by Lynn Lorenz
"Not trained against attack?" Stefan sputtered.
"Not with a knife. The man was too close, and your wand wasn't out yet. He'd have been on you before you could draw it and he'd have killed you." She folded her arms.
Stefan glared at her, but she stared straight ahead.
"Can you demonstrate, please, Sarah?" Damon motioned with his hand.
"Certainly." She stood up. "You stand here." She motioned to Stefan. "I'm the man and I have a knife." She picked up Thatcher's pen and held it in her hand. "Now, was this the distance the man was from you?"
"Yes, just about." Stefan glanced at Thatcher. "Is this really necessary?"
"Absolutely, Inspector. I need to understand as much as possible." Thatcher took his glasses off and wiped them on his handkerchief.
"Good. Now I'm going to attack you. Try to pull your wand before I get to you."
Sarah took the position of the man. Launching herself at Stefan, she held the pen in her hand. He had his hand on his wand when the pen hit him in the chest over his heart. Stunned, he looked down at the growing ink stain ruining his jacket.
"Very well displayed, Sarah." Damon made a note on the report after she returned the pen. She sat down, straightening her skirts again, giving them a shake and Stefan a smirk.
"So you were trying to save Stefan's life."
Stefan stared at Sarah, his mouth open to speak, but snapped it shut.
"I'm sworn by my blood to protect my brothers-in-arms, sir." Sarah looked at Damon. "No matter how pig-headed they may be."
Stefan choked. Damon shot him a look and returned to Sarah. "Now, before you stabbed the man, you jumped on the man's back?"
"Yes, a choke hold, but he tossed me over when he went down. My mistake. I should've been ready for that move, but I hadn't put the obvious together yet."
"The obvious?" Stefan turned to look at her.
"Aye. Either he was trained in off-world methods or he is from off-world." She leaned forward as she spoke.
"Well, that's interesting, Sarah. Quite. Now, tell me about the stabbing."
"He'd flipped me on my back and then grabbed me up, his arm around my neck and held the knife to my throat. He told Stefan to give him the money, but I said not to, and then he started to choke me. I was afraid I'd pass out, so I reached into my skirt pocket to find something to stop him."
"Could you demonstrate? Stefan, you be the man with the knife." Damon waved his hand at Stefan. "Stand up, Sarah, and take your position."
Sarah stood, stepped up to Stefan, and turned around. Stefan wrapped his arm around her throat keeping a hand width of distance between them.
"Surely, the grip was tighter. Sarah, could you breathe?" Damon sat back and watched.
"Not much, sir."
Stefan pulled her closer. Her back pressed into his front. He swallowed. His eyes flicked to Thatcher's face.
Thatcher ignored him. "Now, hold still while I make notes." He made a show of observing them, as they stood there. He smiled when he saw the blush rise to Sarah's cheeks. Beads of sweat broke on Stefan's brow. "Sarah, show me your neck."
Stefan let her go and sank into his chair.
Sarah unbuttoned her jacket, then her shirt and splayed them open. Dark green, yellow and purple bruises ringed her throat. Damon frowned as he made notes, and Stefan stared at the marks, his lips in a thin, hard line.
"Stefan, what were you doing, while this was going on?" Damon referred to the report.
"The man stood behind her, holding a knife to her throat. I didn't think I could hit him before he cut her. If I took a chance, I thought I might hit her instead. I was running possible courses of action through my head."
Sarah turned to Stefan and glared at him. "Courses of action? Like what? Letting him kill me? Waiting until I was dead to attack?" Sarah's voice became mocking. "Or just hoping he'd get tired of strangling me and put me down?" She surged to her feet and flung up her arms in exasperation.
"What could I do? He had the knife to your throat. If I made the wrong move, he'd have killed you! I had to be sure." Stefan jumped out of his chair as he fired back at her, "I couldn't risk it."
"So when I did the only thing I could do to save myself, you suspend me?" Sarah looked enraged.
"You stabbed him with a knife! That's against policy. What was I supposed to do? I'm your immediate supervisor, responsible for your safety and your actions," he shouted back at her.
Damon watched the electricity between them crackle. By the One God, they loved each other; a blind man could see it. How could they be so unaware of it?
* * * *
"I was doing just fine. I didn't need you going around threatening every man who looked at me." She raised her chin in defiance.
Thatcher raised his eyebrows.
"I did no such thing!" Stefan shook his head. What was she talking about?
"In the alley, you acted as if I were really your wife."
"I most certainly did not!"
"If you had your way, no one would even look at me, much less touch me."
"Sarah, you don't understand." Stefan held out his hands. How could he make her understand how he felt when he had no idea?
"You're right. I don't understand. At first, you act as if the idea of my being your wife was painful."
"When did I--" he stammered as she advanced on him.
"Then you threatened that man if he touched me. Which is it? You can't have it both ways, Stefan!"
He backed up until he hit a chair. "I didn't want him to touch you." Stefan scowled. He wanted to be the only man to touch her, and the intensity of his reaction when the man reached for Sarah had shocked him.
"So, no man can touch me? Is that what you mean?" She stood before Stefan, her fists white-knuckled.
"Aye, that's what I mean."
"Who do you think you are--my father?"
Stefan felt the stab deep in his heart. His breath froze in his lungs. Of all the words she could have uttered, those two cut the deepest. To her, he was nothing but an old man, too many years her senior for her even to consider.
Sarah returned to her seat and fell into it, her arms crossed and her foot tapping the floor. She glared at the ground, Thatcher, anywhere but him.
Stefan's fists opened, fingers stretched, then closed again in a spasm. With great effort, he kept himself from 'porting out of there. He had to have some scrap of dignity left somewhere.
Damon cleared his throat, put on his glasses, and pulled out a thick book. "As a matter of fact, I went over the policy before this meeting. I couldn't find any reference to the use of knives. It's just something that most officers understand.
"Nevertheless, in this circumstance, I think we must admit that the criminals we are dealing with are no longer playing by our rules. So new rules must come into play." Damon steepled his fingers and rested them against his chin.
"New rules?" Both Stefan and Sarah spoke at the same time.
"Indeed. Sarah, you're suspended from patrolling for one week. In addition, I'm placing a letter of reprimand for disobeying orders in your file, along with a commendation for saving Stefan's life. I want you to double up on your classes. Everyone goes now, inspectors and patrollers." She nodded.
"Stefan, you'll return to your duties. Rolf, Reilly and you will attend Sarah's classes. I want you able to lead our trained officers. Mercy will be using her abilities to interrogate our latest prisoners, including the man you captured today. She'll be handling the questioning at both headquarters in Heath and here at the castle. Any questions?" Damon leaned forward and looked from one to the other.
"Sir? How will this letter of reprimand affect my career?" Sarah looked worried as she twisted a small scrap of her skirt in her fingers.
"Let's see. Stefan, how does having several--no, let me count--eight, I believe, such letters in one's folder affect your career?" Damon looked pointedly at his second.
"Not much." Stefan shrugged. "Is that all, Chief?" He was so tired. All he wanted was to g
o to his room, sit in his chair, and stare into the flames.
Damon nodded. "You're both dismissed."
Sarah started for the door. Stefan disappeared.
Chapter 13
The rain ran down the inside of Stefan's jacket, further dampening his shirt and his spirits. He'd been standing across the street from the house located in a rundown section of Avea for three nights without any sign of his quarry.
He glanced back down the dark alley he hid in and thought of the warm bed that waited for him at Avalon. Warm, aye, but small, a constant reminder that he was alone. Without her.
He shook the dreary thoughts from his mind, like the grey rain that fell on his head, and stared through the mist at the house. It was a known Blackmoor safe house, and they'd followed the same men who were extorting money from shopkeepers and raiding farms to it. He vowed not to let them slip through his fingers again.
It was up to Stefan to keep watch during the night. Reilly would arrive at dawn to relieve him, the same as the last two mornings. He frowned as he thought about Malcolm Reilly. Young, ambitious, and freshly promoted up from the station at Marvis, in the south, Reilly would need a lot of training. There were vague rumors and whispers he got his pins as a birthday gift. Stefan had ignored the talk; he knew there might not be much truth in such talk. Usually. In Reilly's case, he wondered. He supposed Reilly was one of those people you either like or dislike upon first meeting. Stefan fell into the "dislike" camp.
But a traitor? How much money would that take, to turn a man? For a man of honor, there would never be enough money. Stefan had his doubts about Reilly's honor.
If not money, then power? At Avalon, Thatcher had held his command for almost twenty-five years and would probably go to thirty before stepping down. And that would leave the spot open for one of the experienced men, like himself, already second-in-command, or Rolf. Reilly must be aware that if Stefan were killed, Rolf was next in line, not he.
What if Rolf fell, too? They were short two inspectors, with Tullis too old and retiring shortly, and, with one spot empty, Reilly might get the promotion. With the two most likely candidates gone, Reilly would be in place to walk into the position, especially with his father behind the appointment.
It was a hard leap to make. There were many factors out of Reilly's control. Too many surely?
Stefan hunched down against a new wave of driving rain, pulling his cloak tighter around him. That's Damon's problem and whoever he assigned to it.
He passed the time running over the reports and the information he knew about Blackmoor's gang, until he could see the light change and dawn grew near. The rain had slowed to a drizzle. The rising sun broke through the last of the grey clouds, and the rest of the morning looked to be clear. A crunch of gravel sounded behind him.
"You sound like a herd of cows coming home," Stefan muttered without turning around, knowing Reilly stood in the alley behind him.
"I guess you heard me?"
"Everyone heard you," Stefan drawled, then turned and fixed Reilly with a stare.
Malcolm Reilly was around thirty, young for an inspector. Small and thin, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a brown moustache that was too large for his face, he reminded Stefan of a brown weasel. Not a kind comparison, but one shared by others, if the talk was right.
"I'm going back to the castle. Take over and report back when your replacement shows," Stefan said.
"Who will it be?" Malcolm wore a dark oilcloth to keep the rain off him. It hadn't been raining when Stefan had started his shift, so he'd come unprepared. After the late night rain, he was soaked to the skin.
"Probably Tullis." He shook off his cloak and the rain peppered the cobblestones. Damon had taken to sending soon-to-retire Tomas Tullis out on small, easy assignments, like watching this house. The man had put in thirty years of hard work and stayed on an extra year out of friendship for Damon because they were already short-handed.
"That old man, eh?" Malcolm did not bother to hide his contempt.
Stefan, his eyes blazing, whirled and threw Malcolm against the wall of the alley. "You will show your superiors some respect, Inspector." Stefan towered over their newest inspector as he cringed against the wall. His arm pressed across Malcolm's throat.
"Aye, sir." Malcolm words came out in a squeak.
He released Reilly and stepped back. "Next time I hear you refer to any of the inspectors at the station in less than respectful terms you'll be put on notice."
Malcolm rubbed his throat with his hand and nodded mutely, but his eyes burned with hatred.
Well, if Malcolm Reilly didn't hate him before, he probably did now. Stefan strode off down the alley. He untied the horse he'd ridden to Avea from a post in the courtyard and he swung easily into the saddle.
With a jerk of the reins, the horse broke into a quick walk, its hooves clattering on the cobblestones and echoing against the buildings in the crisp early morning air. At the end of the high street, Stefan entered the main road and with a squeeze of his thighs, the mare shifted gaits into a canter. The clattering turned to soft thuds in the wet dirt.
* * * *
Sarah appeared in the door of Rolf's office. He looked up at her and waved her in with his hand.
"Rolf, would you do me a great favor?"
"I can refuse you nothing, Sarah." Rolf smiled. "Ask anything."
"Well, I have two back-to-back training classes on Friday and my friend Luci Greenwood is arriving at that time from Avea to visit for a few days. I need someone to pick her up in Chester where the travel coach stops and bring her to the castle. Would you mind going to fetch her?"
"I'd be happy to help you out. Let her know I'll be there. Just tell me what time her coach arrives Friday." Rolf leaned back in his chair, balancing on the two rear legs. "Oh, and what does she look like?"
"Gorgeous. Long red hair, deep green eyes, and a wicked smile."
The front legs of the chair hit the floor. "You're joking, right?" His eyes lit up.
"No, I'm not. I'll tell her to expect you to be there."
Could anyone live up to a description like that?
Sarah paused in the door. "Have you seen him?" He knew she asked after Stefan.
"No, he's out on assignment in Avea." Rolf could see her sadness reflected in her eyes. "Sarah, this suspension, you know it's merely procedural. And Stefan...well, you have to understand..."
She held up her hand to stop him. "I understand. I did what I had to do, and so did he." She turned and left.
Rolf sat down and ran his hands through his hair. He wondered why he cared whether Stefan won Sarah or lost her.
* * * *
A few hours later, after Stefan had nodded off for the third time, he realized if he didn't get off the horse he'd fall off. It was damned odd; he hadn't felt tired as he rode out of Avea. Now, exhaustion covered him like a thick quilt, making it almost impossible to keep his eyes open or his chin off his chest.
He reached a turn in the road, dismounted, and led the horse to a small clearing. The sun was trying its best to dry up the puddles, but the ground was still damp.
After taking off his cloak, he spread it under a tree. He tied the horse to a nearby branch, sat, and propped his back against the trunk to take a short nap. The ground wasn't very comfortable, but he fell asleep despite it.
* * * *
Sarah called his name.
Stefan woke and looked around. At least, he thought he was awake. He was in the clearing, his horse still tied to the branch. He stood and walked toward her voice. Pushing his way through the bushes, he saw her.
Sarah stood with her back to him in a field of tall grass. She turned, waved to him, and her face broke into a smile. "Stefan!"
Her belly was large with the baby and she cupped its weight in her hands as she walked toward him through the tall grasses.
This must be a dream.
The image of her was so powerful it sucked the breath from his lungs. He had to blink rapidly to clear his vision
. Their child?
Could this be my future?
From behind or inside him, he couldn't tell, a voice he hadn't heard in over twenty-five years spoke, sending a chill through his body. His stomach tightened in a knot of pain.
"You can't escape me, Bane. No one does. You will join me. Willing or not, I don't care, but you will come back to me."
Stefan couldn't move. His voice lodged in his throat, his mouth refused to open and let the scream out, as the Sorcerer's voice whispered.
"You love this woman, Bane? I'll take everything from you, even your hopes and dreams. Then you'll come to me." The oily voice possessed Stefan's body as his soul fought against it. He felt the Sorcerer's malevolent presence all around him and the stench of his evil rode on the morning air.
Too late, Stefan threw a block up to his mind. The Sorcerer batted it away, like a slow moving fly, and Stefan's mind screamed as the Sorcerer took possession.
Stefan felt his arm rise, beyond his control to stop it. Then, sucked out of his body to stand on the side, he watched himself. He saw Sarah in the meadow, smiling as she came toward him, and he saw the murderous look on his own face. His shadow-self screamed at his body to stop, but couldn't be heard.
Without warning, he was jerked back into his body. He sighted down his arm at Sarah with his wand. Struggling to fight it, he tried again to expel the voice from his mind. Nothing he did worked. The best he could manage was a soft moan.
"See, you're mine to control how I will. Now, you will kill her and the child. Then you'll join me and take your place by my side with Cordelia."
A blue blast from his wand erupted, striking Sarah in the chest. She fell to her knees, arms covering her belly as she tried to protect the child she carried.
"Stefan!" Her pain and terror mixed in a long wail with Stefan's anguished mute cry.
"Move to the bitch," the Sorcerer whispered to Stefan.
His feet moved without him willing them forward. He had come within six feet of Sarah, still on her knees bent over her belly, when he stopped.
The struggle within him grew more heated, and he felt a small crack in his mind's possession. Like a child with a secret treat, he hid it until the time was right.