New
Arrivals
Author-Suzie
Titles
Sacrifice...
by Suzie
Summary: Sequel to A Blessed Protector's Work Is Never Done. The Creator wants more.
Disclaimer: Some of the characters in this story belong to the UPN Network and Pet Fly Productions as part of the television show The Sentinel. I do not claim these characters as my own. No money has changed hands.
Notes: Thanks, Jen! You’re the best! <G>
I have no trouble with my enemies. But my goddam friends ...
They are the ones that keep me walking the floor nights.
~~ Oscar Levant ~~
######
Blair was in his office sipping tea and working on the next day's lesson plan for his classes. The phone rang and he looked around his cluttered desk until he found it under a stack of papers. "Hello ... Blair Sandburg's office," he said into the receiver.
Silence.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
Click!
Blair sighed, setting the receiver back in its cradle. Must be a wrong number, he thought absently. His hand was still resting on the phone when it rang again, making him jump. Damn! He took a deep breath as he picked up the receiver again. "Hello ... Blair Sandburg's office."
"Blair, this is Amy ... in the main office," the middle-aged secretary said into the phone.
"Hey, Amy," Blair smiled. "What can I do for you?"
"I just received a package for you. I wondered if you wanted to come and get it before I left."
"Sure, I'll be there in a few minutes. Thanks, Amy."
**********
Blair returned to his office with the small box. He noticed there was no return address as he slid into his chair and reached for his Swiss army knife to slit open the parcel. The phone rang. He continued to open the box with one hand as he answered the phone, "Blair Sandburg's office."
A moment of silence, then a soft childlike giggle could be heard.
What the ... "Who is this?" Blair asked impatiently. "I really don't have time for this, whoever you are."
Click!
Blair shook his head as he hung the phone up. Opening the flaps of the box, he reached in and pulled out a program from the ancient civilizations seminar he'd attended two months earlier. The seminar he wished he could forget about. Frowning, Blair took a deep breath and swallowed hard at the memories that flashed in his mind. He dropped the program back into the box and pushed it across the desk, not wanting to think about whom had sent it or why. Looking at the clock, Blair's thoughts did a quick about face when he saw that it was nearly 4:30pm. He had promised to meet Jim at the station at 6:00 to go on a stakeout with him. He gulped down the last of his now cold tea and made a face at how bitter it tasted. Then quickly started putting things away and into his backpack. If he hurried, Blair would have time to stop by the loft and change before meeting his partner.
Backpack zipped up, Blair stood, intending to reach for his jacket. A sudden wave of dizziness assaulted him and he leaned on the desk with a gasp. Blair squeezed his eyes shut as light exploded in his head and he groaned as he opened them again. The room was moving now. Not spinning, but undulating. Blair watched as one of the wooden tribal masks on the wall started to sprout hair and its mouth began to move, speaking to him.
"The Creator wants more," the mask said in a clear, crisp voice that sounded all too familiar.
Blair tried to back away, but stumbled over his chair. He never felt the floor as it seemed to come up to meet him halfway.
**********
When Jim pushed the door opened and entered the loft at 12:30am, he was still angry. He had better have a damn good explanation for not showing up *and* not calling, the Detective thought as he shrugged out of his coat. "Where the hell is he?" Jim wondered aloud, realizing Blair wasn't home. A touch of fear prickled at the back of his neck like static electricity on a cold dry day.
Pushing the feeling aside with a sigh, Jim grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and headed into the living room. Probably just as well he's not here. Gives me a chance to calm down, he thought, then noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine. The prickling sensation returned.
There were five messages. Four of them were Jim's angry voice threatening Blair with all kinds of unpleasantness when he got his hands on him. Jim hadn't meant a word of what he'd said and erased each one as it played, grateful that Blair hadn’t heard them. On the fifth a voice whispered, "Sacrifice."
Jim's scalp tingled unpleasantly and his breath caught in his throat. "Sandburg," he gasped, hastily setting the unopened bottle of beer on coffee table as he rushed towards the door.
**********
Jim's senses automatically went out to locate his friend as he exited his truck and jogged the few yards to the building housing Blair's office. Jim heard no one else in the building, just the sound of his Guide's thundering heart and frantic breathing.
Scanning the office as he opened the door, Jim quickly located Blair on the floor behind the desk. "Oh my God!"
Blair was huddled against the wall, eyes wide and staring, shaking uncontrollably, and drenched with sweat. "Nonono, not again ... not again," he mumbled over and over.
"Blair?" Jim said quietly as he approached. "Chief?" He knelt down, gently touching the too warm skin of Blair's face.
Blair turned glassy eyes on the Detective. "Not again ... not again."
"It's me ... Jim."
Blair stared blankly for a moment, then blinked and slowly raised one shaky hand toward Jim.
"Hey, buddy, what's happening?" Jim asked, keeping his voice low and calm as he took the hand in his own. He gently pushed the damp hair from Blair's sweaty face. "Talk to me."
Blair didn't say anything; he just gripped Jim's hand and pulled himself forward until his Sentinel held him tightly.
"It's all right, Chief," Jim whispered, engulfing the smaller man in strong arms. "I've got you."
Blair curled himself against Jim's chest.
Jim felt the heat and tremors as the drugs he knew were there coursed through his Guide's system. "Let's go to the hospital and get you checked out."
Blair shook his head, "H-ho-home."
"We need to made sure whatever you were given isn't going to hurt you," Jim explained quietly. He slowly stood, bringing the smaller man up with him and keeping a firm hold on him. "The truck is right outside, Chief."
Blair gasped as the room spun and knees felt like rubber. He tightened his hold on Jim and leaned heavily into the solid body. Colors exploded behind Blair's eyes. "Oh ... God!" he whimpered. "Not again!"
"Hang on, Blair." Jim tightened his grip on the shaky young man with one hand as he reached for the jacket from the back of the chair, draping it around Blair's shoulders. Then he reached for the backpack off the desk and noticed the small box sitting there. On a hunch that whatever had happened involved the package, Jim looked inside. His hunch was correct. "Shit!" Jim mumbled to himself as he realized what the sheet of paper was. He quickly folded the program and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.
**********
"Jim," Captain Banks said, sitting down next to the Detective where he sat in the waiting room. "What happened? How's Sandburg?"
Jim looked over at Simon with angry eyes. "It's Marti Kline ... she's in Cascade."
"WHAT?! That's impossible!"
Before Jim could say any more Dr. Hollis stepped into the small waiting area. "Detective Ellison?"
Jim stood, his statement changing to concern. "How's Blair?"
"He'll be fine. Your suspicions were correct ... Ayahuasca and Cohoba." Dr. Hollis shook his head, "We would have spent hours ... even days trying to track it down. I just spoke to Dr. Marshall at St. Joseph's in Tacoma. Apparently the concoction was diluted this time and the effects less violent compared to the reaction he’d had previously."
"But he is going to be all right?"
"Yes ... but I would like to keep him over night."
Jim shook his head, "If he's in no danger, I'd like to take him home."
Dr. Hollis smiled, "Mr. Sandburg indicated the same thing. He's in room 4. I'll get the paperwork."
When the doctor had left the waiting room, Simon said, "Jim, are you sure it was Marti Kline?"
Jim nodded, the anger returning to darken his eyes. He handed the seminar program to Simon. "Who else would send one of these to Blair, sir?"
Simon looked at the program, then pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses and said, "I'll call first thing in the morning and find out what's happened."
"Thanks, Simon."
Simon nodded, "Now, get the kid and go home."
**********
Blair had remained mostly quiet at the hospital. He didn't like it when Jim wasn't allowed to stay with him and didn't want to tell the doctor too much for fear of ending up in the psyche ward. Blair couldn't remember much of what Dr. Hollis had asked him and what he did remember, he wasn't sure how he'd answered.
Blair was relived when Jim appeared in the room and told him that they were going home. His head was still fuzzy and spinning, so he didn't argue when Jim helped him into his shirt and shoes. Blair felt safe as he listened to Jim's quiet words of encouragement and praise.
The wheelchair ride out to the truck made Blair nauseous. Jim's senses picked up on it and he didn't hesitate to hoist the compact frame up to deposit him carefully in the truck, strapping the seatbelt around him. Blair groaned softly at the movement and Jim soothed him with a hand on his warm face.
"Jim, it's not possible ... is it?" Blair asked groggily from the passenger seat of the truck, after Jim had hurried around to the driver’s side and climbed in.
"What's that, Chief?" Jim replied, glancing at his partner before pulling out of the hospital parking lot into the early morning traffic.
"Marti Kline. It can't be her ... can it?"
Jim sighed, "I don't know. Simon is checking on it for us."
"I thought I saw her in my office," Blair said, shivering as the fever and drugs coursed through his exhausted body.
"What?!"
"One of the masks hanging in my office ... it kinda morphed into her and said 'the Creator wants more'. I was hoping I was just dreaming."
You and me both, buddy. "We'll talk about it later. We both need some sleep."
Blair silently agreed and let himself doze off.
**********
Jim's arms were pulled forcefully behind him and tied with coarse rope. Then the hood he was wearing was pulled off and he blinked in the dim light of the room as his eyes adjusted. He looked around the room, taking in the bare walls and floor. There was no furniture, save the chair he was sitting on and the elaborate altar that sat in the middle of the room.
A door opened and robed figures glided silently into the room carrying Blair's naked body and placed him on the altar. A groan echoed quietly as the robed figures bound the unresisting young man to the corners of the altar.
"Sandburg?!" Jim called.
Blair turned his head toward the familiar voice, his eyes glazed and unfocused. He pulled weakly at the shackles that held him. Blair tried to call out to his Sentinel, but a low moan was the only thing that escaped his dry lips.
"Blair!" Jim called, desperately trying to pull out of the ropes that imprisoned his arms behind him. He could feel blood drip from his fingertips as the rope wore the skin off of his wrists.
The robed figures had begun to chant, but Jim couldn't understand the words. He watched, still pulling at his bonds, as one of the figures stepped up to the altar and stopped when it reached Blair's side. From the folds of the robe a long curved dagger was produced.
"Blair! NO!" Jim cried, feeling helpless as he intensified his struggles against the ropes.
"Jim ... help me!" Blair cried in a weak voice.
The dagger was raised high above Blair's chest.
"BLAIR!!!" Jim cried out, tears beginning to spill down his face.
"JIM!!" Blair screamed, eyes locked onto the dagger poised above him.
The sound of Blair's voice echoed in the room as Jim watched in horror as the dagger plunged downward in a graceful arch. "Noooo!"
With a gasp, Jim sat upright in his bed. Sweat and tears glistened on his face. Sweat ran down his bare chest and back as Jim sat there gasping, remembering the nightmare. "Sandburg!?" he whispered as he immediately let his sensitive ears pick up the slow steady breathing of his sleeping roommate below. He inhaled a huge gulp of air and slid out of bed, still not satisfied.
Jim padded softly down the stairs in his boxers, shivering slightly as the cool morning air hit his sweat dampened skin, and went to Blair's room. He stood in the doorway he had left open earlier, knowing that Blair would feel more comfortable hearing Jim's movements in the loft before going to bed. Jim was still breathing a bit hard from the nightmare, his heart still beating a little fast, as he focused Sentinel eyes on Blair's huddled figure on the bed in the dim morning light.
Blair lay curled on his side, facing the door. The covers had been kicked away and his arms were wrapped around himself as if he were trying to stay warm.
Silently crossing the room to the bedside, Jim carefully pulled the blankets up. Then he felt the warmth of Blair's skin as he laid a hand gently against his forehead.
"Jim?" came Blair's sleepy voice.
"Shh ... I didn't mean to wake you," Jim whispered.
"You okay?"
"Fine, Chief. Now go back to sleep."
"'Kay," Blair mumbled as he drifted off again.
The Sentinel waited, letting his senses *feel* his Guide relax back into sleep. His fingers caressing lightly through the soft brown curls that framed Blair's face. A soft sigh brought a faint smile to Jim's face as Blair snuggled beneath the blankets and moved his head slightly into the large hand.
**********
Jim opened the door knowing that Simon was on the other side, even though the Captain hadn't knocked yet.
Simon jumped slightly, hand poised to knock. "You know I *really* hate it when you do that," he said, his eyes betraying the sternness in his voice.
Jim smiled, "Come on in, Simon."
Simon stepped past the Detective and removed his overcoat. "How's Sandburg doing?"
Jim hung the coat on one of the hooks next to the door.
Blair sat up on the sofa. "I'm doing okay, Simon ... thanks." Exhaustion evident in his voice as well as his eyes, "Just tired."
Simon walked over and sat down next to Blair. He pressed a cool hand against the other man's forehead, "How's the fever?"
"Not as bad as last time," Blair replied, smiling at the Captain. "And I don't seem to have the amnesia this time."
"Good ... good," Simon said, sitting back and watching Blair carefully. "I found out about Marti this morning."
Blair wrapped the quilt he'd been using up around his shoulders as a sudden chill made him shiver.
Jim joined them, sitting on the loveseat. "She's not in jail, is she?"
Simon shook his head. "Her Father managed to get her probation."
Jim let his jaw work on the anger he felt. "And the other two?"
"Thomas and Weaver are serving time for what they did. They'll be eligible for parole in two years."
"So is Marti in Tacoma?" Blair asked nervously.
"She hasn't yet reported to her probation officer and she hasn't been seen since she was released."
"Then it *is* her," Blair said softly.
"Now, we don't know that for sure, Sandburg," Simon said.
"Who the hell else would it be?!" Blair blurted angrily. "'The Creator wants more' ... that's what she said!"
"What?!"
Blair looked at Jim, then back at Simon. "She was in my office, man!"
"She apparently had the box with that seminar program delivered to the main office at the university," Jim explained. "When Blair went to pick it up, Marti must've drugged his tea."
Blair's sigh made his entire body tremble as he pulled his knees up, tucking the comforter around them.
Jim moved to sit on the coffee table facing his partner. "It's going to be okay, Chief," he said, gently squeezing Blair's arm through the quilt.
Blair gave a quivering smile and nodded, taking a deep breath. His eyes took on a haunted look.
"Blair," Simon began carefully. "I've avoided asking you this because I didn't want to upset you and it really wasn't necessary. But now, in light of what's happened ..."
"It's okay, Simon, go ahead," Blair said quietly.
"I know you went through one hell of an ordeal in Tacoma. That drug messed with you physically, mentally, and emotionally for a week ... and it's in your system again."
Blair blushed.
"I'm not trying to embarrass you," Simon said quickly, placing a comforting hand of Blair's knee. "I need to know *why* you're so frightened of Marti Kline."
Blair and Jim looked at Simon quizzically.
"I know it's a strange question, Blair, but I've noticed that whenever Sam Thomas or John Weaver were mentioned during any questioning you became angry. But when Marti's name is brought up you look ... well, scared."
"Captain, I don't think ...," Jim began.
"No, Jim, it's okay," Blair interrupted. He looked from Jim to Simon. "Part of it was ... *is* the drug." Blair stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. "When it was out of my system, so was that fear. I was just pissed off about what happened. I feel the same empty fear in my stomach now that I felt in Tacoma, but not as bad." He shuddered and took a breath.
"Take your time," Simon said.
Blair pushed his hair back. "It's not really *Marti* that scares me ... it's what she represents. Rituals ... sacrifices ... occult practices. I've had to do some research over the years and it’s always bothered me. I've seen the aftermath of sacrifices at digs ..."
Simon patted the knee, "It's all right ... I understand."
"They sacrificed *me*!" Blair continued, his eyes wide and dark. Angry and scared at the same time. "They supposedly took my soul! Now they want more!"
Jim reached out and grasped Blair's upper arms, turning the younger man to face him, "C'mon, buddy, don't go there. You know we won't let her get near you here."
"That's right, kid," Simon added. "You've got Major Crimes on your side."
"Thanks, guys," Blair whispered, unshed tears glistening in his eyes as he looked at his Sentinel.
**********
After Simon left, Jim tried to get Blair to lie down again. The drugged exhaustion and low-grade fever worried Jim. But Blair insisted that he was all right and wanted a little time to *process* what was happening.
The shades were drawn across the balcony windows and door. Blair sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against the sofa. Fat candles were nearly the only light, as they burned in a semi-circle on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes closed, breathing calm and slow as he meditated in silence.
Blair hadn't had to be at Marti, Sam, and John's trial the month before, six weeks after the incident occurred in Tacoma. But Blair had read the transcript. Keri's death had been ruled an accidental heroin overdose, or possibly suicide. He discovered that Marti had no real motive for the rituals she performed ... unless you count her constant desire to be in control as a motive. Finding ways to get people into the ritual weren't hard; she used a person's natural curiosity and thirst for knowledge to get them to trust her. Marti's stories were always plausible and intriguing.
Marti had explained casually at the trial how she and her friends had drugged their victims, stripped them of the clothes and performed a ritual she called Soul Culling. Blood, usually animal blood, was poured over the body of the sacrifice. The blood would absorb the soul of the person it touched. Then the Creator is called forth to harvest the soul of their victim. When the blood was dry, the Creator would have accepted the soul and departed with it. Then the sacrifice's body was ritually cleansed of the dried blood as Marti chanted her thanks that the Creator had accepted their humble sacrifice.
Blair had researched the drugs used on him. Ayahuasca and Cohoba were mixed and used as a strong hallucinogenic by ancient tribes in South America. Tobacco was used to intensify the effects of the drug and the concoction was used mainly in rituals performed by the Shaman or Medicine Man and tribal Elders. With the help of the drug, they foretold the future, called forth Spirits, or performed any number of other rituals.
Over the years Blair had done much research for his anthropological studies. He'd read about many different rituals and sacrifices in different cultures, and had seen the fossilized remains of blood sacrifices. He had read ancient scripts on how they were performed and had shuddered at the thought of each one.
Pictures flashed behind Blair's closed eyes. He was in a room lit by candles. An altar sat in the middle of the room. Movement on the altar caught his eye and Blair moved closer ... maybe he could help whoever it was. Then he was looking down at a face ... his face!
Blair let out a frightened yelp as his eyes flew open. He tried to scramble back, but kicked the table, sending several of the candles rolling onto the floor. "JIM!" he cried as he pulled himself onto the sofa.
Jim had been upstairs in his bedroom, wanting to give his partner as much privacy as possible. He'd been unconsciously monitoring Blair with his senses and was already headed down the stairs as he called Jim's name.
Turning on the lamp that sat on the end table, Jim stepped over the back of the sofa. He quickly blew out all the candles before turning his full attention back to Blair.
"Blair?" Jim called softly as he scooted close to his friend. "What happened, Chief?"
Blair was sitting at one end of the sofa with his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were wide and he was close to hyperventilating as his heart was thundered in his chest. "Jim!"
Gently, Jim turned Blair's face to him. "Calm down now," Jim soothed. "I'm here and you're all right."
Blair reached out and grasped Jim's arms. "Jim," he gasped. "Don't let ... them take me!"
Jim gently pulled Blair to him and the younger man didn't resist. "Shh ... no one is taking you anywhere, Chief."
Blair began to relax at his Sentinel's quiet words and large gentle hands on his back. Jim's senses monitored his partner as his breathing calmed and his heart slowed.
"Tell me what happened?" Jim asked.
Blair slowly pushed away from the larger man and sat back into the sofa's cushions. "I saw myself ...," he said Sentinel soft, still shaking slightly. "On an altar. It was me ... I was standing there and I looked up at myself."
"A dream, Blair," Jim insisted.
Blair pushed his hands through his long hair and looked at the man sitting next to him, concern etching deep lines in his face. "I'm sorry, Jim. You must think I'm a ..."
"I think you're an extremely strong person to go through what you have and remained sane, Chief," Jim said sincerely. "That drug has your emotions all screwed up ... just like last time. It's not your fault."
"Before, in Tacoma, I was afraid because I couldn't remember what happened. I was afraid to be separated from you ... like *you* were the only thing holding me together. Then after Dr. Matson helped me to remember, most of that fear went away. I didn't feel so ... lost."
"*Most* of the fear went away?" Jim questioned. "Are you still frightened?"
"Sometimes ... something will make me think about what happened and some of that fear comes back. That feeling of total helplessness, having absolutely no control over what was being done to me ... and I can't help but wonder about the other people she ... she *sacrificed*." Blair covered his face with both hands. "Now it's happening all over again, Jim."
Jim grasped Blair's wrists and gently pulled his hands away from his face, forcing Blair's blue eyes to meet his. "It's *not* going to happen again. She will not reach you now that we know Marti is here. Understand?"
Blair's eyes took in every part of Jim's face. His eyes, the set of his strong jaw, the concerned statement ... everything he'd come to trust was there. "Yeah," Blair whispered. "I understand."
**********
Things were quiet for the next week. There was no sign of Marti Kline or anyone associated with her. The drug worked its way out of Blair's system with no additional ill effects and he went back to work at the University. Jim would have preferred his partner to be with him, but Blair had obligations at school and Jim couldn't get away from the station with the heavy caseloads.
It wasn't even 9am when the phone on Captain Banks' desk rang as he and Jim were discussing one of Major Crimes many cases. "Banks," Simon barked into the receiver.
"Sir," Detective Brown said. "Hair ... ah, Blair's on line two for Jim."
"Okay ... thanks." Simon handed the phone to Jim and pushed the button for line two. "It's Sandburg."
Jim snagged the phone. "Hey, Chief, what's up?"
"Sorry to bother you, man, but I've been asked to help set up that new exhibit at the Natural History Museum downtown," Blair said excitedly.
Jim couldn't help but smile at the exuberant sound in Blair voice. "Thought they already had all the help they needed?"
"Yeah, they did, but one of the TA's had to leave town suddenly and another one got sick. That left Professor Drecks short handed. He called and asked me a few minutes ago ... I couldn't say no, Jim."
"You have to be there now?" Jim asked, knowing the answer and that he wouldn't like it.
"Well ... yeah. That's why I called," Blair replied innocently. "I'm leaving for the museum as soon as I hang up."
"Chief, I don't like the idea of you going alone."
"I'll be okay. I promise not to stop along the way and there'll be plenty of people at the museum, so I won't be alone. Please, Jim?"
Jim raised his eyebrows at the almost pleading tone in Blair's voice. He's asking permission? "Well ... if you're sure about it ..."
"Cool! Thanks, Jim! I'll be careful! Bye!" Blair hung up the phone before Jim could change his mind.
Jim shook his head as he handed the receiver back to Simon to hang up.
"What was that about?" The Captain asked.
Jim sighed, "He's going to be working on an exhibit at the Natural History Museum."
"Do you think that's a good idea, Jim? Just because nothing more has happened with Marti Kline ..."
"Yeah, I know, sir. But we can't expect him to stay locked in the loft or his office." Actually, I can, but ...
Simon thought about the consequences of Jim staying at the station worrying about his young partner. "Go," he said quickly with a wave of his hand.
"Excuse me?" Jim asked.
"You heard me, Ellison. Go ... keep an eye on the kid. I'll figure out something with the caseload"
Jim grinned, "Thanks, Simon, I appreciate it."
**********
Blair knew how the workload had been at the station and was feeling badly enough about not being there to help. So, at first, he'd felt guilty about Jim being at the museum to 'keep an eye on things', but the Detective insisted that Simon had suggested it before Jim had a chance to mention it.
"If things get bad enough, Simon will call," Jim told Blair as he helped remove the lid of one of the many crates. And I'll drag you out of here with me.
"Okay," Blair finally said. "Even though it's not necessary, I'm glad you're here, Jim."
"Necessary?! You're down here in the basement! I thought you said there'd be people around?"
"Usually we do all the unpacking and cataloguing where the exhibit is going to be set up. But the new Curator didn't want the crates delivered upstairs and they’re too heavy to carry up, so Professor Drecks set me up down here. I'm doing Lonnie's job ... he's the one who had to leave town."
"Well, I'm glad I was able to meet you here, Chief. I don't like the idea of you being anywhere alone while that Kline witch is still running loose."
Blair blushed and peered down at his shoes, "I would have called you anyway, Jim." He looked up, but didn't quite meet the Detective's eyes. His voice hushed as he said, "I ... um ... wouldn't have been able to work down here alone."
Jim patted Blair on the shoulder, then carefully picking up a small urn from the packing in the crate. "What can I do to help, Chief?"
Blair sighed quietly, glad that the subject was closed and grinned up at the big man, "Well, you can unpack this stuff and set it on the table so I can catalogue it in the computer. It'll make things go quicker."
"I can do that," Jim nodded as he set the urn down on the table and reached into the packing material for another.
Four hours and two crates later, Blair was just finishing the last of the cataloguing before opening another crate. Jim's stomach growled loudly.
Blair peered at the big man over the top of the monitor and giggled. "Hungry?"
"Starved. Let's get some lunch before start another one," Jim suggested hopefully.
"Yeah, I could eat," Blair replied, hitting *save* before standing and stretching.
"Let's go wash up," Jim said, looking at his dirty, gritty hands. "That packing stuff is nasty."
"Sure, there's a men's room this way."
Blair led the way out of the room and down a short corridor. As he reached to push the door open, Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him back behind him. Blair opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when Jim held a finger to his lips to be quiet. He knew then that his Sentinel had heard someone inside the darkened restroom.
Jim drew his gun and, with a quick glance, checked to be sure that Blair was behind him. Then he swung the door open hard, letting the wall stop it. The light from the corridor lit the small room enough to easily see the lone figure he had his gun trained on without Jim having to adjust his sensitive eyes.
"Detective Ellison," Marti said in a quiet voice. "How nice to see you again."
There was a gasp behind him and Jim turned to see Blair being held with a knife to his throat.
"Give me the gun, Detective," Marti said, taking a step forward.
Jim looked back at the young woman, his eyes dark and stormy with the quickly rising anger inside him. But the gun didn't waver.
"Lonnie won't kill him. We need him to finish the offering. But ... there could he a *lot* of pain ... before the end."
"Thought you were out of town, man?" Blair said quietly to the man holding him from behind..
"Having Gary go out sick wasn't enough to for the Professor to call in help," Lonnie replied. "But when I was suddenly *called out of town* I suggested you to take my place."
"What'd you do to Gary?"
Lonnie shrugged, "Nothing serious. Just enough food poisoning to make him think he's got the flu."
"The gun, Ellison," Marti said impatiently.
Jim's head snapped back around at the sound of Blair's startled cry. The wide blade of the knife cut a thin line about two-inches long along Blair's jaw. Small beads of blood oozed from the shallow slice in his skin.
"The next will be deeper."
No one seemed to pay them any attention as Jim and Blair were led out of the museum to a waiting car. They were quickly blindfolded as a third person drove.
**********
Still blindfolded, Blair latched onto the back of Jim's shirt as they were led from the car into the house through an outside basement door. Jim felt Blair stumble behind him and reached around to bring the smaller man against his side with a strong arm encircling his shoulders.
"Don't let them take me," Blair whispered softly so only Jim could hear.
Jim gave Blair's arm a reassuring squeeze.
"Stop," Marti said suddenly.
A door could be heard creaking as it was opened. Jim and Blair were pulled apart, and Jim was shoved against a wall. The door banged shut and he heard the lock click.
"Jim?!" Blair called, reaching blindly for his Sentinel.
Jim spun around, pulling the blindfold off. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he looked around. It was a closet. Grabbing the doorknob, shaking it fiercely when it wouldn't turn. "Sandburg!"
"JIM!!"
"Dammit!" Jim pounded the door with his fists, listening to Blair curse and struggle. Then there was the sound of a fist hitting flesh and all was quiet. "Sandburg!"
**********
When Blair regained consciousness, he was lying on his back. The one dim bulb in the room did little to light his surroundings. He started to move, thinking he would get up, but found himself bound to the four corners of an old bed frame, the springs covered with plywood and a dark colored sheet ... an altar. Raising his head, Blair saw that he was naked. "OhGodno!" he gasped, pulling at the ropes that held him. "Not again!"
Jim had been pacing his little prison for an undetermined amount of time when he heard footsteps approach and a key in the lock. Sensing that there were two people outside the door and hearing the hammer pulled back on a handgun, Jim stood waiting as the door creaked open.
"Turn around and lean on the wall," a voice told Jim.
Jim complied, leaning his chest against the wall. He heard something dropped to the floor. Then the door was closed and was locked again. Turning around Jim focused on the bundle that lay at his feet. He reached down and picked up one of the items from the pile. It was a flannel shirt. "Oh my God!" He didn't need to see the clothes to know whom they belonged to. Jim could smell his Guide's scent on the material. The fear Blair was experiencing permeated the cloth. Rage began to well from deep within the Sentinel.
Jim beat the door with his fists when his sensitive ears heard the sound of Blair's voice in another room. "SANDBURG!!" he yelled, but knew his friend wouldn't hear him. He could hear Blair struggle against his bonds. Now enraged beyond rational thinking, Jim began slamming his shoulder against the door.
**********
"JIM?!" Blair screamed, desperately pulling at the ropes until his wrists were bleeding. Please let him be all right!
"He won't be coming for you," Marti said in a low, seductive voice.
Blair started, as he hadn't heard her enter the room. He met her eyes defiantly and said, "Yes he will ... and then ..."
"What? I'll go back to jail?" Marti's laugh was anything but cheerful. "Daddy will have me out on bail before the cell door is closed. He'll send me to Europe or some such place until it's all worked out."
Blair swallowed hard against the fear the sound of Marti's voice raised in him.
A half-dozen of Marti's *followers* entered the room. Each held a lit candle and was chanting in Latin.
"What are you going to do?" Blair asked, still twisting his wrists in an effort to get loose.
Marti took a candle from one of her minions. "The Creator wants more than your soul." She held the candle high above Blair. "Venio, Auctor!" Marti looked back down at Blair and said, "The Creator wants *all* of you." Then she joined the others in their chanting.
Oh God! "JIM!!" I don't want to die!
**********
Jim heard what Marti had said to Blair, as well as the confidence his Guide had in him. Incessantly, Jim continued to beat himself against the door, ignoring the growing pain in his battered shoulder.
The door began to rattle on its hinges, giving the Detective hope that it was giving way under his assault.
"JIM!!" Blair screamed.
Jim heard the wooden door crack.
"HELP ME!"
Jim slammed against the door, feeling it give further.
"Please don't kill me!"
The pleading in his Guide's voice was the all the Sentinel needed. Like a raging bull, Jim crashed through the door and without stopping headed straight for the sound of Blair's voice.
**********
Blair watched as Marti picked up a long, curved dagger and held the blade over the candle's flame. His hands and wrists were slick with his own blood as he pulled against the ropes.
Marti was still chanting, lost somewhere in her own depraved little mind.
Suddenly Blair felt one hand slip free of the rope. Startled, he hesitated for only a moment before striking out at the madwoman and landing a punch to her midsection.
As Marti fell backwards the candle dropped from her hand and rolled beneath the makeshift altar. Lonnie and another rushed forward to assist their fallen leader, who laid gasping for air and sputtering curses from the floor.
There was a whoosh as the sheet Blair was lying on caught fire from the candle. Frantically, he worked at the rope holding his other wrist until it too slid painfully free. Sitting up, Blair saw the flames creeping up over the side of the altar. In a panic, he reached for the ropes that bound his ankles.
**********
Jim heard the panicked screams as Marti's people ran from the room. He smelled the smoke. Passing those escaping the fire, Jim didn't give them a second glance as he charge forward down the hallway that he knew would lead him to Blair.
When Jim entered the room, his heart nearly leaped from his chest at the sight of Blair wrestling with the ropes and the fire licking its way closer. Then he saw Lonnie helping Marti up from the floor, the dagger still in her hand.
Marti was enraged when she saw that the fire might ruin her sacrifice. She pushed away from Lonnie, raising the dagger as she closed in on Blair. "The Creator wants *you*!" She screeched. "You must go to him!"
Jim leapt forward, pushing Lonnie aside and grabbed Marti from behind. He twisted her wrist until he felt the bones crack in his hand. Screaming, Marti dropped the knife as Jim spun her around to face him. With one mind numbing punch to the face Marti fell silently unconscious to the floor. Lonnie scrambled away from the Detective and fled out the door.
"JIM!!!" Blair yelled. He had abandoned the ropes and was trying to pull the burning material out from under him.
Jim grabbed the sheet and managed to tear the burning part of the material away, dropping it to the floor, and stomping the flames out with the heavy soles of his hiking boots. Turned back to the altar to see Blair again trying to free his feet. "Blair!" Jim cried, rushing to his friend's side.
Blair looked up, his eyes wild. "Jim, get me out of here!"
Jim gently took Blair's hands and inspected them. There was a lot of missing skin from the back of his hands and wrists, and blood ran down Blair's arms and dripped off his elbows. When the shock wore off, Jim knew Blair would be in a lot of pain.
"Jim, please ...," Blair sniffled.
Releasing Blair's hands, Jim nodded, reaching down and retrieving the dagger. He quickly sliced through the ropes, and then helped Blair off the altar. "Easy, buddy, go slow," Jim said quietly as Blair tried to get up and away from the altar as quickly as possible.
Blair felt the blood rush out of his head and Jim's arms went around him as he leaned weakly into the big man. "Oh God," he gasped out as the room spun. "I need some air." Blair's arm went around Jim's waist in an effort to stay upright.
Jim looked around the room for something to wrap around Blair’s naked body. Seeing nothing, he managed to wriggle out of his flannel shirt without disengaging Blair's hold. Jim then wrapped the large shirt around Blair, tying the sleeves at the waist to hold it up. "Okay, let's go," Jim said quietly.
Blair groaned as he shuffled a few steps. "Jim, I'm going to ...," he began, then suddenly went limp. Without missing a step, Jim scooped Blair into strong arms and carried him out of the house.
"I've got you," Jim whispered when he heard Blair whimper softly. "It's all over."
Blair rested his head on Jim's shoulder, eyes closed against the dizziness and shock.
**********
It was nearly daylight when Simon arrived at the loft with two very exhausted charges. Jim managed to get Blair out of the green hospital scrubs they'd given him to wear home and into bed. He stood beside the bed and lightly stroked Blair's head, comparing the bandage covering the cut on his jaw and the darkening bruise on his cheek in contrast to the pale face. Bandages wrapped his injured wrists and hands, and Jim remembered the relief he'd felt when told there wouldn't be any permanent nerve damage.
"Jim?" Blair muttered sleepily, not opening his eyes.
"Yeah, Chief," Jim replied, leaning closer.
"How's your shoulder?"
"Fine ... just bruised."
"You gonna tell me how it happened?"
Jim smiled tiredly. "We'll talk after we've gotten some sleep."
Blair yawned, "Okay. G'night, Jim … and thanks.”
Jim straightened as Blair drifted off to sleep. "No problem, buddy. Sleep well." He tucked the blanket up around his Guide's shoulders and moved quietly out of the room.
"How's he doing, Jim?" Simon asked when the Detective joined him in the living room.
Jim sat heavily on the sofa and scrubbed his big hands over his face. "Sound asleep."
"Good, you should be too."
"Yeah, soon." Jim looked over at the Captain, who was seated in the armchair. "What about Marti?"
"Kidnapping, attempted murder ... and she violated her probation in the process," Simon replied. "She's going down this time. Daddy won't be able to help her."
"I hope that's true, Simon," Jim yawned.
"Maybe the Tacoma PD couldn't stand against her Father, but the Cascade PD can. We're going to keep her here for the trial. She *will* serve time."
"I'll make sure Blair understands that in the morning. He needs to realize that it's really over this time. What about Lonnie and the others."
"Lonnie was found hiding in the bushes against the house, so he's in custody. The others may be a bit more difficult to track down unless Marti or Lonnie decide to talk to us." Simon watched Jim fight to stay awake and said, "Now, will you go on to bed? I'll turn out the lights and let myself out."
Jim sighed as he struggled to stand, wobbled slightly, then headed for the stairs. "Thanks, Simon."
"No problem, Jim." Simon watched the big man make his way slowly up to his room. Heard muted shuffling sounds as Jim undressed in the dark and slipped into bed. The last thing Simon heard was a low drawn out groan as Jim relaxed. He smiled as he stood up, turning off the lights as he moved toward the door.
<>~~<>~~<>
end