by Carol Roi
Feeling her hands starting to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it with a subtle skill, Jim pulled back, taking her hands in his, effectively stopping her. "Maybe we're going too fast." The crushed look that crossed her face right before she stood up and grabbed her jacket surprised him. "Lee?"
"I should go..." Shrugging into the teal jacket, she turned back to face him. "Maybe you're right, maybe we are moving too fast, but I thought you wanted me." She stopped to softly curse herself as she wiped tears from her eyes. "Damn, I will not cry over this."
Moving to stand next to her, Jim tried to reach out to her, only to have her brush away the contact. "Lee, I do want you, but not like this. Not some one night stand." He didn't flinch as she turned her amber brown gaze to him, meeting his eyes. "Please? Lee, don't go away like this…" Holding out his arms, he smiled and invited her back into his embrace.
Lee was just starting to move back into opened arms when the door to the loft burst open and a half dressed, passion-mussed Blair Sandburg whirled into the apartment. "Whoa! I didn't think you were home yet, Jim!"
"Oh, Gods! I'm leaving." The words came out in an oddly strangulated tone, as if she was holding back more tears. Lee barely used her cane as she stalked out of the apartment, grabbing her coat from the rack behind the door and crossing the hall to enter Diandra's place.
Jim shook his head, wondering what in the hell had gone wrong, his temper starting to fray. "What are you doing here, Chief?"
"Uh, just came over to grab some, uh, massage oil for Dee…" His intelligent gaze took in the scene, the fireplace, the deserted brandy glasses, the way Eolia had stormed out. "Oh, I interrupted something, didn't I?"
"No shit, Sherlock." Moving towards the stairs to his room, Jim snarled back down to his roommate, "Make sure you lock up on your way out. I'm going to bed."
Gods above! What a mess my night out with Jim has turned into! I dash across the hall, thankful that Sandburg has left the door to Diandra's place ajar, and rush into my room. Before I slam the door shut, I stop to gather my breath and softly close the heavy door. Throwing my jackets to the bed, along with my zatoichi, I collapse onto the mattress.
I don't want to overhear, or possibly intrude on, Dee's life with her lover so I reach over to the nightstand and grab up my Walkman radio. After scanning through the local stations, I find one that is playing older rock and roll and turn up the volume as I slip the earbuds in and start to undress.
Just as 'Riders on the Storm' starts to play, I'm crawling under the blankets. Too many years working undercover in America's counter-culture exposed me to more music than I appreciated at the time, but when I'm feeling particularly low I find the older tunes soothing. I close my eyes and allow my mind to drift with the music and words saturating my ears.
It has been years since I heard the next song the DJ puts on the airwaves, but the words strike me like a physical blow…
Well we all have a face, that we hide away forever,
And we take them out and show ourselves,
When everyone has gone.
Some are satin some are steel, some are silk and some are leather,
They're the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on.
Well we all fall in love, but we disregard the danger,
Though we share many secrets, there are some we never tell
Why were you so surprised, that you never saw the stranger?
Did you ever let your lover see the stranger in yourself?
Goddess! I know this song! Damn, the singer could have written this about me. I've hidden my true self from others for so long that I sometimes forget who I am, getting lost in the roles that I've been assigned to play over the centuries. Especially the roles the Company threw my husband and I into. The feel of moisture on my face brings my hand out from under the covers, wiping away the tears that have started to fall as Billy Joel continues to sing.
Don't be afraid to try again, everyone goes south, every now and then.
You've done it, why can't someone else?
You should know by now, you've been there yourself.
You may never understand, how the stranger is inspired,
But he isn't always evil and he isn't always wrong.
Though you drown in good intentions, you will never quench the fire,
You'll give into your desire, when the stranger comes along.
Damn it. Diandra's right. If I even think things between Jim and I are going to go beyond mere friendship, and I'll admit that I want that, then I need to tell him who and what I am. He knows about us, about Watchers, and if he knows that much, then maybe he'll understand the Game. Yes, I have to tell him. Tomorrow. When I'm sure I'm in control of myself. And after I pay a certain Cascade businessman a little visit.
Rolling over, placing my face against the soft pillow, my mind starts to race, going over possible strategies, disregarding some, and keeping others to examine closer. Glancing at the travel clock, it's just after eleven PM. I hope Jan-Michel gets back in time for me to go for a little trip. No one, absolutely no one, has ever lived for long, unharmed, after speaking to me the way that oafish bastard did.
Tuning the radio to another station, one playing strictly instrumental music, I drift off to sleep. The soothing strains of Mannheim Steamroller's Christmas music taking me to a place that there are no troubles, where I can be my true self.
Part 17d
Blair stood in the entryway to the loft, watching his friend climb the stairs to his room. Shit. He heard the door across the hallway close. Damn. He hadn't meant to mess things up for Jim. Blair walked into his room and searched through the drawers in his dresser until he came up with a nearly empty bottle of massage oil. Well, that was a waste of time. Sighing, he dropped the bottle in the trashcan and headed back across the hall to Dee's apartment. He paused at the bottom of the staircase, listening for any sounds from Eolia's room. Nothing. Shrugging, he started up the stairs. He would apologize in the morning.
Blair entered Dee's bedroom to find her sprawled across the bed on her stomach, fast asleep. "I can't win tonight, can I?" he asked the air. Crossing to the bed, he pulled the covers up over his lover, and kissed her temple gently. "Sorry, angel. Glad you can sleep; you've had a hard day."
Spying his backpack on the floor by the desk, he walked over to it, and took out his laptop. As long as he wasn't sleepy, he might as well do something he'd been meaning to do ever since he first met Lee Eolia--go through her chronicles.
Settling himself on the bed, propping a couple pillows behind his back, careful not to wake Dee, Blair hooked up to the phone line and dialed up Watcher Central. Typing in his password and accessing the archives, he began to read. The more he read, especially about the past fifty years of Eolia and Azir's lives, the more disturbed he became. He'd guessed from the hints she'd let drop that they had been spies, but he hadn't realized they had worked for the CIA. The mere mention of the CIA brought up memories of Lee Brackett and the hell he had put Jim through.
Finishing the last of the file, Blair felt sickened. Some of the things mentioned in there he couldn't imagine doing, even if it had been in service to his country. They had been experts in subterfuge and the double cross, thinking nothing of sleeping with the enemy if it would get them what they were after. Lying must come as easily to Eolia as breathing. Blair had to consider every word issuing from her lips as suspect.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. God, what if this whole thing was a setup? What if, from the very beginning, she had been setting them up? What if this wasn't about her struggling to carry on after her husband's death, or the robbery at QuestScape? What if it was about Jim? About getting close to him and discovering his sentinel abilities? He took a few deep breaths, willing his racing heart to slow. Panicking wasn't going to help anything. He could deal with this. If anything, he had an edge she didn't. He had CIA contacts she didn't know about.
With a fe
w keystrokes, Blair exited the Watcher site and flipped on Instant Messenger. As he read the list of friends online, he looked up at the heavens and gave thanks. Jack was online. Composing a message, he sent it into cyberspace. Jack Kelso replied quickly, and Blair asked his questions. Jack promised to get back with him by email within the hour. Thanking him, Blair headed back to the Watcher's site, and began going through some of the cross-references to Eolia's file. He noted the name of the man who had been Lee's Watcher when she had been with the CIA, and looking him up on the Watcher operative list, he sent off an email. Maybe this Huddleston guy could shed some light on what she'd been up to then.
When his email chime went off, Blair looked at the time at the bottom of his computer screen. Man, Jack was fast. Only 45 minutes had gone by. Opening up his email, Blair discovered that what his friend had turned up wasn't much. Most of the files regarding Leandra Evans and Emil Saunders were sealed. What he could tell him was that the two had left the Company under something of a cloud, in the late eighties, about the same time as Lee Brackett had gone rogue. This, Jack pointed out, didn't mean that the husband-wife team had ever worked with Brackett, but the dates they were stationed in South America matched up.
Damn it. This was getting him nowhere. All he was doing was scaring himself. He had just hit shut down when Dee stirred beside him.
"Mmm…hey, Lobo, what's the matter?"
Closing his laptop, Blair set it on the floor, then laid his glasses on the bedside table. "Nothing, angel." He slid down in the bed until he was lying flat on the mattress. He felt her arm go around his waist, and she snuggled up to his side, kissing his shoulder.
"Something has you all tied up in knots. My stomach feels like a pretzel." She leaned in closer, her lips nibbling at his earlobe. "Talk to me, baby."
Rolling onto his side, Blair gazed deep into her eyes, seeing in them love and concern. "I…I was doing some checking--on Eolia."
"And you found out?"
Letting out a long sigh, he rolled onto his back again, staring up at the snow-covered skylight. "Look, Dee, I know she's your friend…" He felt her shake her head as her fingers traced over his chest.
"No. You and Megan and Jim are my friends, are my family. Lia is…someone I once knew. I'm not so certain I know her anymore. Not after what you said earlier."
"Okay." Blair took a deep breath and launched into his explanation. "I read what I could of her chronicle, and I had my friend, Jack Kelso, do some checking into her work with the CIA. Most of what I got was incomplete, and a lot of it rumor and innuendo, but…when I look at you, I see an Immortal who has lived her life in the light. When I look at Lee, I see someone who has spent their life in the shadows, and who doesn't know the difference between light and dark anymore. She plays whichever side can be of the most benefit to her at the moment, regardless of the consequences for anyone else."
Dee propped herself up on her elbow and regarded him seriously. "So which side do you think she's playing now?"
Blair closed his eyes for a long moment, then said, "I don't know. And that's what scares me."
She considered his comment for a long moment, then replied, "I think her grief over Azir's death is genuine. And I think she really does care for Jim. Do I think she would be good for him? Probably not. But that's not our decision to make, Lobo. That's up to Lee and Jim."
He sighed again. "I know. I just hate not being able to tell Jim what I know. Not that he's ever listened to me when it comes to women anyway."
Settling back down beside him, Dee said, "Well, I gave her an ultimatum. She has three days to tell him who and what she is. Thursday night, all bets are off and he hears the truth from me. Now close your eyes, Lobo. There's nothing we can do tonight."
Turning onto his side, Blair tugged the covers higher on his shoulder, feeling Dee spoon up behind him, her arm snaking around his waist and hugging him closer. In spite of his worries, his eyes finally closed, and he slept.
Part 18
Jan-Michel LaFollet hated lying to his boss, but there was no way in hell he was going to trust her safety to just one man. Especially not if that man was one James Ellison. Diandra had left her apartment earlier, stepping over to Sandburg's place, leaving him alone in her loft with Lee as she finished getting ready for her night out.
Knocking lightly on the door to her room, he called out. "Lee? You decent?"
"Come on in, Jan."
Stepping into the small room, he was surprised by the change in his boss's appearance. She'd changed into a suit that he'd never seen before, the teal green color highlighting the auburn in her long hair. Hair that had been done up in a fancy braiding that cascaded down in her back. "Lee, I know that you want to be alone with Ellison, but I really want you to reconsider. The man, or men, that tried to kill you are still on the loose. You need someone to watch your back."
Smiling, Lee Eolia stepped over to her bodyguard's side and patted him on the cheek. "I'll be fine, Jan. Trust me?"
"It's not you I don't trust…" The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them.
"Jan?!? You sound jealous." Her hand dropped away.
Snatching up her hand, he gave it a fast squeeze. "That came out wrong. I trust you and I think I can trust Ellison. It's the person that's after you I don't trust."
"That's your job." She let out a short laugh. "Well, one of them at least. Have you told anyone of the Watchers that you're now an Immortal?"
Jan-Michel nodded. "Yeah, it kinda came out while Sandburg and I were talking with Dawson. I get to be my own Watcher, sending my reports to Dawson who will set up a Chronicle on me, under a pseudonym."
"That's for the best then. Remind me when we get back home to start helping you learn how to set up your next identity. It never hurts to be prepared." With that cryptic comment, she slipped past him and out of the room. He made to follow her, only to stop as he heard the knock on the front door of the apartment. Glancing down at his watch, he realized he couldn't fault Ellison's timing -- it was 20:00 hours on the mark.
Slipping into his own room, he listened as Lee greeted her date, then waited until he heard the rhythmic tapping of her cane sword on the hall floor before exiting his room to step out into the living/workout area of the loft. He approached Ellison to have a few quiet words with the man.
"It's against my better judgement, but Lee convinced me to leave the two of you by yourselves tonight. Otherwise, I'd be right on your tails."
"I'll take care of her, LaFollet. You have my word on that."
"That's all I'm asking, Ellison." Jan-Michel turned around when he heard the tap of Eolia's cane on the floor of the hallway. Moving over to her side, he silently helped her into her coat, checking to make sure that she had removed her backup sword from its proper place, then disappeared down the hall to his room.
The waiting started. He gave the couple plenty of time to make it downstairs, praying to the Lord above that neither Diandra nor his fellow Watcher returned. He opened the window in his room, straining to hear the sound signaling their departure. After several minutes had passed, the roar of a powerful truck engine cut through the moist, chill air. Grabbing up his coat and side arms, both his gun and Azir's sword, he headed out.
He wasted no time in leaving the apartment, trotting down the stairs to the Lexus, thankful Lee hadn't requested the keys of him. Carefully, he pulled out of the parking area and, with his training in tailing a suspect, was able to spot the taillights of Ellison's truck a few blocks away. Not wanting to alert the detective, Jan-Michel held back as far as he could and not lose sight of his charge.
They pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant which was lavishly designed to look, on the outside, like an ornate Far East Pagoda. Finding an empty spot near the curb, the security specialist parked and waited.
By his watch, it had been 98 minutes since Ellison and Eolia had entered the Dragon Pearl, and the snow, which had been predicted to start after midnight, had arrived 42 minutes earlier. Taking the chance th
at no one would notice the oddity of a car parked with snow starting to stick to the metal, but with the front window clear of the frozen precipitation, his patience was rewarded in a way he couldn't believe.
Raising the opera glasses to his eyes to confirm the identity of the businessman being assisted to his car, Jan-Michel felt the warm glow of satisfaction curl in his gut. "Well, lookie who's here. Mr. Ventriss. Okay, Ellison, you'd better take care of Lee, because I cannot pass up this opportunity." Tossing the glasses back to the passenger's seat, he started up the Lexus, and when the stretch Cadillac pulled out of the Chinese restaurant's lot, it had a discreet tail.
He halfway expected the owner of QuestScape to return to his home, but was surprised when the car pulled up outside of the Cascade Jockey's Club. "What? Not enough booze onboard, Ventriss? You're probably well on the way to a severe case of pickled liver." Waiting until the man's driver had pulled away from the covered entrance, Jan pulled into the 'member's only' parking lot. The parka encased attendant stepped out of the heated gatehouse to challenge his right to park there. After digging in his wallet, Jan showed the shivering young man his membership card to Jockey's Club, International and the boy raised the gate for him.