sitting area, where he set it down with a thump that garnered Devian’s attention. The clone sat up, startled, tawny eyes flashing wide. Gabriel grinned at his new friend as he flopped into one of the two large easy chairs. “Are you grooving on the tunes there, Dev?” he asked. Devian grinned back and nodded carefully, turning off the walkman and setting it aside on an end table. “I love the Beatles,” he enthused, “And I like Def Leppard and Nirvana and Smashing Pumpkins and…” Gabe held up his hand, laughing, as Vicki sat down in the other easy chair. “Easy there, bucko,” he replied, “I get the idea.” The clone smiled sheepishly and tried to master his repressed energy, turning it down a notch. “I’m enjoying the music immensely, Gabriel,” he added more calmly, “Thank you for introducing me to it.” Vicki started pouring mugs of steaming coffee as Gabe replied, “My pleasure, pal. I’m glad that you’re enjoying it.”

As Devian sat up, the throw that Vicki had draped over him when she settled him on the sofa slipped to the floor. He was wearing a pair of black, silk pajamas borrowed from Ian. With his usual desire to avoid constricting clothing, Dev had unbuttoned the pajama top. Now, it gaped open to show his sculpted, smooth-muscled chest and abs. Vicki froze in the midst of pouring coffee, her bright eyes fixed on his exposed skin, her lips parted. At that moment, Sara and Ian joined the group in the sitting area. They, appropriately, sat close together on the love seat. Seeing Vicki frozen in mid-motion, Sara followed her gaze and found herself studying Devian’s well-defined torso. The clone, of course, only had eyes for Sara. Feeling her attention on him at last, he desperately searched for the tiniest glimmer of desire to fuel his flagging hopes. Whatever he saw or thought that he saw apparently gratified him because the wide, golden eyes suddenly sparkled and the sensuous lips curved wickedly. Caught, Sara immediately slapped him down again. She grimaced at him and barked, “You better cover up there, Sparky, before you give Vicki a heart attack flaunting your manly pulchritude.” Gabriel snorted. Both Dev and Vicki blushed and dropped their eyes.
Head down, the clone buttoned his pajama top and pulled the discarded throw back up on to his lap to cover himself.

Vicki passed Sara a mug of coffee, a quick flash of accusation darkening her brown eyes. Sara stopped in the act of taking the mug and asked, “What?” The petite doctor gave her spiky curls a little shake and dismissed it, responding, “Nothing. Let it go.” She pushed the mug into Sara’s fingers and bent to pass a mug to Gabe. Ian lifted his separate mug of herb tea from the tray, his quick mind sifting through the myriad of impressions that he had gleaned over the last few minutes. Except for Gabriel, who was relatively unscathed, they were all dancing around each other so carefully. Most of what was going on between the other four people in the room was boiling just under the surface. “So much water already under the bridge,” Ian thought, his mind flitting among several incidents in their recent past. Vicki glanced over at Dev, whose head was still lowered. “Do you want some coffee?” she asked him. He lifted his head and met her eyes. She felt the jolt right down to her toes and had to fight to keep from showing it. “Please,” he replied softly, subdued now. She swallowed hard as she poured another mug of coffee. As she handed him the steaming mug, they were both careful not to touch fingers. Devian squirmed slightly as if Vicki’s longing for him were a physical caress that he could feel roaming over his body. When the clone carefully sipped his coffee, above the rim of his mug, the big, golden eyes met hard, green eyes that studied him cautiously across the table. In his unguarded gaze, Sara could see confusion, hurt, and aching need. Unable to deal with him right now, she turned to Ian and asked, “So, how are we going to get out of this mess?”

Gabriel was watching all of the interactions with avid eyes. He was fascinated by the undercurrents that he sensed among this group of people with whom he was suddenly sequestered. Oddly, he could even understand the attraction. The clone had a strangely innocent quality that was coupled with an overt and compelling sexuality. It was like he had it in spades but he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with it. It was an arresting combination of qualities. Both Vicki and Sara were obviously drawn to his guileless sensuality. Vicki wasn’t trying to hide it; was, in fact, almost blunt in her pursuit. Sara, on the other hand, was denying it for all she was worth. Briefly, Gabe wondered if Vicki might have more success with the clone if she seemed disinterested; perhaps Devian only pursued what he thought he could not have. And where did Ian stand in this strange quartet, Gabriel mused. Although he seemed almost protective of Dev, would that concern remain if Sara gave in to her desire instead of denying it? It was a witch’s cauldron of emotion to be sure; both unleashed and repressed. He supposed that his own feelings for Sara would just be so much light seasoning in such heady stew. With all the unexpressed desire floating in the air, his best course of action was to remain the trusted friend rather than add to the current erotic muddle.

In response to Sara’s question, Ian shrugged, carefully drinking his tea. “I’m open to suggestions,” he said, adding, “Does anyone have any?” Vicki leaned forward a bit hesitantly. An idea had occurred to her as she read one of the newspaper accounts on her computer in the lab. “What about this Mrs. Strauss?” she asked, “Even though it isn’t legally admissible, a lie detector test is a convincing argument. Would she take one? She could exonerate Ian, couldn’t she?” Sara turned to her friend with a wry smile. “Yes, she could,” she agreed, “Unfortunately, she could also implicate Devian.” Vicki looked startled. “What?’ she asked, “Why? What did he do?” Dev turned toward her and smiled ingratiatingly. “I gave Mrs. Strauss the narcotic that she used to kill Irons, doc,” he responded, “Not with murder in mind – although the outcome didn’t displease me. I only asked her to ensure that the fucker slept through the night. She, of course, had her own agenda.” Vicki pushed a hand through her hair. “Shit,” she mumbled, “Well, scratch that idea.” There was a pause before Sara asked, “Who’s in charge of the investigation?” She hadn’t read any of the news stories. After looking at a couple of the headlines, she had shut down and headed off to the armory to take inventory and clean some guns. With a knowing smile, Vicki answered her. “Captain Dante himself has taken it on,” she replied, adding, “Detective Petzini.” Sara made a face. “Oh, well. That’s just swell,” she moaned, “He already hated my guts. This will just be added incentive.”

Harking back to every film noir he had enjoyed, Gabriel asked Ian, “How about an alibi? Have you got one?” Ian shook his head. “When Irons was dying, I was drugged and restrained in the laboratory below the mansion. Unfortunately, the only two ‘disinterested’ parties who could testify to that are Irons himself or Dr. Immo.” Gabe shook his head, seeing that there was no help there. “What about you two?” he asked, glancing from Sara to Devian. There was a long pause while Sara looked at the floor and Devian cleared his throat. The clone finally focused directly on Gabriel and explained, “We were together. Alone.” The implication was obvious. They had been doing each other when Helga had offed old Kenny; while Ian had been chained in the basement. “Jeez,” Gabe thought, “Talk about a tangled web. Talk about not knowing the players without a scorecard. No wonder there are all these furtive glances.” He gave his sharp snort of laughter as everyone studied their fingernails. “Okay,” he observed, “No alibis to speak of then. I guess we’ll have to find another way.” As Vicki poured herself more coffee, she asked, “What about using their own tactics against them? What about bribing someone to give you an alibi?” Ian shook his head. “I’ve got a healthy back account,” he agreed, “But now that the clone has inherited Mr. Irons’ estate, I’d be way out of my league. Whatever payoff I could make, he could outbid. And I won’t threaten someone’s family. He wouldn’t hesitate. It’s a contest we can’t win.”

Vicki nodded, understanding. They would be inhibited by their own morality. It was a bizarre situation all around. Devian leaned back, lifting up his long legs to stretch them out again on the sofa under the throw. He met his brother’s eyes and said aloud what they all were thinking, “We’re fucked.” Into the heavy silence that followed, Sara whispered, “There’s got to be a way to get our lives back. There’s got to be.” After another moment, Ian leaned forward and said, “Maybe there is. I have an idea. It’s a long shot and it will take planning and luck. But, if we’re careful and thorough, it just may work.” He had their undivided attention. Sara turned to him and looked deep into his clear, golden eyes. “Come on, then, ace,” she said, “Stop building the suspense. What’s the plan?” He stared back at her for a moment before he said, “Immo. Immo is the plan. Grab him and turn him.” Sara shut her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. Then, she grabbed the carafe and dumped the remaining coffee in her mug. It gave her about half a cup. “Forget it,” she scoffed, dismissing the idea, “Immo is a company man through and through. You’ll never convert him.” Ian stood lithely and began to pace. “Dr. Immo was a company man when Kenneth was the CEO,” he rationalized, “I suspect working for Kendall may begin to strain his loyalties.” Now, Devian threw in his support. “I think Ian is right,” Dev concurred, “Immo and Irons had been together for years; they were even friends of sorts. The clone treated the good doctor like hired help. That will gall Immo. After a while, he could be ripe for the picking.”

Sara looked thoughtful as she seriously considered the implications of bringing Immo over to their side. “What if he has to expose Kendall as a clone?” she asked. All eyes shifted to Devian. He lost some color and bright spots of red flared on his high cheekbones. “I hope that we can avoid that,” he murmured, “Because I think we all know that Kendall would certainly out me as well. If that happens, it won’t just be the media frenzy – though that will be sheer hell. If that happens, I’d bet my test tube that some covert government agency will want to take me apart to see what makes me tick. I would be a very unhappy lab rat.” The clone dropped his eyes, embarrassed to be talking so directly about his basic nature. “Sparky,” Sara said softly. He lifted his head again to meet her eyes. “I give you my word,” she said, “That we won’t let anyone take you away from us to be studied in some laboratory. We won’t let that happen.” She turned to Ian who had stopped pacing to stand still and stare at her. “Will we?” she asked him. He turned toward the clone. Golden eyes locked on golden eyes. “No,” Ian agreed, “We won’t let that happen.” After a moment, Devian nodded, accepting their assurances. “Okay,” he replied, “So the first thing that we have to do is find Dr. Immo. Do you think he’ll go back to the laboratory at the mansion now that the other shoe has dropped?”

Sara shook her head, trying to think like the opposition. It was one of the tricks that she used in an investigation; one of the skills that made her such an effective detective. “They’ll know that we’re desperate; that we’re trying to find a way to get some leverage,” she explained, “My bet is that Kendall will keep Immo under wraps.” Gabriel grinned, rubbing his long-fingered hands together. “That means that we’ll have to find the sucker,” he deduced, adding, “Fortunately, you have me on your side. I live to crawl over firewalls.” Everyone but Ian smiled. Sara looked into her lover’s somber face. It was amazing how quickly Ian had become their leader; the wizard of the Band of the Witchblade. Not even Devian questioned his easy adoption of that position. “Don’t worry, Ian,” she told him confidently, “We’ll find Dr. Immo. And when we do, we’ll make the fucker work for us instead of against us for a change.” The thought of how to make best use of such an opportunity finally brought a smile to Ian Nottingham’s molded lips.