Setting: ATF Universe
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
The mingling crowd was oblivious to the storm outside. The high winds and freezing rain didn't deter the nearly two dozen guests who now milled around a large ballroom. The men, young and old, were all spit-and-polish handsome in tuxedo's. The ladies wore gowns and classical music floated through the air, courtesy of the ultra sound system. Two hostesses circulated with trays of hot appetizers, a champagne fountain and a small bar in the corner supplied the liquid refreshments. Dinner would be in one hour, at eight p.m.
"You haven't heard a word I've said," the pretty blond complained. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon and the indigo satin gown gave her eyes an iridescent quality. She moved to follow her handsome blond escort's bemused gaze. "I didn't think it was possible..."
"He sure does clean up pretty," her date replied, giving a slight grin. He raised his champagne glass to his best friend, whose long, brown curly home seemed right at home on the shoulders of the expensive formal attire he wore. Vin not only raised his own glass but gave a saucy wink as well, nodding to the pretty brunette who seemed attached to his hip.
"Prettier than me?" Mary Travis raised an eyebrow and turned his face.
"No way..." Chris Larabee murmured, kissing her.
His fingers teased the nape of her neck, giving her a shiver. She pulled back as a booming voice cascaded over her neck.
"Hey now, you two younguns best get a room before things get out of hand."
"Hey Buck," Chris greeted, "You and the Kid get here okay?"
"Yeah, I picked up Nate and Rain too, they had car trouble. It was a little crowded, but we're all here."
"You clean up pretty too," Mary teased, fixing the handsome, mustached agent's bowtie. If there was even someone born to wear a tuxedo, it was Buck Wilmington. Chris Larabee's oldest friend was practically glowing.
"Fair Maiden, my heart doth crumble at the heavenly sight before me..." Buck pronounced, kissing her hand and getting a loud groan from his boss.
"You know, Chris," Mary turned, snagging Buck's arm, "It wouldn't hurt you to be more poetic. I think Buck's rather dashing."
"I think Buck's gonna dash after the first tail that catches his eye," Chris teased, watching the handsome dark head making a scan of the room.
"Just because you gave up the hunt, Old Timer..." Buck teased, then saw team seven's sharpshooter entertaining two young lovlies. "Well, isn't that just like that boy to be neighborly, warming them up for the Buckmeister."
"Mr. Tanner is decidedly exhuberant this evening," a new voice joined the group.
"Hey, Ace," Buck slapped Ezra Standish's back and whistled, "Damn, you're prettier than most of the women here."
"Regretably, my dance card is already full," he teased, getting a chuckle from his affiable friend.
"Where's Josiah?" Buck asked, not seeing the graying agent's head.
"He's talking to Orrin," Chris said the Federal Judge, who was his fiance's father. "Wow..." He admired of the couple who waved to them from across the room.
"You can say that again," Buck smiled, his eyes taking in the stunning form of Nate Jackson's wife, Rain. "'scuse me, Gents," he nodded, "Somebody's gotta save them innocent, young ladies from that scruffy Texan."
"...and who's gonna save them from you?" Chris slapped his back as the tall, dark agent left.
"It's this still used by the family?" Ezra asked Chris of the opulent mansion.
"Yeah, Derek Hawke went to law school with Orrin. They're pretty tight. He's the last male of the line."
In it's heyday, Hawke Manor was the very picture of the modern era. Constructed in 1890, under the direction of it's owner, Mannington Hawke, the 10,000 square foot mansion was stunning. It sat on a huge piece of private property, hovering high above Denver in the mountains. Manny and Charise Dubonet Hawke raised their family in the lavish home and entertained frequently. The first floor boasted a kitchen, pantry, library, billiard room, the large ballroom in which the party was being held and a large dining room. The second floor had ten bedrooms, eight bathrooms and a gym. The third floor was mostly closed off, but had several vacant rooms. Also on the property was a greenhouse, an icehouse, a smoke house, a wine cellar and a carriage house.
"Evein' Vin," Buck boomed, eyeing the unusual sight of Tanner in a tuxedo. "Looks like all that good behavior paid off. Sure is good to see you out of the hospital."
"Hospital?" the buxom blonde asked, eyeing both men, then turning to Vin, "Where you in the hospital?" She leaned in to hear him over the music, nearly spilling her 'wares' out of the low cut dress.
"Buck..." Vin warned, eyes narrowing as the womanizer's eyes danced.
"Aw, hell, Son," Buck draped a 'fatherly' arm over the smaller man's shoulders and let his tone grow somber "It ain't nothing to be ashamed of. I bet there's lots of folks who've lived in a pychiatric ward. It's not your fault you keep hearing dead rock stars talking to you."
"What!" the striking brunette pulled away, eyeing the blushing blue-eyed man. "You're a nut? That's just my luck!"
"I ain't no Goddamn nut!" Vin hissed, squirming loose from the grinning Wilmington. "Buck, that ain't funny. Ya tell 'em the truth or I'll get Rain t'add a plumbin' trip t'yer next team physical."
"Damn, Vin!" Buck winced and laughed as the irate Texan watched the two women head for the champagne fountain.
"Dead rock stars?" Vin couldn't help but chuckle. "That's the best ya could do?"
"Hey, I'm runnin' on empty, Slick," Buck's growling stomach reminded him as he eyed the once full platters next to Vin. "Don't fill up on this junk, Vin, you won't eat your dinner." He moved a few feet away, trying to keep the two women in his sight. "I feel lucky tonight..."
Suddenly, all the lights went out and the room was plunged into complete darkness. The classicial music that had been playing, stopped. A deep,eerie voice filled the room.
"Though blue skies like your eyes and sunlight were your home while alive, Of Mist and Moonlight shall you die and I shall dine on your heart tonight, with a fine wine."
The cryptic riddle was followed by a deep, evil laughter. The crowd murmured and a crash sounded, followed by a thump. Several anxious seconds went by, before the lights came on. A woman screamed and all eyes were riveted to center of the ballroom floor, where a body lie unmoving. Buck dropped down and turned the man over, his heart hammering. Chris's face paled when he saw the knife protuding from the stricken victim's chest. He moved back as a pool of blood began to spread out, turning the pristine white shirt a deep crimson.
"Take it easy," Buck said, as the frantic blue eyes grew like saucers and a hand grabbed out to him. The lips opened, spewing blood all over Buck's hand and the young man's already bloodied shirt. "Nate?" Buck asked, cradling the man's head.
The team EMT left his dark hand on the pale throat for a moment, before shaking his head. His hands hovered for a moment, before closing the lifeless sky blue eyes. The crowd was silenced as they eyed the gory sight. Nate Jackson raised his head to meet the leader's gaze. The green eyes were shocked, as he knew they would be. He stood up and spoke, as the stunned team leader moved forward.
"He's dead."
Larabee's face was drained of color, his eyes riveted to the body before him. Buck brushed Vin Tanner's long hair from his still face and left the dead man's head resting in his lap. He felt Ezra next to him and took the cloth he offered. He hesitated a moment, before wiping Vin's blood from his hands. The classical music that had been piped over the expensive sound system resumed, but not one soul moved.
Buck was still cradling Vin, when the well-endowed blonde woman returned and knelt down. She stared at the corpse for a moment and then turned to the handsome, mustached man.
"Maybe's he's not dead. Maybe I should give him mouth to mouth?" She asked, bending over close to Tanner's face.
It was a question that caused the lips of the 'dead man' to curve up into a smile and one eyebrow arch. Buck snickered and buried his face, as if mourning, in order to hide his grin. If didn't take long for a strong hand to clamp down on the 'corpse's' shoulder.
"No, Ma'am," Chris gritted, fingers digging into the smirking Texan's shoulder. "He's dead." He eyed the group carefully and made a somber announcement. "I'm Inspector James Franklin and this is now the scene of a homicide. I'll need to interview all of you, so nobody goes home tonight." He turned to Buck and narrowed his eyes. "Did you know the deceased?" He waited patiently for a reply, but none was forthcoming, until a well placed elbow prompted the agent struggling hard not to laugh.
"Huh?" Buck coughed as Ezra's elbow hit his side. "Oh, uh...yes Sir, Mr. Inspector," Buck bit his lip, trying desperately to ignore Vin's shaking shoulders. The Texan was fighting hard not to laugh and Buck couldn't blame him. This Murder Mystery Weekend was a fund raiser for the Widows and Orphans Fund for Deceased Agents. They had four annually and the teams were divided up. Team seven had picked Halloween weekend for their 'donation' and all jumped into their roles with enthusiasm. Upon sending in their donation, they'd been each mailed a 'identity' for the masquerade, but sworn to secrecy. Each participant was given explicit instructions on their role for the weekend. How to act, what to say, where to go and so forth. No one knew who the victim was and Buck was truly shocked when Vin fell at his feet.
"I can see you're overcome, Mr...." Chris grilled, watching Buck trying not to laugh.
"Huh? Oh, Graham, Nick Graham," Buck oozed, "You know, the famous rock star."
"Good Lord!" Ezra muttered, causing Buck to elbow him in the knee. The ensuing yelp by the southerner was followed by him whacking Buck's head.
"You were saying?" Chris arched an eyebrow at Buck.
"Oh, yeah, I know this piece of shit...uh...Rick Morgan. He was supposed to be investing my money, making it grow. Instead the fuckin' weasel stole every cent." He dropped Vin's head and stood.
"Did you all know the deceased?" Chris asked and noticed the heads nodding and the murmurs. "You a doctor?" he asked Nate, who nodded.
"Yeah, I'm Doctor John Robinson. I'd like to examine the body at more length. I could pinpoint some more details for you. Maybe we should move him upstairs to one of the bedrooms?"
"Hold on..." Chris dropped down and pulled out a piece of chalk. He touched the 'body' and began to make an outline. As he concluded his drawing, he smacked the back of the 'corpse's' head, after one bold eye opened and winked at him.
"Graham," he nodded to Buck, "You help the Doc get the body upstairs. The rest of you stay right where you are." He flipped out a notepad and began his investigation.
Buck and Nathan picked Vin up, carefully making their way through the crowd. They ambled through the large foyer and headed for the marble staircase. Buck paused and shifted Vin, he was carrying the upper half, holding the 'body' under the arms. Nate had the legs and chuckled as Vin kept smirking.
"Jesus, he's heavy for a runt..." the rogue complained.
"Ya watch yer mouth...Dammit Buck," Vin griped trying to wiggle from the larger man's arms. "Put me the hell down. I can walk."
"You hush up, Morgan," Nate scolded, "Dead men can't talk. I already got that prize money spent, so I need to solve this case," the dark-skinned agent puffed, sighing in relief when they reached the floor above.
"Third one on the left, Doc," Buck grunted and paused, while Nate dropped Vin's legs and he maintained his hold. He was glad he took the time to read through his packet of information carefully, including the map of the house. Although he didn't know who the 'corpse' would be, the information did what room the 'body' would be deposited in.
"Aw, hell," Vin complained as they laid him on the busy floral bedspread in a large room, covered in varying shades of pink and rose. The lacey curtains and several vases of roses gave the room a decidedly feminine touch. "This is a girl's room."
"Bedroom's don't have genders," Nate shot back, easing Vin's arms from the expensive tuxedo jacket, before pushing the uncomplying body back down. "Now lay still so I can do your autopsy," he ordered, unbuttoning the bloody shirt and cutting it off the slim torso. He eyed the realistic looking blood all over the shivering man's chest and shook his head.
"What the hell for?" Vin complained, wiggling until Buck held his shoulders down. "Ain't ya got notes or somethin'?"
"Hey Vin?" Buck leaned over and waited until the pale blue eyes met his upside down. "How 'bout tossin' old Buck a bone? Who stabbed you?"
"Ya got brass balls," Vin snapped, "I almost had them pretty gal's phone numbers and ya come bustin' in and tellin' 'em that I'm a nut who talks to dead rock stars."
"Dead rock stars?" Nate laughed, opening his medical bag. He pulled out a tape recorder and winked at Buck, before taking a scapel out.
"What the hell are ya doin'?" Vin screamed, trying to roll away.
"Establishing the cause of death," Nate deadpanned, "Mr. Graham, can you keep the body from sitting up?"
"Oh, sorry Doc." Buck apologized and thwacked Vin in the head. "Quit movin' around."
Nate took out the realistic knife which had a retractable blade, and was embedded in the case the Vin had strapped to his chest. It spilled the blood upon impact, giving a very realistic show.
"Single, upward thrust to the aorta." Nate mused, "The murderer was right handed and slightly to the left of the victim."
"Shit, Nate! Ya damn near did stop m'heart." Vin complained. "Christ that thing's cold," he hissed as the surgical kit was laid on his belly. His eyes narrowed when Jackson pulled out a rubber hose and a large syringe. "What the hell is that?"
"It's for the blood samples..."
"Ya ain't stickin' me with that thing!" Vin struggled against Buck's hands pinning him down. "Nate cut that out...that ain't funny..." he protested as the nimble fingers tied the rubber around his arm. Nathan even swabbed him with alchohol, before giving up the ruse.
"Hey Nate...uh...Dr. Robinson," Buck corrected with a wink to the grinning Jackson, "Don't you have to get some kind of internal body temperature."
"Yeah...roll him over, I'll get his pants."
"Ye'll get first row as a soprano if ya come near my ass with anything." Vin warned, jerking as Buck's fingers grabbed at him.
"You're gettin' fat Vin," Wilmington teased and pinched a miniscule piece of skin at the lean tracker's waist.
"Hey, did ya like me spittin' up blood?" Vin's eyebrows wiggled at the mustached agent bending over him. "That was m'own idea. Caro syrup and food colorin'...pretty cool , huh?"
"Not from where I was sittin'" Buck retorted, still seeing the realistic blood spewing from Vin's mouth.
"Aw, hell, Bucklin," Vin grinned, eyes dancing. "Ya worried about me."
"Well," Nate said, finishing his notes, "That wraps up my report. We better go fill in the Inspector" he advised, hauling the corpse upright.
"If I didn't know better," Vin said, anxious to rid himself of the offensive black pants. "I'd swear he rigged it , so's he got the role of the Inspector."
"Well, I guess it pays to be engaged to the daughter of the co-sponsor." Buck chimed. "Is that why you scarfed down all them fancy appetizers?"
"Yeah," Vin grunted, pulling his jeans on. "It said I'd get done in before dinner. Ain't no sense gettin' offed empty."
"Vin, that stuff is a bitch to get off your skin, you better take a hot shower before it sets in..." Jackson advised.
"Yeah, it's stinks..." the younger man decided, wrinkling his nose. "it's itchin' like hell too...I'll just head back up the hall..." he noted of his room, only to have the two grinning men step in front on him. "What?"
"Dead men can't walk the halls..." Nate smirked. "You gotta stay put. I'll get your bag. Where you at?"
"Huh?" Vin scowled, "Second door on the other side...left..." he rummaged in the black pants and produced a key. "Don't be long...I'm starved...what now?"
"Uh-uh" Nate denied, turning him back to the bathroom. "Dead men don't eat filet mignon wrapped in bacon and drizzled in bernaise sauce."
"Yer shittin' me!" Vin balked, "I gotta stay in here? Fer how long?"
"Until the murder's solved." Buck said with a straight face. "Sometime on Sunday afternoon, I think. Ain't that right Doc?"
"Sunday!" Vin shoved past them. "I ain't stayin in this fucked-up floral fantasy room fer two days. Ya will find a corpse. I'm gettin' the hell outta here. I brung m'bike up, I can..."
"No, Vin, you can't." Nate laughed. "You're job ain't done yet."
"I'm dead, Nate, it don't get no more permanent than that."
"You're hiding something." Buck slapped Jackson's arm.
"I'm just saying...you make a reappearance later...so stay put!" The dark-skinned agent called out as he jogged down to Vin's room, returning a few minutes later with Vin's gym bag and a small toiletry sack.
"Aw, hell." Vin kicked over the trash can. "What about dinner?" he called after the pair as they exited. "Dammit!" he frowned, and eyed the television. He flipped it on and nothing happened. Great!" he chucked his clothes off and stormed into the bathroom. He took out his frustrations on his lean body, scrubbing it well. He stepped out into the large bathroom, which was now filled with steam. He toweled off quickly and tucked another thick towel around his narrow waist. He dried his hair a little, before combing it and reached for the blow dryer. He flipped the 'on' switch and all the lights went out. "What the hell is goin' on?"
"Hell...yes that can be arranged."
Vin's hand froze on the appliance cord as the eerie voice entered the room. The hot breath that came with it made his hair stand on end. He wasn't alone...and in total darkness. He tried to get a mental picture of the room, but hadn't noticed it before jumping in the shower. He braced his legs against the sink and curled his fist around the blowdryer. He heard shuffling sounds and then something sharp pierced his back. He turned to strike the attacker with the blowdryer, but his legs turned into rubber. He felt his strength ebbing fast and struck out, shoving a large body aside. He stumbled badly, hitting the side of the sink with his face. He felt blood spurt from the smashed mouth, where his tooth cut into the lip. Something coursed through his veins, leaving a deep burning. He tried to scream, but no words would come. Hands...lots of them...pulled at him sending him to the floor. A light from the outer room gave his foggy brain a distorted view of his ghoulish attackers.
"Hail Jonathan..." a deep voice saluted, caused several more to join in.
The paralyzing drug left the vunerable man totally helpless. The only thing he could do was see, his eyes remained wide open. He wished they hadn't, for the sight that met them, chilled him to the core.
"You should rejoice, you are the chosen one." A female voice uttered, bending over him with a candle. One hand boldy stroked his face, cupping his chin. "A delicious specimin as well...Jonathan chose well."
"Yes," another female bent near, her fingers teasing the wet skin on the stricken man's inner thigh. "we will celebrate the New Age together, My Pet...Hail Jonathan!"
"Hail Jonathan...Hail Jonathan..." the voice repeated, turning Vin's blood to ice water. He was turned on his side and then back again, his body was eased into a large cloth bag. They zipped it up, letting only his face unshielded. He saw the ceiling panels passing quickly as they went to the other end of the long hall. Then he was placed inside what should be the wall. His arms and legs were compressed, leaving him folded up. The first female reappeared, he black eyes shining in triumph.
"Not to worry, tempting Tanner...the pain is brief. We part ways now," she bent forward and forced her lips on his, pushing his pliant lips apart. "but I will see you before the call of the dead. Now your journey begins...Farewell for now...I'll see you in Hell..."
Hell? Vin's heart hammered in his chest as the wall slid shut and he was entombed in darkness. Then he was moving, down...down...the air grew bitter cold and his dead limbs jerked. Finally the motion stopped and the panel slid opening, revealing total darkness. Two hands pulled him out and put him on a gurney. They moved fast, almost at a dizzying pace, turning and twisting through cold, damp tunnels. Finally, they entered a large medievil room. He was placed on a concrete slab. The bag was removed and his towel as well. He shivered and his eyes roamed around the identical bodies, draped in black shrouds. They moved in, surrounding the table. A sinister figure appeared next to, several inches taller than the rest. Vin's heart began to hammer in earnest...he recognized the evil face looming above him. It was one he'd never forget.
"Welcome to Hell, old friend..."
The evil laughter from the large man was accented by the others droning "Hail Jonathan' over and over. Then the table began to spin around and around, causing his stomach to churn as the garish faces spun by wildly. His last thought before he lost consciousness, was that he had descended into Lucifer's kitchen.
Inwardly, Vin moaned, rousing himself from an awful dream. Then he heard the evil laughter and realized he was living in a real nightmare. His blue eyes jerked as the voices, dull and emotionless, continued to 'Hail Jonathan..Keeper of the Gate'.
"Take him to the purification chamber and ready him...we have but four hours before the Rebirth..." The leader ordered, "Do not damage him...I warn you...his flesh must remain unbroken until the ceremony."
Ceremony...purification...rebirth...Vin's mind swam and he felt a rage born of frustration. He was moved back onto the gurney. Whatever drug they'd used on him, rendered his body powerless. His eyes roamed over the stones...they were old...the morter between them might date back to the eighteenth century. Lord but it was cold. Then they wheeled him into a dimly lit room, the only source of light was many black candles, of all shapes and sizes, all over the room. He was lifted by the same large brute who'd taken him from the wall. Upside down, slung over the man's back, he saw naked legs, shaply and in several shades. He was lowered into a steaming shallow pool of water.
"Maidens, you have your orders...Jonathan will not be disappointed. Purify the Lamb...inside and out...then ready the sacred oils for the ceremony."
They moved around him, kneeling in the water, chanting in a language he didn't understand. The thick mud in his head and the total paralysis of his body made it difficult to concentrate. Short dark cloaks barely covered their bodies. His eyes tried to find someone to plead to, but the gazes were fixed and glazed...almost as if drugged. They descending on him, their mindless voices dulling his senses.
Two carried special crystal dishes with an strong herbal scented soap. Along with the others, they wore special gloves, with a slightly rough texture. One slipped behind him, cradling his head in her lap. She began to massage his head, stroking every fine lock of hair through the steamy water. A large male stood with his arms crossed at the foot of the tub. Only his ebony skin near his white teeth was visible. He began to chant in the dialect as well, before barking out orders. Five sets of hands overtook his numb and helpless torso. They scrubbed every inch of him, from head to toe. His heart was hammering and it was then he began to feel tingling in his arms and legs. It was the sensation that occured just prior to when the circulation to the limbs is restored. He continued to play 'dead', realizing he must wait for the right moment to break free. Then the male moved and Vin's eyes followed him, to where he mixed up more herbs in a container of liquid.
"Turn the Lamb," he ordered. "Once we cleanse him inside, he will be dressed for the Ceremony of the Sacred Oils..."
"Hail Jonathan! Hail his power!" They chanted, "Deliverer of Hekate, Queen of the Dark..."
While Vin was being purified, his friends were enjoying a gourmet feast. Relishing their roles, they each began to quiz the other, gathering clues to solve the murder. The winner would get a $2500 cash reward. The meal and wine went down easily, now they were in the large ballroom.
"Do my eyes deceive me, or is there a reptile among our intimate group?" Ezra loathed, his eyes lingering on a tall, olive-skinned man across the room.
"Who let that animal in?" Buck growled in a low voice and saw Chris tense up. "I better stick close to Vin," he said and got a nod from the blond leader.
"Buck, if that maggot as much as breathes on him..."
Buck let his oldest's friends menacing tone conclude his own homicidal thoughts. He shared an intense stare from the green molten lava in the other's eyes and nodded, to enraged to trust his voice.
"I'll get the Judge," Mary said, excusing herself.
The three stood eyeing the South American politician, who was suspected of being a top gunrunner and cocaine broker. The team worked for over four months trying to catch Carlos Nardone, but he eluded them, leaving Vin's mangled body on the tarmac of a private airfield as the plane took off for Columbia. Vin nearly died in Buck's arms on the fast flight from the remote area to Denver. Fortune smiled on them that night, as the third member of the undercover trio, Josiah Sanchez, was an army pilot during the Viet Nam war. They managed to get a chopper from the private airfield fueled up and to a trauma center in Denver just in time. The three had gotten to close and tangled with Nardone's men. Vin had been in the deepest and for three month's worked as one of Nardone's drivers. Buck and Josiah were beaten and tied up, then forced to watch as Vin was tortured by Nardone's gang. The beating left him near death for ten days and unable to remember much of what occured. The memory of Vin's body being dumped from the plane prior to takeoff, was one Buck wished he could purge from his mind.
"I fuckin' can't believe this..." Chris seethed, muscles rippling through his elegant jacket. His green eyes were blazing. "How the hell did he sneak back into the country? This party is by invite only? Who the hell invited him?"
"Good Lord!" Ezra gasped, eyeing another guest across the room.
"Ez?" Buck turned from the base of the stairs. Standish was coming with him to check on Vin. He paused, seeing the handsome conman's face pale. "What's wrong?" His dark blue eyes went across the foyer into the large, formal ballroom. "Aw, shit..." he hissed, "What kind of fucked up reunion is this?"
"I don't know," Chris Larabee growled joining the pair. He eyed Mitchell Sandhurst, an elusive arsonist who flaunted his fame and ability to escape the law. He was a sucessful novelist who used his sick fasincation with fire to sell books. "But I'm sure as hell going to find out." He slammed the champagne flute on the marble and crystal table next to him, shattering it and stalked off. "You two stick to Vin like glue..."
"What's that all about?" J.D. asked Nathan as they watched the menacing, tuxedoed cloud whirl by.
"I don't know," his friend replied, his dark eyes glued to the irate green eyes of their leader, "But I think we should find out..." he called and nodded his head to Josiah. With a assuring squeeze to his pretty wife's hand, Jackson departed. The three made their way through the crowded room towards the side doors off the elegant room.
"Goddammit that's not good enough, Orrin!" Chris bellowed, barely noticing half of his team joining him.
"Well, that's the only answer I have, Chris. " The judge remained calm, moving towards another door, "Let's take this to the study..."
"What's wrong, Chris?" Josiah grabbed the furious blond's forearm.
"We got uninvited company..." he spat back, "Carlos Nardone and Mitchell Sandhurst...Jesus Fuckin' Christ!" He still felt the fear of those long days where Vin clung to life. He still felt that limp hand in his, still remembering Vin flatlining and the crash cart flying through the room...Vin's body jerking as the paddles hit it...and that bastard Nardone laughing somewhere. Sandhurst conveniently turning up after two grisley arson fires that took the lives of several agents. He claimed he was doing research for a book. Vin went ballistic and attacked him, screaming insults at him. The news team caught the whole scene, and by morning, everybody in the country was aware of Sandhurst's potentially murderous rampage. He made no secret he held Vin responsible for his downfall. "They're both on the guest list..." Mary entered the room, clutching a gold and black folder. "Who made the list up?"
"How?" J.D. demanded. "Why wasn't Vin warned. Jesus..."
"Who fucked up?" Chris roared, glaring openly at Orrin Travis. "Did you know?"
"Do you think I would do anything to jeopardize Vin Tanner's life?" The Judge replied in an even but deadly tone. For a split second, Chris Larabee disappeared and the cold blooded stranger who's deadly eyes were inches from his own, gave him a chill. Finally, the blond accepted his reply and pushed himself away.
"Where's Hawke!" Chris slammed his fist on the desk, sending two paperweights and a letter opener into a mad dance. "I want him...now!"
"Vin!" Buck knocked on the door, which opened slowly under his touch. Icy fingers of trepidation caressed his back. The hair stood up on his neck and he heard Ezra inhale sharply. "I don't like this..."
"I was just thinking the same thing," the jade-eyed agent replied, pushing the door open. "Vin...are you in here?" He flicked the light on, but nothing happened. The only light was that from the hallway.
The bed was made and Vin's duffle bag was still un top of it, unzipped and packed. The pants to the tuxedo were thrown on the floor. The pair made their way to the bathroom, pausing just inside the large room. Ezra turned the light on and both men eyed the room carefully. A shaving kit was open on the sink and two damp towels were on the floor. Other than that, the room seemed fine.
"Perhaps he's exploring the house?" Erza thought aloud, "There is a room down the hall with armory from the Middle Ages," he noted of Derek Hawke's vast collection of weapons. "He does love firearms."
"Yeah, maybe, I'll..." Buck's voice died in this throat ."Shit..." He moved past Ezra and knelt down by the toilet. It was just past where the large marble sink ended. "That look like Caro syrup and food coloring to you?"
"No, that's real," the other noted in worry of the spattering of crimson staining the floor tiles and side of the sink. "We better get Chris..."
As they left the room, Buck jerked Ezra's arm and pointed to something on the bed. They'd missed it at first, because of the busy floral bedspread and the large bag obscuring the pillow. Both moved quickly, eyeing the chilling figure but not touching it.
"What the hell?" Buck whispered, seeing the single black rose on the pillow. Next to it was a harlequin clown figure with a single red tear on it's cheek. The tiny doll had long brown hair and blue eyes. The tiny image held a notecard in one hand, Ezra leaned over Buck's shoulder and read the words.
"Of Mist and Moonlight shall you die and I shall dine on your heart tonight, with a fine wine. You'll feel the pain as life ebbs away...but your essence will live on in a much better way."
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him!" Buck vented, still seeing Vin dying in his arms on the plane. "Goddammit!" He punched his hand against the wall, sending a picture onto the floor.
"You get Chris and the others, I'll stay with the evidence." Ezra suggested, resting a hand on the heaving man's shoulders. "As much as I'd like to entertain that thought as well, we need to concentrate on a more important matter."
"Okay," Buck sighed, eyeing the creepy hallway. The lights were flickering and he didn't like the thought of the slim southerner left alone.
"I'll be fine," the other reassured, reading the cautious eyes, "I have Minerva to keep me company."
"You dog you..." Buck grinned as the derriger slid easily from the elegant tuxedoed sleeve. The gold tooth glistened, giving him a sigh of relief. "I'll be back..."
"Calm down!" Orrin ordered.
"The hell I will, " Chris barked, "that fuckin' bastard damn near tortured Vin to death...hell he almost died in my arms...You think he still don't want Vin iced...I want Hawke's explanation. Nardone's ass should have been fried..."
"Orrin?" Nathan saw the blanched look on the Judge's face and walked over. "What was that?"
"Nardone gave the DEA a ton of evidence against Manual Ortiz. They've been after him for over fifteen years. He's responsible for several murders and..."
"You're fuckin' kidding me!." Chris screamed, "He gets off? Just like that...after what he did? Dammit to hell, Orrin!"
"I don't make the law," the judge returned, recognizing all to well the danger zone that Larabee just crossed into. When it came to his team, he was a warrior, when it came to Vin Tanner, he wore blind rage. "and it wasn't my decision. He's claiming to have 'found' religion. He's been clean for almost a year, lives in a secluded area near the border. He's broken no law..."
"That's Bullshit!" the blond slammed both hands on top of the desk, his eyes on fire and his face enraged.
"How's he tie into Hawke?" Nate asked.
"Derek's daughter...disappeared several months ago. She was studying ancient rituals and doing research in South America. He thought she was dead, but a few weeks ago, he got a letter from her. She claimed to be happy and 'fulfilled' for the first time in her life." Orrin recounted, "there was no post mark and very little clues. She mentioned being part of a 'family' and the name Jonathan. It was a cold trail to start with...but a dead man turned up in Arizona last week. He was...uh...nearly drained of his blood. The border patrol said he uttered one word before he died, it was 'Jonathan'."
"What's that have to do with Nardone and Sandhurst?" J.D. asked, hearing the door open.
"One of them has my daughter." Derek Hawke entered the room. "I hired a private detective to investigate the letter I received from her. He called last week, claimed he had proof that one of them was responsible."
"The dead guy on the border?" Nate guessed and saw the silver head nodding. "If that's true...why would whoever 'Jonathan' is come this far north? Why take a chance?"
"Ego," Chris spat, his gut instinct screaming Nardone.
"Vengeance..."
They all turned, as a new voice added from the doorway. All the color drained from Chris Larabee's face, when he saw Buck's tall frame fill the door. The dark blue eyes were full of fire and the tight fist told the blond that it was bad news. Those heated orbs sought his green eyes out and the voice was directed at him.
"The bastard's got Vin..."
It took all of Vin's will and grit to keep his face void of sensation. His arms and legs were now screaming in pain, as the circulation came back in bursts of heat. He was clothed in a white tunic, it's soft cotton folds did little to ward off the cold air in this netherland. He'd been placed back on the gurney, which was now draped in a blood red cloth. His hands were folded over each other , loosely bound by a tiny, thin gold cord. Skilled fingers interwove a olive wreath into the herbed scented damp locks on his head. His head was lifted and then nestled into the soft nest of flesh on the maid behind him. A slim, cloaked figure approached bearing a marble chalice. Her face was nearly hidden beneath the dark hood of her robe, but a slight tilt and he recognized her as one of the kidnappers from his room.
"Drink tempting Tanner..." she whispered, holding the cup to his lips. "Let the nectar of the fields of Elysium caress your sweet lips..."
Drink. He was beyond thirsty and the heavy scent of grapes rose from the mug. His battle was too great...fighting the pain of his limbs returning and the musky scent of the bodies pressed against him from behind..now this vixen bent low, tracing his lips with a shiny, black fingernail. Her eyes were like ebony mirrors and her hot breath caressed his ear.
"Do not fear me, my pretty Lamb, I am Sheena, chosen to shield you until the Gate is opened...relax sweet Vin and nourish your flesh before you are delivered..."
Vin's knowledge of the occult and satanic practices was as limited as the next guy. But the clues he'd strung together told him his time was near. He tried to pull away from the cup, but the chanting of the maidens, the pungent scent of the incense, combined with the pain in his arms and legs could not overcome the heady scent of the beautiful girl who caressed his face. His lips parted and he swallowed the sweet grape juice, moaning softly as his great thirst was conquered. It was taken from him too soon, causing some to spill onto his lips and chin.
"There, there, my pet," she cooed, flicking her tongue over the errant liquid on his tanned skin, "not to worry, there will be more nectar during the Ceremony of the Sacred Oils. You will be annointed as the Chosen One." she pressed her lips to his and drank in the terror in the wide blue eyes. "Your name we be invoked eternally for delivering Hekate back to us." With a final deep kiss and lingering stare, she was gone. The large male guard entered, eyeing the six servers who stood around him.
"The time has come, bring the Lamb, the sacred oils are ready..." He turned to two lingering figures on the side of the chamber, whose air was thick with incense. "Send for Jonathan...our deliverance is at hand." He ordered, before disappearing into the inky tunnel.
The air got cooler as the gurney was swiftly wheeled down a narrow subterranean tunnel. The ground beneath went on an incline and they were moving downhill, further beneath the earth. He was freezing, the numbing air clashed with his restoring limbs. Ahead, he could make out hundreds of flickering candles and he could hear the chanting of strange prayers. But the sight that nearly caused his heart to stop completely, was a large marble altar, with his likeness on the wall behind it. There were several images, one was painting of him, wearing the robes and wreath that now adorned him. Next to it, a simliar one, but with two disembodied hands holding his heart...dripping with blood over the empty cavity of his dead body.
"No!"
The scream silenced the chanting followers gathered in the large room. It came so fast, Vin nearly didn't recognize it as his voice. He jumped from the gurney, hissing in pain as his tingling limbs refused to totally support him. Hands grabbed at him, but his dispelled them, running up the tunnel. Groping in the darkness, he took several twisted turns, before encountering a dead end.
"Fuck..." He turned back, but saw the dozens of bodies moving towards him, bearing torches. He eyed the narrow one-way corridor and saw an old hinged door. He grasped the rusted out ring in the center and pulled, then pushed. Heaving his body hard against the rotted wood, he heard it splinter as his body was hurled forward, down a flight of stairs. He landed heavily, hearing the snap of his leg before the eruption of fire from the damanged limb. He was still twisted in the corner, his face locked in a grimace of agony, when the devil appeared.
"Foolish Tanner!" the tall man grabbed his face and slapped him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "You will pay dearly for your actions." He pressed one large hand against Vin's chest, pinning him to the ground. He turned back to where the others lingered and singled one out specifically. "Get the surgeon..." he waited until the body turned and ran up the passageway. "Return to the chamber, the ceremony will not be delayed!" he barked out, nodding to his guards to come forward.
"But what of the leg...what if there is broken skin?"
He bent down, studying the pale face, lined in sweat and dirt. A trickle of blood ran from a cut on his head. He drew out a large dagger teasing the prey by resting it over his heart. He saw the eyes glare at him through a haze of pain and laughed.
"You have too much fire, Tanner, but I will have your heart...after the deliverance, I will consume that courage you possess." With one might thrust, he ripped the damaged fabric of the white tunic, then tore it off. He eyed the body, turning it roughly, enjoying the muffled cries of pain.
"The skin has been broken!" one of the guards noted, of the blood on the prisoner's head and body.
"They're minor," the leader noted, examing the jagged cuts to the head, arms and one knee. "Still, the skin must be sealed, the lifeforce must be protected. Take him to the Tomb...I will send the surgeon there. We will use fire to seal the skin...get a new cloak and cleanse and redress him after the surgeon is finished."
"What of the leg?" a voice asked, eyeing the crooked right appendage.
"I'll take care of that now..." he ruthlessly gripped it and snapped the bone back in place, smiling at the air shattering scream that erupted from Vin Tanner's bloody lips.
From where he was lying in tangled heap, Vin was only dimly aware of what was going on around him. He hit every stone step and rough, jagged rocks in the walls on the way down. His head ached, his chest hurt and his leg throbbed without abandon. He was dizzy and fading away, the faces above him were blurry and distorted. His eyes were closing when it hit him; a pain so horrific in his leg, he swore it was cut off. The head-splitting scream that pierced his brain was his own, a brief glimpse of green eyes on a fair-haired face shot before him, the agony on the blond's features sent Vin Tanner blissfully into a black void.
"Chris!" Josiah and Nate moved forward and the blond leader's face suddenly drained of color and his eyes rolled back. Josiah caught him as he fell, but by the time he settled him in a large wingchair, he was blinking again.
"What's wrong?" Nate demanded, taking Larabee's pulse.
"I don't..." Chris whispered, feeling strangely disembodied, "I can't..." he sighed and shook his head, trying to push the flashing image away. "I saw...him..." He took the brandy offered by Orrin and tried to control the slight tremor. He took a sip of the burning, amber fluid and then a deep breath. He licked his lips, pushing a hand over his heart and grimacing. The pain the slammed him was real.
"I don't like that," Jackson said, eyeing the tense features. "How's your arm? You got any numbness? Your back hurt?"
"No...it's not that..." Chris said with conviction. "He's in agony...broken...bloody...God..."
"Who?" Derek Hawke demanded, not understanding the painful faces of Larabee's men.
"Vin," Chris said, eyeing his team slowly. "He's dying..."
For a few pregnant seconds, the room remained locked in silence. The owner of the estate looked from one face to the other, then turned over the puzzling words in his head.
"That's absurd!" Derek Hawke commented of Larabee's 'vision'.
"Absurd!" Chris steeled, baring his teeth ferally, "I'll tell you what's absurd...you inviting two fuckin' homicidal maniacs to a party and havin' the balls to send them Vin Tanner on a platter. You son-of-a-bitch!" Chris dove at the tall man, shoving him against the wall. His eyes were burning like green fire.
"Chris!" Josiah and J.D. shouted at the same time, trying to pull their irate boss off the host.
"Chris, let 'im go!" the large, ex-minister commanded, effectively using his brute strength to contain the simmering tornado. "Enough!" He roared, shoving the squirming blond at Buck Wilmington.
"Come on Chris, that ain't gonna help," Buck tried, not understanding what Chris meant.
"It'll make me feel better," the tense leader hissed, using his body language to tell Buck he was okay.
"What was all that about?" Wilmington asked, staring hard at the others, before turning to Hawke, "Is that right? You asked those scum to this party?"
"Of course not!" he spat back. "My secretary took care of sending the invites out. I gave her a list of two dozen..."
"There's thirty people on this list..." Mary noted, handing it to Derek Hawke, before standing before Chris. She rested one hand on his forearm and felt the anger coursing through him. "We'll find him..." she whispered, but Chris shut her out. She sighed in frustration, knowing until he had Vin back, whole and safe, there would be no reasoning with him.
"Did everybody show up?" J.D. asked, scanning the list. "I mean...Nardone and Sandhurst weren't at dinner...they arrived afterwards..."
"Let's get organized," Nathan decided, "J.D. find out who all is here and who isn't...quietly. Mr. Hawke, do have blueprints or maps of the house? The state police were right behind us coming up here, they closed the roads and left police cars manning the danger spots. I don't think these bastards left here...they got Vin hid somewhere."
"Yeah, I'm with Nate..." Josiah agreed, "Besides, other than Vin's bike and Buck's car, the rest of us were brought up in limo's. The surveillance cameras would have records of anyone else coming on the property. I'll check with security, go over the tapes..."
"So, we team up and search the house for Vin..." Nate guessed.
"Buck, what happened?" Chris finally spoke, seeking out his oldest friend.
"We got to the room and it was empty. The shower was wet...steam on the mirror. His shaving kit was out, his bags weren't opened yet. We found some blood on the floor and a...a....some...things on the bed."
"Things?" Orrin frowned, coming around the desk. "What things?"
"A black rose...a note...and a doll that looks like Vin, but it's crying blood..."
"Jesus!" Chris hissed, still feeling Vins' pain. "What did the note say?"
"The same line about the 'Of Mist and Moonlight' but then it mentioned Vin's life ebbing away..." Buck flinched as Chris's eyes lost all feeling. "I left Ezra up there guarding it..."
"Let's go...Buck you're with me" Chris ordered. "Nate, you stick with him..." he glared at the host, "and go over the plans for the house. I'm gonna have a word with Carlos Nardone..."
"No you're not!" Orrin denied, seeing both Larabee hands folded into fists. "You tip your hand and you'll never find Vin. We don't know how many people are involved. You haul Nardone or Sandhurst away and whoever is holding Vin will kill him."
"Orrin's right, Chris," Buck said, "Both of them have more money than God, if they wanted him dead, they would have put a hit on him...hired a pro..."
"They want to hurt him first..." J.D.'s voice died away.
"Which buys us some time..." Nathan sighed, "Let's move."
"Mary, talk to the staff and see if they remember when Nardone and Sandhurst arrived. I'll go over the guest list with Derek and see if anyone sticks out...We'll meet back here in a half hour." Orrin suggested, "Oh and not a word to anyone, gentlemen. The schedule for the murder mystery doesn't resume until tomorrow morning."
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