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Date Posted: 09:02:13 06/05/02 Wed
Author: moondreamer
Subject: Instinct - Chapter 12
In reply to: moondreamer 's message, "Instinct" on 11:51:56 05/22/02 Wed

Chapter 12

Same disclaimer

Luke entered through one of the many back doors to Kenneth Irons’ estate. He wondered how long it would be before his presence was noticed and he would be called for. Entering Ian’s old room, his now, he supposed with a grin, he wandered slowly. Touching the few, sparse items that could be called personal. He still found it amazing - all that he “knew”. He knew when and where Ian had purchased the rather ancient treatise on medieval weaponry. Knew when the black coat in the closet had appeared. Knew where each one of the weapons had been used, and who had been each victim of his brother’s skill.

To walk into the life of another, and know all that they know, to be all that they were; and yet to be different. Such a thing could possibly drive a man mad. But, was he a man? And was he not mad already? Luke knew he could still choose a darker path. He could discard the hate and angry bloodlust that had poured into him from Ian. He could choose to let Kenneth and Dr. Immo know that Ian still lived. It would be a small thing, practically painless. Then the transfer of data could be completed. And Luke would be…what? A whole man? A Judas, a Cain? When it was all said and done, would he keep the knowledge of what he had done? What price to kill himself and step into his own shoes?

Luke walked over to the small mirror above the dresser and looked at himself. He reached down and stroked himself slowly through his pants. Possibly not a price, but a prize. The prize being the lovely Sara. If the transfer of data were completed, if he became wholly Ian; would she then be his? He could feel himself harden yet again when he remembered the moments of passion he had shared with Ian and Sara. Releasing himself abruptly he turned away from the mirror image. He would be no better than Kenenth Irons at that point. Attempting to manipulate Sara for his own ends and means. He supposed it must be the Ian in him that made him desire that Sara want him for himself; to acknowledge his differences from Ian and embrace them both.

He laughed, the sound echoing in the silent room. For a being with no control and no conscience he certainly seemed to have plenty of both. Perhaps Dr. Immo didn’t know all of which he spoke. Perhaps there were aspects to this process they could not foresee. A servant knocking nervously at his door interrupted Luke’s silent musings.

“Mr. Nottingham? Mr. Irons wishes to see you, immediately.” At Luke’s unspoken acknowledgement the man ran off quickly. Apparently Kenneth’s mood had not improved since their last telephone call.

Luke’s mocking grin spread from ear to ear and his laugh rang out boldly. Time to brace his enemy; the man that attempted to murder him. Time to begin the end. He left the room and swaggered down the hallway.

Dr. Immo and Kenneth Irons waited in the Great Room for “Ian” to arrive. Kenneth sat in his favorite chair while Dr. Immo paced anxiously behind him.

:”It is all too uncertain, Kenneth.” Dr. Immo was saying. “We just don’t know what the results of a partial download will be, either short-term or long-term.”

Kenneth Irons waved a languid hand in his direction. “He seems fine. You worry too much, now when it is too late. Better you had expended this worry and forethought before this situation occurred. Besides, I need him.”

Luke knocked on the door and once admitted, entered boldly. He took a position behind Kenneth Irons’ chair. Standing at a parade rest, his hands clasped behind him, he was the image of attentive servitude.

Irons beamed proudly at him, ignoring Dr. Immo. “Ian, glad you could join us. How are you feeling?”

Luke glanced up at them both. “Oh, I feel capable of anything.”

“How was our fair Sara, when last you left her?” Kenneth couldn’t help but ask. His connection to The Witchblade had forced him to experience a portion of the ecstasy Sara felt. It had left him feeling remarkably…weary.

“She was sleeping when I left. Her companion was still there. Unfortunately, I never did manage to see his face. Perhaps it was her new partner?”

“That fool! I would hope Sara would have better taste than that.” Kenneth was offended at the thought that she would prefer Jake to him, a man of taste and culture.

“It could just be Sara’s way of acting out. I found instances of this type of behavior in her past. “ Luke looked carefully down. Hiding his smile at the reaction he knew was to come.

“A one-night-stand? A pickup at a bar?” Kenneth shuddered. “I would hope The Witchblade would choose a more worthy wielder.”

“Was not Dominique Bouche a less choosy individual than Sara Pezzini?” Luke could not resist twisting that knife, just a little.

“Dominique used sex as the tool that it is. There is a difference between that and careless promiscuity. I taught her that, long ago. A lesson that Sara still needs to learn. First her married partner, then that itinerant Irish peasant, for a time I thought she was even developing a peculiar fondness for your predecessor. That would never do. Her focus must be set on me. You will aid me in this endeavor.”

Luke bowed his head in acknowledgment of his words, even as his eyes glittered with malice.

Dr. Immo stepped forward; impatient with the discussion of Sara Pezzini. “Ian, are you experiencing any strange effects from the aborted transfer?”

“Why no, Sir. All is as it should be. If anything, I believe I feel more confident that my predecessor did. As you have mentioned, the flaws in his emotional makeup made him weak, and eventually cost him his life, and therefore his usefulness.”

“See, Immo, you old fool. All is fine. This Ian is a worthy tool. Better, it seems, than you have been. The other Ian is dead and gone. Let us be done with this futile second-guessing.”

Shaking his head as he went, Dr. Immo left the room, leaving Luke and Kenneth Irons alone.

They stayed in silence for a time. Kenneth was busy looking into the fire and thinking of his next steps in his twisted plan. While Luke stood behind him; contemplating all the many ways in which he could kill his master. He compared the length of time it would take to die versus the pain ratio, and he glowed inwardly with savage pleasure.

Finally, Kenneth Irons spoke, his words interrupting a particularly pleasant visual Luke was experiencing of tasting the blood streaming from Kenneth’s eyes and ears as his life drained away.

“Rest this evening, Ian.” He raised his clenched right hand. The entwined circles of The Witchblade’s mark were reddened. “It would seem Sara is…occupied again with her squalid conquest. Tomorrow, bring her to me. You have all the necessary tools?”

Luke raised his hands to waist level and looked down as he held them palm up. Raising his eyes to Kenneth he nodded slowly, loath to relinquish his most pleasing fantasy.

“Leave me then.”

As Luke walked out he closed the door behind him,

“Surely, she could at least have the courtesy to bed someone with less endurance.” With a sigh Kenneth Irons lay his head back on his chair. He clutched his hand in his lap and prepared to weather yet another bout of passion courtesy of Sara and Ian.

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