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Date Posted: 00:50:01 08/17/02 Sat
Author: Rudy
Subject: Adversaries 8
In reply to: Rudy 's message, "Adversaries" on 10:24:31 07/28/02 Sun

Ian stood there for several seconds while Sara attempted to compose herself. She looked into his luminous eyes and then traveled down his black attired body, all the way to his black combat boots. There was no mistaking who this was.

“What the…” she began.

“Yes, Sara. It is me, returning from the great beyond to punish you for your betrayal. Try as you might, it is difficult to get rid of me completely,” he said.

Try as you might…she thought. What the hell? It took her a moment before she fully grasped the implications of his words.

“Punish me? Punish me?” she said raising her voice. “Who the hell do you think you are? I’ve saved your sorry ass plenty of times and you come in here threatening me?” she gritted her teeth. “And just how is it that you are here? I saw your dead body at Irons’ mansion,” she said.

“Saw my dead body?” he sarcastically remarked. “Make no mistake, I am not here in the sense that you perceive me to be.”

Sara swung her legs around and jumped out of bed. She strode towards him. The moonlight reflected off of her satiny skin. He could see her hardened nipples through the thin tank. Ian felt his body tense as she neared him.

“So what are you saying? You’re here, but you’re not really here? This is all a figment of my imagination, just like I imagined you on the beach and in my bathroom. So if I reached out you would be a vapor?” she asked as she brushed his bearded cheek with her finger.

A slight jolt went through her. Ian felt it too, but refused to acknowledge it. He turned his face away from her and stepped back.

“I can’t speak for your imaginings. I only know that I am summoned,” he said in a cryptic tone.

“Summoned? By whom? Certainly not me!” she exclaimed.

His eyes held both laughter and scorn in them which only served to fuel her anger.

“Look here, Nottingham, I don’t believe in your parlor tricks!” she yelled, as the Witchblade shape-shifted into the glistening sword.

He quickly recovered from his slight surprise, and swung his arms outward in a gesture of defiance. She brought the tip of the blade to rest on his chest. His lack of fear confounded her. The ringing telephone caused her to jump. She turned for a moment and when she directed her attention back to Ian he had vanished. She ran to the phone.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Sara. How are you?” Danny asked.

“Uh, confused. What’s going on?” she asked, as her eyes darted back and forth throughout the room.

“Confused? About what?” he asked.

She shook her head to rid her mind of the last few minutes of her life.

“Nothing. I’m just tired. What’s up?” she asked.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that we ran the fingerprints on the corpse and it was definitely Nottingham’s body,” he said.

“Sara? Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said trying to gain her composure. “Thanks for calling me, Danny.”

“Sure. Hey, is everything ok? You don’t sound like yourself,” he said.

“I’m fine. Really. I just need to get some shut eye. Listen, I’ll talk to you later,” she said.

“Ok, bye,” he said with a worried tone.

“Bye.”

Ok, Pez. You are really losing it now. Nottingham is dead. You knew this. You saw his bloody body. What gives? she thought as she massaged her temples. He’s dead. And yet her fingers still retained the sensuous feeling she had when she touched his perfectly chiseled face.

Ian returned to his hotel room visibly shaken. That had been a little too close for comfort. The possibility of her using the Witchblade on him had been of little concern to him. The main cause for worry had been that she stirred deep-seeded feelings in him; unfamiliar, and yet at the same time intently recognizable feelings. He was in desperate need of sleep. He stripped and jumped into the scalding shower. After toweling off he threw his robe on and stepped out of the bathroom. He came to an abrupt halt as he saw the white-haired figure lounging on the chaise.

“Ian! I do hope I didn’t startle you,” Irons said smiling.

“No, not at all,” Ian said. “I just wish I had been informed of your arrival. I would have met you at the airport.”

“You do not have to worry yourself with such menial tasks. You have much more important things to attend to,” he said. “Now tell me, how are things progressing with our favorite detective?”

“Things are coming along nicely. Sara is definitely off her game. She is lacking confidence in her abilities to discern reality from fantasy. I have also taken care of the Gabriel Bowman problem,” Ian said.

Irons’ face held a slight agitation. “Taken care of in what manner?”

“Let’s just say he won’t interfere with my attempts to maintain contact with her,” he said, taking note of Irons’ discomfort.

“Ian, what have you done?” Irons demanded.

“Nothing permanent. He is just temporarily disabled. Unless I exerted more force than I intended,” Ian said, eyeing him with curiosity.

Irons recovered and casually waved his hand through the air as he said, “No matter. We have other business to concentrate on. It seems as though my special touch is required to complete our goals. I am not a patient man, Ian. I’ve come too far to have this opportunity slip through my fingers,” he said. “Sara is teetering on the edge right now. I am here to push her into oblivion.”

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