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Dead Man Walking    
by Kikkimax
 

Ellison stood in the doorway of his loft mate's room and studied the young man's face. At the moment Blair lay sleeping peacefully, his hair splayed around his face like a halo in a painting, his brow uncreased, unconcerned.

Yet Jim was certain he had heard his Guide's voice, although he wasn't sure what language the desperate, fearful cry had been. There appeared to be no lingering evidence of a nightmare or night terror, no sheen of sweat or rapid heart rate. Suddenly the long dark lashes fluttered and deep blue eyes opened. Blair blinked a couple of times before his gaze moved to focus on the Sentinel standing in the door, his face covered by shadows.

"Jim? What's wrong?" he asked sleepily.

"I thought you were having a bad dream," Jim answered softly. "Everything all right?"

Blair sat up in the bed and looked around the moon lit room. "Yeah. I don't remember any dream. Sorry if I woke you."

Jim hesitated briefly then decided to broach the subject. "This is the third night in a row that you've called out in your sleep. Are you sure there's nothing I need to know about?"

"Three times? I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't realize..."

"It's okay, Chief. I'm just a little worried about you. I mean, if anybody has earned a few nightmares, it's you, buddy." Lash, Kincaid, falling elevators, fountains... the list forming in Jim's mind frightened even him.

"I swear, Jim, I'm fine. Go back to bed." Blair laid back down, still watching the big man in the doorway.

"Okay. 'Night, Chief." Jim sighed and turned to go back upstairs, unconvinced. There was something wrong with his Guide. He could feel it. And when there was something wrong with the Guide, there was something wrong with the Sentinel. Jim vowed to get to the bottom of it as he ascended the stairs to his room.

"'Night, Jim," came the faint reply. Before Jim reached the top step Blair's breathing evened out into sleep.

Jim limped out of the truck towards the loft. He wasn't really hurt, it was just a vain attempt to keep the runny, brown smear on the knee of his pant leg from soaking through to his skin. He knew what the stain was, his traitorous sense of smell confirmed it even with the dial turned all the way down. At least he had only grazed the nasty pile. The perp he had been chasing had slipped and fell in it. Since he hadn't replace his emergency change of clothes at the station from the last such debacle, he decided to swing by the loft and eat lunch after changing to save time. The perp had no such luck since the uniformed officers took him straight back to the station for booking.

As soon as Jim opened the door he made a mental note that the light on the answering machine was blinking, opting for a shower first, he ignored it. He peeled off his pants as soon as he closed the front door behind him. Even if he got the stain out, he would always be able to smell the residual odor. Tossing the pants into the trash he immediately removed the trash bag and tied off the top before sitting it outside the door. He pulled off his sweater and shirt as he entered the bathroom and deposited them in the cloths hamper. White socks and black boxers followed. He still smelled the noxious odor so he stepped into the shower without warming the water first, and shivered slightly as the cold stream hit him. With a wash cloth, a bar of soap and some elbow grease Jim divested himself of the last of the slime and the top couple layers of skin from his knee. As the water heated he grabbed the first thing his hand brushed. It was herbal and soothing as he lathered his scant hair. No wonder Blair likes this stuff, he thought as it smoothed his frazzled sense of smell.

Feeling better after washing off, Jim tied a towel around his waist and headed to the kitchen to rummage in the fridge for something to eat. He threw the whole box of two day old fried rice in the microwave to warm while he got dressed. He punched the play button on the answering machine as he passed it on his way to his room and automatically turned up his hearing a notch to listen to it.

"Blair, this is David Debose. I have news from New Guinea. Kimikara is dead." There was a long pause. "Be careful. The old man can still reach you. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry." The man's voice broke on the last sentence then hung up the phone with a clank.

Jim stared down at the machine for a minute. Something was up. The man sounded frantic. Blair had never mentioned a David Debose, or a Kimikara for that matter. Jim left the message on the machine. It sounded important and he wanted Sandburg to hear it just the way it was. He gobbled down his lunch and threw the container in the trash on his way out the door. Picking up the bag he trotted down the stairs and out into the street.

When Jim entered the bullpen after questioning his smelly perp, Sandburg was sitting at his desk working on the backlog of paperwork that always seemed to gather there. "Hey, Chief. You're early for a change. Let me write that down somewhere."

"Funny, Big Guy. My class canceled due to smoke in the building," Blair answered without looking up.

"A fire?"

"No," Blair said distractedly as he typed. "Someone set off a smoke bomb in the restroom. I'm sure it wasn't one of MY students. I know they were all anxious to take the little exam I prepared for them," he added with the slightest grin. When he looked up and saw the grim expression on the detective's face, his grin disappeared. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Jim lied and paused for a minute. "By the way, you had a message on the answering machine at the loft. Something about New Guinea?" Jim tried to sound nonchalant, but the memory of the Borneo incident burned in the back of his mind.

"New Guinea?" Blair paused and scratched his head. "Do you remember who it was?" he asked.

"David something. Debose, maybe?"

"David Debose," Blair said quietly. As an after thought he added, "Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. No biggie." Aside from the rise in heart rate and spike in respirations there was almost no indication of distress, unless you counted the pale face and shaking hands. "I'll listen to it when we get home," he said and went back to the report he was working on, sparing the slightest peek at the clock on the wall.

When they entered the loft Blair lost all his resolve to be cool and made a bee line straight for the answering machine. He held his breath as he pushed the play button. "Blair, this is David Debose. Kimikara is dead..."

As soon as the message finished Blair pushed the erase button as if he could also erase whatever meaning the message held for him. Without looking at Jim he went to his bedroom and began to rummage around in his closet. Not seeming to notice or care that his roommate followed his every move.

"Who's Kimikara?" Jim finally asked from the door, unable to control the escalating tension he felt.

Still half buried in the closet Blair answered without raising the level of his voice, knowing the Sentinel would hear just fine. "He was a witch doctor." Backing out of the closet with a box he sat in the floor and tore into it. "Well, that's the word that describes him best." He continued to dig in the box, at last pulling out a smaller box wrapped heavily in duct tape. He held it to his chest for a minute and looked at Jim for the first time since they got home. "I guess you could call him a Shaman or a medicine man, but that would be too generous. The man was evil."

Jim blinked in surprise. He had grown used to his friend finding the best in people. Rarely did he speak ill of anyone. If Blair Sandburg said the man was evil, the man was evil as far as Jim was concerned. "What does all this have to do with you?" he asked.

"New Guinea was where I went on my first real field study. You know I started college young, right? Well I was the youngest member of the group that went with Dr. George Kendall. I was barely eighteen, had to talk my way into going. You know, pull a few strings, sign a few waivers..."

"Tell a few lies..." Jim interjected nodding his head.

"I wasn't even an undergrad yet, but I had the grades and the drive so Kendall made an exception. There were eight of us all together." Blair continued as if he hadn't heard his sarcastic roommate. He took out his Swiss army knife and worked at the tape around the box as he spoke. "Anyway, the isolation of the mountainous terrain is so great in that area that each tribe has it's own unique culture. Literally, there are over seven hundred different languages spoken there. There are almost as many religions as there are languages. Animism and ancestor cults included..."

"Ani what?" Jim interrupted again.

"Animism. It's spirit worship. Anyway, we were in a very remote place, with a tribe of people who had never been studied before. In fact, no one had even known this tribe existed until Dr. Kendall discovered it the year before on another study." At last all the tape was removed and Jim could see the wooden box Blair held in his slightly shaky hands.

"Kimikara was suppose to be the holy man. He took a lot of interest in the younger members of the team. Especially me. I didn't like him. He gave me the creeps."

Blair stopped talking and opened the box. "The chief forbid him to go near any of the students. In fact, he tried to kick us all out of the village, even though we were suppose to be there for three months. But Kendall and Kimikara had some secret pow-wow and worked a deal for us to stay. The chief got really sick right after that and called me in to see him. He gave me this on his death bed. To protect me from Kimikara." Blair produced a small stone fetish from the box, with the body of a man and the head the shape of a dog or a wolf. It fit nicely in the palm of his hand.

Jim reached a hand for it, but Blair quickly closed his hand around it. "Don't touch it, man. Bad things happen to anyone who touches it. Anyone but me anyway. Dr Kendall tried to take it away from me. He had a heart attack right there, man. He died in the village he discovered. Naomi touched it once. Didn't even really pick it up. She ended up in the hospital with a headache, vomiting her guts up. They said it was a migraine, but I know it wasn't. I put the thing in this box and wrapped it up after that. It's been here ever since."

"Ok," Jim replied easily. If Blair believed that, then he would humor him for now. "So who is David Debose?"

"David was second in command, so to speak, on the exposition. He was Kendall's assistant. I believe he still works in New Guinea. I don't know that he ever left. Anyway, he sent us out after Kendall died, even though our time wasn't up. He made me promise never to go back there."

"What did he mean by 'the old man can still reach you'? "

"I don't know," Blair answered simply. "Did you say you thought I had a bad dream for the last three nights in a row?"

"Yeah," Jim answered, the change in subject made him uneasy. "Why?"

Blair shrugged and began to replace the fetish into the wooden box. "It's just that if David was with Kimikara when he died, and then came straight out of the jungle to call me... Well, it would take about three days for him to reach a phone."

Jim slept uneasily. Around two a.m. he heard the first few moans from down below his bedroom. Instead of listening and waiting as he had done the first three nights, he grabbed his robe and trotted down the stairs at the first sign of trouble. To his surprise Sandburg wasn't in his room, but standing in the living room looking out of the glass doors leading to the balcony.

"Chief..." Jim began, causing the younger man to jump and turn on him with an angry snarl.

Focusing his sight Jim zoomed in on his roommate's face in the dark. In place of the intense deep blue orbs were lifeless, somehow muddied eyes. A wild man inhabited the shell that had been Blair. The stranger faced him for a few minutes then turned indifferently back to the view out the window. Words in Blair's voice came from the man. They sounded sinister, threatening, but Jim didn't understand the language. With a last look over his shoulder the man in Blair's body opened the doors and flung himself toward the railing with an inhuman scream.

Years of training forced Jim's shocked body into action. He bolted toward the doors and caught his partner just as he leaped into a chair to propel himself over the rail. Pulling back with all his strength to stop the forward momentum Jim twisted as he fell. He tried unsuccessfully not to land too hard on the smaller man.

"Oh, God! Chief, are you okay?" Jim rolled off his friend and felt carefully for injuries, starting with Sandburg's head and neck and working his way down to his chest.

With a sudden heave, as he struggled to get some air back into his lungs, Blair gaped at the detective with intense, deep blue eyes. Eyes wide with fear and pain, but full of life.

"I don't know how to tell you this, Chief, but anthropologists generally can't fly," Jim puffed as he tried to get his own breathing under control. "You scared the shit out of me."

Unable to speak, Blair lay next to his partner and worked on breathing. His mind raced at the speed of light, but he couldn't spare the air to make conversation. Jim sat him up and rubbed his back up and down briskly to help the air flow. Whether it helped Blair or not Jim wasn't sure, but it sure as hell made HIM feel better, to touch the part of himself that he almost lost over the railing.

"What?" Blair managed to squeak out the one word, but Jim understood.

"You don't remember?" Jim asked.

Blair shook his head and coughed a couple of times. Jim embraced him and patted his back until the coughing stopped and respirations smoothed out. "You tried to jump off the balcony," Jim said when he was sure Blair was recovered enough to hear him.

"No way... man," Blair gasped. "You know...I'd never...do that," he said without raising his head from the comfort and safety of the big man's encircling arms, as his chest still heaved painfully.

"I know, Chief. It wasn't you. I know how that sounds, but there was someone else in here." Jim tapped the top of Blair's head gently. "I know how that sounds..." he repeated tentatively.

Blair sat quietly for a few minutes. "Oh, man," he said at last, accepting without pause what his partner said as the truth.

"What's going on, Blair? Tell me."

Blair lifted his head and met Ellison's eyes with his own. "I wish I knew," he breathed.

The day passed quickly enough, even though every movement reminded Sandburg of his middle of the night escapades. His right shoulder was stiff and sore, and his back was black and blue. All things considered, he would have been a lot worse off if his 'Blessed Protector' had let him go over the rail to fall three stories. Every twinge of pain reminded him to be thankful that he was around to experience it. Jim had been in an interrogation when he called to tell him he was leaving the University and headed for the loft. Rafe took the message and promised to put it on Jim's desk.

A slight headache right behind his eyes had dogged him all day. Blair thought some aspirin and a short nap would wipe it out and then he could go in to the station and see if Jim needed any help. Ordinarily, Jim would come first, but the headache wouldn't ease up. He would have to lick it before he could concentrate on anything. Of course, he didn't want Jim to know it was all that bad. He would just worry.

Blair didn't bother to turn on the lights when he entered the loft. In fact, he pulled down the blinds in the living room before collapsing on the couch, forgetting all about the aspirin. Sleep claimed him swiftly and whisked him away to another reality. The ringing phone failed to disturb his deep, dream filled slumber, as did the voice talking to the answering machine.

Jim rushed past his desk and grabbed his coat. The deal was going down right now. Megan was already standing at the elevator waiting impatiently for him. Hesitating for a second, Jim decided not to stop to write a note for Sandburg. One of the guys would let him know that Jim would be gone for awhile. He could either do some paperwork or go home. He and Megan discussed their plan of action on the way down to the garage.

Blair woke to the feel of cool water being trickled onto his overheated body. He didn't open his eyes, couldn't open them, but he knew there were people around him. The feminine voices conversed in a strange, yet somehow familiar language. Now his face and neck were being washed gently, the wet cloth soothed his burning skin. Another cloth washed his chest, while another and another cleansed his lower body and extremities. 

'Okay, so I'm naked. No problem,' he thought. Sweet aromas tickled his nose as someone raised his head slightly to place a small bowl to his lips. Still unable to open his eyes he accepted the cool liquid into his mouth and drank it greedily. It sated his parched throat and the ache behind his eyes eased and at last he opened them. The older woman next to him smiled and stroked his sweat soaked hair away from his face. She whispered to him in tones of comfort, the other women looked up briefly, but continued their ministrations. 

A younger woman, smiled shyly at him and then lowered her eyes back to her task of weaving small vines of jungle flowers into his hair. When the bath was complete the women rubbed an oily mixture of sweet and bitter herbs into his exposed skin. Blair tried to raise an arm, but didn't have the strength. He also couldn't find his voice, so he merely watched as they continued to prepare his body. Although he now recognized the funeral rite, after all, he had paid close attention when they had buried first the chief and then later Kendall. He offered no resistance. Strangely, he felt no fear, only peace.

Outside of the small hut drums began to beat. The sound became almost solid and was joined by men's voices in a ceremonial chant which grew louder and louder inside his head. The cacophony expanded until it pulsed within his body, until it alone became his whole existence...

Ellison hadn't meant to be so late getting home. He began to worry a couple of hours ago about Sandburg being home alone after the sun went down. What if the kid fell asleep and began to sleep walk again?  That's what had happened last night, right? Jim convinced himself that's what had happened. Sandburg hadn't been sleeping well, then he got the strange message from Debose that sent his subconscious mind into the past to dredge up bad memories and voodoo dolls. That's all. Nothing to worry about.  Still, he decided it might be better to hang around whenever Blair was asleep until this blew over. 

He listened for his roommate's heartbeat as he neared the door. Shit. He obviously wasn't asleep. Jim swore the way the heart was jackhammering that he didn't need Sentinel ears to hear it. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that presented itself when he opened the door. Sandburg was on the kitchen island, clad only in his boxers, the rest of his cloths lay all around on the floor. He danced to some tribal beat only he could hear, looking like a wild man, beautiful and feral. His eyes were closed as he moved dangerously close to the edge of the cabinet time and time again. His body swayed smoothly in time to the rhythm in his head, in spite of the ugly black bruises on his back and shoulder. His muscles rippled and flowed with the nearly inaudible chant that issued from his lips in a language Jim suddenly recognized with a wave of confusion. Rivers of sweat dripping from the tips of his hair were sent flying by each toss of his head, the boxers he wore were soaked to his flushed skin.

"Blair!" Jim shouted and moved to stand helplessly beside the counter as the dance continued. He reached up as Blair skirted the edge once again before the bare feet moved away in their unending cadence on the counter top. Jim wasn't sure what frightened him more, the thought of Blair falling off the cabinet, or his current state of mind.

Jim levered himself up onto the counter and quickly crossed the range top to grasp his partner tightly by the shoulders. "Sandburg!" he shouted as he shook him hard enough to break whatever spell he was under. "Chief! Look at me."

Blair's eyes opened briefly, long enough to confirm they were indeed Blair's crystal clear blue eyes, but there was no recognition in them. All movement stopped except for a momentary spasm of abused muscles before he went limp in Jim's arms. Jim clutched at the wet skin and nearly dropped his slippery friend. Getting a better hold Jim eased himself down to sit on the counter top, taking his arm load of Blair with him. Carefully stretching his legs out Jim slid his feet down to the floor, cradling his Guide against the sudden jar as his feet made contact.

The big detective shifted his partner slightly, pressed a shoulder into Blair's belly and swung the smaller man over his back to carry him into his room. He lowered his bundle gently on the bed on top of the covers then brushed the wet curls out of Blair's eyes. Jim felt the heat rising from the sanguine skin and could practically taste the salt seeping from the pores. Jim wondered how long the dancing had gone on, thankful Blair hadn't broken his neck in the process. He went to the bathroom and then the kitchen returning with a bowl of tepid water and a wash rag. The kid was over heating, Jim was sure of it. He had to cool him down.

Jim dipped the washrag into the water and squeezed out the excess before wiping gently at his friend's face. Blair moaned and drew away slightly, but didn't open his eyes. Jim rinsed the cloth and continued to wipe away the salty film. After a several long minutes the racing heartbeat slowed and the skin cooled as it air dried. So intent in his task as he wiped the younger man's legs down, Jim didn't notice as Blair's eyes flickered opened, and he jumped slightly when Blair touched him on the top of the head.

"Did I die again?" Blair inquired in a hushed tone, raising his head to see into the Sentinel's face.

"What?" Jim asked urgently. "Why would you say that?"

Blair chuckled and dropped his head back to the pillow. "Because you are doing something very similar to a death ritual in some remote tribes of New Guinea. I've actually had it done to me before. A long time ago. Can I get a drink of water?"

"Sure, buddy. Hang on for a sec." Jim quickly retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. He opened it and held it in one hand and helped Blair hold up his head with the other. "Easy. Just a sip to start with," he instructed, but allowed much more than a sip.

Blair swallowed the water and lay his head back wearily. "Man. I feel like a just ran a marathon," he muttered.

"Danced one maybe," Jim answered grimly. "Do you remember what happened when you got home?"

A frown crossed Blair's face briefly. "I had a headache, I think. I laid down on the couch."

"And then..." Jim prodded.

"Then I woke up with you giving me a bed bath. Do I have a fever?"

"What kind of death ritual?" Jim asked.

Blair blinked and tried to follow the flow of the conversation. "Oh, in New Guinea. I got sick. Me and Jeff Miller. We got fevers right before David pulled us out of the village. Everyone thought we were going to die. They performed the whole burial ritual on us, but neither one of us did. Die that is. As soon as we were able to move David sent us out of the jungle. He stayed behind, though. I never really figured that out."

"Was there chanting and dancing involved in this ritual?" Jim asked.

"Jim, there's chanting and dancing involved in almost all primitive rituals," Blair assured.

Jim put a hand on Blair's chest and looked him straight in the eye. "You were doing some kind of dance on the kitchen island when I got home." He ignored the startled gasp from his partner and continued. "You were chanting. I swear it sounded like Chopek."

Blair chewed his lower lip for a minute before pulling the water bottle from Jim's hand and taking a long draw from it. "Obviously, I don't speak Chopek..."

"Chief..."

"Let me finish. When Incacha passed on the way of the Shaman to me, he may have left some imprints of his being with me. Maybe I can only access them when I'm in an altered state of some kind. Exactly how long was I in an altered state?"

"Hours, I think."

"Yeah, my muscles are sore. I think I need a shower." Blair felt the tug of his obliques as he tried to sit up. Jim slipped a hand behind his neck and helped to haul him up.

"You sure you're up to this?" Jim asked.

Blair chuckled again. "You give a great bed bath, Nurse Jim, but I really need to wash my hair." He lumbered toward the bathroom, groaning with each step.

"Use cool water. Your body is still too hot," the Sentinel warned.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you," Blair murmured as he locked the door. Hot water would feel much better on his aching body and he didn't want any interference from his 'Blessed Protector'.

Jim glared at the locked door before deciding to back off a little from mother hen mode. "I hear you," he mocked. "You're gonna hear my foot kicking your ass one of these days."

He went to the kitchen and began to gather Blair's many layers of clothing from the floor. When he heard someone walk up to the door he considered ignoring the knock he knew would be coming. When it did come, it was persistent. Jim answered the door with an armful of cloths and one of his more intimidating facial expressions. He was worried about his partner right now and didn't have time for interruptions. The man on the other side jumped when Ellison yanked the door open.

"Can I help you?" Jim asked icily.

"I..I'm sorry," the man stammered, looking at the address on a piece of paper in his hand. "I was looking for Blair Sandburg. I must have the wrong apartment."

Jim studied the man intently for several minutes before answering. The tall, skinny man had a severe receding hairline of thin reddish blonde hair and wore glasses. He looked every bit the academic. He was somewhere between Jim and Blair in age and wore matching khaki pants and shirt with dusty lace up boots. He looked exactly the way Jim would have pictured an anthropologist a few years ago. That is, before he met the energetic ball of hair that now occupied such a large part of his life. By the time Jim answered him, the man had begun to sweat in earnest under the Sentinel's gaze.

"You must be David Debose," Jim said at last.

The man startled again. His eyes narrowed and his heartrate went through the roof. "No, no. I'm Ryan Murphy. I have a message from David though. If Blair is here I really need to talk with him."

"I'm Blair's roommate, Jim Ellison." Jim said, offering his hand.

The man pressed his sweaty palm to Jim's hand in the fastest handshake in history and nervously entered the loft as Jim indicated for him to do so. "Is Blair okay?" he asked. "I mean..."

"Didn't you use to have hair?" Blair called out from the bathroom door with a huge grin plastered to his rosy face. He wore his robe and a mist of steam poured out around him, a testament to the heat of the shower, and a fact not lost on Jim.

"You little shit. Look at you," the man smiled for the first time since arriving as he and Blair moved toward each other. "You've still got a baby face, don't cha?" When they met they hugged warmly.

"I see you met Jim," Blair laughed.

"Yeah, he scared the hell out of me."

"He does that," Blair agreed with a nod and a smile. "You think that's bad, just leave something wet on the bathroom floor."

"I am still here, you know," Jim grumbled as he shut the door and headed into Blair's room to unload his armful of clothing onto the bed. "Sit down Blair. You still look weak," he added, trying not to hover.

"Yeah, okay," Blair said as he ushered Ryan toward the couch. "I thought you were in Boston," he said settling on the opposite end of the couch from Ryan.

"I am. I, uh, came back as soon as I heard from David. You know Kimikara is dead, right?"

"I guess this isn't exactly a social call, huh?" Blair asked grimly.

"You didn't get my message," Ryan said.

Jim glanced at the answering machine when he came into the living room and pressed another bottle of water into Blair's hand. The red light was indeed flashing, but he hadn't even noticed it. He had been a little busy since he got home.

"What's going on Ryan? Something has been happening to me ever since the old man died," Blair blurted out.

"David's on the way. I'll let him explain it to you tomorrow when he gets here."

"Ryan, if you know, you have to tell me," Blair implored.

Ryan looked up at Jim and then back to Blair.

"Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Jim. I trust him with my life," Blair assured.

"That's good. Because it may come down to that."

"I'll make coffee," Jim said as he turned back to the kitchen. He suddenly wished he hadn't intimidated the man so much at the door. He wanted to hear what Debose had sent him to tell Blair, but his presence at the moment was somewhat hindering. If he gave the man some space maybe he would spit it out a little faster. Besides Jim could hear perfectly well from the kitchen.

Ryan sighed and pressed himself deeper into the couch cushion. "You know the chief was going to kick us out of the village, right?"

"Yeah," Blair said as he pulled his feet up under him.

"It was for our own protection. From Kimikara."

Blair nodded, "I figured as much."

"Apparently parents in the village had been secretly having protective spells placed on their children for some time, effectively cutting off the medicine man from them. Kimikara was evil, but he was also very powerful within the village. And here this college professor drops in with eight young people from out of nowhere. Fresh meat so to speak."

"Right. The chief wanted us out. The medicine man wanted us to stay. When the chief died we stayed," Blair summarized.

"Well, Kendall made a deal with the devil so that we could stay. He promised Kimikara whatever he wanted to arrange for us to stay and study the village." Ryan wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Only to Kendall's horror the old man poisoned the chief and assumed power. That's why we weren't given the boot."

"So what did Kimikara want in return?" Blair asked.

"Us," Ryan answered quietly.

"What?" Jim asked as he came from the kitchen. "As slaves?"

"Not exactly," Ryan explained. "He wanted our souls to sacrifice in religious ceremonies. Kendall didn't believe in magic or whatever you want to call it, so he offer up eight bright shiny new souls. He got what he wanted without really giving up anything. Or so he thought."

"That arrogant bastard," Blair vented.

"You can't give away someone else's soul," Jim argued.

"Not in our society, by our believe systems, but Kendall wasn't playing by our rules. He agreed to the deal in a place where he, as leader of our little group, had total control and responsibility over us. To Kimikara, he had every right to offer our souls. The old man made the deal in good faith and then he killed the chief to uphold his end of the bargain."

"That's what's happening to me. Kimikara's trying to take my soul," Blair said with a slight tremor to his voice.

"Blair, that's ridiculous," Jim soothed as he came to his partner's side. "There has to be another explanation for what's been happening."

"So now that he's dead, he has come to collect. Is that it?" Blair asked Ryan, ignoring Jim's more rational voice.

"No, David renegotiated after Kendall died."

"What do you mean?"

"Kimikara wouldn't let us leave. You probably don't remember because you and Jeff were so sick. The old man was going to poison all of us, but he started with the two of you because you were the youngest. Supposedly the most pure, but Kimikara didn't know you very well, did he?" A knowing smile passed between Blair and his old friend. "David offered his own soul in place of ours, but no joy. He was too old."

"Why did he stay on after we got out?" Blair asked.

"That was part of the deal. He became Kimikara's servant until parted by death."

"What was the rest of the deal?" Jim asked, ever the detective.

"The witch doctor wanted to claim one of us to place his spirit in after died he, so he could live on."

"And David agreed to that?"

"Son of a bitch," Jim mumbled under his breath.

"He figured one was better than eight. Anyway, at the time, he thought that Kimikara wouldn't be strong enough to reach us if we all stayed the hell out of New Guinea. Now David's convinced the old man can really do it, but he also thinks by being his apprentice of sorts that he's learned enough to stop him."

"How?" Blair asked.

"He's called a meeting. It's going to be here in Cascade because over half of the team is still in the area."

"You've talked to the other six?" Blair asked counting himself and Ryan to make eight.

"Five now," Ryan answered softly. "Jeff Miller threw himself under a bus two days ago. No one knows why."

Blair blinked rapidly then launched himself off the couch. In a knee jerk reaction Jim headed him off before he could reach the balcony doors. The image of his partner trying to leap over the rail still painfully fresh in his mind.

"Easy, Chief," Jim soothed.

"Oh, God," Blair murmured as he caught Jim by the arms and locked eyes with him.

"What? What is it?" Ryan asked pushing himself off the couch as well.

Blair kept a firm grasp of Jim's forearms, but turned his gaze to Ryan. "I know why," he said. He released his death grip on Jim and stumbled over to sit in a chair. "I tried to throw myself off the balcony last night. It was me, Jim. It wasn't Kimikara. I was trying to keep him from taking over my body by killing myself. It was a last ditch effort. He was already in my head. It was me."

"No," Jim said.

"Yeah, it was. Subconsciously it was all me. I just didn't realize it at the time."

"Whoa," Ryan said and returned to the couch. "I guess you two would be the logical ones for him to try first since you both went through the cleansing ritual for the dead, even if it was eleven years ago. That would definitely make you more vulnerable."

Blair nodded grimly.

"But if he killed himself, this Jeff Miller, wouldn't that leave room for old what's his name to step right in?" Jim asked.

"Not if the body was damaged to the point he couldn't use it. Now, if it was like an over dose or..."

"A drowning," Blair said with a strickened look. Jim knelt in front of his partner and placed a hand on his knee.

"Yeah, something that wouldn't cause much physical damage, then he wouldn't have any trouble at all I suppose," Ryan said, not really understanding the conflict of the other two men.

"What if, say, somebody had the ritual you mentioned, then years later, but before the witch doctor died, drowned, but ultimately survived..." Jim asked.

"Well, I'd say that person would be extremely vulnerable to Kimikara."

"Extremely," Jim echoed.

Blair looked at Ryan and laughed nervously. "I drowned two months ago," he said.

"Shit," Ryan exclaimed as the color drained from his face.

"Well, at least everyone else will be safe once he takes me," Blair said. Jim grasped him by the wrist as if to protect him.

"We're all going to be safe," Ryan stated firmly. "David is coming and he's going to fix everything."

"How?" Jim asked urgently, drawn into the scenario against his better judgment. He couldn't deny that something was desperately wrong with his Guide. Something he could feel within the bond they shared; something dark lingering just out of reach.

"Each member of the team will have a proxy for a ceremony that David will preside over."

"Why a proxy?" Blair interrupted.

"Because he's going to summon Kimikara's spirit and then banish it to hell. It will be too dangerous for any of us to be there. Where's your mom?"

"I'll be your proxy," Jim said, knowing Naomi would be impossible to find and not trusting Blair's well being to any one else anyway. Not even Naomi.

"Won't work," Ryan answered. "It has to be family or a loved one. Roommate won't work. Unless... Oh."

Neither Jim nor Blair spared a glance at the other man, letting the misunderstanding slide. "Do you love me, Jim?" Blair asked.

"You know I do," Jim answered without pause.

"Jim will be my proxy," Blair stated firmly. "He's my brother. In all the ways that matter anyway."

"What are the rest of you going to do during the ceremony, since you can't come?" Jim asked.

"I don't know about everyone else, but I'm going to get drunk!" Blair proclaimed.

"Me too," agreed Ryan. "Sounds like a plan."

Blair paced in front of the windows, unable to sleep. Ryan had left hours ago after leaving instructions for Jim for the upcoming ceremony. He and Blair had also made plans to gather together with the other surviving members of the group during the rite. "Jim, I need you to promise me something," he said as he paused to stare out the window into the darkness.

"Anything," Jim swore solemnly, surprised his friend had even heard his silent descent down the stairs.

Blair took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he turned to Jim and captured him with an intense gaze "If he wins..."

"He's not going to," Jim promised.

"If he does...Listen Jim, Kimikara won't last a day in this urban jungle. He doesn't speak the language, he doesn't understand the culture. For him it will be like jumping ahead two hundred years into the future."

Jim shook his head. "So?"

"So he'll end up in a padded cell somewhere. In my body. With my name."

"Chief, I don't like where you're going with this."

"Don't let him win, Jim. Please. When you're sure I'm gone, I want you to kill this body. Don't let him trash my life, man. Take him out."

"No. No way. What if you're still in there somewhere? How would I know that you're not. I won't ever give up on you."

"You'll know."

"Blair..." Jim moaned and turned away.

"Jim, the bond will be broken. You'll know." Blair put his hand on the bigger man's back and waited for some kind of signal, some sign of agreement. When none came he continued anyway.

"Don't shoot him, for heaven's sake. I don't want you going to prison. Damn. I didn't think about that." Blair moved away and started to pace again. He let his thoughts flow through his lips, talking more to himself now than to Jim. "No, it's okay. You can use some of that Ranger shit. Yeah, that's it. Snap his neck and push him down the stairs. Or whatever. Make it look like an accident."

Blair stopped pacing when his partner turned angrily and pinned him with an icy glare. "You said anything, man. I'm going to hold you to it," Blair warned softly. "Please, Jim. I'll be dead already."

Jim pushed past him and sat heavily on the couch. He rubbed his face before dropping his head into his hands. "Fuck," he said wearily.

Blair stood and stared for a minute, then two, in perfect stillness. At last he began to pace again. "Fuck," he said. "Fuck is a good word. Really. Just think about it. It's a noun. It's a verb. It's a fucking adjective. What the fuck. Good word."

"Sandburg..." Jim growled.

"Yeah? You back with me now?" Blair asked innocently.

"Shut the fuck up."

Blair waited outside the restaurant with Brown and Rafe as Jim paid for their meals. Jim had lost the daily lunch bet and peevishly paid up. He wasn't going to be too happy when he found out he had been set up, and Blair had been threatened into silence, for the time being anyway. He went along with the hoax mostly because it had gone a long way toward getting Jim's mind off the events that would take place later in the evening.

"Look over there," Blair said pointing to several large men standing around a group of motorcycles in the parking lot. They looked like Hell's Angels rejects, with an assortment of dirty denim, long hair, beards, and lots of leather.

One of the large men noticed Blair staring at them and shouted at him, "Hey, you little hippie, come here."

"You talking to me, scumbag?" Blair shot back.

"Oh, God. Where's Jim?" Brown asked.

"Sandburg, get back here!" Rafe shouted at Blair, who moved directly to the group, seemingly unaware of the certain death that waited for him. Jim came out of the building and took in the scene with a clenched jaw. "He's lost his mind, Jim," Rafe exclaimed.

Jim reached for his gun and trotted towards the group, with Rafe and Brown close behind, just as Blair reached the men. He strode right up to the largest one and hit him squarely in the stomach.

"That all you got, pretty boy?" the man laughed and grabbed Blair into a bear hug. Much to Jim's relief when the man released him, Blair was still breathing, and grinning ear to ear.

"You get uglier every time I see you," Blair exclaimed.

"You little shit. I should have smothered you in your sleep years ago." The big man turned toward his group with Sandburg's neck caught up in a beefy arm and said "This is the one I told you about."

"No way," one of the other bikers intoned.

"Hey, if he said it," Blair thumbed toward his old friend, "You know it's a lie."

The bikers laughed and generally agreed with him. The policemen stood and stared in disbelief. The two groups of men eyed each other speculatively for a few minutes and slowly drifted to opposite poles of the sidewalk while Blair talked with the leader of the gang. "Hey, Jim, this is Jerry Strohl. Jerry these are my friends Jim, Henri, and Brian."

"Dr. Strohl?" Jim asked incredulously. "Blair has told me a lot about you, but obviously not everything."

"Yeah, well," Strohl said with an impish grin. "You wouldn't think Sandburg would hang out with cops either."

"His dissertation was on gang mentality," Blair supplied. "He kind of got caught up in it."

"And when are you going finish your dis?" Strohl asked.

"I'm working on it, man. Listen, we gotta get back, but I'll see you tonight," Blair waved to the bikers and then to the still stunned Rafe and Brown, and followed Jim to the truck.

"That's the second person in two days that's called you a little shit," he observed.

"Yeah. I was just a kid when they started calling me that."

"You're still just a kid." Jim watched the line of bikers ride away. "He was one of the eight?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's when I first met Jerry. We've actually worked together a lot over the years."

"So, which one of those guys do you think will be the proxy for him?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure it will be his mother."

Jim dropped Blair off at the lodge where the group of the original students had agreed to meet. It was all the way across town from the Rainer, chosen particularly for that reason, but Jim knew Blair was probably going to get wasted later and wouldn't be able to drive home. And because he needed a few more minutes alone with his Guide before things got underway. "Chief," he said as Blair moved to open his door.

Blair stopped and regarded his partner. "Yeah, Jim?"

"I promise," Jim said with a deep crease in his brow. "If I lose the bond, I'll take care of things. I don't want you to worry about it. Okay?"

Blair nodded his understanding. "Thanks, man. Hopefully, it won't come to that."

They clasped their hands together for a moment, and Blair smiled slightly. "Get out of here, Junior. And stay out of trouble."

"Hey, trouble's my middle name," Blair laughed as he stepped out of the truck and closed the door behind him.

"Don't I know it," Jim said. He didn't turn the truck around until Blair disappeared into the building.

As Blair's eyes grew adjusted to the dimmer light inside the club, he caught sight of another familiar face. Fond memories rushed to mind as he made his way to the lovely lady.

"Hello, Blair."

"Lizbeth. How are you?" Blair smiled affectionately as he kissed her cheek, noting the whopping diamond she sported on her manicured left hand.

"I'm fine, darling. It's so good to see you." She lowered her voice and leaned in close. "I just want to say how many times I've thought about you over the years. What a sweet memory of how you gave yourself to me for the first time."

"Uh, Liz," Blair stammered, licking his lip and looking around. He was really counting on good Karma to help him get through this ordeal. If she hadn't brought it up, he probably would never have thought about the actual details of their little encounter. Now he felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, but on a cosmic level, he knew he had to come clean. "I lied. I wasn't really a virgin," he whispered guiltily.

"What?" she shrieked.

"What's the big deal. You weren't a virgin either." The glare turned on him spoke volumes. "You were?" Blair asked, wide eyed. "But you were six years older than me."

Jerry and Ryan entered the bar just in time to see Blair get slapped. "Good times," Jerry sighed and adjusted his tie. Except for the abundant hair and beard, he looked every bit the doctor of anthropology.

Ryan grinned and collected Sandburg as he passed. "Come on, Blair. We've got a room reserved in the back. Hello, Liz, good to see you."

"Hello. For those of you who don't know me, I'm David Debose."

Jim studied the tall, gaunt man. He looked much older than his years, Blair had said he was in his mid-thirties when the ill fated exposition took place. His face spoke of a hard life in a distant place and perhaps a heavy handed master. All at once, it came to Jim what the man had sacrificed so the people in this room could have normal lives with the ones they loved. He sent a silent thanks to the man that he himself had come to have Blair in his life. If it wasn't for this man, Sandburg would never had steam-rollered his way past his defenses and he would almost certainly have lost his mind when his senses had come back online. The debt he owed this man was inestimable.

"Please, everyone, take a seat. That's it. Now, I'm going to light a symbolic fire in the vessel on the middle of the table. In turn, each of you should introduce yourself, state for whom you are here, and what your relationship is as their sponsor. As you do, light the candle in front of you from the central flame. This is a somber occasion, and I know that our loved ones, far across town, are quietly reflecting our efforts here. Let's begin."

"Ok, drink, lick, suck..."

"No, no, no," Blair argued for the third time. "It's lick, drink, suck."

"Blair's right," Jerry agreed. No one disputed the big hairy man. He knew about such things. Plus, even if he wasn't right, he was still big.

"Okay, everybody get ready. We're gonna do it Blair's way this time so Dr. Strohl doesn't have to kill anybody," Ryan teased, taking charge of the unruly group. "Ready? Lick. Drink..." Ryan paused briefly to follow his own instructions, and cough slightly as the tequila burned it's way down his throat. "Suck."

A round of applause went up, as half the group choked on the shot. "One more time!" Blair announced as he once again filled up the shot glasses around the table. "This one's for Jeff."

"I'm with you in spirit, boys," Joanna claimed, "but if I drink any more tequila, I'll puke."

"S'ok, girlie, I got yours," Jerry offered and squeezed her arm fondly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Blair announced with a wink to Joanna. "Here we go. To Jeff, may he rest in peace."

"To Jeff," the group toasted in unison, lick, drink, suck understood and made in silence this time.

"My name is Robin Murphy. I'm here for my husband Ryan Patrick Murphy. Love you, babe." The small woman with the mane of wavy brown hair smiled and lit the candle in front of her by holding it out to the flame in the middle of the table.

"I'm Theresa Tate. I stand proxy for my loving daughter Lizbeth Rachel Tate-Wallace." The older woman lit her candle and turned expectantly to the man next to her.

"James Ellison. I'm here for my partner Blair Sandburg." Jim lit his candle and sighed to himself. If he hadn't been witness to the strange phenomena that had plagued his Guide, he wouldn't be so receptive to this hocus pocus. But he felt desperate at the moment. Murphy had been convinced Debose could help, but Jim wasn't so sure. He would feel better when this whole thing was over and he could put the image of himself breaking Blair's neck out of his mind. He listened half heartedly as each of the other people around the table introduced themselves and lit their candles. If they felt the same amount of trepidation and fear that he felt, then there was some serious stress building in this room.

"Dead man walking," Jason Pruitt exclaimed as he listened to Blair's tale of drowning in the fountain. "That makes you the one, you know." He leaned drunkenly on the bar. "Especially since you've already received the rites of passage."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Blair slurred. Jason was an expert on tribal magic and occult, having delved into the field after returning from New Guinea. "Ryan thinks the same thing."

"That's terrible," Jerry concurred. "Why hasn't he already taken you?"

"I got a Shaman," Blair replied, tapping his finger to his head, "in here."

"A leprechaun, maybe," Ryan laughed.

"No, listen, man. It's true. See, this Shaman died on my couch..."

"Another Sandburg fantasy!" Lizbeth declared and picked up her drink and moved to a nearby table.

"Ignore her," Jerry said. "Tell us about the Shaman. Where was he from?"

"Peru, he was Chopek. The real thing, man. Anyway, just before he died, he grabbed me with his bloody hand and says that he was passing on the way of the Shaman to me."

"What happened then?" Jason asked.

"I told you, man. He died. Weren't you listening?" Blair blinked a couple of times so he only saw one Jason in front of him.

"No, I mean how do you know he's in here?" he asked tapping Blair harder than he intended to on the head.

"Ow. Oh, see, I think that Kimikara came to get me in my sleep. I dreamed of the death rite. You know the passage thingy. When Jim came home, I was chanting in Chopek, Jim knows because he speaks Chopek, and doing some type of ceremonial dance on the stove..."

"That's it, I'm cutting you off," the bar tender declared as he gathered the bottles away from the group. "This is the craziest bunch of fanatics I've ever seen. You need to take this party somewhere else."

Jerry leaned across the bar and grabbed the man by the lapel. "If you'd rather, I'll call my other friends over for a while. Or you can settle for a group of slightly intoxicated anthropologists. It's your choice. But I doubt you'll ever have the combined IQ in this room that you do right now."

"Whatever," the bar keep said as he straightened his shirt, unflustered by the wild looking man in the suit, unaware of the kind of friends he was being threatening with.

"Just because I've got a PHD doesn't mean I won't kick your ass," Jerry warned, pointing a finger.

"Tell you what," Blair offered. "If you'll call us a couple of cabs, we'll be out of your hair in ten minutes. Ok?"

The man nodded as he reached for the phone. "Deal."

"Where are we going, Blair?" Ryan asked.

"To the university. I think David is going about this all wrong. We need to make a unified front, and I don't think the proxies are going to work."

"But David said that would be too dangerous," Joanna said.

"Blair's the only one in danger," Jason sighed. "I'm sure of it."

"So what do we have to go for?" Lizbeth asked with a pout.

"Because if something happens to Blair, then we're all on the chopping block again," Ryan provided. "We're all in this together. Obviously you all believe, or you wouldn't be here. Something happened to us eleven years ago that binds us now. Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked Blair.

"One way or the other, I want this to be over," Blair assured. "Head on is the only way to go. We can talk about the details in the cab. But we'd better go now, cause when I sober up, I'll regret that decision."

Jim moved restlessly in his hard chair and tried to stretch his legs under the conference table. It wasn't so much the headache caused by the smoke of various concoctions Debose kept burning, or even the endless chanting that had gone on for almost two hours that bothered him. He was bored, plain and simple. The edge of anxiety had passed long ago. He was still concerned, but he didn't believe Debose could actually call Kimikara's spirit. The man came across as a teacher, not as a medicine man. He obviously didn't have any type of power over the spirit world, he was just going through the motions. 

Jim had learned from Incacha that the words weren't as important as the one who said them. Kimikara would come all right, but on his own time. He would come, and he would try to take over Blair's body when he did. Right now, all they were doing was wasting time. Jim was ninety nine percent sure of it. But that left over one percent kept him glued to his seat. All in all, he'd rather be with the other group right now. At least they were getting drunk. They were most definitely not quietly reflecting on anyone's efforts. And Blair was there.

The Sentinel took a moment to stretch mentally toward his Guide and felt that he was not so very far away. He followed the bond instinctively until he touched softly on the other soul, amazed he had been able to do it. Wondering if Blair could feel it as well. For an instant he felt the essence of Blair within him, and was comforted by it. Just as quickly a darkness brushed sensually against his being and followed as he retreated. His head began to swim, and he became nauseous as he looked around the room. Suddenly everything was bathed in a hellish light and he found it difficult to breath. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the fire burning in the middle of the table. He swore it leapt toward him.

Seven anthropologists dug through the artifact room looking for anything that might be of use to them. Some of them were actively working in the field, others, like Blair, were still studying, and some had moved on to other things. But the fact remained they knew a thing or two about tribal customs, tools, and cultures.

"Here, put this on," Jerry said as he pulled a loin cloth out of a box.

"Why?" Blair asked as he eyed the skimpy piece of material. "How will that help?"

"I think you should," Ryan agreed. "If you do come face to face with Kimikara, this is something he will understand. We can do the whole body paint thing. Jerry, you studied that for quite awhile, didn't you."

"Hell, yeah," Jerry agreed. "I can scare the shit out of the old buzzard just by the language of the body writing. But you have to wear the loin cloth, unless you want to go in the buff. We can work it that way, too."

"Uh, I think I can manage with this," Blair said self consciously as he picked up the scant cloth.

"So, uh, Blair. How do you access this Shaman," Ryan asked.

"I have to enter an altered state of some kind."

"Can you do it through meditation?"

"I don't know. I've never tried. He just came when I needed him last time," Blair shrugged.

"Wait, I've got an idea," Ryan said. "Jerry, do you have any marijuana?"

"I don't like what your insinuating Murphy," Strohl said rising threateningly to his feet.

"Whoa, hold up guys. Don't do this. Blair needs us," Joanna interjected, standing between the two men, protecting Ryan.

"I've got some pot," Lizbeth offered.

"No shit?" Jerry asked.

"No drugs," Blair stated firmly. "Jim would kill me. There wouldn't be enough of me left for the old man to mess with."

"Many a mind altering experience has begun with tequila," Joanna replied holding up a bottle she had smuggled out of the bar in her large handbag.

Blair grinned. "If I'm going to wear a loin cloth, I'm going to need another shot," he agreed. Suddenly he felt the presence of his Sentinel, deep inside, followed by a cold, overwhelming sense of evil. At the same time, he heard Incacha's voice inside his head, shouting in Chopek. He swayed once before he passed out cold onto the floor.

"Is he okay?"

"What happened?"

The voices were in a strange language and he couldn't understand the words. It was the language of the servant, although he had forbidden him to use it, and he hadn't heard it in years. He cautiously opened his eyes and looked around. The people surrounding him were the pale ones. They seemed concerned and several helped him to sit up. He felt the strength in the new body, it was supple and hard all at the same time. He spoke to the pale ones, but they stupidly stared back at him with their mouths open. The servant stood with them, tears streaming down his face. As he rose from the floor he was overcome by stimulation, bombarding him from every sense at once. He felt as if his new body would explode from the torturous sensations, so he fled from it, leaving it to fall, once again, bonelessly to the floor.

"Come on, Blair. Wake up," Ryan said as he waved the equivalent of ancient smelling salts under his nose.

"Urghh," Blair groaned and pulled away from the noxious odor. "What is that?"

"You probably don't want to know," Jerry supplied as he put the desiccated hand back into it's container and waved away the smell after he sealed it.

"What happened?" Joanna asked.

"Oh, man," Blair exclaimed. "It just got really crowded in here for a minute," he said, rubbing his head.

"Somebody needs to take some medicine here," Lizbeth said. "Is is time for yours or mine."

"Like Prozac could really help you," Jerry sneered.

"Enough," Ryan stated firmly. "Blair, are you sure you're up to this."

"I have to be," Blair answered tightly. "Like it or not, he's here."

"Okay, Jason, go with Blair while he changes. I don't think he should be alone right now. The rest of us will get things ready from this end."

"I need to get something from my office. I'll change while I'm there." Blair lead Jason through the door and up the stairs, flipping the small patch of clothing over his shoulder as he went.

Jim woke with a start. The people around him stood back slightly, seemingly scared to death. His head felt like he was coming off of a three day drunk. He tenderly touched a hand to the back of his skull and came away with a small smear of blood.

"Mr. Ellison?" Debose asked cautiously.

"Yeah?" Jim asked looking up.

"Thank God! He was here. He took your body for a minute."

"How could that happen?" Jim asked, then remembered that he had reached out and brushed against Blair's soul. In that instant, Kimikara had become attached to him. Just as Jim felt his own soul begin to leave his body, it was hit by a sensory spike the old man didn't know how to control. Blair will have a field day with this one, he thought. If both of us survive this, that is.

"I don't know. We need to stop this. I'm sorry, I don't know what else to do."

"What about Blair?" Jim asked. "He's in the most danger. How do we protect him?"

"I don't know," Debose answered again desperately, completely defeated. "I arrogantly thought I could perform the ritual. We need a real Shaman, I'm afraid. If we try again in a couple of days, I think I can arrange for one to come here.

"I think that will be too late," Jim said as he noticed the swirling apparition in the smoke of the fire less than a minute before everyone else did.

Blair shivered as Jerry made the final sweeps of the brush on his back. "There. I've given you the markings of a warrior and a holy man. Kimikara will understand the meaning even if he doesn't believe them."

"He'll believe them," Ryan said. "He always knew there was something special about you, Blair. The chief knew it to. You were born to be a Shaman. It was always in you, even before the Chopek died on your couch."

The group stood in a semi circle around their youngest member. His nearly naked body was covered from his face to his feet with scrolls and lines in black and red paint. Except for the vivid blue eyes and curls on his head, he could have passed as native. Jerry handed him the spear that all had agreed would be the best weapon. "Good luck my friend," he said as he placed his hand briefly on Blair's head and said a quick prayer.

Rita, who had arrived late, just as the cabs were pulling away, stepped forward and placed a rosary around his neck and kissed him on the cheek, careful not to smudge the markings. Blair accepted the gift with a smile.

Jason removed the wedding band he wore on his right hand, which hadn't come off his finger since the divorce, and slipped it onto Blair's right thumb, then shook his hand solemnly.

"May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night, and the road downhill all the way to your door," Ryan intoned the Irish blessing when it was his turn to share with the warrior they were sending into battle.

Joanna removed Blair's top earring and replaced it with one of her own. He winked at her and she smiled back smoothing his hair away from the diamond stud.

When he turned to Lizbeth she bristled. "I already gave you my virginity. I think that's enough," she cried. A chorus of agreement went around the room, from everyone, including Blair.

"Don't tell me you fell for that 'I've never been with a woman before' line of his," Joanna said with a snort.

"He tried it on you too?" Rita asked.

"Hell yeah," Joanna said. "But I told him I preferred a man with experience. And believe me, he didn't let me down."

"Wait a minute," Jerry said. "So you're telling me that the only girl on the trip that you didn't sleep with was Rita?"

"He was three for three," Rita stated, "but I knew he wasn't a virgin. I'm not that dumb," she added looking at Lizbeth, who glared at the room in general.

"Can we discuss this later?" Ryan asked. "It's time to go."

"I wish we had something for Jeff," Blair said softly. "It doesn't seem right that he should be left unprotected."

"There's nothing we can do for him," Ryan soothed.

Blair handed his spear to Ryan for a minute and opened the box he had retrieved from his office. He took out the fetish and held it tightly in his left hand. Taking the spear back he sighed, "Let's go," and lead the way to the conference room in the next building.

Everyone moved closer to the wall as the specter whirled about the room. A woman screamed and several people whimpered with fear. It paused momentarily in front of Debose before coming to settle on Jim, searching for the link it had followed to get to him. Jim cursed inwardly, knowing the evil spirit could just as easily move through him to get to his Guide. He prepared to move all the dials to maximum at the first sign that Kimikara was moving into his body. It worked once, maybe it would work again. It was the only defense he had. As the hair on his neck prickled in anticipation of the coming assault, the door burst open and a handful of people poured into the room.

Jim stared thunderstruck at the doorway where his best friend stood defiantly, dressed as a primitive warrior. Blair approached the large table and in one leap that belied his battered body and multiple shots of tequila, landed squarely in the middle of it, just short of the stone vessel that held Debose's fire. He raised his spear and began to speak loudly to the spirit that floated freely about the room. In Chopek.

"What's he saying?" Ryan asked Jim anxiously.

"He's commanding the spirit to enter the next plain of existence," Jim said guardedly. "I think."

Suddenly the doors slammed shut and lights blinked on and off before plunging the room into darkness, save for the flicker of the small glow in the middle of the table. All the small candles were extinguished by the rapid movement of air around the room. Blair stood his ground as the wind increased, blowing his hair around his head fiercely. Papers and small objects became caught up in the whirlwind and crashed around the room. People began to scream and cry as the onslaught grew. A pounding noise like a drum beat echoed against the walls, growing in volume until suddenly the windows burst outward in a violent shower of glass. Blair stood with his arms outstretched, silhouetted against the light flashing through the window from the blinking street light beyond.

"What is he doing?" Jim asked, grabbing Ryan by the arms and shouting to be heard. "You were suppose to stay away."

"We thought you might need some help," Ryan shouted back.

"Blair, use the fetish!" Jason screamed.

Blair threw back his head and released a primal scream of rage. He opened his left hand and smote the small piece of stone into the fire, scattering ashes and rock in all directions, extinguishing the flames, and plunging the university into darkness for blocks around. The wind died instantly, leaving the room in a silent, black void.

Slowly whispers and soft sobs could be heard as loved ones searched each other out in the pitch black room. Jim searched the face of his friend anxiously as he climbed into a chair and stepped onto the table in front of his guide. "It's me," he whispered hastily as Blair brought up the spear in a protective stance.

"Jim, are you all right?" Blair asked, lowering the spear to the table and reaching tentatively for his Sentinel with sweaty hands.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" Jim stretched his hand out to meet Blair halfway, then pulled his partner in for a hug, just as the lights came back on. Everyone in the room stood and stared as they embraced, unashamed, standing on the table.

"So explain the loin cloth to me again," Jim asked as he drank his beer and adjusted the ice pack on the back of his head.

"Jim, get over the loin cloth, man," Blair muttered. "You're starting to scare me here," he said as he peeked out from under his own ice pack. "I'm never drinking tequila again," he swore.

"I wish you could have seen yourself. You were really something." Jim reflected with pride in his eyes.

"I'm just glad it's over," Blair groaned. His muscles were sore, his bruises had bruises, and his head hurt like hell. But he did it. Well, he had a lot of help, but Kimikara was back in the grave.

Forced from his prey by a strength he could not comprehend, Kimikara fled to the only resource he had left. Badly mutilated, he had rejected it once and moved on. Now he settled in without a struggle as the former occupant was long gone, and began to scratch his way to the surface.    

The End

Disclaimer - Images, characters, and settings taken from various television shows are the property of their respective owners, producers, etc.  No copyright infringement intended, I'm just having a little fun.