Warning! This isn't the final edited edition of this story!
[What do I mean by that? Well, I'm still in the process of actually writing it, so things could change...]
Category: J/B slash
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Occasional mention of happenings during an episode, but nothing really big. Mostly mentions to TSbyBS.
Notes: This is a work in progress. I'm writing as fast as I can, but occasionally real life does rear its head. I will post updates as often as possible.
Warnings: Violence, some gore, m/m sex.
Summary: Jim and Blair may be dead, but they still have to deal with strange happenings in Cascade.Disclaimers: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly Productions, Paramount and UPN. All stories are written in fun, and no copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made on these stories. The following stories may involve men who are in a same-sex relationship. If thoughts of a m/m relationship squicks you, or if you are not of the age of consent where you live, please don't read!
Author's Note & Warning: This is a post-death story. It's a sequel to We Who Guard, so you'll probably want to read that one first! There is violence, gore and m/m sex in this one, so be warned.
Feed the Bard! I love feedback! E-mail me at eponin@ejai.org and let me know what you think!
Revenant
Beyond the Veil: Part II
by: Eponin
Last Update: November 10, 2001
Revenant - One who returns after death.
Part 1
We went to visit Naomi in early October. Of course, she didn't know we were there, but that's one of the drawbacks to being dead. We hadn't checked on her since my funeral, over a year before, and I wanted to make sure she was doing okay. We tracked her down in Milan.
One of the nicer things about all of this is how easily we're able to keep track of our tribe members. Now, most of them live in Cascade, where Jim and I hang out anyway, which makes finding them a snap, but Naomi's part of our tribe too, and she's never in Cascade anymore. We can find her just as easily as we can find Simon. All we have to do is think about her. Or rather, all I have to do is think about her.
Jim still has problems with Naomi. One being that he never really got over the fact that she released my dissertation to Sid without my permission and basically screwed up both of our lives. Me, I look at things a little more prosaically. If Naomi hadn't sent Sid my dissertation and shaken up our lives, Jim and I might never have completed our full Sentinel-Guide bond. We might have continued on forever, stuck in the "only friendship" rut. Okay, so it wasn't really a rut; our friendship was pretty damned wonderful. But this… this is better.
The other problem Jim has with Naomi is her attachment to sage. He has to be the only person in the world who retains his allergies after death. Of course, Jim also retained his Sentinel senses, so maybe that's why. Oh, who am I kidding? Since when have Jim or I ever done anything even remotely resembling normal?
So, we spent a couple of weeks puttering around Milan after Naomi. I even chatted with her once when her meditations got deep enough, but I think she brushed off our conversation as her subconscious taking on my voice. That made me laugh. Naomi isn't always as open-minded as she likes to make people think.
After our two weeks were up, we decided it was time to head back to Cascade and check up on the gang. The only word that could be used to describe the bullpen when we returned was tense. Things had been pretty lighthearted when we left, so obviously something big had happened; and recently. We both knew that if something important had happened earlier, we would have felt a pressing urge to return home to check on things. That's just the way it worked. We protect Cascade; therefore, we have a kind of warning system that lets us know when we're needed, when there's a threat to the city or our family. It's nice, actually. Having to stand over Simon's shoulder 24/7 would get boring really fast. We're deceased, not deadened to the world around us. We can get as bored as the next guy.
Jim gave me one of his long-suffering looks when we felt the mood in Major Crimes, then turned away, gesturing towards Simon's office. "I'll go peek over Simon's shoulder, Chief. You want to check up on the others?"
I nodded and waved a hand at him, telling him to go. "Fine with me, man. I'll go see what's up with Joel." I motioned towards the big man's desk as we split up. Joel had a case-file spread open on his desk, and he was frowning rather seriously at it. Must be pretty bad to put that expression on Joel's face. The man was usually a fount of optimism, and even I could see the lines etched into his face from here.
I took a quick look around the bullpen as I walked. Megan was on the phone, and Rafe and H.'s desks were empty. There were either off, or out on an assignment. Given the feeling in here today, I was betting they were out on assignment.
The case-file Joel was hunched over wasn't pretty. The crime scene photos were gruesome splashes of blood and remains, and I had to force myself to look past them to see what the report said. That's when I found out the remains belonged to Melanie Travers, a six year old from the North End, and I had to step back. I may be a ghost, or a spirit, or whatever it is that I am, but my stomach still churns when confronted with the depravities that other human beings can commit.
I stepped back and continued reading over Joel's shoulder, resolutely not looking at the photographs. I was about halfway through the first page when I felt Jim's arms fold around me. Our bond was pulsing with little shudders of pain and disgust, and I could tell that the photos and facts had hit Jim hard. He's a sucker for kids, and this was one of the children of his tribe that he had been unable to protect.
He sighed and then spoke quietly into my ear. "Simon's up in arms over this case too, Chief. Looks like the whole department's rallying on this one. The little girl was the daughter of one of the uniforms."
"Jesus, Jim," I whispered. I suddenly understood the darkness and urgency permeating the station. One of their own had been attacked.
"Simon was chatting with the Commissioner over the phone, going over details, or I might not have caught that much," Jim continued. "He thinks there's something weird about the scene, but no one can put their finger on exactly what."
"Did he say what was making him suspicious?" I asked.
Jim shrugged. "I got the impression that they'd found some strange stuff at the scene, but Simon didn't say what. We'll have to continue going over Joel's notes with him." Jim paused, then grinned at me, and I knew his next statement was going to be good. "Simon said he wished you were here. He said your 'weird way of looking at things' might help them come up with something new."
I grinned back and gave Jim a mocking little bow. "I am the master of weird," I said before turning back to Joel's file.
Jim just whapped me on the shoulder, then settled his arms around me again and started reading.
The facts weren't pretty. Little Melanie Travers had been alive when the perp removed her heart. I shivered at that, but kept on reading. What caught my attention was what else had been found at the scene, a mixture of flower pieces and feather bits. Something in that sounded familiar, but I couldn't place what.
I shrugged internally and made a mental note to discuss the facts with Jim when we had all the information and more time. Besides, we still needed to actually visit the crime scene and check out the body. Jim's senses would probably tell us more than the files, and maybe I would pick up on the elusive memory.
Part 2
The crime scene was, in a word, messy. Rafe and Brown were there with a few of the newer Major Crimes detectives, going over the ground again. They looked tired, and I wondered if they'd gotten any sleep since the body had been found.
Jim and I had allowed our Sentinel-Guide link to come to the fore, letting it direct us to where we needed to go, and so we found ourselves in the middle of Hyde Park, down by the waterfront. Melanie's body had been found splayed on a flat rock down by the water. The scene was ringed by a copse of trees that lent the area a bit of privacy. At any other time it would have been a beautiful area; one well suited to romantics and picnics. Now it just looked grim.
There was blood everywhere, as will happen when a person is cut open that widely while they're still alive, and I had to wonder how the body of one tiny six year old could hold that much red liquid. As I stared at the rock, I could see the faint shimmering outline of her body, an exhalation of power that marked the spot where she had finally succumbed to her injuries and died. It was a clean, white glow, befitting the innocence of the child. The rest of this little sanctuary, however, was covered in an oppressive darkness.
I walked over to where Jim was crouched next to the stone. "Anything?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "I can catch bits and pieces of flower scents, but mostly all I can smell is the blood." Jim shivered a little, a disturbed look crossing his face. "Can you feel it?" he asked me.
"The darkness here?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. I think there's more going on here than a simple murder, or even a complex one. There's something about all the trappings of this that's ringing a bell with me, but I can't seem to chase it down." I shrugged ruefully. "Sorry."
Jim smiled at me and stood, tugging on a lock of my hair before he walked past me. "Don't worry, Chief. We'll figure it out. Lets just get everything we can from here now. It's going to rain soon, and it'll all be washed away."
I nodded and followed Jim to the other end of the clearing, where we could survey the whole area at once. As he leaned up against one of the trees and stretched out his senses, I placed my hand on his bicep, anchoring him. He can still zone, too.
"Relax, Jim," I murmured, dropping my tone into the soothing "Guide Voice" to give him something to anchor himself with. "You can do this. Block out the scent of the blood. What else is there?"
Jim's nostrils flared as he scented the air, and I knew he was cataloging everything else he could smell in the area.
"Flowers," he said finally. "Can't tell what kind, though. And something sweet? Maybe some kind of incense. I can't tell for sure. It's really faint."
"That's good, Jim," I said, rubbing my hand reassuringly down his arm. "Now use your sight. What have the guys missed?"
Pale blue eyes opened and scanned the clearing, taking in every little detail. I followed as Jim took a step forward, letting his senses lead me across the clearing. Through it all I kept up a steady stream of low-level chattering to keep him from focusing too tightly on his sight. We ended up back in front of the stone.
"What is it?" I asked him quietly.
He continued staring at the stone, and for a long moment I was afraid he'd zoned. Then he leaned forward and ran the pads of his fingertips across the upper edge of the stone. As he did this, I noticed that the portion of the stone he was touching was raised slightly higher than the part where the body had been laid.
"There was a pool of blood here, Chief," Jim said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.
"There?" I frowned. "That's weird. I can see the outline of the body in the spirit realm, and it doesn't reach up that far." I paused, thinking, then asked, "Could the blood have spurted?" Bleck. What a disgusting thought. This guy was really messy. At that, another thought popped into my head. "Jim? The guy who did this. How did he get out of here unseen? He must have been coated in blood. Someone had to have seen something."
Jim shrugged. "I don't know. We'll need to find out when the medical examiner put the time of death before we can tell how many people might have been in this area."
I nodded agreement. If it had been in the early hours of the morning, it was doubtful many people were here at all.
"To answer your other question," Jim went on, "I doubt there could have been enough spurting to cover the amount of blood I see dried here. Besides, her heart was removed. The body can't spurt blood with no heart to pump it."
"So why the blood there?" I asked, gesturing to the spot on the stone.
"My best guess? That's where out killer rested the heart after he took it out."
That made another question rear it's ugly head. "Jim? Did they find her heart with the body?"
Jim stopped looking at the rock, turning and staring at me instead. "You know, I don't think they did, Chief."
"To Dan's then?" I asked.
Jim nodded agreement, and off we went to see Dan Wolfe to get a good look at a body I didn't really want to see.
Part 3
Ugh. Can I just say that I hate looking at dead bodies? Especially bodies that are dead because of violence. And most of all, I hate it when those bodies are children.
I skimmed the autopsy report Dan had left lying on his desk. There was a picture enclosed, not one of the body, but one taken while Melanie was alive. She had been a beautiful brown haired child, radiating happiness and innocence; something that had been ripped away from her and her family sometime around 3:30 early this morning. Reading this report, I hurt for Officer Danny Travers.
What had happened to this little girl was something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, except for maybe the guy who did this. Yes, all signs to the contrary, I do occasionally have a vicious streak, and this guy was most definitely doing a good job of bringing it out.
Melanie Travers had been drugged, not to keep her from feeling any pain, but to keep her from being able to struggle or call for help. She would have felt everything he did to her, and that thought alone made me swallow convulsively.
I felt Jim's arms come around me again, comforting, and I turned in his embrace, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his neck. There's one definite upside to being dead. I can steal hugs and kisses at the station, and there's no one to give us grief about it.
"The body's bad," Jim said quietly to me, "but I'm still going to need your help with this. You going to be all right?"
I nodded. "Hope so. If not, I'll just stare at the wall while you do your thing."
"I can try doing this myself, if it's too much for you, Chief."
I was shaking my head no before he finished the sentence. It had taken me too long to train him to ask for help, I wasn't going to let him revert to type now. "No way, big guy. I'm your partner; we do this together. I'll be fine."
He stared at me for a long moment, and I knew he was scanning me, making sure I was really all right.
"C'mon, Jim. Lets get this over with so we can go home."
He nodded, finally, and turned to enter the morgue.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The morgue is a cold place; it's not just the frigidity, but the atmosphere that chills me. The place has always given me the creeps, and I hurried to stand next to the body just so we could be done that much quicker.
The body was bad; one of the worst I've ever seen, and it was exacerbated by the small size and the age of the victim. Nothing this horrible should happen to a child.
One look at the body and I did something I swore I'd never do; I forced myself to think of Melanie Travers as just a body, no face, no name. I hated that, but I couldn't look at all that damage and without thinking about what she might have felt. It was too painful, and Jim needed my help. I couldn't help if I was too busy trying not to puke on the corpse.
Jim headed over to the body, placing his fingertips on the edge of the metal tray that held it. There was no sheet covering it, and it was obvious that Dan had either just finished in here, or was taking a break. Looking at it, I'd need a break too.
Steeling myself, I walked up behind Jim and looked over his shoulder, my eyes taking in details that I really wished I didn't understand. The victim's chest has been cut open from left to right. There was a big gaping hole where the killer had put his hands in and ripped out her heart. I can see pieces of that same darkness that was in the clearing lingering here in the body, and that's when it hit me. Jim and I hadn't become involved in this particular case by accident. There was an element of the spiritual involved, or of the supernatural, if you will, and I was getting the feeling that we were the only ones qualified to handle it. Oh boy.
I'd had enough, at this point, of staring at the body, but Jim needed me, so I couldn't just leave. Instead, I did the next best thing. I stepped behind Jim and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his jacket. I let his scent wash over me, giving me a feeling of safety and providing Jim with his anchor at the same time.
"Okay, Jim, start with your sight," I coached. Jim went still, and I knew he was examining the body. Finally he shook his head.
"Nothing, Sandburg. If there was anything here, Dan's got it already."
I nodded, rubbing my cheek against Jim's back. "We knew that was going to be a possibility. Try scent. Maybe there's something on the body that we didn't catch at the clearing."
"Right," Jim sighed, and I knew he had to be getting tired, and probably had the mother of all headaches.
"Almost done, love," I whispered to him, rubbing his stomach soothingly. "Almost done, then we can go home."
I felt his ribcage expand under my hands as he breathed deep.
"Nope. Nothing here. All I'm getting are the same scents I got at the scene."
"Damn. I was really hoping for a little more to go on here, Jim. You know?"
Jim nodded agreement. "Me too, Chief. Me too." He turned and slid an arm around my shoulders. "Home?"
"Yeah. Home."
Part 4
The loft was, amazingly enough, still home. Simon tried, but he hadn't had much luck in selling the place. Maybe the fact that its technically haunted might have something to do with it.
You see, being dead doesn't mean we can't still interact with the living world, we just have to apply a lot more concentration to affect anything on a physical level.
It took a lot of work, and blind luck, for us to figure that out; and even after we did, its taken a lot of practice for us to be able to duplicate the effect with any reasonable degree of success.
We figured it all out about a month after we died, or at least that's when we came to the conclusion that we weren't going to be moving on to a more traditional afterlife. Hey, traditional is overrated anyway.
We'd been hanging around just keeping an eye on the gang, when Major Crimes was handed a rather sticky case involving two kidnapped children. Now, I know I've mentioned Jim's soft spot for children before, and this case frustrated him to no end, because he figured out where the children were stashed before the rest of the guys did. After stalking around the bullpen muttering to himself for nearly fifteen minutes, Jim finally snapped. He was yelling, at me, at Simon, for not catching the clues, even for not listening to him. In the course of his tantrum, while waving his arms around to make a point, he smacked his hand down on the map splayed open on Joel's desk. I'm not sure he even knew what point he was trying to make, but he needed to do something to release all of that tension. The force of his blow actually knocked the map off the desk. Actually, Jim sent the map flying across the floor until it came to a stop at Simon's feet as he stepped out of his office.
That brought a rather abrupt end to Jim's tirade, and he promptly set about trying to duplicate his actions. Of course, it wasn't that easy, and for a change, it was me trying to get Jim to slow down, instead of the other way around.
Normally I would have been thrilled with the enthusiasm Jim was showing, but it was a frantic burst of energy that he was displaying, almost desperate in intensity, as Jim pushed himself for those kids' sake. And it had struck me that some strange, unseen entity suddenly appearing in the bullpen to show the detectives the way would probably scare the shit out of them, no matter how often Megan proclaimed to believe in the psychic. It took a few minutes for me to get that thought through Jim's head, but finally he calmed down.
It was pretty late by then, but we hung around for a while longer, waiting for the bullpen to empty out a bit. When most people had finally cleared out for the night, we set about trying to recreate Jim's success, so we could leave some sort of clue the guys would find. Something small that they might have overlooked the first time they'd gone through the evidence.
After several hours of frustrating and exhausting work, Jim finally managed to pick up a marker lying on Rafe's desk. We figured we'd only get one chance at it, so Jim simply circled the spot where the kids could be found on the map. Long story short, the guys found the circle on the map the next morning, agreed it was a logical place to look, and found the kids.
We practiced a lot after that. We were still using the loft as our home, because Simon hadn't been able to bring himself to deal with it yet. We'd left him with power of attorney over our effects, and that included the loft.
Once we realized that we were indeed stuck in Cascade for the foreseeable future, it occurred to us that we would need a place to stay, and really, the loft was still home to us.
I know it was probably mean, but we kept an eye on Simon and made sure we were in the loft whenever he brought a potential buyer over to see it. We didn't harm them or scare them in any way, but our presence seemed to make people uncomfortable, and pretty soon Simon figured out that he just wasn't going to be able to sell the place, so he took it off the market.
It wasn't too big of a deal for him. Jim had bought the place outright, so once the power and water were turned off, Simon didn't have to worry about paying for anything.
All our stuff is still there. Originally I think Simon left our furniture and decorations up so he could use them to show off the loft. Afterwards, I think he figured that the loft was as good a place as any to store them in. I'm not sure he could bring himself to sell any of it, and I'm glad. We're attached to some of that stuff.
Simon still periodically visits when he needs some time to himself, or just when he needs to talk. Of course, he doesn't realize that someone's actually listening to him.
It took us awhile to realize that while strangers were universally uncomfortable in our presence, the people who'd known us well were not. Maybe its because they had known us, and our presence was familiar to them. Subconscious recognition and all that, I don't know. But at least we don't have to worry about scaring our friends off. Now if only we could talk to them, but that's one of the first things we figure out. Unless a person has some sort of supernatural ability like Jim's Sentinel abilities or my shamanism, or they have a connection with some sort of object or something that is supernatural, they can't see or hear us.
Jim and I visited Peru not too long after the kidnapping and map incident. We'd figured out we could travel to wherever we wanted just by thinking about our location, so we decided to see just how far our range was. We both knew Peru well, and we had a connection to the tribes there, so we decided to visit the Chopek.
We startled the crap out of their shaman, let me tell you! He nearly fell in their communal fire when we popped in. It would have been funny, but Jim and I were too elated over the fact that someone else could see and hear us. We'd only had each other for company for the past two months, and while we still loved each other's presence, we were both yearning for someone new to talk to.
Kehara explained a lot to us. He helped us refine our techniques and concentration so it wouldn't take so much effort for us to interact with the physical world. Thanks to him, we hardly have to think about it now. He also gave me a little more training in my shaman abilities. Apparently, being dead means I have a lot more access to the spirit planes (duh!), and to the spiritual powers that feed my abilities. It's why I can see things like the darkness that was in Melanie Travers' body so clearly now.
We spent a week with Kehara, letting him give us the basics, and then we returned to Cascade. We both felt that we couldn't leave the city for too long. We still feel that way; there's a link between us and the city, but we can be away for longer periods of time now. Our strength and power as spirits has grown; and therefore, our link is stronger.
And our link, our bond, to each other? It's stronger than it's ever been. It's hard to quantify exactly what this link between us is. Its not something that can be physically seen by anyone else, though I can see it if I look at the two of us on the spirit plane. There is a metaphysical meshing of energies between Jim and I.
Every individual has their own energy. Generally, you can see that energy, if you have the ability, in a person's aura, and you can read their emotions and energy level in the color that aura is. With Jim and I, our auras and energies are permanently meshed together. I don't think our bond was this strong before we died, but continual access to the spiritual planes and to its energies has strengthened it beyond anything it was before; that and the fact that we are constantly together now. We literally never go anywhere without the other.
In some respects, we are two people, two minds, sharing two segments of the same body.
Part 5
We arrived home that night feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. We slid in through the door, dropped our clothes as we headed up to the bedroom, and crawled immediately into bed. Being a spirit means we don't have to eat, and we can't shower, so there wasn't much else for us to do. We were too tired to sit there and talk, and to be honest, neither of us wanted to discuss the case just then. So, we curled up in each other's arms and slept.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I woke in the middle of the night to Jim's hands running over my body.
"Mmm..." Jim murmured in my ear before lowering his mouth to nip at my neck. "You awake?"
Yep. I was awake. Or at least some portion of my anatomy was. I flipped over in Jim's arms without warning, a smirk on my face, and bore him back to the bed. I leaned over him and grinned, then blatantly looked down my body. "What do you think?" I asked him.
Jim chuckled and lunged up, his hands burying themselves in my hair, his mouth fastening on mine. In startling contrast with the violence of this movement, his tongue gently ran over my lips, requesting entrance to my mouth. His hands softened in my hair and tilted my head to the side for better access. I lowered myself down, so skin was touching skin, and eagerly opened my mouth on his.
I moaned, feeling Jim's hardness rubbing against mine, and helplessly thrust against him. He spread his legs, cradling me in the hollow between his thighs, and let one of his hands wander down my spine to caress my ass. His other hand held steady in my hair, sealing my mouth to his.
When we finally parted, both of us needing air, Jim was panting, his eyes dilated with need in the moonlight. Then I was on my stomach, legs spread, with Jim looming over me, pressing sucking wet kisses down my spine and over the globes of my ass. Gods what that man can do to me! I shuddered at his touch, heat coursing through me as his fingers trailed down my cleft, opening me. His tongue trailing over the tight muscle had me crying out and jerking inexorably into his touch, while at the same time grinding my erection into the bed beneath me. And then he was in me, surrounding me, his voice whispering nonsense into my ear as we convulsed together, and I melted into the mattress.
* * * * * * * * * * *When I could think again, Jim had pulled out and curled his warmth around me. I rolled over to face him, fitting myself against his front and smiled up at him. His eyes were so pale as to be nearly translucent, and the moonlight painted his skin in alabaster tones.
"Love you," I whispered to him, unable to think of anything more to say at that moment.
He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around me. "I love you too, Chief," he whispered back, and we snuggled back in, drew up the covers, and fell into sleep once more.
Part 6
Sunlight shone through the skylight and lay in patches on the comforter when I awoke the next morning. I was awake before Jim, which was an unusual occurrence. I pressed a kiss to his forehead and slipped out from underneath the covers, letting him continue sleeping.
I had a feeling things were going to get worse before they got better, and knew we would both need as much rest as we could get.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Jim came downstairs, yawning and stretching, at about noon. We'd already looked at all the physical evidence the day before, and we weren't going to be able to help question anyone, so I felt safe letting Jim sleep that late. He came over and sprawled next to me on the sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he sat. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the blank television screen before turning his pale eyes on me.
"What is it?" I asked him when he didn't speak.
"I had a dream last night," he said quietly.
I felt myself flinch. Any dream Jim feels the need to share with me is never a good thing, though at least I've gotten him to realize that he does have to tell me about them. "Is that why you were awake in the middle of the night last night?"
He nodded but remained silent, and I knew I really wasn't going to like this.
"Okay," I said, "what was it about?"
Jim scrubbed his hands over his face then dropped them back into his lap, twisting them around each other. Obviously he didn't like what he was going to say anymore than I did.
"I saw another jaguar," Jim said, and I felt my blood freeze.
"Spotted?" I whispered.
He shook his head in the negative and I felt a little of the ice in my veins start to melt. I really hadn't been looking forward to dealing with Alex again.
"No," Jim continued, "this one was black, like my panther, only bigger, and his eyes were weird. They were entirely gray; there was no iris. The whole eye looked like it was filled with smoke."
"Smoke?" I asked. "That really doesn't sound like any sort of normal spirit guide I've ever heard of. Did he shapeshift into a person, like yours does sometimes?"
"No," Jim replied. "It was like I was in the jungle, but I wasn't. My body wasn't there; I was just an observer. The whole area was silent, like it was waiting for something, and then the jaguar walked out from the brush." Jim paused here and looked up at me. "I wasn't physically there, Blair, but I'd swear he looked right at me." Jim shivered a little, and I leaned forward and pulled his hands to me, rubbing my thumb gently over his knuckles in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.
"That's… creepy," I said finally. Then something else Jim had said caught my attention. "You said he, Jim. Are you sure?"
Jim frowned at me for a minute, and then nodded. "Yeah," he said slowly, "I am sure."
"Well," I said, "that definitely rules out Alex."
Jim's smile made a brief appearance before vanishing again. "It does, and leaves us with only half the population of Cascade as suspect, instead of all of it."
"Well," I responded, "If someone does manage to finger this guy, at least we'll be able to tell. The darkness I keep seeing has to be emanating from him. I don't think this is something we'll be able to miss if we physically see the guy."
"True, but have you thought about the fact, Chief, that if we can see his connection to the spirit world, he will most likely be able to see us?"
That thought stopped me cold, and I shivered, suddenly fearing for Jim. It was too easy for him to get caught up in his senses. This would make him vulnerable. I trapped his face between my hands. "You need to be careful, Jim," I told him.
His hands raised to grasp mine, then pulled them down to his lap. "We both need to be careful, Chief. I won't get anywhere if you're not with me."
I could see faint hints of panic in his eyes and knew now was not the time to make jokes. "Okay, Jim, both of us."
Maybe I taught him this partnership thing too well.
Jim wandered over to the balcony doors and stared out over his city, and I had to ask, "So what's next?"
He turned back to me and leaned up against the glass. "Not sure," he sighed. "There's really nothing good to go on. We'll probably have to wait and see if the guys turn up anything when they canvas the neighborhoods around the park."
"Or we'll have to wait until the killer strikes again," I said.
"If he strikes again," corrected Jim.
"Oh, he'll kill again," I replied quietly, and Jim turned sharply to stare at me.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked.
"Not entirely," I responded, "its just a gut feeling I've got."
"Do you think this guy has an agenda?" Jim asked me, "Or are you talking serial killer type of feeling"
I shrugged helplessly. "Don't know, Jim. Its too vague for that. I jsut get the feeling that Melanie Travers' death won't be the last." I sighed in frustration and ran my fingers through my curls. "Maybe if I could figure out what it was at the scene that seemed so familiar to me I might have a better idea."
Jim nodded. "Okay, lets actually go about this logically, then. What were the elements at the scene? Which ones stood out to you?"
I nodded my agreement. Okay. This was something I could do. "Well, the most obvious element is the removal of the heart."
Jim nodded and came back to sit on the couch with me. He swung his feet around and propped them in my lap. "There was also the flower and feather pieces that were found, and the incense I smelled."
"And there's something about that rock where the body was found, I just can't place it," I added. "Damn it." I growled in frustration and pushed Jim's feet to the floor so I could stand and pace around the loft.
I was crossing in front of the door when I heard the click of the lock. Stopping, I turned to watch the door, seeing Jim jump to his feet out of the corner of my eye. He took up a position of protection in front of me, like he'd always done when we were alive, and I was forced to poke him in the ribs, reminding him, "You know, they can't hurt me anymore, big guy."
He looked back at me sheepishly, then moved to the side, restoring my line of sight, as the door swing open, revealing a very tired looking Simon Banks.
"Damn. Simon looks awful," I tossed back to Jim.
"I know I look awful, Sandburg. You don't need to rub it in," growled Simon as soon as he'd cleared the doorway.
I turned and looked wide-eyed at Jim. Jim just blinked at me.
"Great," Simon muttered, "now I'm talking to dead people."
I opened my mouth to speak, then paused and shut it again before any words could escape. What could I say? And if Simon really had heard me, should I speak?
I looked up at Jim, wanting advice, and caught a smirk stealing across his face.
"Not one word," I hissed at him, Sentinel soft.
He grinned back at me, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He touched his chest as if to say "who me?" and I was sorely tempted to clobber him with the couch pillow that was just inches from my hand. I restrained myself, but only barely, and grinned back at Jim. I walked up to him and stared him in the eye. "You just wait," I whispered, then strolled by him, pinching his rear as I passed.
He jumped forward and I smirked at him over my shoulder, then hopped up onto the kitchen counter and turned my attention to Simon. The man looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and really, I wasn't all that surprised. This case had to be getting to him.
I turned worried eyes on Jim and asked, "Now what? I somehow don't think Simon's quite ready to believe in ghosts, even if those ghosts are us."
Jim just shrugged and walked around Simon to get to me. "Don't know, Chief," he murmured in my ear. "Lets just wait it out for now. He probably just needs some time to himself, away from the station."
I agreed, but was frustrated all the same. I hated not being able to come right out and help Simon, and even worse, I couldn't even occupy myself with research. He'd hear me moving things around.
"Research?" Jim asked me, giving me a rather curious look.
Oops. Must have spoken out loud again. I do that when I get distracted.
I nodded at him and started speaking quietly again. "Yeah, research. I keep thinking I've read the case facts somewhere, so I figured I'd search around a little and see if anything jogs my memory."
Jim just smiled. "Good idea, Chief." Then he turned back to watching Simon drift around the loft.
Part 7
He stayed for an hour or so, just wandering around the loft, as if lost. Maybe he was. I've seen Simon hit hard by cases before, but never this hard. It was difficult, watching Simon trying to handle this alone. Both Jim and I felt helpless, but there was nothing we could do.
He left, finally, rubbing his forehead, and I could practically *see* the headache forming behind his eyes. I sighed when the door closed behind him and leaned back into Jim as I felt his hands close over my shoulders. I looked up at him; he looked grim, and I knew our resting time was over.
"Why don't you go stop in at the station, Jim," I suggested, "while I hit the books here and see if I can find out where this ritual comes from." I pulled away and headed towards my bookshelves.
"Ritual, Chief?"
"Yep," I answered, pulling books down from the shelves and laying them in haphazard piles around my feet. I ran my fingers across the spines, searching. I knew there was a book on South American cultural practices in there somewhere and I wanted to add it to the piles growing around me.
"Ritual? Chief!"
Jim's strident voice pulled me back from the academic abyss my mind had buried itself in. "What?" I asked him, still a little distracted. Where was that book?
"Why are you calling this a ritual killing, Blair?" Jim growled at me as he stepped forward and grasped my shoulders, pulling me around to face him.
I blinked up at him. "Umm... ritual killing?" Where did he get ritual killing from?
"Don't ask me, Chief, it's your word."
I thought about it for a minute. "Well, shit," I said. "That's what seemed so familiar. It's ritualistic." I'm sure I looked as surprised as I sounded.
Jim rolled his eyes at me. "What kind of ritual?"
I looked up at him and shrugged into the hands that were still attached to my shoulders. "Don't know. Let me do a little research and maybe I'll find it, okay?"
Jim nodded. "Need any help?"
"Nah. I'll be fine. I can probably do this faster myself, anyway." I waved my hand at all the anthropology books piled on the floor. "My field and all that."
Jim smiled at me in agreement.
"Go to the station, Jim. See if Rafe and Brown have found anything new. You'll just be bored here with me buried in books anyway."
"True." Jim rubbed my cheek with his knuckles and was gone.
I shook my head at his departed form and turned back to my mess. "Where is that book?"
"Try your study, Chief," Jim's voice floated to me.
I stuck my tongue out at the disembodied voice and headed to my former bedroom, the sound of Jim's chuckling echoing in the air behind me.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Three hours later I had skimmed what felt like an entire mountain of books and was no closer to tracking down my elusive memory when I felt a jolt, like the floor had moved underneath me. I blinked and looked around me. There were books scattered all over the living room floor, some stacked in piles, but most lay wherever I had been sitting when I finished with them. Boy, I'd made a mess. Jim was going to flip.
I stood up, searching around me, but nothing seemed to have moved. I shrugged to myself and figured I'd just been researching too long. I stepped towards the couch, trying to remember what pile I'd left the South American book in, when I felt it again. It was stronger this time, and the room spun around me. I yelped and grabbed for the back of the couch before I remembered I was a ghost and could just choose to not have the physical world affect me.
What the hell was going on?
"Jim?" I called.
He didn't answer.
I had no idea what was going on, but I wasn't about to sit here in the loft while it happened. I headed for the station and hoped that Jim was just caught up in something Rafe or Brown had found. Unfortunately, that little voice in the back of my head was telling me it was probably a lot more serious than that, and that Jim was probably in the thick of things. He usually was.
Part 8
The bullpen was surprisingly empty when I arrived. Now granted it was evening, but there should have been a few more people around. And, of course, Jim wasn't there, which made me wonder where he had gotten off to. I knew I was going to have to have a long talk with that man. He knows better than to wander off investigating by himself.
I paused in the middle of the bullpen and watched the flow of the night crew as they went about their usual routine while trying to figure out where else Jim might have gone. I decided to try and see what the others were up to first. Maybe Jim was with one of them.
I stopped in at Simon's first, even though I really didn't expect to find Jim there. After all, we'd just seen Simon recently. I found Simon alone, trying to drown the day's frustrations in the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Half the bottle was already gone, and he wasn't showing signs of stopping anytime soon. He was really going to feel that in the morning.
I was watching Megan push her cart down the junk food aisle in the grocery store when the world dropped out from under me. I was falling, buried in pain and terror, and in the absolute certainty that I was going to die. I gasped for breath, my heart pounding, and struggled to break free from the torment. Then everything stopped, the fear, the pain, and the world popped back into focus.
I was still here, still conscious, but my hands were shaking, my stomach hurt and I found myself repeating "You're okay, you're okay," to the night. I opened my eyes; when had I closed them? I was standing on the edge of the bluff just outside of the city. I looked down, watching the lights reflect from the buildings, like so many fallen stars. There was nothing on the bluff below me, as far as I could tell.
I felt a tugging at the back of my mind, coupled with a sense of urgency. I turned away from the city below and walked forward to the tree line. The closer I got to the woods, the more I could feel, and the urgency was suddenly overlaid with a hint of panic and a strong upwelling of grief. As I crossed into the forest, I broke into a light jog, never more glad that I could will the trees and their roots not to affect me. If I had been alive, I would have been covered in bruises from tripping over things I couldn't see in the dark.
I jogged through the woods, uncertain of which direction I was headed. My sense of direction is pretty much non-existent. All I knew was that I was headed away from the city.
Ten minutes later, I found it. Or rather, I found them. I burst into a small clearing and nearly gagged from the stench. The ground under my feet squished as I walked, soaked as it was from the rain we'd had the night before.
My eyes locked on the figure huddled in the middle of the clearing, and I sprinted forward, towards Jim. His back was to me, so I stepped around to face him, calling, "Jim?"
The look on his face nearly made me panic. His face was slack, and I knew he had zoned, but on what? The things that frightened me the most were the tears that continuously coursed down his face. They seemed never-ending, and I wondered how long he had been sitting here, like this.
I fell to my knees in front of him and grasped his hands. They were cold and I could feel tremors coursing through his body. I ran my hands up his arms and over his shoulders, until finally I cupped his face with my palms. I rubbed his cheeks, feeling his tears wet my thumbs, and started talking softly to him. "Jim? C'mon, man, I know you can hear me. Its time to come back now. You're safe."
He shuddered once, then blinked down at me, tears still spilling from the corners of his eyes. "Chief?" he said hoarsely, and I knew he was asking me what had happened.
"I don't know, big guy," I replied quietly. "You were like this when I got here; zoned."
He nodded, as if expecting that to be my answer. He rested his head on my shoulder for a moment while I rubbed the back of his neck and let him regain his composure. Finally he straightened up from the fetal-like position he had curled into, then he lurched to his feet in a motion that was anything but graceful. He blinked owlishly and slowly turned to look around the clearing. His movements were slow, as if here were an arthritic old man, and again I wondered what had happened.
"Jim?" I asked, "What happened?"
At my question, Jim stopped scanning the clearing and turned to look at me. I started to talk, to continue my line of questioning, but was stopped cold by the look in his eyes. Those blue eyes that could turn to icy fire when he was angry, that could darken and sparkle in the heat of passion, looked lifeless and dead. And Jim himself looked broken down.
"I couldn't stop it, Chief," he whispered, "couldn't stop *him*."
I frowned. "Stop what, Jim? Stop who?" This was just getting more confusing by the minute.
Jim didn't answer, at least not out loud. Instead he turned back to face the rear of the clearing. There was nothing there that I could see, and I looked up at Jim, puzzled.
Jim pointed to a tree on the far side of the clearing. "Other side of that tree, Chief," he whispered, then wrapped his arms around himself as if he were cold.
I took a step forward, towards that tree, then stopped and turned back to Jim, worried.
He shook his head at me. "You go, Sandburg, I can't. Not again. Not now." His voice was shaking and I could have sword he was on the verge of a panic attack.
I squeezed his bicep and continued forward. I wasn't looking forward to seeing what was on the other side of that tree. The smell alone told me it wouldn't be pretty, and anything that could shake Jim up this badly would probably affect me even worse. Unfortunately, I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall apart once I'd seen it, whatever it was. Jim was already a wreck; we couldn't both lose it.
I stepped cautiously around the tree with only the moonlight to light my way. The scene that greeted me was like something out of a horror movie. The mooonlight filtering through the fall leaves above gave the entire scene and eerie feel.
There was blood everywhere, spilled over the earth and splashed in dark stains across the trunks of trees. Across what had probably once been a deer trail lay the trunk of a massive tree. It was lying on the ground, and still it came up to my waist. The top of the trunk was worn smooth and slightly hollowed out. Inside lay the bodies of two teenagers, boy and girl. They lay side by side, hands clasped and eyes wide open, although there was no expression on their faces. The wind whistled mournfully through the branches and made the dark locks of the girl move restlessly.
I forced myself to step closer and look at the bodies. Their shoes were gone and they had been stripped bare to the waist. Where their hearts should have laid beating in their chests was nothing but a gaping hole. Above their heads a portion of the trunk had been hollowed out into the shape of a crude bowl. The rim was adorned with symbols that looked runic in nature, but I didn't recognize their origin. Inside that bowl was more blood and, I was sure, lumps of flesh.
I gagged then and backed up, unable to take anymore. I stumbled back out into the clearing. Jim hadn't moved. To be honest, I'm not sure he could make himself move. I walked up to him and wrapped my arms around him. The hug was as much for me as it was for him. Stepping back, I grabbed Jim's hand and pulled him along after me.
"C'mon," I said, "lets get out of here. Okay?"
He nodded numbly at me, following docilely where I led. He was in shock, and I knew it was going to be up to me to snap him out of it. Jim needed to be whole and in control of himself if we were going to solve this.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We stopped back at the station on our way home. The bodies were in too remote a location, and I knew that if we didn't leave an anonymous tip, those two bodies might never been found. I stuck a quick note into an inter-departmental envelope and addressed it to Simon, wishing all the while that I could talk directly to the big captain. It would have made things a whole lot easier.
Then I dragged Jim home.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We made it home in record time. I think Jim was eager to get someplace where he could feel safe. I know I felt the same way; I was worried about him.
He didn't say anything to me when we entered, he just headed directly up the stairs to our bedroom. Full dark had fallen and the room was cloaked in blackness and shadow. For a moment, even the moon was obscured. I looked at the figure huddled underneath the tangle of blankets and knew I would have to get Jim talking, and fast.
"Jim?"
Jim just burrowed further under the covers. Not a good sign.
I crawled under the covers with Jim, wrapping my body around his in reassurance. He was facing me, and he burrowed his head into my chest instead of his pillow. That's okay. I didn't mind being used for a pillow. I just wished the circumstances were different.
"Jim," I murmured softly as I rubbed the back of his neck. "You have to talk to me."
Jim just shook his head at me and held me tighter.
"Love," I continued, "I can help. Just *talk* to me. Please don't shut me out. Not again." I was astonished to find tears in my own eyes. I guess I hadn't realized that the thought of Jim shutting me out, like he had over Alex, could still hurt. I drew in a deep, shuddering breath and tilted Jim's head up so I could look him in the eye. "Jim. Please," I whispered.
He blinked at me and unwound his arms from around my body. He lay on his back and stared up at the skylight, rubbing the last of his tears from his cheeks.
I waited.
Talking isn't Jim's strong suit, and I knew it would take him a minute to pull himself together and get his thoughts in order. I had the time, so I continued to wait, all the while rubbing my hand soothingly over his stomach.
Finally, he spoke. "I was at the station," Jim said tiredly, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "when everything went weird. I don't know what it was, but it felt like the world turned upside-down for a minute." He shrugged and continued staring up at the ceiling. "When everything righted itself, I found myself in that little clearing where you found me earlier."
I nodded, urging him to continue, but really there was no need. Jim needed to talk, to get this out even if he didn't want to, and once he'd been started the words kept coming, fast and furious.
"The killer was still there when I arrived, Chief." Jim looked over at me with pain filled eyes. "He was there and I just froze! I couldn't even make myself move. I felt those kids die, Chief!"
Jim was leaking tears again and I realized how very guilty he must be feeling right now. All his instincts lead him to protect the tribe, and he had only been able to stand there and watch while two of its members were murdered.
"Jim. It wasn't your fault."
Jim snorted derisively and brushed away my statement.
Maybe I'd better come at this from a different angle. "Jim," I asked, "did the killer know you were there?"
Jim blinked up at me. "I don't know. Maybe?"
He sounded to unsure of himself, so lost.
"Jim," I said quietly, "I found some markings at the site, on the tree. They looked runic, though I couldn't tell you what culture they were from. Based on that, and that feeling we keep getting around these kill-sites, I'd say our killer has at least *some* knowledge of the spiritual planes."
"So?" Jim asked.
"So, given those facts, its entirely possible, in fact, its very likely, that the killer was able to seal his site against any supernatural intrusion. He's definitely doing some sort of ritual, so I would think he wouldn't want any interruptions while he's working."
"So I wouldn't have been able to get close to him or the victims anyway?"
"Exactly," I replied triumphantly, "you would have to have a whole lot more training to break a ward like that. I've had more training in that area than you have, being the shaman in this partnership and all," I grinned at Jim, "but I'm not sure even I could have broken through whatever it was he had set up."
Jim nodded and I could see a little of the guilt he was carrying around clear from his eyes.
"You said you saw the killer?" I continued.
Jim nodded. "Yeah."
"What did he look like? Would you be able to recognize him again?"
"Oh yeah," Jim said grimly, "I don't think I could forget him."
"So?"
Jim looked at me blankly for a moment.
"Describe him, Jim," I growled impatiently.
Jim laughed sheepishly. "Yeah. Right. Well, he looked South American. Black hair, dark skinned, brown eyes. He wasn't tall, probably about your height, Chief, and he was lean, almost skinny. Makes me wonder how he's getting a hold of his victims. He looked like a good wind could blow him over."
"Maybe that's why he's targeting kids, Jim. Most of them can't or won't fight back."
Jim nodded. "Yeah, maybe."
"So he looked South American?"
"Looked, Chief. That doesn't mean he is South American. He could have been born here."
"True," I replied, then another thought crossed my mind. "Was he another Sentinel, Jim?" I remembered the dream Jim had had last night.
Jim paused and stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused as he thought things through. "I don't think so, Chief. I didn't feel any of the impulses I felt when Alex was here. I was just pissed that I couldn't make him stop."
I understood that feeling. "Okay, so our killer isn't a Sentinel. So then where does the jaguar you were dreaming about fit in?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe they're not connected?"
"Don't you think that's be a pretty big coincidence, Jim?" I asked.
"Yeah, it is. And I'd bet they *are* connected, I just can't see how."
"Maybe the guy you saw is working with someone else."
"No, I don't think so. My gut tells me he's working alone."
I patted his belly. "Okay, so maybe we're looking at this wrong. Maybe there is no Sentinel."
Jim frowned at me. "But the jaguar..."
"Jim," I interrupted, "Sentinels aren't the only people with spirit animals. The Native Americans believe that everyone has a spirit animal, and certainly all shamans do. And not every shaman is a Guide to a Sentinel."
Jim sighed and rolled towards me, resting his head on my chest. He can hear my heartbeat half a mile down the road, but he always seems to like listening to it this way the best. He said he started tuning in to my heartbeat more after I drowned in the fountain. It's a reminder to Jim of what happened, and it reassures him that I am still okay; I'm not dead.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. "Go to sleep, Jim," I murmured, pulling the blankets up around us. "We'll go to the station in the morning and see what else they've found at the site."
Jim yawned and nodded in agreement, already drifting towards sleep.
I smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Sleep well, love. I'm here."
Part 9
I woke early the next morning to find Jim already up and moving about the loft. I could tell he was feeling restless and edgy, and knew he wanted to get to the station as soon as possible. I stared at him long and hard, hoping to see a release from the guilt of the night before, but I had no such luck. Jim was still blaming himself, at least to some degree.
I sighed and dragged myself out of bed. There are days when it just doesn't pay to get out of bed, and somehow I knew this was going to be one of them.
I willed myself dressed and hurried down the stairs to meet Jim. I think he was grateful that we no longer needed to worry about showers or hair or anything like that. He knows better than to complain, though. He used to mutter under his breath about how long it would take me to fix y hair, even after we died. It took me awhile to get the hang of using my mind to affect my appearance. After listening to him grouch about it for nearly a week, I got fed up and willed my hair short. I mean *really* short. Jim freaked and blathered at me to fix it, put it back the way it had been. Grinning, I complied with his demands and never heard another peep out of him on the subject.
Luckily for Jim, I've got the hang of things now otherwise I think he might have broken that silent vow.
I had barely touched the bottom step when Jim grabbed my arm and hustled me out of the apartment and over to the station. It was a testament to his state of mind that he never even gave me a good morning kiss.
* * * * * * * * * * *
In contrast to the night before, the bullpen was in mass confusion when we arrived. We paused on the threshold, taking stock of the situation. Rafe and Brown were both yelling on the phone. Megan was shouting across the bullpen to both Joel and another detective whose name I don't know. He's new. And Simon was periodically sticking his head out of his office door and bellowing at people.
I blinked at the chaos then looked up at Jim, who was standing behind me. "I guess they got the note, huh?"
Jim whapped me on the back of the head. "No shit, Darwin," he replied before walking towards Megan. She had several files open on her desk, so it was safe to assume they were the latest case files on the murders.
I watched as Rafe and Brown hung up their phones at almost the same moment. Simon promptly stuck his head out the door again and bellowed, "QUIET!"
Silence descended, and everyone in the department turned to look at him.
"That's better," Simon smiled in satisfaction. His eyes scanned the crowd of detectives clustered in the outer office of Major Crimes. "Rafe, Brown," he called to the two partners, "Get over to the scene. See what else you can find. Connor, get forensics to go over this note," Simon waved my note, now safely tucked away in a plastic evidence bag. "Maybe they can find a print, or something. I want a name to go with this."
I snickered to myself. Boy was that going to be a waste of time.
"Joel," Simon continued, "Take the case file from the Travers murder and compare it with what we know about this one. I want to be sure its the same guy." He paused and looked around at the detectives who were still staring at him. "Well? Go!" he shouted impatiently, and they all scrambled to their appointed tasks.
I walked up behind Jim, who had ignored Simon and was continuing to peruse the files on Megan's desk. "Find anything new?" I asked him.
"No. So far they've only found the same as before, except for the runes and the fact that he killed two at once this time."
"What about getting a sketch of the guy you saw?" I asked. "We can try to sneak some time on one of the drawing programs that forensics has on their computers."
Jim nodded. "Good idea, Chief."
I smiled. "At least it will give us something to start with. And I'd like to know what he looks like in case I run into him." And, I thought to myself, it will keep you busy for now, while there's nothing you can do.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We headed down to forensics, and I was half afraid we'd have to wait forever for the place to clear out so that we could use the computer undetected, but the place was fairly deserted when we arrived. Everyone must have already left for the murder site.
We grabbed on of the computers in the back, well away from the door. I reminded Jim to keep an ear out for signs of anyone returning. There's no need to scare people, and a computer running itself like this would probably do that.
"So, what did he look like?" I prompted Jim once I'd gotten the drawing program up and running. "You describe, I'll input." I grinned up at him.
Jim just rolled his eyes at me. "Just don't break this one, okay Chief?"
"I didn't break Simon's," I protested, "I just... injured it a little."
Jim snickered at me. "Yeah. Sure, Darwin."
I swatted his arm and turned back to the computer. He was laughing and joking with me, but I could still see the pain in his eyes and knew he was repressing, pushing everything inside down so he could concentrate on this case. The explosion would come later.
"Talk, Jim," I reminded him again, and he began.
"Okay. Dark skin, very brown..."
We went over it all and eventually we got it nailed. It wasn't quite as good as it could have been had a real sketch artist drawn it, but it was the only option we had and it was better than nothing.
The man in the finished product was slender. He had a long face with brown eyes, black shoulder-length hair and dark skin. He could easily pass for a Native American Indian or a South American native.
I frowned. "You know, Jim, maybe that's the jaguar connection."
"What?" Jim looked confused.
I grinned at him. "Sorry. My mouth got ahead of my brain."
Jim laughed. "And that's unusual how?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Laugh it up, Jim. Did you want to hear my theory or not?"
"Go on, go on," he replied, still chuckling.
"Well, look at it this way," I started. "You dream of a jaguar, which connects you to Sentinels. The Sentinel stuff keeps dragging us to South America, which is where this guy," I pointed to the picture, "might be from. Maybe it was the only way your subconscious could warn you about where the danger was coming from."
"You just might be right about that, Chief, but now we get to the harder question. Now that we know what he looks like, how do we find him? We certainly can't use the databases here. We don't even have a fingerprint to go on."
"Maybe we'll get lucky and the others will find some prints at last night's site."
Jim shook his head. "I don't think so, Chief. He was wearing gloves; I remember that much."
I sighed. "Oh well. Shall we go see what Rafe and Brown have found?" I asked.
Jim nodded and swept the picture up from the desk while I cleared out the computer. Then we headed back upstairs.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Back upstairs, things were quieter than they'd been when we first arrived. We'd used up most of the morning getting our suspect down on paper, but it was obvious that Rafe and Brown hadn't made it back yet.
I could see Megan in Simon's office and hear him yelling, "There has to be something, Connor!"
I looked at Jim who just shrugged back at me. "Beats me, Chief, but he sounds pretty upset."
"Yep. Glad he can't see us to yell at us."
Jim nodded fervently. "Oh hell, yes!"
"Maybe we should go and check on Rafe and Brown?" I offered.
Jim sighed and nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right." He rubbed his fingers over his forehead as if trying to will away a headache.
I winced. This wasn't good. I could tell Jim wanted to avoid the crime scene. Hell, I wanted to avoid the crime scene, but Jim would force himself to face it because he thought it was his duty, and especially because he felt he had failed those two kids. Nothing I could say was going to make him feel any different. Not now. Their pain and terror, their death, was still too fresh in Jim's mind for him to be able to let go. His guilt was what was driving him to see this case completed. If he didn't have that, it was possible that Jim might just cave in under the horror of it all and never come out the other side.
And he's my anchor, like I am his. If he went off the deep end and fell into the abyss, I would follow.
Part 10
Its amazing how different things look in the light of day. Rather than eerie, today the scene just looked harsh and pain filled. Blood was still splashed on the sides of trees, something that would never come off.
It was truly fall now, and the brightly colored leaves that clung to the branches and littered the ground were blowing about restlessly in the cool wind. The detectives and uniforms that were examining the scene were tightly bundled in coats and gloves.
Rafe and Brown were standing over the hollowed out log, one on either side, and as I watched, Brown paled even more than he already was and took a step back from the victims. I couldn't see Rafe's face, but I imagined he looked much the same. It was hard for me to look, and I had already seen it in a worse light, last night, when it was still fresh.
I tugged on Jim's coat to get his attention. "You don't have to be here, you know," I reminded him.
He just looked at me and replied, "Yes, I do."
I sighed. That man is *stubborn*! Of course, so am I, and if it came down to a choice between the crime scene and Jim, I'd take care of Jim. That's just how it worked.
I knew this was going to be rough on Jim, given the fact that he'd seen the bodies last night while the scene was still fresh, and that meant I was going to have to keep a really close eye on him so I could catch him if he zoned.
His emotions had to be all over the place, and yet he looked as cool and calm as ever. I doubt anyone but me could tell how tightly he was controlling himself.
"Where do you want to start, Jim?" I asked him.
He looked around the area, then pointed to a section of woods on the other side of the tree that held the victims. "There," he said. "That's where the killer took off to when he fled. Maybe he left something behind on the trail."
I nodded. This was good. "Okay, then," I smiled up at him, "Lets go."
I followed Jim through the twists and turns the trail took through the forest. It may have once been a man-made path, but now it had been reclaimed by the forest and was overgrown with moss, ferns and dead leaves that had fallen from the trees. There were times when the trail was so overgrown that I couldn't even tell it existed. I swear Jim must be part bloodhound. No matter what the condition of the trail was, he always managed to stay on it.
When we'd gone about half a mile, we hit a small dirt road. Jim crouched down to examine the dirt where the road met the trees.
"Do you see anything?" I asked him.
"Tire tracks," he replied.
"Do they belong to our suspect?"
"Probably. This road doesn't look like its used all that much. There are only a couple of tracks here, and this one doesn't match the others on the road."
"That still doesn't leave us with much, does it?" I said.
Jim shook his head. "No, not much, but its more than we had." Jim paused and looked up the road a moment. "Lets follow the road," he suggested. "If we can find out where it leads and who comes up here or lives here, maybe we can find out how our killer knew about it."
I nodded slowly. "Right. Shall we then?" I asked, gesturing for Jim to lead the way.
Jim smiled sadly and looped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me along with him as we set out.
* * * * * * * * * * *
We walked for a long while, our surroundings comprising of nothing but trees on either side. It was beautiful country, but the reason we were out here weighed heavily on both of us.
We soon found out that the only thing on this road, aside from dirt, was an old cabin situated on the end of the road furthest from Cascade. It was a pretty little place that was obviously well tended.
We wandered around the perimeter for awhile to get a feel for the place before peeking inside. I think both Jim and I felt a little strange, like we were trespassing, but we had to be sure there weren't any clues here. Neither one of us wanted to see any more children die.
The furnishings inside were spare, as if their owner didn't spend a lot of time here. I was willing to bet the place was probably a summer getaway.
Jim finished his circuit of the cabin, obviously not finding anything of importance, and stopped, waiting for me by the door. "C'mon, Chief, lets go," he said impatiently, "Its cold in here."
I gave Jim a strange look as I walked up to him. "Cold?" I asked him disbelievingly, "How can you be cold, Jim? You're a ghost! We aren't affected by temperature!"
The look Jim gave me could have frozen fire. "Are you telling me I don't know what I'm feeling?" he growled at me. I blinked. When had Jim drifted so close to the edge that he was snapping and angry at me? And why the hell hadn't I noticed? "Jim! I didn't mean it like that," I replied, raising a hand in protest.
"Well then, how *did* you mean it, Sandburg? You're the one who's always telling me to trust my senses! Does that only work when you want it to?"
"Jim, no!" I really hadn't expected this, this attack, and it caught me so entirely off guard that I couldn't even come to my own defense. "Of course I trust you! Always!"
Jim just stared at me, his eyes blue chips of ice and I knew the words weren't coming out the way I meant them. Damn it! I sucked in breath for another try, but Jim just raised his hand and shook his head before I could get a word out. "Never mind, Chief." His voice was weary. "I shouldn't have expected that to change."
Expected what to change? I was lost here, and I blinked up at Jim, not really sure how I had gotten that way. "C'mon, Jim. You know me better than that," I pleaded. "You know me. I open my mouth and the words come out and I don't always stop to think how they sound, so they don't end up coming out the way they were supposed to in my head!"
A ghost of a smile drifted across Jim's face. "I know, Chief," he replied softly. He stared at me for a long moment, both of us silent, and then he sighed. "I'll be back later, Chief."
And then he was gone, leaving me blinking, bewildered, in the late autumn sunlight, and I suddenly got the feeling this hadn't been about me at all.
It took me the better part of two days to track Jim down. And here I'd thought I actually knew all of his hiding places. This one was new to me.
When he didn't come back to the loft that first night, I wasn't too worried. I knew these murders were getting to him. Hell, they were getting to me, and I just figured that he needed some space. It happens occasionally. Jim will wander off for a few days by himself. After all the time we spend with only each other, he needs to recharge alone periodically.
When he didn't come back the second night, then I got concerned. After searching everywhere in Cascade, I finally came to the conclusion that Jim wasn't in the city at all. That led me to the conclusion that the only place he could be was where we both usually went to get a fresh perspective on things: Peru. With that flash of insight, I knew Jim had gone to visit Kehara. The Chopek's new shaman was able to communicate with us. Something to do with shaman's being able to touch the veil that held between the world of the living and the world of the dead more than ordinary people.
With that thought in mind, I, too, headed for Peru. Who knows, maybe Kehara will be able to give us a push in the direction we need to solve this.
Part 11
Peru was... Peru. Hot, wet and sticky. I think its at times like this that I'm glad I'm a ghost, or spirit, or whatever it is that I am. At least I don't have to feel the heat.
Yeah, I know. You thought I preferred heat, right? Well, I do, just not this much heat. The heat of Peru will melt the skin off your bones. And its wet, humid heat. Blech. It makes my hair frizz.
I found Jim just where I expected him to be, curled up on a mat in Kehara's hut. Kehara was sipping tea and looking at the entranceway when I came through. He smiled at me and I knew he'd been expecting me.
"What kept you, Chief?" Jim asked.
I stuck my tongue out at him. "Its not like you left a note, Jim."
He grinned sheepishly at me. "Sorry. I needed to get away for awhile. Clear my head."
"Yeah. I know. Just... let me know *where* you're going next time? I just about tore Cascade apart trying to figure out where you'd gone."
"Yes, Dad."
I rolled my eyes at Jim and plopped down on the mat by his side. "Hi!" I wiggled my fingers at Kehara. The poor man nearly spit out his drink trying not to laugh at us. I just grinned at him.
Once he'd recovered his composure, he asked me, "Are you ready to learn yet, young wolf?"
I've never gotten why he calls me that. Young wolf. I'm older than he is! Maybe its a shaman thing. Or maybe its just that my spirit animal is bouncier than a three-year old.
"Learn what, Kehara?"
"To use your gifts."
I blinked at him. "Gifts? What gifts?"
"You have within you the ability to be a powerful shaman for your sentinel, Blair. But you must learn to use and access those gifts first."
"Umm... Kehara, in case you haven't noticed, I'm dead. I can't be a shaman." I looked over at Jim. "Whoever heard of a dead shaman?"
Jim snickered.
"Being of the spirit world only makes you more powerful," replied Kehara. "And makes it more imperative that you learn to use the power you have. You will find those who seek such power more and more attracted to you the longer you remain untrained."
"Oh boy."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Training with Kehara was one of the toughest things I've ever had to do in my life, and that's no exaggeration. I know I've always had a sharp mind, but the exercises he made me do left me with monster headaches every night. Jim did his best to be there for me, but there wasn't much he could do.
Finally, after failing for the upteenth time, I looked up at Kehara and sighed. "Maybe you were wrong," I told him.
He shook his head at me. "No. You have the power. I do not understand why you cannot access it." He frowned in concentration.
I shrugged and waved Jim over from where he had been watching on the sidelines. "I don't know."
"You alright, babe?" Jim asked me as he sat behind me and rubbed my aching temples.
I moaned in appreciation. "Yeah. Tired." I looked up in time to see Kehara's eyes light up. "Uh oh. I think he just had a brainstorm," I mumbled to Jim.
"What is it, Kehara?" Jim asked him.
"Your bond," the shaman replied.
We looked at each other, then back at Kehara. "Huh?"
"You need to learn to pull your power from the earth *through* your bond with Enquiri, not from the earth alone. That is why you are failing. Your bond with your sentinel is part of what gives you your power."
Kehara looked annoyed with himself and I laughed at his expression. "Don't sweat it, man," I told him, "its not like you've ever actually trained a sentinel/guide pair before. I'm not sure its intuitive."
He flashed a smile at me. "That is true, young wolf, that is true. Shall we try this again?"
So we did. Again. And surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it worked.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I spent a month with Kehara learning how to access my power and the power of a shaman. According to Kehara, with my power in full control and not leaking to all and sundry, I should be able to ground Jim and help him use his senses even more.
Jim was supportive through it all, but by the end, he was definitely getting a bit antsy. I could tell he was more than ready to return to Cascade, concerned about his city despite the fact that we had not felt the killer again the way we had before.
I'll admit that I, too, was ready to return home.
To be continued
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© March 1, 2000.