"Blood Seduction"

When Sara got to the top of the steps, she sat down; suddenly unable to go further. She could hear Dev and Ian talking in the master bedroom. If she strained her hearing, she could even hear Vicki and Gabriel trading playful insults as they finished making dinner. She had never felt so alone in her life. She took several deep, calming breaths and gently splayed her right hand across her nearly flat stomach. “There’s a baby growing inside me,” she thought, “I’m going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.” She shivered and her fingers clenched spasmodically. The sound of the old robe she still wore tearing brought her back to herself. When she looked at her wrist, she saw that the blood-red stone of the Witchblade was roiling like the surface of a sorcerer’s cauldron. She brought the bracelet up to her face so that they were eye to eye. “You arrogant bitch,” she hissed at it venomously, “What gives you the right to play with people’s lives this way? What gives you the right to turn us into pawns in some cryptic power game where only you know the rules? I hate you.” A sudden flash of scarlet from the stone hit her retinas and made her blink. It was accompanied by a surge of heat against the tender flesh of her wrist. She shook her hand in frustration, as if she would fling the imperious Object of Power into the shadows at the bottom of the stairs, and growled, “Fuck you!” The Blade, of course, remained secure in its seat of power at the base of her hand. Sara felt impotent to maintain any control over her own life in the face of the bracelet’s callous manipulation.

She shut her eyes and brought her breathing back under control. This acrimony was pointless. It would solve nothing, change nothing. She could rant and rave the night away and in the morning she would still be pregnant. It was time to focus on the practical, she thought; time to tell Ian…and Devian. And what if Dev was the father? How would Ian feel? He could afford to be generous in sharing her affection when he obviously came first, but how would he feel if she was carrying another man’s child? Sara shook her head sharply as if to rid herself of such thoughts. This was not the time. There were still too many unanswered questions for such speculation. Focus on the practical, she told herself again; do it now. Gripping the wall, she pulled herself to her feet and sucked in a ragged breath. She walked slowly to the master bedroom and stood quietly in the open doorway. Ian was stretched out on his side on the bed, facing Devian who sat cross-legged in the easy chair. They were engrossed in conversation and did not immediately notice her presence, giving her the time and freedom to study them. One of these men was the father of her child. They were so alike and, at the same time, so different; a strange dichotomy of the identical. How curious that Ian had naturally assumed the role of tribal elder in their Band; it made Dev seem that much younger somehow although their chronological age was the same. Ian suddenly became aware of her and looked up, interrupting her ruminations on the nature of their duality. With his characteristic sensitivity to her, Ian knew immediately that something was wrong. Sara saw his body tense and then he was off the bed and by her side with his usual eerie fluidity of motion. Between one second and the next, he was just…there. Frowning with concern, he asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Sara sighed and managed a wan smile. “You might want to sit back down for this one,” she replied. Ian slipped his arm around her back and led her back toward the bed. “Why don’t we both sit down?” he suggested. Glancing at the silent, but now wary Devian, he asked, “Does this affect us both or do you want one of us to leave?” They sat together on the side of the bed facing Dev, who was now hunched forward in the easy chair. With limber grace, the clone’s legs came untucked and he bent to capture her cold hands in his warm ones. She realized that the look on his face was concern; he was worried about her. “It’s okay, Sara,” he crooned soothingly, “Whatever it is, it will be alright. We’ll get through it together. Don’t worry.” She relaxed a little, her smile broadening. Ian’s arm was tight around her shoulders, supporting her. Devian was holding her hands in his. She had two strong, beautiful men that loved her; one of them was the father of her child. Things could be a lot worse. There was no simple way to work up to it so she just said it: “I’m pregnant.” She heard Ian gasp and Dev’s hands suddenly gripped hers so hard that it was painful. She tugged on their joined hands and hissed, “Dev.” He immediately released her hands, murmuring, “Sorry.” Devian had slipped down from the chair to kneel on the floor before her. Now, he sat back on his heels and dropped his head. Ian turned her in his arms, hugging her close to his body. Cuddling her against him, he pressed soft kisses on her hair and forehead. “That’s wonderful,” he whispered hoarsely, too choked up to say much more.

Finally pulling back to study her face, Ian asked the question that she had been expecting, “Who’s the father?” Sara met his eyes without flinching. “I don’t know,” she replied softly, “In another couple of weeks, Vicki can run DNA tests to determine the paternity. Until then…” She left the thought hanging and shrugged. Ian blinked. “DNA tests won’t determine paternity between Dev and I,” he said, “He’s my clone, Sara. Our DNA is the same. If you don’t know from the timing, then we’ll probably never know.” He responded to the stunned look on her face with a brilliant smile. “It doesn’t matter,” he assured her, obviously thrilled with the news, “It will be our baby regardless. We’ll both be its father.” His head still down, face lowered, Dev softly interjected, “No.” As both Sara and Ian turned to look at the clone, there was a knock on the half-open door. Vicki stood in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready,” she said, adding, “Did you tell them?” Sara nodded, studying the still form kneeling before her. Another pressing question nagged at edges of her mind though and she turned back toward her friend. “You said that we could do an amniocentesis to determine the baby’s paternity,” she challenged. Vicki nodded. “Ian says that won’t be possible because he and Dev have identical DNA,” Sara continued, finishing her thought. Vicki nodded again, then replied, “That was true when Dev was first decanted. It has not been true, however, since the Iuncturas.” Ian looked at the diminutive doctor, eyes wide. “The Blade altered our DNA?” he asked, “Dev’s and mine?” She nodded yet again. “Yup,” she agreed, “When I did the blood work, I found that you both now have strands of alien DNA that are unique to each of you and serve some purpose known only to Sara’s pretty bracelet.”

Sara looked relieved. “Then we will be able to find out who is the baby’s father,” she said. There was a soft sound from the floor at her feet and she looked down at the top of the clone’s head. With the first faint stirrings of annoyance, she asked him, “What’s wrong with you, Sparky?” Devian finally raised his head and looked back at her. His golden eyes were dull, muddy. “You don’t have to run a test,” he whispered, “The baby is Ian’s. It can’t be mine.” She looked confused. She turned to glance at Ian but he shook his head, his eyes locked on Devian. “Why not?” she asked. Dev pulled in a ragged breath and softly replied, “The baby can’t be mine because I’m sterile. We weren’t cloned to reproduce. Ian is the thoroughbred, the breeding stock. I’m the mule. At least, that’s how Immo described the old man’s reproductive rationale. I wish with all my heart that you were carrying my child, Sara; but it’s just not possible. It’s Ian’s baby.” The clone stood awkwardly and held out his hand to his brother. “Congratulations,” he murmured, eyes lowered and hidden behind lush lashes.

Ian sat still for a moment, assailed by a variety of conflicting emotions – relief, guilt, joy, and even a sympathetic twitch of pain for his brother’s loss. Then, he stood and pulled the clone into a quick, manly embrace; hugging him tight and releasing him again a moment later. Dev tottered off balance for a minute and then he headed toward the door. When he neared Vicki, she tried to catch at his hand, saying, “C’mon and eat. Dinner’s getting cold.” He evaded her touch and turned back to say softly, “I’m not really hungry and, right now, I’d be a wet blanket. I need to be alone for a while. You guys go and celebrate. I’ll be fine. I just need a little time. It’s good news. Go and celebrate it.” The clone quickly slipped out of the room and went down the hall to disappear into his former bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Vicki studied the closed door and sighed. A moment later, she turned back to gaze at the pair sitting side by side on the bed. Ian had his palm pressed flat against Sara’s stomach and there was a look of absolute wonder on his handsome face. Sara was watching his expression with a small smile flitting around the corners of her lips. Vicki cleared her throat and they both looked up startled, as if they had forgotten that she was there. “Dinner is getting cold,” she said, “Gabriel is going to have my head if he cut all those vegetables for nothing.” Sara nodded and stood, saying, “I’m starving. What is it?” Vicki frowned. “Some sort of pasta creation of his own design,” she replied, “It looked good though.” Ian stood too and caught his lover’s hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Let’s eat,” he agreed, adding, “We’ll save something for Dev. He might be hungry later.”

An hour later, they sat around a table filled with empty dishes. Vicki, Gabriel, and Ian were sharing a bottle of merlot. In deference to her newly discovered condition, Sara sipped bottled water. Gabe had pried the news out of Sara before they had finished their salads. He was thrilled that he was going to be an honorary uncle. He was also worried about his buddy, Dev; as they all were. They had evaded the topic all through dinner, wanting to keep it festive, but he was on all their minds. Gabriel took a big swig of wine and mumbled, “Every time he starts to forget, every time he starts to believe that he’s a regular guy like us, something happens to remind him where he came from.” Ian nodded in agreement. “I imagine when Immo told Dev that he was sterile it didn’t bother him much. How could he know that he was going to fall in love with Sara and that his inability to have a child with her would hurt?” he mused. Vicki held her glass in both hands, swirling the ruby liquid around and looking into its depths. “I’m not convinced that that’s true,” she murmured. Sara squinted across the table at her friend and asked, “You don’t think he’s really torn up about being sterile?” Vicki shook her head. “No,” she clarified, “I’m not sure that he is still sterile.” They all studied her, surprised.

“Why do you think that?” Gabe finally asked. Vicki shrugged. “Think about it,” she replied, “We know that the Witchblade has altered Dev’s DNA. It initiated a second Iunctura between Dev and Sara. We know that the Iunctura was a true mating ritual with the purpose of bearing a child. I don’t think the Blade would have instigated the ritual with Devian if It didn’t know that he could father a child. It neutralized Sara’s birth control. If It could do that, why couldn’t It also make Dev fertile?” Sara was nodding slowly. “You’re right,” she admitted, “It makes sense. Is there a way to test him?” Now, Vicki grinned ruefully. “You bet,” she responded, “And I’m sure that he wouldn’t object to having you help him produce a specimen for me to use.” Gabe emitted a sharp bark of laughter. “Specimen?” Sara asked. He laughed again. “Dev needs to come in a bottle, Chief,” Gabriel explained, “The doc needs his semen.” Sara cleared her throat, coloring slightly. “Oh,” she mumbled, “I thought maybe another blood test…” She glanced toward the stairs. Ian figured that he could afford to be magnanimous. In his heart, he was convinced that Sara’s baby was his. “Why don’t you take him some dinner?” Ian suggested, “And get Vicki her sample. Bring him to bed with us when you’re done.” Vicki’s face settled into an expression of shock but she held her tongue. Sara smiled and asked, “You don’t mind?” Ian shook his head.

While Sara put together a tray for the clone, Vicki refilled her wine glass. She took a healthy swig. Gabe also poured himself more wine before Dr. Po finished the bottle; that writing was on the wall. It had occurred to him that this whole situation must be kind of hard on her too. It had probably been difficult enough for her to deal with her yen for Dev when he was lusting after Sara; if the clone was now the father of her friend’s child, he imagined that Vicki would have to concede defeat. Maybe he could take a break from Immo quest for one night. “Hey, doc,” Gabriel drawled, “I don’t suppose you play backgammon, do you?” She peered at him owlishly over the rim of her glass. “In my misspent youth,” she replied, “I was good enough to hustle.” He grinned. “We are still talking about the board game?” he asked, “Aren’t we?” She narrowed her eyes and reached for the wine bottle again. “You’ve got a sharp mouth on you for such a kid,” she observed, words starting to slur around the edges. He laughed. “I may be young but I’ve been around the track a few times,” he pointed out, “Why don’t I scare up another bottle of that merlot while you dig out the game and set it up. What do you say?” Vicki stood a bit unsteadily and headed off in search of the backgammon set, throwing over her shoulder. “I say that you should prepare for a trouncing, sucker. I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”

Sara looked at Gabriel and silently mouthed, “Thank you.” He stood, inclining his head. Gabe, too, wandered out of the room, mumbling, “Now, where’s that stash of wine?” Left alone in the kitchen, Sara looked down at Ian, who was still sitting at the table finishing his tea. The tray that she held in her hands had a full plate of pasta, a small salad, a full glass of wine, and a small, conspicuously empty glass upon it. “Are you sure about this?” she asked. Ian nodded. “I’m not jealous of Dev, Sara,” he said, “I’ve come to terms with it. For better or worse, our lives have been enmeshed by the Witchblade. There’s no point in fighting it. It’s a fact. What we need to do now is to learn how to make it work for us rather than against us.” Her brilliant green eyes brimmed with the love that she felt for the strong, wise man he had become. “When did you get to be such an adult?” she asked, teasing him. Ian laughed, taken by surprise. “You’re just seeing me in comparison to Devian,” he responded, tawny eyes dancing, “He’s still such a kid that it makes me come across like Yoda. My insecurities are all intact, believe me. This whole adventure has temporarily shifted me into a new role. That’s all it is.” Sara shook her head. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ian,” she told him, “That new role suits you well. You’re going to make a terrific daddy.” His beautiful golden eyes got very bright and he dropped his head. “Now see what you did to me,” he murmured hoarsely, choking up. She smiled and set the tray down on the table. Sitting down on his lap, Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss on the top of his lowered head.

“You are,” she whispered into his thick, fragrant hair. Ian raised his head and they looked into each other’s eyes. “I know that this isn’t what you wanted right now, Sara,” he said softly, “I know how ambivalent you were about having a child at this point in your life. I hope that you’re not too upset about the way this has turned out. I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier for you.” She bent to brush her lips across his and she felt his warm hand stroking her stomach. When she looked in his eyes, she saw that they had darkened to amber and were wide with wonder. “I didn’t even know that I wanted this,” he whispered, a touch of awe in his low voice, “Now that it’s happened, I’m thrilled. You and I have made a new life. We’re having a child, our child. I don’t have the words to describe what I’m feeling.” Sara shut her eyes and said a brief prayer that the baby was truly Ian’s. When she opened her eyes again, she cautioned, “Ian…” He bent his dark head to nuzzle her neck with sweet lips. “I know, I know,” he murmured, “The baby might not be mine.” He lifted his head and looked at her again before he added, “But I know that it is – in here.” He placed a hand over his own heart. She brushed a curl back off his forehead as she moved off his lap. “I’ll try not to be too long,” she said, picking up the tray, “I’ll bring him back with me. You going up to our room now?” He nodded. “I’ll do the dishes first,” he replied, “Then I’ll meet you there.”

Standing in front of the closed door to Dev’s old room, Sara juggled the tray in her hands so that she could knock softly. There was no response. She sighed and tried the knob. It wasn’t locked. She pushed the door open slowly and stopped just inside. The lights were off and the room was dark. Moonlight pouring in the single large window provided the only illumination. It was enough to show her the hunched shape of the clone draped across the room’s only chair. Sara carefully made her way over to the bedside table and set down the dinner tray. Hands now free, she perched on the bed facing the silent shape framed in moonbeams. “Are you sulking, Sparky?” she wanted to know. He made a soft sound but didn’t answer her. She tried again. “I brought you some dinner,” she said, “It’s probably not hot any more but I don’t think it will matter too much. Gabriel made this terrific pasta that will be just as good cold.” This was also met with silence. Sara sighed theatrically and asked, “Are you listening to me?” He made another muted sound before clearing his throat to reply, “I’m not hungry.” There were a couple of feet separating them. She reached across it to take his hands in hers. Devian pulled back, evading her touch. “Please,” he whispered, voice raw, “Just leave me be. There’s no point in this. I’ve just been kidding myself. I’m not a person. I’m a thing. You’ve been right all along. I wasn’t made to have a life or to create it; I was made to have a purpose. I was made as a tool. I’m not a ‘he’; I’m an ‘it.’ I’ve got to stop wanting things that I can never have. It hurts too much.” He drew in a hitching, ragged breath. She waited, not sure whether he was done with his little tirade, but apparently he had run down.

“So what’s the plan?” Sara asked, “You going to isolate yourself from the rest of us? Live like a hermit so you won’t have to feel any pain? Sounds pretty dull for a fun-loving guy like you, Sparky.” The clone shifted in the chair, his long body beginning to telegraph annoyance. “Good,” she thought. He was starting to get angry. Anger was infinitely better than this self-destructive self-pity. Anger she understood; anger she could deal with. “Piss off,” he growled. Sara grinned. That was better. “Or what?” she taunted him, “You going to make me wallow in your angst along with you? You going to make me drown beside you in that sea of self-pity?” Dev drew in a sharp breath and shot to his feet. He walked to the window and stared out, presenting her his broad back. “You really are a bitch,” he hissed, then added softly, “It’s a mystery to me why I love you so much; just one more useless thing that I don’t understand and never will, I guess.” She got up and followed him to the window. Slipping her arms around his slender waist, she pressed the front of her body tight against his warm back. “You love me because I’m so lovable,” she teased, “There’s no mystery to it.” He made a rude sound and she laughed. She felt a little shudder run through his long frame. “I’m tired, Sara,” he whispered bleakly, “I don’t think I can do it. I could share you with Ian, knowing that you love him and that you don’t love me, that I’d always be second; but I can’t watch the two of you have a baby together and become the doting uncle. That’s breaking something inside of me that I can’t put back together. I don’t know why I feel this way. I just do.”

Sara nodded, not trying to dispute what he had said. She could sense the true emotion in his voice. For whatever reason, her pregnancy had pushed the clone to a point of no return. Dev wasn’t playing; his present had become desperate; his future questionable. She took a deep breath and warned herself to proceed with care. It wouldn’t do to attempt to tease him out of this one; it was too serious. “I need you to try to step back from this for a few minutes, to try to be objective if you can,” she said levelly, “Can you do that for me?” Devian turned his head and his chiseled profile was outlined in moonlight. There was a long pause before he replied, “What the hell. Sure. I can try.” But his voice still held a tone of defeat and despair that was deadly. Worried now, she pressed, “Just listen to me with an open mind. That’s all that I ask.” He sighed and turned to face her. She got a good look at his full face for the first time. He looked utterly wrung out. He looked older. Sara drew in another shaky breath and asked, “Can we sit and talk?” Dev didn’t move for a moment, but then he waved a hand toward the chair and she let go of him. The clone walked back across the room with Sara following close on his heels. He dropped into the chair in that boneless way of his and she stood looking down at him. Wanting to be close, she asked, “Can I sit on your lap?” He looked up at her and the moonlight cast a feral, golden gleam in his wide eyes. But his head immediately dropped down and he murmured, “Not now. Okay? I need to keep some distance between us.” She fought against the sudden rejection that she felt but respected his wishes; instead, she settled on the edge of the bed.

“I have something to suggest to you,” she said, “The rationale is Vicki’s and it makes a lot of sense. So, just hear me out. Alright?” He didn’t answer. He waved that long-fingered hand at her again, directing her to proceed. Sara gulped in air and said, “You know that Vicki found that the Witchblade had altered your DNA when she tested your blood. So, obviously, the Blade has altered your genetic makeup in some way. Right?” Devian nodded, conceding that point. “Okay,” she continued, “We also know now that the purpose of the Iunctura was reproduction. It was a mating ritual. The goal was a baby.” This time when she paused he didn’t nod; but he was watching her avidly and she could almost see the wheels starting to turn in his head. “Why would the Witchblade have initiated an Iunctura between you and I unless it had also altered your DNA to reverse your sterility?” she asked rhetorically, delivering her coups de gras. She had definitely captured his attention. He was thinking about it alright. He suddenly leaned forward in the chair. “You’re right,” he replied, his whole demeanor sharper, “It makes no sense to initiate a mating ritual with a mule.” Sara frowned. “I wish that you would stop calling yourself that,” she mumbled. She saw him shrug. “The Blade is many things,” he mused, “But It certainly isn’t stupid. It has a purpose. If It could manipulate your body chemistry to nullify the birth control, I suppose It could also modify my body chemistry so that I was no longer shooting blanks.” Sara snorted and replied, “Delicately put, as ever, Sparky.” He rubbed his hands together. “So,” he said, the characteristic bravado returning to his voice, “How do we find out for sure?”

Sara grinned. “You’re really going to like this part,” she replied, “Vicki needs a sample. How about you come over here and let me take it from you?” In the dim light, she watched one dark brow wing up. “You’re going to take more blood?” he asked. She chuckled and responded, “It’s not blood that she needs this time, Sparky. Oh, and you may want to get out of those clothes. They’re going to get in the way.” She saw it click and then saw the sudden flash of his white teeth in the darkness. “Hot damn,” he growled, pulling his sweater over his head and dropping it to the floor. He stood fluidly and his hands moved to the fastenings of his tight jeans. Her voice stopped him. “Why don’t you let me do that?” she suggested. Still grinning, he took a couple of steps forward and pushed her legs apart with his, so that he was standing between her parted thighs. “Knock your socks off,” he purred. She laughed as she felt his long fingers dig into her hair. Looking up, she saw that he was still grinning down at her, his tawny eyes glinting with deviltry. “Well,” she observed, “You’ve certainly perked right up, haven’t you?” Devian gave her hair a little tug and pointed out, “A whole new world of possibilities has opened up. You better brace yourself, baby. My kid is going to be a kicker.” She popped the snap on his jeans and tugged at the zipper, only to find that he was already hard. He was also wearing no underwear – of course.

Sara shook her head, amused in spite of herself. “Your kid is going to be a handful,” she agreed, pulling the jeans down over his narrow hips and muscular thighs. His freed erection now stood high and straight against his flat stomach. “Just like you,” she added, punctuating her statement by wrapping her hand around the thick, hard heat of him. A soft hum of desire rumbled through his long body. Dev made a sound like “Mmmmm,” before he formed a coherent word that she could understand. It was: “More.” Bending forward, she licked the few shining drops off the head of his shaft and began to stroke him in a tight, fast rhythm. She stopped and glanced up again. The clone’s head was thrown back, eyes shut. He was panting loudly. “Hey,” she called. His head fell forward, the jungle-cat eyes flashing open wide and smoky. “You better warn me when you’re ready to come,” she reminded him, “I need to catch your cum in that glass.” He gave her a lazy grin, his eyes shifting to the glass on the tray. “You’ll know when I’m coming,” he assured her huskily, “Most of the house will probably know. And you better get a bigger glass.” She smirked back at him, shaking her head. That’s my boy, she thought. Her cocky Dev was back in spades. Just to knock that grin off his face, she dropped her head, still holding him in her hand, and sucked as much of his erection into her mouth as she could manage. Once she had him there, she used an arched tongue and gently scraping teeth to tease him unmercifully. Devian went nuts. Every muscle on his long, hard body suddenly strained into sharp relief and he groaned with deep, hoarse need, “Oh god, Sara. Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” The fingers he had entwined in her thick hair clutched her head to him with a rigid, painful grip.

The clone had been right, Sara thought. She was sure that everyone in the house could hear him. Dev was uttering little hoarse cries that sounded like they would carry for quite a distance. Where her other hand gripped his taut bottom, she could feel almost constant tremors shivering through the supple muscles under her fingers. He was close; too close. She tried to pull back but Dev was utterly lost and was holding her head so tight that she couldn’t move. “Glass…,” she managed in a garbled croak, still holding him in her mouth. Something must have finally edged past the haze of lust in his brain because the clone loosened his grip enough for Sara to pull back. She grabbed the glass and held it over Devian just as he erupted, his whole body arching. This time, she was sure that everyone in the house must have heard him; and maybe the entire neighborhood as well. With shock, she realized that he had called it correctly. The clone filled the glass and then stained the clean sheets that he’d put on the bed that morning when she had to pull them over to absorb the overflow. Spent and shaking, he sank to his knees, dropping his sweaty head into her lap.

Sara carefully transferred the filled glass back to the tray, vaguely thinking that it looked like skim milk. She felt Dev wrap his arms around her legs as he pushed his shaggy head farther on to her lap. He was breathing so hard that it sounded like he would never quite catch his breath again. She could feel his racing heart still pounding against her leg where his chest was pressed. Digging the fingers of one hand into his damp curls, she rubbed his hot, quivering shoulder with her other hand. “How are you doing?” she asked softly, “Are you okay?” The heavy head in her lap gave a tiny nod before emitting a long, low groan. That was followed by a brief, stunted snort of amusement. “I think everything below my waist has melted and fused,” he grated. She giggled and observed, “Well, that would be a pity.” Pushing her fingers deeper into his locks, she stroked his scalp. She knew that he loved it when she did that. A sound like a molten purr vibrated from his body into hers. “Can you move?” she asked. There was a long pause. “Not yet,” Dev whispered, voice still husky, “Give me just a little longer.” They sat there quietly for a good five minutes with Sara caressing his hair as he cuddled close to her. Finally, she said, “You should put some clothes on, Sparky. You’re going to catch cold.” One of those soft rumbles passed through him. “I’m fine,” he murmured. She smiled, giving her head a small shake. “Are you hungry yet?” she asked. That brought his head up. “I’m starving,” he replied, a note of surprise in his voice. He levered his long body up off the floor and wrapped himself up in the top sheet from the bed. As he reached for the wine, she cautioned, “Don’t drink the milk.” Dev picked up the wine glass and mumbled, “Very funny,” before taking a big gulp of merlot.

While Devian sat back in the chair, balancing the dinner tray on his lap, Sara gingerly picked up the specimen glass. “You chow down, sweetie,” she said, “I’m going to take this down to Vicki. I imagine that it has to be labeled and refrigerated.” The clone had stopped with a forkful of pasta halfway to his lips. She had called him “sweetie” instead of the usual “Sparky.” It gave his heart a quick flutter. When he could breathe again, he asked, “What then?” She smiled as she watched him put away pasta as if he hadn’t eaten in a month. “Whoa,” she warned, “Slow down. You’re going to give yourself indigestion.” He just shook his head and kept shoveling it in. “I’ll come back when I hand this off,” she continued, “Then, I’m going to go to bed. You’re welcome to join us.” He nodded and started on the salad.

When Sara got halfway down the stairs, she knew that things were too quiet. The light in the big, work room was low but she could see that Gabriel was back at his computer. “What happened?” she asked, “I thought you guys had a backgammon challenge going?” His head shot up and he hissed, “Shhh.” She stopped and looked at him quizzically. He lifted partway up out of his chair and pointed across the room toward the sofa. Sara turned her head and squinted to find Vicki Po curled up under an afghan, snoring softly. She tiptoed over to Gabriel and slipped into the seat beside him. “Too much wine?” she whispered. He nodded and replied, “She conked out toward the end of the first game; which I was winning, by the way. I had a hell of a time getting her up off the floor and over to the sofa.” Sara grinned. “You are a prince,” she told him. He grimaced. “That’s what all the girls say,” he teased, “Look at the good that it’s done me.” His gaze shifted to the filled glass that she had placed on the table in front of her. His lips twitched. “If you plan on putting that in the fridge, you better put a label on it,” he said, “Otherwise, there could be a tragedy.” Sara chuckled. “I plan to,” she assured him, “Did you hear him?” Now, he laughed and nodded. “Oh yeah,” he replied, “I think folks in Long Island heard him; although Vicki slept through it, which is probably a good thing.” Sara sighed, looking over at her sleeping friend. “I know,” she murmured, “I wonder how she’s going to take it if the baby is Devian’s.” Gabe shrugged and responded, “She’ll deal with it. Bottom line is that Dev loves you, Chief.”

Sara nodded, then said, “Well, I’m going to get this specimen chilling and head off to bed. Don’t stay up too late.” Gabriel had turned back to his computer screen. “I won’t,” he replied, “But I’m getting close. I can almost smell the little weasel I’m that close.” Curious, she asked, “What are you on to?” He grinned, happy to explain his clever pursuit. “Immo has high blood pressure,” he explained, “Small wonder, right? I’ve been tracking orders and deliveries for the medication that he takes; working to narrow it down. I really think that we might get him this way if I just stay with it.” She nodded again, yawning. It was a good path that he was taking, she thought. It might actually pay off for them at that. “Yeah,” she agreed, yawning again, “Well, don’t stay with it all night. The trail will still be there in the morning.” She stood and headed toward the kitchen, calling softly over her shoulder, “Night, night, Gabe.” Without taking his eyes from the screen, he called back just as softly, “Night, night, Chief.” In the kitchen, she found tape, paper, and a pen. On the paper, she wrote: “Don’t drink this.” She covered the small glass with a plastic lid and taped the note to the side of the glass. Then, she put the marked specimen in the refrigerator. That done, she headed back upstairs.

When Sara got back to Dev’s room, she found him asleep in the chair; the tray was still across his lap, the dishes now empty. She lifted the tray and set it back on the bedside table. Although she debated whether to wake him so that she could bring him back to the master bedroom with her, in the end, she decided to let him sleep. The emotional turmoil had probably worn him out. She pulled the cover from the bed and spread it over the clone, gently tucking it around him. She bent down to press a soft kiss against his parted lips. Devian smiled in his sleep, licking his lips with the tip of his pink tongue. “Sleep well, Sparky,” she whispered. She tiptoed out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. Stifling another wide yawn behind her raised hand, she went to join her other Nottingham.

Sometime in the wee hours before morning, Devian had woken in his old bedroom, made his way down the hall, and crawled into the huge bed in the master bedroom. When Sara came awake early Monday morning, she was toasty because she was sandwiched between two Nottinghams. One of them was spooned against her back. She was draped over the back of the other, her leg thrown casually over his muscled thigh and her face buried in his fragrant curls. Still half asleep, she ran her fingers over the warm back in front of her and felt the six nearly-healed claw marks there. “Dev,” her mind groggily informed her; then it was Ian ranged against her back. Smiling, she let her hand trail lower to give the clone’s perfect butt cheek a friendly pinch. He shifted a fraction under her fingers and made a soft, disgruntled sound in his sleep. He obviously was not ready to greet the day. Moving carefully, she rolled over until she was facing in the other direction; now she was looking at Ian and giving her back to Dev. Ian was still sound asleep too. She leaned forward and blew a long breath of warm air in his face. His nose twitched slightly before his face relaxed once more into peaceful lines. Grinning, she stretched out again and flicked her tongue to run it slowly along his full, bottom lip. That definitely had more of an effect. One sleepy, golden eye opened slowly as the rest of his beautiful face settled into a frown.

Ian studied her briefly before his eye closed again under its own weight. Sara stretched out her hand to run the tips of her fingers over his angular hipbone. She soon dropped her fingers lower and began playing with the crisp hair at his groin. He made a soft sound that landed somewhere between a grunt and a groan. She continued industriously twirling the short hair around busy fingers. When she tugged a bit too hard, both of his eyes finally opened wide and he groaned in earnest. “What time is it?” he croaked, reaching down to capture her playful hand in his. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles. The clock was behind her on the bedside table, so she replied, “You can see the clock better than I can. You tell me.” She watched him lift his shoulders off the bed to see over her; then saw his eyes widen as he suddenly saw Dev stretched out against her other side. “When did our company arrive?” he asked, “He didn’t come to bed with you, did he?” Sara shook her head. “I left him sleeping in the chair in his old room,” she replied, “I don’t know what time he came in here.” There was a pause before she added, “We did invite him though.” Ian sighed and dropped flat on the bed. “I don’t have a problem with him being here,” he murmured, eyes shut again, “I was just surprised to see him.” She pushed a gentle fist against his washboard abs. “So,” she asked, “What time is it?” Not opening his eyes, he answered, “Six-thirty. Too early to get up. Go back to sleep.”

A rude sound came from the vicinity of her back. “If you too are always this mouthy in the middle of the night, I may have to move back to my old room,” Devian growled, “Pipe down and let a guy get some sleep.” Ian chuckled. “That’s two against one,” he teased her, “Get up if you want but there won’t be any coffee because I’m going back to sleep.” Sara raised herself up on an elbow and looked disdainfully down at Ian Nottingham. “That’s how it’s going to be, is it?” she whined, “And I thought that you two would take care of me while I go through this kid thing.” Ian pushed his face deeper into the pillow. She could barely hear him when he responded, “Oh no, you don’t. I know you too well, Sara. If we start to let you use this like a club, you’ll beat us both into submission and keep us there until you have the baby.” From behind her, another voice was heard. “You tell her, bro,” the clone chimed in groggily. Sara swung her head around and challenged, “Hey. You just got here, Sparky. You want to stay?” Devian promptly shut up, curling his body into a tight ball to make himself a smaller target and pulling the pillow over his head.

Satisfied that she had cowed the clone, Sara turned back to Ian – only to find that he had gone back to sleep. “Damn it, Nottingham!” she growled. On both sides of her, big, tawny eyes cracked open and sleepy matching baritones queried, “What?” At that moment, as if in retribution, her first bout of morning sickness hit her with a vengeance. “Oh god!” Sara wailed, one hand holding her stomach and the other hand covering her mouth. Dev, lying closest to the bathroom, was blocking her path to the commode. She rolled right over him and off the bed, hitting the floor running. As she slammed the door shut behind her, Devian and Ian sat up in bed, simultaneously turning their heads toward the bath. Muted sounds of retching came through the closed door. Looking distressed, both men rolled across the bed to head toward the closed door. Ian put his hand on Dev’s shoulder to stop him and said, “I’ll go this time. Why don’t you see if we have some decaf coffee beans? She shouldn’t have caffeine now and you know that she’ll still want her coffee.” Ian could see by the stricken look of horror on the clone’s face that the ramifications of Sara not being able to have her morning coffee were sinking in. Devian moved naked to the door, mumbling, “I’ll figure something out. Good luck in there.” Dev was half way out the door when his brother stopped him, calling, “Dev.” The clone halted, turning his head. “Clothes…,” Ian warned. Devian glanced down at himself, hissed, “Shit,” and headed to the closet.

Letting himself into the bathroom, Ian found Sara on the floor, hunched over the toilet. His face set into lines of concern, Ian pulled a washcloth off the rack and doused it with cold water. He dropped to his knees beside her and lifted her face. She was parchment pale. Slipping an arm around her, he gently wiped her face with the cool cloth. Sara dropped her head to his broad shoulder and groaned gratefully. “Thanks,” she croaked. With his other hand, he rubbed the small of her back soothingly. “Is there anything else that I can do for you?” he asked. She cleared her throat noisily and froze for a moment, hanging on the edge of getting sick again. Shutting her eyes, she fought the nausea down. When it was better, she managed a weak smile and responded, “Some water would be nice.” He moved so fast that it almost made her dizzy. A couple of seconds later, he was handing her their generic bathroom cup filled with cool water. She drank it slowly, carefully. When she was finished, Ian asked, “Is it better? I don’t like you being on this cold floor. Can I take you out of here now?” She frowned, wondering what he meant. Sara poked at her stomach with the fingers of one hand, as if she was trying to figure out what the baby was going to do next. She took a deep breath and responded, “I think I’m done. Yeah, you can ‘take me out of here,’ I guess.” He nodded decisively, then got rid of the cup and the cloth with quick, economic motions. When his hands were free, he bent and lifted her carefully in his arms. “Wait,” she said. He stopped while she shifted in his arms to drop the toilet seat back down and flush. “Okay?” he asked when she had finished. She nodded and let her head fall to his warm shoulder.

Back in the bedroom, Ian sat in the chair, still holding Sara in his arms. She lifted her head and looked around. “Where’s Sparky?” she asked. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her clammy forehead. “Dev is on coffee duty,” he explained. Her expression turned woeful. “Vicki told me that I’d have to stop drinking coffee because of the baby,” she opined. Stroking her hair, Ian replied, “Don’t give up hope yet. The clone is on the case.” Sara smiled. “The clone is on the case?” she echoed, mystified. He nodded, stretching out a long arm to snag the blanket from the bed. Ian settled her more comfortably on his lap, wrapping the blanket snugly around her. “Warm enough?” he asked. She smiled indulgently in response to his ministrations. “I’m okay now,” she responded, adding, “I thought that you weren’t going to indulge me. I seem to remember you saying something about me using the pregnancy like a club.” He cleared his throat nervously. “Whining and being manipulative are one thing,” he explained, “Falling prey to morning sickness is something else again. You deserve a bit of pampering after going through that.”

Feeling warm and comfy, Sara snaked an arm around Ian’s neck and angled her face between his chin and shoulder. Moving her other hand across his bare chest, she started to lick and suck the sensitive spot at the side of his neck. A second later, her fingers found his hard, flat nipple which she immediately tweaked into arousal. From deep in his throat, a soft sound somewhere between a purr and a growl emanated. She felt the vibration under her lips and hand. “More?” she whispered, her voice muffled against his skin. He made the sound again, punctuating it by adding, “Oh, yes.” She smiled, thinking about the differences between them – where Devian was primal, wild; Ian was civilized, considerate. This morning, when she was feeling slightly fragile, Ian was exactly the one that she wanted and needed. She lifted her head and asked, “Can I have a kiss?” He gave her a heart-stopping smile. “Of course you can,” he assured her, “You can have as many kisses as you can stand.” She slid her fingers up his chest to lightly stroke his sensuous lips. He kissed her finger tips, pulling the middle finger into his hot mouth to suck it slowly. Something low in her belly quivered. “Pucker up,” she whispered, bending her face to press her mouth to his. Her hand fell to his shoulder and clung there. The first kiss was soft and sweet. The kiss after that began to change when she felt his warm hand slip up under her tee shirt to cup her breast; his thumb delicately rubbing her sensitive nipple.

Suddenly, they were necking passionately. When they ran out of breath, they came apart, panting loudly. They were about to start all over again when there was a soft knock at the door. Sara sucked in more air and called, “Yeah?” There was pause before Devian’s hesitant voice said, “I have coffee – decaf French Roast – it’s the good stuff. Should I come back later?” She looked at Ian who was still trying to catch his breath. Sara lifted one eyebrow questioningly. He studied her for a moment, then observed, “You really want that coffee, don’t you?” Her laugh was low and self-deprecating. “Am I that transparent?” she asked. He pushed a thick lock of honey-brown hair back from her forehead and placed a soft kiss there. “Only to someone who knows you well,” he assured her, “Go ahead and have your coffee. We can pick this up again later.” That was all she needed. “C’mon in, Sparky,” she called. Dev nudged open the door. He was carrying a tray holding a carafe, some mugs, and a box of crackers. He stopped just inside the door when he saw Sara cuddled up on Ian’s lap in the chair. Sara’s eyes had been on the coffee; but, when he stopped, her gaze shifted up to the clone’s face. Although it only lasted for a moment, she saw Devian’s eyes darken to flinty amber. Frowning, she tried to decipher the expression on his face. It suddenly hit her – the little shit was jealous. Their eyes met and she watched him immediately wipe the emotion off his face until it was carefully blank again.

Now, Sara was annoyed with him. The clone had no right to be jealous of Ian; after all, he was only sharing this room with them at Ian’s sufferance. Her voice was cool when she asked, “You going to stand there all day, Sparky? What’s in the box?” Feeling the chill, Dev tried to be casual about serving her as she sat on Ian’s lap. Carefully controlling himself, the clone brought the tray over and set it on the bedside table. He sat on the bed across from them. “Saltine crackers,” he replied, “They’re supposed to settle your stomach.” They both stared at him, nonplussed. Sara turned to Ian and lifted her brow; her arms were still wrapped around his neck. “Vicki must be awake,” Ian surmised. How else could Dev have come by such an arcane piece of knowledge? “Nah,” Devian interjected, “Nobody else is up yet. It’s quiet as a tomb downstairs.” Taken aback, Sara forgot that she was annoyed with him. “Then how did you know that?” she asked. He shrugged. “Does it matter?” he countered, wishing that she would get the hell off of Ian’s lap. Her eyes narrowed as he started to work her nerves again. “I’d like to know,” she replied, voice deceptively soft, “Indulge me.” He sighed. “I looked on the internet,” he answered, “No great mystery. They’re supposed to be good for morning sickness. If you don’t want any, that’s fine. I was just trying to help.” His head was down and his knuckles were white where his hands clutched the mattress beside him.

Sara decided that it was time to change the subject. “So,” she said, “I assume that this coffee is decaf, huh?” His head came up and their eyes met again. She could tell that it was bothering him that she was still sitting on Ian’s lap. Well, that was just too bad. “Decaf always tastes like shit,” she added with a sneer. The clone’s tawny eyes narrowed now. He was looking like he might prefer to douse her with the steaming brew rather than serve it to her. Devian stood and replied, “It’s Starbuck’s decaf French Roast. I went scouring all over the damn neighborhood to find something that I thought might be close to the real thing for you. Drink it or not; in fact, use it as an enema for all I care. That might actually improve your personality.” Before she had a chance to reply, he was gone; slamming the door shut behind him. There was a long pause before she observed, “Well, isn’t he just Little Mary Sunshine this morning. What the hell is he so pissed off about?” Ian dropped his head to hide a smile. Too late; she caught it. “What’s so funny?” she asked, leveling her ire in his direction now. Ian held up one hand in mock surrender. His other hand was still soothingly rubbing her lower back. “Want to try the coffee?” he wisely suggested. She shrugged, a trifle mollified, as he eased her off of his lap and bent forward to pour her a mug from the carafe. Sara accepted the steaming mug with all the aplomb of the Queen Mother.

She took a small, careful sip. Eyes widening, she slurped in a healthy gulp and said, amazed, “This is really, really good. It can’t be decaf.” Watching her enjoy the coffee, Ian replied, “Dev wouldn’t mess around with something like that. It’s decaf alright.” Remembering the clone’s initial reaction to seeing her with Ian, Sara said softly, “He’s jealous of you, Ian.” There was a little pause before he nodded. “Of course, he is,” he responded calmly, “He knows that you love me and he thinks that you only want him for sex. He’s in love with you, Sara. Why wouldn’t he be jealous?” She frowned. “He should be grateful to you,” she said, voicing her earlier thoughts out loud, “If it weren’t for you, he’d still be alone in that room down the hall.” Ian shrugged. “I imagine that he is grateful to me for sharing,” he observed, “But I have the one thing that he wants more than anything else in the world. Devian’s many things but a saint isn’t one of them. He’s still learning what his emotions are and finding his way in trying to deal with them; his jealousy should be no surprise to you. I’d say that it’s pretty normal, all things considered.” As she poured herself another mug of coffee, she murmured, “It makes me nervous. I’m still not sure how far we can trust him. What if he decides that life would be easier with you out of the way?” Ian shook his head. “He’s not stupid, Sara,” he replied, “He realizes that getting rid of me wouldn’t necessarily open the way for him. If it did, then I might be worried.”

Sara opened the box of Saltines and began munching on a cracker. Her eyes widened again. “He’s right,” she acknowledged, “These suckers really do settle my stomach. I’ll be damned.” Ian studied her before he pointed out. “You know you were a little hard on him, love,” he said, “He was as concerned as I was when you got sick this morning. I think that he was genuinely trying to help and, as usual, he managed to rub you the wrong way in the process.” She sat on the bed, nibbling another cracker. Finally, she shrugged, conceding that he had a point. “Yeah, okay,” she mumbled, “I guess he did go out of his way to get me the coffee and the crackers. I guess I could have thanked him for that.” Ian decided to let it go; that was probably as close as Sara was ever going to come to admitting that she might have been wrong. “What are you going to do today?” he asked. Her eyes strayed to the big box in the corner. “I’ve got a date with my past,” she replied, smiling. He nodded, then cautioned, “Be sure to keep everything together in the box when you’re done.” She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Why?” she wanted to know, “What does it matter where I keep it now?” He frowned. “We have to be careful about getting too comfortable here, Sara,” he reminded her, “All of Irons’ flunkies and a good portion of the city’s police are looking for us. We might have to leave here quickly. If we do, you want to be able to take your treasures with you. You need to keep it in that box so that we can just sweep it up if we only have seconds to get out of here.” She looked troubled. “I’d almost forgotten,” she murmured.

Ian stood, smiling ruefully. “That’s usually when all hell breaks loose,” he pointed out. She acknowledged that with a nod. Drawing the last cracker from the pack, she asked, “What do you have planned for today?” He had been heading toward the bathroom. In the doorway, he turned and replied, “I need to check in with the network. I’ll get an update on the others and pass it along to you. Then, later, I have another surprise for you.” Sara studied him fondly. “You’re really trying to keep me from going stir crazy, aren’t you, baby?” she asked. He shrugged. “I know that this inactivity is wearing on you,” he agreed, “You’re used to working the streets to solve your cases. I can hardly expect you to fill your time with passive pursuits like computer research or knitting booties, can I?” She gave him a predatory sliver of a smile. “Not if you expect to keep all of your body parts intact,” she confirmed, “Do you have a plan to salvage them?” The expression on his face was both hopeful and wary. “Maybe,” he replied, “I have some thoughts. We’ll talk about it later. This morning you have plenty to keep you busy in that box. I’m going to take a shower. Want to share?” Sara considered that for a moment, then shook her head. She picked up the empty carafe and said, “Thanks but I’m going to see if there’s any more of this coffee in the kitchen.” As she headed toward the door, he called, “Try not to kill Devian until I’m available again to referee. Okay?” Her reply floated back as he shut the bathroom door: “I make no promises.”

Sara stopped in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene before her. Vicki sat hunched over at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as if it was all that was keeping her anchored to reality. Dev sat on the kitchen counter, his dangling feet swinging in a rhythm to some jazzy riff that only he seemed to hear. Although she hadn’t been able to hear what he was saying, the clone’s mouth had been going a mile a minute until he had spotted Sara coming through the doorway. Then, he had shut up fast. Vicki’s head turned very carefully to discern what had caught Devian’s attention. She moved her head as if it contained glass bubbles filled with nitro glycerin. The expression on her face was relief overlaying acute misery. “Thank god,” Vicki said to Sara, her tone close to a moan, “Make him stop.” Sara studied Dev with narrowed eyes. His shoulders had hunched and his feet had stopped swinging. “What’s he done now?” she asked accusingly. The clone lowered his head. “I haven’t done anything,” he mumbled, adding sarcastically, “But don’t let that stop you from blaming me for it.”

“He woke me up,” Vicki hissed. Her fingers dug through her hair leaving a spiky trail in their wake. The clone sighed loudly. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he hissed back, “How was I supposed to know that you had passed out on the fucking couch?” Vicki made a strangled sound and gulped some more coffee. “That’s not the worst of it,” she continued, pleading her case to Sara, “Once I was so rudely awakened, all I wanted was to get some coffee and be left alone in my misery. My head is several feet high and made of porcelain this morning. But he proceeded to devil me like some harpy straight from the depths of hell.” Now, Devian made a rude sound. “If you want to insult me properly, at least get the sex right,” he challenged, “The portion of a harpy that wasn’t avian was female, not male. Since I joined this human sideshow, no one has ever confused me with a woman. I may be straight from hell, but I am straight.” She couldn’t help it; that made Sara chuckle. Her eyes met Dev’s and she did see the devil there now; it wasn’t malicious though, it was just Devian. “What are you bugging Vicki about, Sparky?” she asked. He shrugged negligently. “I was hoping that she could do the test as soon as possible,” he mumbled, “That’s all. I need to know the results.” There was a pause before he added with admirable understatement, “It’s kind of important to me.”

Sara nodded. She understood. It was, after all, kind of important to her too. On the other hand, they didn’t want Dr. Po screwing up the results of the test because she was monumentally hung over and she needed to decompress with a few gallons of her morning coffee. As her eyes absently drifted over the mug in Vicki’s hands, Sara had a horrible thought. “Hey, Vick,” she breathed, “You didn’t happen to put milk in that coffee, did you?” Vicki lifted her head, studying her friend with bleary, red eyes. “You know that I drink my coffee black,” she answered irritably, “Why would I decide to use milk out of the blue?” Sara shrugged. “Oh, because it was there in front of you and you weren’t thinking too clearly,” Sara responded. Suddenly, following Sara’s train of thought, Dev erupted with a deep, infectious belly laugh. Sara’s lips twitched although she carefully avoided the clone’s mischievous eyes. Vicki looked from one to the other and asked, “Did I miss something?” That made Devian laugh harder. When he could manage it, he snorted out, “Only the best ‘milk’ you would ever have. Of course, there is more where that came from.” Now, Sara was laughing helplessly with visions of some very odd pastures dancing through her head. Vicki was completely perplexed. “What is with you two?” she asked, adding, “I wish you’d settle down. My stomach isn’t up to such frivolity this morning.”

Sara lifted the box of Saltines from the tray that she had carried back downstairs and pushed it across to Vicki. “Here you go,” she said, “It turns out that these are really great for settling your stomach.” Now, her eyes did find Devian’s. His golden gaze softened to deep, smoky amber as he silently accepted her unspoken apology. “How was the coffee?” he asked her. Her regard shifted to his sensuous lips before she reined in her perusal. “The coffee was excellent,” she responded graciously, “Really top notch. Thanks for finding me a substitute. Now, if you could find me an alternative for the rush I got from caffeine in the morning, we’d be in business.” The smile that had been playing around his lips went wicked. “I have just the thing,” he assured her, tongue in cheek. Sara flushed. She could think of better places for his tongue to be. Vicki cleared her throat loudly as she still munched on a cracker, effectively stopping the mental foreplay that had been flying from one side of the room to the other. “Okay,” she remarked sourly, “I guess I’m ready to brave the lab now. Where is this sample of yours?” Dev’s eyes met Sara’s again before he said, “It’s in the fridge, doc. In a small glass; looks a lot like skim milk.” Vicki stopped crunching her cracker in mid-bite, a tiny smile playing around her lips. “Ah,” she said, finally getting the joke.

Devian vaulted off of the kitchen counter, saying, “Well, I guess I better get started with Immo search. Gabe will be up and grumbling in another hour or so and I like to make him feel guilty.” As he sauntered out of the kitchen, both women watched the way his jeans clung to his excellent derriere. It was obvious that, as usual, he couldn’t be bothered with undergarments. Sara shook her head. “Like a couple of small animals fighting under a blanket,” she whispered reverently, using the analogy that someone had once applied to the way Marilyn Monroe jiggled when she walked. “Amen,” Vicki seconded. They both seemed to shake themselves back to reality, their eyes meeting in womanly complicity. “I have a rendezvous to keep with my memories,” Sara said, standing, “It turns out that Ian saved all my albums, pictures, and other personal stuff from the fire.” Vicki’s eyes went wide. “Then he knew about the fire in advance?” she asked, “It was Irons? Did Ian set it?” Sara shook her head. “Ian was in Germany when he found out what Irons was going to do,” she explained, “He couldn’t stop the bastard; so, he did what he could. He hired a thief long distance to go in and steal my stuff. Ian said the guy couldn’t figure out why Ian wanted him to gather up all this ‘crap’ and leave all the things that were easy to fence, like the T.V.”

Vicki reached out to take and squeeze her friend’s hand. “He did a good thing,” she observed, “I remember how miserable you were that you had lost the only tangible memories you had of your parents.” Sara nodded, getting a little misty as she gently dropped Vicki’s hand and headed to the doorway. She turned back to ask, “Will you let me know as soon as you have the results of Dev’s test?” Vicki nodded. “Sure,” she assured Sara, “Have fun.” Sara smiled and disappeared through the doorway with a little wave. Vicki ate another cracker, starting to feel vaguely human again as her stomach finally stopped rolling. She got up to pour the last of the coffee into her mug and to take the milky fluid in the small glass with the cryptic note on it from the refrigerator. Vicki chuckled softly as she read “Don’t drink this” and thought irrelevantly of “Alice in Wonderland” and growing too big to fit in the house. Still chuckling, she headed into the lab to find out whether the Witchblade had transformed Devian from a mule into a stud. Personally, she thought that the answer to that question was obvious; but what did she know anyway.

An hour later, Vicki’s suspicions had been confirmed: Devian was spectacularly fertile. When she looked up from her microscope, rubbing her red and itchy eyes, she found the clone himself standing in the doorway shifting nervously from one foot to the other. There was a rather poignant, pleading look in his wide, golden eyes. “Well?” he asked hesitantly. A teasing remark flitted through her mind and she immediately abandoned it; the look in his eyes told her that this was way too important to him. “Your sperm count is almost absurdly high,” she told him, “You are definitely not – how did you put it? Shooting blanks? In fact, you are actually loaded for bear – or Wielder, as the case may be.” Devian let out a whoop of triumph that was certainly heard upstairs. Vicki figured that she wouldn’t have to bother to tell Sara. To say he was thrilled, didn’t really do the emotion apparent in every line of his long body justice. The clone was ecstatic; he was also obviously convinced that Sara’s child was his. Vicki couldn’t stop herself from bursting that bubble. “Dev,” she said, trying to catch his attention. His head swung sharply back to her, caught by her tone of voice. “What is it?” he asked, suddenly cautious. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she pointed out, “Just because you’re fertile, doesn’t necessarily mean that the baby is yours.” The tense arch of his shoulders relaxed. Although it was unspoken, the immediate shift in his posture clearly said, “Is that all?” Aloud, he assured her, “It’s my baby. I know it. The kid is mine.” Then, the look in his eyes softened to a limpid glow that made her belly clench. “Ours,” he corrected in a voice like crushed velvet.

“I have to go tell Sara,” Dev blurted, a happy kid again as he dashed from the doorway of the lab. The remains of Vicki’s hangover suddenly combined with a wave of intense longing and irrational jealousy. Head down, she hissed, “Shit!” Her hand snaked out to blindly connect with the now empty “specimen” glass sitting on the table. She snatched it up and hurled it across the room where it shattered against the wall with a nerve-jangling tinkle. Hot tears stung her irritated eyes. If she had ever had a remote chance with the clone, it was gone now, she thought. At that moment, her eyes lit on the tray of test tubes holding the semen samples that she had been testing and a shocking thought entered her head. It suddenly occurred to her that she could try to impregnate herself with Devian’s ultra-potent sperm. If she couldn’t have the man, at least she might try to have his child. Stunned with the thoughts that were running through her mind unbidden, Vicki covered her mouth with a shaking hand and shut her eyes. What on earth was wrong with her, she wondered. What in holy hell was she thinking? She put her head down on her arm and let herself have a little cry – but her tearful gaze kept straying back to the rack of samples and her mind kept chugging away, tugging at her will.

A half hour later, Vicki knocked on the door of the master bedroom. Down the hall, she could hear the excited chatter of Devian and Gabriel drifting out into the hall. She was so distracted for a moment that she almost didn’t hear Sara’s soft response of “Come on in.” Vicki opened the door to find Sara sitting cross-legged in the middle of the big bed, her treasures spread all around her. On the floor beside the bed, the large cardboard box was empty. Sara took one look at her friend’s face and asked, “Are you alright, Vick?” The petite coroner returned a wry smile and countered, “Are you?” Sara shrugged. “I guess I expected it,” she replied, “I wasn’t surprised.” She dropped her head and seemed at a loss for a moment. “He’s so excited,” she added, “He wants me to share it with him; be as thrilled as he is. He wants me to feel things that I don’t. I think I disappointed him. He slunk off to Gabriel, licking his wounds.” She shrugged again, seeming half apologetic and half defiant in defense of her feelings or the lack of them. Vicki waved a hand, quietly relieved by Sara’s cavalier dismissal of the clone. “You can’t manufacture what you don’t feel,” she commiserated. Sara nodded in agreement.

After a brief pause, Vicki cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable. Her eyes settled everywhere but on the bed. Every time she fixed on it, her eyes skittered away again like night dwellers encountering stark sunlight. Sara had stopped what she was doing to study her friend with narrowed eyes. “Spit it out, Vick,” she ordered. Vicki cleared her throat again as if something unpleasant were lodged there. “So, did I hear it right last night?” she finally asked, “Is Dev moving in here with the two of you? You’re sleeping – and I use the term euphemistically – three to a bed now?” Sara tilted her head, a dangerous glint entering her eyes. “Is that condemnation that I hear in your voice, Vicki?” Sara asked softly, “Are you judging me? And how is my sex life of any concern to you anyway?” Now, Vicki showed some steel as well. “At the moment, your sex life and its ramifications seem to be the focal point around which the entire house and all its occupants revolve,” Vicki countered, “So, don’t get on your high horse with me, Pez.” Sara’s face fell as she realized the truth in Vicki’s accusation. She hated feeling so exposed; hated the lack of privacy that their situation and the close quarters forced upon her. Sara liked a healthy air of mystery to surround her and now she felt uncomfortably exposed to scrutiny where she would have preferred some distance. She didn’t like it. It made her testy.

“Not that I have to explain myself to you,” Sara prefaced, “But the decision was Ian’s. The connection that the Blade fostered through the Iuncturas links us all sexually anyway. Ian didn’t see the point in keeping it virtual. In fact, he thought that we might be able to take greater advantage of the unique interaction that we have if we made our relationship more concrete.” The fact that Sara was pissed off started a chain reaction in Vicki, pushing her buttons too. She was deliberately crude just to tweak the other woman. “So, are the boys fucking each other too?” she asked. Sara’s generous lips thinned. “No,” she answered coolly, “Neither one of them swing that way.” Vicky studied her nails, a grim smile on her mouth. “Lucky you,” she rasped, “As if Ian wasn’t enough, you get to have Dev in your bed as well. Are you also planning on recruiting Gabriel into the corps?” She made a rude sound and added, “Pretty soon you won’t be able to walk.” Sara’s eyes were shooting sparks. “That’s just about enough!” she spat out, “Ian is plenty for me, thank you. I didn’t ask the Witchblade to mate me to Devian. It has Its own reasons for what It does. I didn’t go out of my way to seduce Dev either. I’m not responsible for what he thinks he feels. I’m sorry that you’re struggling with this unrequited thing but that’s not my fault. If it were up to me, you could have the damn clone and be welcome to him. It was the Blade that forced that relationship. I never wanted him in the first place, then or now.” A soft, strangled sound made them both swing their heads around to look at the doorway. Dev stood there; his body rigid; his face held an expression of such betrayal and misery that it was painful to simply look at it.

Sara stood, scattering pictures and other keepsakes around her. She had taken a couple steps toward the doorway, murmuring, “Shit…Dev…,” before he bolted. From behind her, a smug feminine voice observed, “Nice going.” Sara swung around, a snarl on her face, fingers curved into claws. A new voice said, “What the hell are you two going on about in here? Where did Dev run off to?” Sara’s eyes flashed wide with concern as she focused now on Gabriel. “Shit,” she cursed, “Did he leave the house?” Gabe nodded, adding, “It sounded that way. What did you say to him?” Sara dashed out the doorway, leaving her past scattered all over the bed. Gabriel turned to follow her. Left alone in the bedroom, Vicki sat on the bed, picked up an old photo album, and began to idly turn its pages. She still felt a bit shell-shocked by the turn of events. In spite of herself, she wondered whether Sara’s raw confession had finally brought the clone to his senses, made him see the light at last. If that was the case, maybe she should try to find him first. He was, she imagined, in need of some comfort. And that was just one of the things that she would be more than happy to give him. She stood slowly and carefully returned the album to the bed. Moving quietly, Vicki headed toward the freight elevator.

Down on the first floor, Sara paced while Gabriel had been drawn to one of the computers that was making a chiming noise. A moment later, he was frantically tapping keys, engrossed. There was a sudden commotion from the direction of the back stairwell and Sara went almost limp with relief, thinking that Devian had worked through his snit and come back to fight it out with her. Her relief turned to shock when she was knocked to the floor by a large, barreling, furry rocket. Lying flat, her face was soon covered with odiferous, sloppy doggy kisses. She was so glad to see the big dog that she wasn’t even mad or disgusted. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and made ridiculous crooning noises that seemed to work for both animal and woman. Ian stood in the kitchen doorway holding a cat carrier and watching the pair rolling around on the floor in a paroxysm of renewed affection. Ian grinned and in his “Hannibal” voice called, “Hey there, buddy. The lady is already spoken for.” Hannibal turned his massive head, gave a soft woof, and rose, gamboling happily back to his master’s side. Sara sat up, looking disheveled but happy. “I missed you, you goof,” she told the Rottie. With another muted bark, Hannibal trotted back to Sara, while simultaneously looking wistfully over his shoulder at Ian. His need was clear. Why couldn’t Mommy and Daddy sit together so that he could be with them both? Why should he have to choose?

When Ian set the cat carrier on the coffee table, Sara heard an annoyed hiss emanating from deep inside it. She walked over and bent down to look in at the crouched Siamese. “How you doing, Clarice?” she asked. The cat studied her imperiously with ferocious turquoise eyes, not returning the greeting. Ian sat on the sofa and Sara dropped down next to him. Hannibal immediately insinuated himself on the floor between them, dropping his drooling chin on Ian’s thigh. Ian absently scratched the big dog’s head and asked, “Where’s Dev?” The dog was almost as fond of the clone as he was of his master and Ian was surprised that, hearing the commotion, Devian hadn’t immediately appeared. The suddenly altered expression on Sara’s face alerted him to trouble. Frowning, he asked, “What is it? What’s happened?” She shut her eyes, sighing deeply. “I fucked up,” she admitted, opening her eyes again and looking at him, “Vicki and I had a fight. I said some things that I didn’t mean and Sparky heard them. They were bad, Ian. I think I might have really hurt him.” There was a pause before she added the kicker, “He took off.” Ian went rigid and stopped scratching the dog. Hannibal went still, sensing that something was very wrong. “What do you mean he took off?” Ian asked, voice strained, “You mean he left the house?” Sara nodded, looking thoroughly miserable. “Shit!” Ian cursed, standing and running a hand through his hair so roughly that he broke the leather cord holding it back. Shining midnight waves tumbled around his beautiful face.

At that moment, Gabriel let out a piercing cry of victory that startled both Ian and Sara, and set Hannibal to running around in tight circles barking like a maniac. Gabe had risen and was doing a curious dance in place behind the long table. Ian absently ordered, “Hannibal, shut up!” and the dog stopped barking immediately. Just like old times, Sara thought. They both continued to watch Gabriel’s antics with open-mouthed wonder. Finally, Sara asked, “What the hell are you doing, Gabriel?” He stopped cavorting as if he had suddenly realized that he wasn’t alone in the room. Fixing them with a triumphant gaze and an incandescent smile, he crowed, “I’ve got the little bastard. I’ve done it. I found Immo.” With that, he loosed a cackle that would have rivaled the Wicked Witch of the East and resumed his victory dance.