Part VII - Dream
Ian stands in Father’s office in his required place. Sara and Father are talking about the Witchblade and her visions, and Ian is again focused on his own feelings. The connection between the three both humbles and empowers him. Ian can feel the Witchblade touching all of them, its power coursing through them, their souls thrumming with its energy...
This is how it should be.
Ian is left bereft as the feeling suddenly withdraws, and he forces his attention back to the conversation, trying to forget how incomplete and insignificant he now feels. He wonders briefly if Sara and Father mourn the absence of that bond as much as he does.
Father is saying, “You are seeing through the eyes of the living, Sara. Not the dead.”
“So that’s his next victim,” Sara says.
Father sits back in his chair regally. “You can stop him and he will never hurt another girl again. Use it. Use the Witchblade to end his evil once and for all.”
Ian can feel Sara’s anger, the purity of the emotion momentarily re-establishing their bond, her anger reverberating among them.
“I am not a murderer,” she hisses angrily, then glances at Ian. “I do not kill indiscriminately.”
Sara storms out of the office. Father’s expression is a little amused and a little resigned. With the barest movement of his head, Father’s wishes are made clear. Ian nods once in acknowledgment and hurries to catch up with Sara.
Ian sprints down the hall and barely makes it in time to slip into the elevator with her. After a moment, he says, “He only wants you to use it because you are a true Wielder. He chooses to forget that you are also an officer of the law.”
Sara says nothing, but Ian knows from the way her lips purse together that she is holding her tongue.
He follows her out of the elevator to her motorcycle not wanting her to leave angry. Sara stares at her helmet for a long moment. “The thing is...he’s right. I want to kill that asshole so that he never destroys another little girl. But I can’t. I can’t draw the line there, because we’ll just keep pushing that line until I become like...”
“Me.”
She turns to look at him sharply. “Like Irons,” she corrects gently. At that moment -that kindness- he knows it is a dream.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” she asks. “He pisses me off then sends you to make the peace?”
“Can there be peace between us, Sara?”
In the past, Ian wakes up before she answers.
This time, Sara replies with a little frown, “Not if we keep meeting like this.”
Another dream together.
She raises an eyebrow. “It is you, right, Nottingham? The real one?”
He nods. She looks around, as if trying to get her bearings. There is no one on the streets and no cars in traffic. It is only the two of them.
“Now what?” she asks.
With no information to offer, Ian doesn’t reply. Sara’s expression changes -her eyes focus just over his shoulder. Before he has a chance to react, Sara pulls him back, instinctively activating the Witchblade as her right arm comes up in defense. The Blade flares to life and just as quickly retreats back to its dormant bracelet state.
The man stands not two inches behind where Ian had just stood.
“Hello, Ian Nottingham.”
The guy got the drop on Nottingham and the Witchblade doesn’t seem too keen on attacking him - those two things are enough to put Sara on her guard. He looks harmless enough - thin, pale, with a shock of black hair. His eyes are dark pools with stars at their center, and the flames on his coat seem to flicker with his movement. That is enough to confirm to Sara that some Witchblade weirdness is going on.
The Witchblade tightens briefly on her wrist - a demand to pay attention. A soft voice whispers to her, The companion. Ask him. Keeping an eye on the stranger, she turns her head slightly to Nottingham to ask, “Friend of yours?”
The stranger answers, “I am not here to harm you, Sara Pezzini. My sister asked me to intervene on Ian’s behalf.”
“Your sister?”
“Death,” the stranger supplies.
“Which makes you...?”
“Dream,” Nottingham answers.
With a small nod, Dream smiles faintly.
More mystic mumbo-jumbo. Great.
Nottingham adds, “This is your realm.”
“Yes,” Dream confirms.
Sara asks, “Are you behind what’s happening to us?”
“No. Not exactly.”
The Witchblade again tightens around her wrist. The voice is more insistent this time. Ask for the companion! The paintings of Nottingham and his Blade flash in her mind. And Sara understands.
Sara raises her right arm, exposing the Witchblade to Dream. “This is behind our dreams. It’s been trying to get your attention.”
“Yes.” Dream holds out his hand, the Witchblade now resting on his palm.
Sara’s left hand automatically reaches for her right wrist, feeling only skin. Her hands drop to her sides, clenching slightly. Her eyes focus on the Witchblade.
Dream looks at the Witchblade fondly. In his hand, the Witchblade stone glows and swirls. Sara can feel it, warm and content, and she feels a momentary jealously. She wants it back.
“I had forgotten about this little trinket...lost so long ago,” Dream says. “I admit, I was surprised to find it here...like this.”
“Where was it supposed to be?” Nottingham asks.
Dream meets his eyes steadily. “Far away.”
Sara almost smiles -Nottingham is getting the kind of answers he usually gives. Her amusement is dampened by the realization that Nottingham seems unfazed by the answer. “What does the Witchblade want with you?”
“The ‘Witchblade’ -as you call it- is...a remembrance,” Dream replies. “A long time ago, I was with my family and I wanted to...commemorate the occasion. I created this Dreamstone -and its companion- with a little of the essence of all my siblings.”
“The companion is the other Blade,” Sara says slowly. “The one I saw in our dream.”
“Yes.”
“And the Witchblade wants this companion.”
“Yes.”
“So where is it?”
“I do not know,” Dream replies.
Sara sees the Witchblade’s stone pulse and swirl. She senses its desire for the companion, its anger and frustration at Dream’s answer, and its despair that it will not find its destined companion. A quick look at Nottingham tells her that he feels it too. He closes his eyes, and Sara suddenly feels a discipline clamping down on the emotions from the Witchblade. His eyes open slowly, and in those eyes and in his hard expression Sara sees the Black Dragon, the assassin, the very dangerous and deadly Ian Nottingham.
Dream turns his attention to Nottingham, a little amused. “Do not worry, Ian Nottingham. It will behave as long as I am here.”
Nottingham bows his head respectfully, and Sara feels Nottingham’s control slip away only to be replaced by a sort of calm.
Dream glances at the Witchblade then offers it to Sara. “The companion must be close -in the waking world- for this one to call for it so insistently.”
Sara takes the Witchblade from Dream and slips it onto her wrist. The Witchblade tightens slightly in recognition, and Sara hears the faint voice again, We must find the companion.
“The dreams will continue,” Nottingham says softly. “There is much of you in the Witchblade, so it is only natural for it to use the Dreaming.”
“Yes, but I cannot allow it to continue to disrupt the Dreaming the way it has recently. Your dreams will be...” Dream seems to struggle to find the right word. “Your dreams will be as they were before. But it needs the companion.” Dream’s mouth contorted into something resembling a grin. “It is capricious and willful. It will find other ways to force you to seek out the companion.”
“Great,” Sara says sarcastically. “Can’t wait.”
Nottingham and Dream exchange a knowing look that Sara isn’t sure she likes.
Dream tilts his head in a little bow. “Good luck to you, Wielders.”
With that, Dream is gone and they awake.
Alone in her office at the precinct, Sara sat at her desk going over missing persons reports. Since the dream the previous night, the Witchblade had been behaving itself, but Sara didn’t think that would last much longer. She could sense its anxiety, though. It wanted to do something. It wanted the companion Blade.
She had started to call Nottingham twice that morning, not even sure what she would say, but each time she stopped herself in the middle of dialing. She picked up her cell phone off her desk resolutely deciding to call him, when it rang in her hand. She didn’t check the caller ID; she knew it was Nottingham.
“Hey, Nottingham,” she said by way of greeting.
“Sara.”
She could hear noise in the background, people bustling, a female voice over a public address system... “Where are you?”
“La Guardia. I’m going ho- to England. I thought perhaps there might be information about this companion Blade at the estate.”
Sara nodded, remembering the dream they had shared. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good place to start. I’ve got Gabriel looking into it, too.”
Nottingham didn’t respond to that.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“When I find the Blade.”
He made it sound like a promise. Now it was Sara who didn’t know what to say. She wasn't sure she wanted him to succeed.
After a moment, he said, “I only wanted to say goodbye.”
The background noise was suddenly cut off - he had hung up. She closed the cell phone and dropped it back on her desk. She sighed. What if he did find it? Sara wasn’t sure a man like Ian Nottingham should have a weapon like that.
Sara looked at the Witchblade, hoping for some enlightenment but doubting she would get any. She saw the stone swirl just before an image flashed in her mind - an image of the painting in the alcove...the painting of her, Nottingham and that other guy. She cursed under her breath, annoyed with herself for having forgotten about him. Who was he? How did he fit into all this?
As usual, the Witchblade left her with more questions than answers.
