False mirrors, p.20
False Mirrors, page 20
//"Calvin Chambers has disappeared."//
The anthropologist's gaze automatically shifted toward the upper loft. Jim was going to be pissed. "I thought he was under surveillance. What happened?"
//"Chambers left the carnival grounds shortly after closing,"// Simon explained tersely. //"Headed to the northeast side of the city. Looked like he was going bar hopping on King Street. Rankin and Briggs managed to keep track of him through the first three dives, but lost him at the fourth. We don't know if Chambers sneaked out a side door or hid in the crowds at bar time. Bottom line is, he's gone."//
Blair nodded absently. He was familiar with the area Simon had mentioned - lots of smelly little hole-in-the-wall bars; dark narrow streets; and a warren of interconnected alleys. Lots of places to hide. Even if Jim were in top form, It would be difficult for him to pick up the fugitive's trail there. In his current condition it would be downright dangerous.
"Do you need Jim down there?" he asked, desperately hoping that Simon would say 'no'.
The brief silence on the other end told him the captain had picked up the unspoken plea. //"How is he?"// Banks countered softly.
The Guide's first instinct was to protect his Sentinel by keeping him out of the fray, but he knew it wasn't his decision to make. "He's sleeping. But you know Jim. He'll want to be in on this and I did promise to wake him if anything happened."
//"But you'd rather let him sleep."//
"It's not my call to make."
//"But if it were?"// Banks pressed.
Blair's protective instincts flared again, but he refused to give the answer they dictated. Jim would never forgive him. Ellison was a proud man. One unwilling to admit to any weakness. He would resent the implication he needed to be coddled. "It's not my call, Simon," he repeated flatly. "Do you need him?"
The thudding of his own rapid heartbeat filled the tense silence until Simon spoke again. //"Let him sleep. You and I both know he needs it. I've got units combing the area and we've issued a state-wide APB. Have Jim call me in the morning. I've requested a search warrant for Chambers' trailer. If we don't have Chambers in custody by then, maybe Jim can pick up a lead there."//
Blair breathed a sigh of relief at Simon's directive, but he still felt uneasy about the unexpected turn the case had taken. Something didn't feel quite right. Suddenly he remembered the reason for his call. His suspicions about Klerk. They seemed moot now, in the light of Chambers disappearing act, but -
"Simon, what about the other suspects? Are they still under surveillance?"
//"Rafe and Brown are still on stake-out at the carnival, along with another set of detectives from Homicide,"// Banks assured him. //Armstrong and Bradford retired to their trailers shortly after the carnival closed and haven't budged."//
"And Klerk?"
//"Rafe reported seeing him entering the fun house shortly before closing. He never came out. Brown checked with Packard and he said that's not unusual. Apparently Klerk frequently does some after hours tinkering to keep the attraction running and often sleeps there. Probably has a cot to crash on."//
"Probably," Blair murmured, frowning at the shiver which zipped up his spine. "I guess that means Chambers is the guy we're after. It's strange that he would have taken off like that, though. He didn't seem like the kind who'd run."
//"Your visit must have spooked him."//
"Yeah, I guess..." Blair voice trailed off as a wave of fatigue washed over him.
//"Sandburg, you sound ready to drop. Why don't you follow your partner's example and get some sleep,"// Simon urged. When Blair didn't respond immediately, Banks' tone changed to a low growl. //"On second thought, consider that an order. Sleep. Now."//
"Aye aye, sir," Blair replied. The flippant tone he'd been striving for fell flat - a sure sign he had passed his limits. "I'll have Jim contact you first thing in the morning, Simon. Good luck."
Blair hung up the phone and leaned against the counter for a moment, trying to marshal enough energy to clean up the mess on the kitchen table. He quickly realized there wasn't enough left for even that mundane task so he left the piles where they were. He made a stumbling circuit of the loft, checking the locks on the doors and windows as he turned off lights. Pausing at the foot of the stairs which led to the upper loft, he listened for any sound which might indicate a change in his partner's sleep, but heard nothing.
Jim's still dead to the world, he muttered, immediately regretting the cliche.
He shook his head to rid it of that horrifying thought and wobbled to his bedroom. Shedding his overshirt and jeans he dropped into bed. He started to reach for the bedside light to turn it off and then realized it wasn't on - it was moonlight illuminating the room, not his reading lamp. He shuddered and shut his eyes, firmly banishing the gruesome visions of the case which the pale light evoked to the far corners of his mind. He replaced them with the image of a lit candle and concentrated on its flickering flame.
~~ The flame burned, strong and fierce. Mesmerizing. It beckoned and Blair followed, immersing himself in its incandescence. The flame flickered, its beat a living pulse. Bathed in brilliance he danced in the heart of the flame, moving to an elemental rhythm which called to his soul. Entranced, he closed his eyes and let himself become one with the song, giving himself up to its power and beauty. The tempo increased and he matched his pace to it, flinging his arms out and spinning in place. Faster and faster he whirled, delighted laughter spilling from his lips. ~~
~~ And then laughter changed to screams. ~~
~~ He was caught in a sucking whirlpool of blackness which pulled him away from the light. He struggled to free himself from the current, to keep his head above the foul smelling murk, but it was too strong. He managed one last gulp of air before he sank below the surface. ~~
~~ When he opened his eyes, Blair found himself staring at his own reflection in a full-length mirror. He blinked in surprise and took a step backward. A cold chill touched his spine and he spun around, confronted with yet another mirror. A glance to his left confirmed the presence of a third, and to his right, a fourth. He was boxed in. Frowning, he stared into the gaps between their silvered surfaces, but there was nothing but darkness. A black void. ~~
~~ He turned slowly, tracking his mirrored self as his double mimicked his movements. Facing the first mirror, he tentatively reached out to touch its surface. It was cold to the touch - a cold which made his skin crawl. He jerked his hand back and frantically rubbed his fingertips to work the feeling back into them. ~~
~~ Unwilling to try the experiment with the other mirrors, he stared at his disheveled reflection. Dark blue eyes stared back, filled with doubt and fear. Mocking him. Anger flared, hot and fierce, burning away defeat and replacing it with determination. Blair stepped forward, placed both palms against the shining surface, and pushed. ~~
~~ Bone chilling cold seared his palms, swept up his arms to his shoulders and arrowed its way toward his heart. He ignored it and pushed again, putting every ounce of strength he had into the effort. The mirror toppled backward and Blair fell forward into the void which had opened beyond it. Amid the ear-splitting clamor of breaking glass, he tumbled head over heels into the darkness, rolling to a jarring stop against something hard and unyielding. ~~
~~ Gasping, he lurched to his feet, using the wall which had halted his fall for support. As in his other 'dreamwalk', a carpeted hallway stretched before him. Only this time, instead of closed doors, there were mirrors. Dazed, but determined, Blair started walking the corridor. He stopped before the first mirror and sucked in a startled breath. He'd been expecting to see his own anxious reflection, but the mirror was empty of his image. It was as if he wasn't there. ~~
~~ He moved to the next mirror and found the same thing. The surface accurately reflected the opposite side of the hall, but not him. He looked down at his body and patted at it nervously, distinctly grateful to find that he was indeed substance and not just spirit. He started walking the corridor again, following its curving path. He glanced at the mirrors as he passed them, determined to keep going until he discovered one which would show his reflection. ~~
~~ He found it a few minutes later. Rounding a curve, he saw it standing in the middle of the corridor, blocking his path. Blair stopped within arm's reach, and, as if compelled, put his hand out to touch the silvery surface. ~~
~~ His hand went straight through it. ~~
~~ Alarmed, he began to pull back. Suddenly bony, gnarled fingers reached out from within the mirror. They wrapped around his wrist like a vise and pulled him forward. Insane laughter accompanied the shattering sounds of breaking glass as he plunged downward in a rapidly tightening spiral. ~~
~~ He screamed... ~~
And found himself sitting bolt-upright in bed, drenched with sweat.
"Ohmanohmanohmanohman..."
Blair scrambled out of bed, shoved his way through the French doors and staggered into the living room. He collapsed on the couch and dropped his head into his hands.
"Ohmanohmanohmanohman..."
He held onto that whispered mantra until the last screaming echoes of the dream faded away. When his breathing had changed from gulping hiccups to a more regular pattern, he raised his head and knuckled the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Blair glanced around nervously, but the tension and chill which had he had felt during the night was gone. The first rays of the rising sun had replaced the pale beams of moonlight with a warm glow. The loft thrummed with a peaceful ambiance again.
He, on the other hand, was a wreck.
Sagging against the back of the couch, he tilted his head and stared at the ceiling, willing the remaining dream-induced shakes to be vanish as well. His attention shifted to the upper loft. Gentle snores floated down. Sometime during the night, his partner had slipped into a more natural, healing sleep.
The sleep of the innocent. I'd love a dose of that. But no. Not only do I have my own nightmare images to contend with, but now I've got Jim's haunting my subconscious.
Muttering under his breath about bad Karma, he pushed himself off the couch and wobbled into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea to settle his nerves. As he waited for the water to boil, he pondered the visions from the dream turned nightmare, wondering if it was the case haunting him, or his own failures.
He reminded himself that he didn't put much faith in coincidence as he plopped a teabag into a mug and filled the cup with boiling water. Carrying the steaming brew, he wandered over to the balcony doors and stared out over the city. Another day, dawning bright with promise. What would it bring? Chambers arrest...
Or another mutilated corpse.
Grimacing, he turned away from the windows and threaded his way across the room to the stairs. He hesitated for a moment, then climbed to the upper loft. Jim had shifted position slightly. He still lay on his back, but his arms were no longer crossed over his chest. They lay limply at his sides. Blair padded to the side of the bed, a smile filling his face at the sight of his friend's peaceful countenance.
The smile faded as he remembered the news he had to deliver. Given a choice, he would much rather face the Sentinel's snarling spirit animal than an angry Jim Ellison. Despite the fact that it had been Simon's decision to keep Jim out of the search for the suspect turned fugitive, Blair knew he'd catch some of the fallout when the detective awoke.
And there was still the sensory puzzle to finish untangling. Once he heard about Chambers, Jim would be in no mood to sit still for another trance session. Blair knew he had to find a way to make his partner agree to it, even though he still feared his own ability to guide his friend through it safely.
It's got to be done. If he won't sit still on his own, I'll sit on him, Blair vowed silently.
Jim's bedside clock read 6:53 a.m. Blair decided to wait a little longer before disrupting his partner's slumber and settled gingerly onto the foot of the bed. As he sipped his cooling tea and watched over his sleeping Sentinel, he found himself thinking about Chambers' disappearing act. Was Chambers really their killer? Simon had seemed so certain. Had their visit really spooked the ex-Seal? Blair still found that hard to believe. It seemed more likely that Chambers had caught on to the fact he was being tailed and decided to show his superior covert skills by shaking his tag-alongs.
But if Chambers isn't the killer, then who is? Simon said none of the other suspects left the carnival grounds last night. Not even Klerk.
Blair felt the now-familiar shiver down his spine which happened every time he thought of the fun house operator. Images from his nightmare popped into his mind and he shook his head in disgust.
I can't get that guy out of my head awake or asleep. Guess that explains why I'm dreaming about mirrors.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, intending to call up some of his meditation exercises to settle his nerves. He had just managed the second exhale when a high-pitched scream cut the air. His eyes flew open and he scanned the room desperately, seeking the source. He located it.
Outside.
A groan from the bed drew his attention back to his friend. Forgetting about the noise he had just identified, Blair watched in open-mouthed shock as Jim's body stiffened and arched. The Sentinel's mouth opened as if he were screaming, but no sound accompanied the contorted effort. Before Blair could react, Jim rolled to the side and sat up, his outflung right arm sweeping the dazed grad student from the bed.
The nightmare engulfed him again... reflections... fragments... dark... cold... the smell of mildew and stale beer... an ancient face glimpsed only for a fraction of a second... a bony, gnarled hand clenching a sliver of deadly brilliance... the panicked beating of a heart... the knife-edged echo of a scream... a boy's face... his face in the mirror...
And then the reflection shifted, the image blurring surreally into another face, one he knew as well as his own. The panicked heartbeat was one he had heard too often in times of danger...
NO!
Two sets of blue eyes met, locked, and widened.
Confusion reigned in one pair; surprise in the other.
Ellison blinked first. "Sandburg?"
The anthropologist's startled expression changed to a frown. "You know, Jim, this is getting old," he muttered from his sprawled position on the floor.
Jim groaned and tried to dial down the screech of the ban saw and the disjointed hammering coming from the work crew on the building next door. He managed to reduce his perception of the noise to a point where it was merely aggravating and shifted positions so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "It's too early for riddles, Chief," he rasped, rubbing his throbbing temples.
"Sorry. It's just that this is the second time I've ended up on my butt during this case. I'm starting to wonder if I need to rig some additional protection down there."
Jim raised his head and stared at partner. The younger man was obviously struggling to keep a grin from marring his sardonic expression. "I don't think they make Kevlar for that portion of your anatomy, Sandburg," Ellison responded dryly.
"Hey, I'll have you know that they're making full body armor, now," Blair retorted, his eyes twinkling with humor. "I already have a set on order. I'm just trying to figure out which form to submit to get the department to pay for it."
Jim snorted and reached forward to help his partner sit up. Blair grabbed his wrist and squeezed it gently.
"Are you okay, man?" he asked softly as he settled cross-legged on the floor.
The merriment was gone from the Guide's blue eyes, replaced with concern. The Sentinel answered his companion's searching gaze with a nod.
The younger man raised an eyebrow, indicating his skeptical assessment of that response. "The nightmare. You had it again, didn't you? Right before you woke."
Jim carefully dislodged Blair's fingers and sat back, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. He studied the floor for a moment before meeting his partner's intent gaze. "Yeah. Same dream, but with a new twist at the end. You were in it."
Blair's eyes widened. "I was?"
"It was your face in the mirror. Your heart pounding in panic."
The anthropologist paled and immediately dropped his gaze to study his nervously twining hands. No sensory probe was need to see that the Sentinel's words had upset his Guide. It had to be unsettling to find yourself inside someone else's nightmare. Still, there had been a flash of something else in the younger man's gaze before he'd looked away. Jim frowned and started to reach out to touch his partner, but Sandburg scrambled to his feet before he could connect.
"Time to grab a shower, man. We've got stuff to do."
Jim frowned at his partner's evasive tactic and came to his feet as well. "Blair -"
The anthropologist held up both hands, palms out. A non-verbal stop sign. "Please, Jim. Just get a shower and get dressed. I'll make us some coffee and then we'll talk, okay?"
It wasn't 'okay', but the pleading tone of his Guide's voice strongly suggested the Sentinel agree. "Make it strong and go easy on the milk," he responded.
With a relieved nod, Blair turned and quickly thudded down the stairs. Jim grabbed some clothes and followed. He kept the sensory dials firmly tuned to their lowest level as he hurried through his morning routine. When he emerged from the bathroom, he cranked them up a notch. The coffee pot burbled as it approached the end of the brewing cycle, but there were no other sounds emanating from the kitchen. He glanced toward the lower bedroom, but the familiar noises which typically accompanied his partner's frantic search for something clean to wear were absent as well. He dialed up his hearing one more level. No heartbeat. His Guide was not in the loft.
Before his protective mode could kick in completely, the front door flew open and Blair breezed in. The anthropologist came to an abrupt stop just inside the entryway, an ear-to-ear grin splitting his face. "Hey, Jim. You're dressed already. That's great."
"Since when did you take up jogging?" Ellison asked dryly, noting the rapid rise and fall of the younger man's chest.
