View My Guestbook
Sign My Guestbook
Chapter
11: Trepidation
Sara
hobbled into the precinct, her foul mood apparent by the way everyone seemed to
stare at her. Even Captain Dante, the one man who despised her with a passion,
seemed to keep his distance as she walked past him on her way to her office. She
pushed her door open to find Jake sitting at her desk reading a case file. He
looked up at her with a smile on his face, but it soon turned into a frown when
he saw that she wasn’t in all too good of a mood.
He
was out of her chair in a split second, allowing her to slide into it and slump
down. Sara rested her head on her desk as Jake asked, “What happened to
you?”
“What
do you think happened?” she growled, not bothering to look up.
“Does
it have something to do with Darren?” he calmly questioned.
“It
has everything to do with Darren.”
“He
dumped you, didn’t he? That little bastard! I knew musicians were bad news.”
“He
didn’t dump me, we just had a fight, that’s all,” Sara corrected as she
sat upright in her chair. “A stupid little fight that could have been avoided
if someone had just told him that there was another roadie murder.”
“You
mean he didn’t know that another one was killed yesterday?” Jake asked, a
little surprised.
All
too suddenly, a strong feeling of fear erupted in the pit of Sara’s stomach.
She almost immediately looked down at the Witchblade to find the angry red color
now swirling. A flash of something came into her mind. Darren was in trouble.
Sara could feel him; feel his fear and his pain in bursts. She shot out of her
chair, startling Jake, and grabbed her keys.
“Pez,
where are you going?” he called after her, but she was already out the door.
*~*~*
Darren
sat at his desk wrapped in a white cotton robe, his head resting on his left
hand as his right hand held a glass of Vodka from the minibar in his room. He
had been thinking long and hard about what had happened between him and Sara,
finally realizing that he had been in the wrong for kicking her out like he did.
She had professed her love to him, and now he wished he had just said those
three words to tell her that he felt the same way. He knew she probably was
never going to come back. He had smashed her heart into pieces, and hearing the
echoes of her sobs reverberating through the halls and into his room only
reaffirmed this.
Taking
a gulp of the Vodka, Darren heard a knock at the door. He stood up slowly, the
alcohol already circulating through his system, messing with his brain. It
hadn’t even been an hour since Sara had left, maybe she forgot something and
was coming back to get it. ‘Not a chance in hell,’ Darren thought. He
grabbed the knob and pulled the door open to find Anastasia standing there, the
strangest look in her eyes. They were very distant, very distracted, but there
came a feeling of anger and malice from them, something Darren had never seen
before.
“Hey,
Anna,” he cautiously said as he blocked the door.
“I
need to talk to you,” she replied in almost a monotone voice. Anastasia pushed
him aside and entered his room.
“If
this is about the roadie, I already know,” Darren told her as he closed the
door and followed her to his bed. “Which reminds me, why didn’t you say
anything about it? I had to find out from Sara.”
“That’s
not important,” Anastasia retorted. She looked down at the crumpled sheets of
the bed. “You had a visitor last night, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,
Sara,” he answered.
Anastasia
twirled around, her blond hair flying around her face, her distant eyes becoming
animated with anger and hatred. Darren became frightened seeing the sudden
change in her facial features. He stepped back towards the door knowing if he
angered her further, he could at least fly out of the room. With incredible
speed, she was upon him. She knocked him to the floor as if he were a doll.
“She
doesn’t love you!” Anastasia screamed as she held him down. Darren stared up
at her, the fear paralyzing him. He could barely speak, let alone move. “I
love you!” she continued. “I have loved you for thousands of years, but you
never once acknowledged it!”
‘She’s
mad!’ Darren thought until she grabbed his hand and closed her eyes.
A
stream of images flowed from her mind into his, pictures of the Roman Coliseum,
a crowd of over nearly 30,000 spectators watching two women battle against each
other. Anastasia was one of the fighters, Sara being the other. Both were clad
in silver armor, Anastasia holding a bronze sword and Sara holding a gauntlet
made of what appeared to be silver, but it changed forms before his eyes into a
sword. Darren could see himself running towards them when Sara got the upper
hand and put Anastasia to her knees, the sword at her throat.
“Please!”
Anastasia begged. “I swear I’ll stay away from Sebastian for as long as I
live!”
“You’ll
only try to defeat me again,” Sara replied as she held up her sword. The crowd
was now screaming for her to kill Anastasia.
Anastasia
stopped begging. She became very rigid as she hissed, “Then let it be known I
shall avenge my death in the next life, and the next, until I have finally
defeated you and won Sebastian.”
Sara
raised her sword, and with one blow, Anastasia’s head fell off her body. The
sword retracted into the gauntlet, and the gauntlet became the bracelet on
Sara’s wrist. Darren had just reached the arena as she backed away from the
dead body, horrified by what she had done. She hit Darren and turned around. He
raised his cheek and gently stroked it with his fingers.
“It’s
alright, Achillia,” he found himself saying.
“No,
it’s not, Sebastian,” she answered, taking the bracelet off her wrist and
placing it on his. “Here, you keep the Witchblade for now. I must have some
peace before I return.” She walked away from him into the darkened archway
that led down below the Coliseum.
The
images stopped suddenly as Anastasia let go of his hand, terminating the
connection. Darren was finally beginning to understand the strange and downright
frightening dreams he had been having in the last couple of weeks.
Unfortunately, his mistake of not paying attention to Anastasia was about to
cost him. He tried to get up off the ground, but something heavy and metal came
across his forehead, knocking him unconscious.
*~*~*
Sara
had pushed her bike to the limit and made it to Darren’s hotel in less then
five minutes. Her heart pounded as she pushed the up button for the elevator,
but with her patience running thin, she couldn’t sit and wait. Instead, she
ran for the stairs. Four flights weren’t that bad, was it?
Sara
pushed herself to the forth floor, her legs barely making it as she burst
through the door, panting, her gun drawn. Slowly, she surveyed the corridor of
closed doors to make sure there was no threat there. Walking down the hall, she
continued to scan every little nook and cranny of the forth floor for signs of
danger.
Finding
none, Sara started to run towards Darren’s room at the end of the hall. Her
approach was quiet and skillful, noticing that the door was opened a crack. She
held her breath for a moment, clearing her mind to make sure she was ready for
the task ahead of her. ‘One, two, THREE!’ she counted in her head, then
burst through the door, her gun out in front of her.
Inside
the room, Darren lay in his bed, a large, bloody gash at the top of his
forehead. “Oh, my God! Darren!” Sara cried as she rushed over to him.
Anastasia
seemed to materialize behind her, a thin, sharp bronze sword resting comfortably
in her right hand. “Well, Detective Pezzini. We meet again,” she sneered.
Sara spun around, startled, but not frightened. She had been waiting for this.
“Did you finally figure out who the murderer was?”
“By
the looks of it, she’s standing in front of me with the murder weapon,” Sara
snidely replied as she reached for her gun.
“Ah,
ah! I don’t think so, Achillia,” Anastasia emphasized the name. She walked
over to the side of the bed and picked up the weapon.
“What
did you call me?” Sara asked in confusion.
“Achillia,
the Roman warrior, daughter of the senator Marius, and lover of the gladiator
Sebastian,” Anastasia explained in her own snide way. “Tell me, Detective,
have you had any strange dreams lately?”
“No,”
Sara vehemently denied.
“I
think you have, otherwise you wouldn’t be here trying to save your precious
Sebastian,” Anastasia mocked.
Sara’s
temper was wearing thin as her mind game continued. With her first weapon of
choice taken away, she had only one other form of protection left, but that
wouldn’t come until it was absolutely necessary. She played along with
Anastasia’s game, hoping to outsmart her before she had to call upon the
Witchblade.
“So,
Anastasia, what’s your real name?” Sara asked, knowing the answer to her
question even before she said it.
“Amazon,”
she said. “I was a great warrior goddess until you came along and took the
title from me with that little lethal amulet upon your wrist. The Witchblade, am
I correct?”
“Maybe,
maybe not,” Sara answered, keeping cooler than a cucumber. She tucked her hand
behind her back trying to keep the weapon from her opponent’s line of vision.
“I
know what it is, Detective. I’ve done my homework on it, and you. You’ve
only had it for a little while. As for your predecessor, she had it for years
before it abandoned her, and she actually knew how to wield it, unlike you.”
Sara’s
anger continued to rise. She made a fist to release the pressure she was feeling
at the moment. Anastasia merely smiled at her with the same snide expression
that had been on her face since they met that morning.
“What
I’d like to see is if your little amulet can stand up to this,” she
continued, pulling the bronze sword out from behind her. She held it up to
Sara’s neck, the blade gently running down her throat. “Hmmm… this rings a
bell, doesn’t it?”
Sara
swallowed hard as she tried to stay calm. She could feel the cold blade run
dangerously close to her flesh. Anastasia pulled the sword away and held it up
in her gladiatorial stance. Almost immediately the Witchblade came to life,
transforming from the bracelet around Sara’s wrist to the gauntlet and sword.
The two women sized each other up, each one scanning the other’s features for
any signs of weakness.
It
was Anastasia that struck first, the bronze sword plunging dangerously close to
Sara’s left side as she cried out. Sara moved away quickly, her gut reaction.
Her own sword took a swing at Anastasia, only to be deflected by the bronze
edge. Their weapons continued to clash as the battle heated up.
Sara’s
heart was racing as she tried with all her might to keep Anastasia from slashing
her with the sharp sword, but it was futile. No matter how hard she fought,
Anastasia continued to gain ground against her. By now, she was covered in cuts
and scratches, especially on her hand and arms. There was a cut on her forehead
from the bronze sword as she tried to avoid it hitting her skull.
Sara
was becoming weaker by the moment, but the two continued to fight, neither one
showing any slight chance of giving up. Sara managed to jump onto a chair, but
slicing the legs off it, Anastasia had her on her back, the Witchblade flying
though the air and falling to the ground beside the bed.
Anastasia’s
eyes widened when she saw the weapon tumble to the ground far from its wielder.
Sara immediately jumped to her feet, trying desperately to regain control of the
Witchblade. Anastasia lunged towards it, but Sara grabbed her foot, making her
fall to the floor along with her.
*~*~*
Darren
woke up to the sounds of metal clashing. His head was spinning as he tried to
make sense of it all. He couldn’t remember if he had left the TV on or the
radio, but he knew it was coming from nearby. Rolling onto his back, he finally
opened his eyes to find Sara and Anastasia battling it out, their swords drawn,
their faces showing almost no emotion, not even fear.
He
sat up just as Sara jumped onto a chair. Anastasia had sliced the legs off it,
knocking Sara to the floor and sending her weapon into the air. It fell right
beside his bed. Anastasia lunged for it, but Sara grabbed a hold of her leg,
sending her to the floor right beside her.
As
the two of them fought, Darren snatched up the weapon and stared at it. He knew
it was the Witchblade, the ancient weapon he had seen in Anastasia’s strange
visions. All too suddenly, the strong urge to put it on came over him.
Sara
looked up just as Darren was slipping his hand into the gauntlet. “Darren,
NO!” she screamed, but it was too late. The Witchblade was already upon his
wrist. But something strange was beginning to happen. Unlike the last man that
had tried to wield it, there were no ill effects on him. It was as if the
Witchblade had known him and was letting him grasp its powers. Sara’s mouth
dropped open as she stared at him. He, too, marveled by the amount of power he
was feeling at the moment.
Anastasia
was also staring, except her eyes showed the fear of nearly two millennia behind
them. She was quick to get on her feet even though Sara tried to grab her and
hold her down. Bounding through the door, Anastasia managed to get away with her
life, but it wasn’t the last time she’d be seen.
Sara
glanced back at Darren, the Witchblade still holding onto his wrist as he
advanced towards her. She was all too quickly becoming light headed from the
amount of blood she had lost, and before he even reached her, she was already
unconscious on the floor.
Be nice. SUBMIT A REVIEW HERE: