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Chapter One
Blair shot up in bed, drawing in harsh, gasping breaths. He wasn't sure what had awakened him, but he couldn't escape the feeling of impending doom. A wolf howled in anguish. Blair stiffened, the mournful sound sending his already pounding heart into overdrive. Now, he heard the angry growl of a big cat. "Jim!" Blair leaped from his bed and crashed out of his room. "Jim!" he called again, bounding up the stairs to the loft bedroom. His partner wasn't there.
Blair grabbed hold of the railing to keep himself upright, breathing heavily. Briefly closing his eyes, he forced himself to take several deep breaths. When his head had cleared a little, he recalled that Jim was working an undercover detail as a bodyguard for a visiting dignitary. Calming further, he began to wonder if he'd just imagined the spirit animals.
He jumped when the phone rang. His heart racing again, he rushed down the steps and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Sandburg, it's Simon."
No! "What's happened to Jim?" he demanded.
There was a brief pause. Simon's voice was filled with regret as he said, "I'm coming to get you."
"Simon! Tell me what's happened!"
A heavy sigh. "We don't know for sure. He was beaten, possibly tortured."
"Tortured! How?" Blair nearly shouted.
"Sandburg. Blair, I don't know yet. I called you as soon as we found him. I don't have any details yet."
"Okay. Where is he? How is he? When did this happen?"
"I'm out front now, Sandburg," Simon said. "He's on the way to the hospital. As to how he is, it doesn't look good. He was unconscious when we found him. We might have interrupted them. The syringe was still in his arm."
"Syringe? WHAT SYRINGE?" Blair interrupted.
"Hang up the phone, Sandburg, and come down here. I'll tell you what little I know on the way to the hospital."
Blair rung off, and dived into his room for some shoes. Since he was already wearing sweatpants with his T-shirt, he didn't bother to find a pair of jeans. He grabbed his jacket and keys, slammed the door shut behind him, and raced down the stairs. "What happened?" he demanded again, hopping into the passenger seat.
"We lost contact with Jim about seven o'clock this evening. His routine check-in was cut short, and witnesses saw him leave the hotel in the presence of two of Al Saud's other bodyguards. We didn't think anything was wrong, until he missed the ten o'clock check in."
Blair stared at Simon in horror. "So Jim had been in their hands, whoever they are, since seven o'clock? It's after 2 AM, now! And you're just now getting around to telling me?"
"Cool it, Sandburg. I called you as soon as we found him."
"But why didn't you call me when you realized he was missing? Never mind. What's this about a syringe?"
Simon looked annoyed, but let it slide. He sighed heavily, keeping his eyes on the road.
"Jim was found in an alley two blocks from the hotel where Al Saud is staying. A tourniquet was around his arm and the needle was still in the vein. It looked like Jim was trying to inject himself before he passed out."
"What? Simon, you don't honestly believe that Jim would do something like that, do you?" Blair exclaimed indignantly.
"No, but men have been made to do stranger things."
Blair couldn't believe his ears.
"Simon, Jim is a sentinel. He doesn't put strange substances into his body. Hell, cold medicine damn near got him killed when it whacked out his senses."
"Maybe they held a gun to his head, or it's some kind of antidote to something else. Hell, I don't know, Sandburg. And until the lab has a chance to analyze what was in that syringe, we can't even speculate. Okay?"
Blair didn't answer. Crossing his arms over his chest he settled back in the passenger's seat, staring out the windshield.
"Tell me the rest of it," he said after a few minutes of silence. "You said he might have been tortured."
Simon sighed. "From the bruises and contusions on his face and upper body, it's obvious he was beaten, but there's also evidence of electrical burns on his chest and back. I don't know about anywhere else. There are also ligature marks around his neck."
Blair closed his eyes, bowing his head. "Jim," he whispered. He couldn't begin to imagine what torture would be like for a sentinel. Perhaps he had injected himself with whatever had been in the syringe to escape the agony. Blair shuddered. Please, Jim. Be all right.
He started when a large hand came to rest on his shoulder, gently squeezing it. He opened his eyes, unaware that he'd closed them. Blair gave Simon a tiny nod, smiling slightly. The hand fell away, and he was sorry for the loss of warmth. They were silent for the rest of the drive.
When they arrived at the hospital, Simon parked quickly and they rushed inside. However, once they passed the Emergency Entrance, Blair stopped, unable to make himself go to the admittance window. Simon squeezed his shoulder once again, and went to the window himself. Blair inched his way forward, holding his breath as he listened to the captain make the inquiry.
"Excuse me, we're here about Detective Ellison. Has he been brought in yet?"
The nurse looked something up on her clip board.
"Yes, sir. And you are?"
"Captain Banks, Cascade PD. Ellison is one of my detectives."
"Okay. The ambulance arrived about ten minutes ago. The doctors are with him now. Why don't you have a seat in the waiting area and someone will be out to tell you what his condition is as soon as possible."
Banks nodded stiffly. "He was still alive when they brought him, wasn't he?"
"Yes, sir. He was being assisted with his breathing, but he was still alive."
Simon thanked her and turned to face Blair. "You heard?"
"Yeah, Simon. Thanks." Blair wandered to the chairs in the emergency waiting area, and sank down into one.
"You be all right here for a bit? I'm going to go get some coffee. How about it?"
Blair nodded, and Simon headed off to find the source for the best coffee.
When Simon returned, he accepted the mug with murmured thanks. Only after he wrapped his hands around the steaming warmth of the mug did he realize how cold he was. And it had nothing to do with the temperature. The captain sat down beside him, taking a sip of the caustic beverage. Neither man spoke for several minutes, each listening to the quiet but frantic activity going on in one of the treatment rooms.
"Are there any leads?" Blair asked quietly.
Simon rubbed his forehead, staring into his coffee. "I sent Joel, Rafe, and Brown to question Al Saud and the two bodyguards Jim left with. I don't know how far we'll get. If either or all are guilty, we might not be able to touch them because of diplomatic immunity."
"That sucks," Blair said flatly.
"Yeah," Simon agreed. "At this point we don't even know why Jim was targeted. Whether his cover was blown, or for some other reason."
Just then Simon's cell phone rang. "Banks."
Blair watched and listened to the captain's one-sided conversation. Judging by his expression, the news wasn't particularly good.
Banks closed the phone and met Blair's gaze. "One of the bodyguards has turned up dead and the other is currently missing. Al Saud seemed stunned by the whole thing, and is fully cooperating with our investigation. So far, nothing's turned up."
"Do you believe him?"
Simon sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Yeah, I think I do. Rafe said he was shocked when they told him about Jim and that his bodyguards might have been involved. He was equally surprised when one of the guards turned up dead. He's answered all of their questions without hesitation, even the more pointed ones."
Blair nodded.
More than an hour and two cups of coffee later, a man in blue scrubs finally approached them. Blair shot to his feet, and Simon quickly joined him.
"You're here for Mr. Ellison?"
"Y--yes, I'm his partner, Blair Sandburg. This is Captain Banks," Blair said hurriedly.
The man shook their hands. "I'm Dr. Margulies. Well, Mr. Ellison seems to be stabilized for the moment. He has several mild scrapes and contusions on his face and hands. There is some severe bruising of the abdomen, chest, and kidney area. Quarter-sized first and second degree burns dot his entire body, including the soles of his feet and palms of his hands. He has three cracked ribs, two badly broken fingers, and a broken jaw. There is also some swelling of the neck and throat due to the strangulation. As bad as all that sounds, his physical injuries are the least of our worries. What concerns me is the substance that's running around in his system. Quick analysis indicates he was injected with some kind of neurotoxin. The final lab results haven't come back yet, so until then all we can do is try to keep him breathing."
Blair felt nauseated, queasy, sick to his stomach, all of the above and then some. He was sure his face had grown three shades paler. Whoever had done this to his partner knew what they were doing. He gulped, forcing down the lump in his throat. Before he could get enough air to speak, Simon was asking the question he wanted to.
"What do you mean try to keep him breathing?"
"This neurotoxin is causing prolonged firing of the neurons in his body, specifically the neurons involving the autonomic systems like his heart, causing it to beat faster than it should. Consequently, his autonomic systems have begun to shut down. We had to put him on a ventilator after he suffered a couple of seizures and went into respiratory arrest. His heart is showing signs of stress, and we're watching it closely. If the tachycardia gets any worse we'll have to administer something for it. I'm hoping to avoid that until we know what toxin we're dealing with."
"And you have no idea what it might be?" Blair asked breathlessly, trying not to think about Jim on life support.
The doctor shook his head. "From the initial paralysis present, my first thought was curare, but the preliminary chemical analysis didn't pick it up. I've ordered a complete blood work up, and a broad spectrum analysis of the syringe brought in with Mr. Ellison."
"How long is that going to take?"
The doctor hesitated. "It could take as little as three hours or as long as thirty-six."
Blair stared in stunned amazement at the physician. "Thirty-six hours?"
"That's a worst case scenario."
Blair swallowed. "And while we're waiting?"
"Obviously, we continue to monitor him and do what we can for him. I'm not going to sugar coat this. He's in severe distress, and deteriorating as we speak. All we can really do is try to keep him comfortable, and keep a close eye on his vitals."
Blair squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring a soft prayer. He was grateful for the hand Simon laid on his shoulder. He looked back up at the doctor. "Is there anything else?"
"The fingers have been set, but the jaw will require surgery. We can't do that until his condition improves. He does have one big factor in his favor."
"What's that?"
"He's strong and in excellent health otherwise. That just might give him the edge he needs."
Blair nodded. "When can we see him?"
"They're moving him to ICU right now. Go on up. As soon as he's settled you can see him, but be aware, he's not going to look like the man you know."
"Thanks, we'll remember that," Blair said softly. Numbly, he allowed Simon to steer him toward the elevator which took them up to the ICU ward located on the fourth flour.
Another interminable wait. Twenty minutes passed before a nurse told them they could go in to see the patient.
Stopping just outside Jim's room, Blair glanced up at Simon, appreciating the big man's silent encouragement. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.
His first glimpse of his partner took his breath away. He thought he had been prepared for this, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing his strong friend surrounded by wires and tubes hooked up to various equipment. Wires attached to patches glued to Jim's chest led to a heart monitor. Right now, the number being displayed seemed to be hovering between eighty-nine and ninety. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around one upper arm, and even as they entered, the machine hooked to it was inflating the cuff. Jim's blood pressure would automatically be recorded for later inspection by the nursing staff. A clothespin-type clamp was fastened to one of Jim's fingers. The wire attached to it led to another machine which constantly recorded his blood oxygen level. IV fluids hung from the IV pole with tubes leading down into the one fastened to the port stuck in the back of his hand. And then there was the tube stuck down Jim's throat, connected to the large machine that was forcing air into his lungs. The monitors were blessedly silent, so the only noise came from the quiet whoosh-thump-click of the ventilator.
He heard a faint, choked gasp behind him, and glanced back at Simon, giving him a sad, understanding smile.
Jim definitely wasn't a pretty sight. The tube from the ventilator forced his mouth to remain open, but a large white bandage was looped around his chin and wrapped around his head to help stabilize the broken jaw. Blair winced at the ugly purple bruises covering Jim's face and neck, and gulped when he saw the raw red patches of burns dotting his exposed arms. He shivered when he thought about those same types of marks on the bottoms of Jim's feet and his hands. It's a good thing he's unconscious.
He shoved the shock aside, and walked up beside the bed, reaching to take Jim's unsplinted hand gingerly in his, avoiding the IV port. "Oh, Jim," he murmured. "What'd you get yourself into this time?"
There was no answer, of course.
"God, he's a mess," Simon said, breaking the silence.
Blair snorted. "And you accuse me of understatement." He ignored Simon's glare as he leaned over and whispered softly in Jim's ear. "Stay with me, Jim. Please? Your Shaman demands it."
He straightened, gazing down at his friend worriedly. He lay a cool hand briefly on Jim's forehead. Simon came around to stand on the other side of the bed.
"We need to catch these guys, Simon." Blair's voice was quietly vehement.
Simon nodded, his eyes fastened to Jim's battered face. "We will, Sandburg. We will." It was a vow.
Blair pulled a chair closer and sat down, laying a light hand on Jim's wrist, wanting that physical contact. It gave him peace of mind, and he was sure that, somewhere in Jim's subconscious, the Sentinel felt the connection, too.
"Well, I've got an investigation to lead, so I'll leave him in your capable hands, Sandburg."
Blair issued a faint smile at the rib, appreciating the sentiment behind it.
"I expect you to get well soon, Ellison. Don't leave me to handle Sandburg all on my own." After a slightly awkward moment, Simon moved to the door. "Blair?"
Blair looked up at Simon, unused to hearing the compassion he heard now in the gruff man's voice.
"Call me, if you need anything. All right? I mean it."
Blair glanced away, swallowing hard. Returning his gaze to the big man, he nodded. "I will, Simon. Thanks."
Simon returned the gesture, then was gone.
Blair continued to stare at the closed door for a long time. Eventually, he turned his attention back to his partner. "Did you hear that, Jim? Simon doesn't want to be left to handle me all by himself. I suggest you listen to him. I don't want to handle Simon all by myself either. It'd sure be nice if you could tell us what happened. Of course, you'd have to wake up to do that, so anytime would be great. Okay, Jim?"
The only sound in the room remained the steady whoosh-click of the ventilator.
Blair rested his forehead on the mattress, still gently gripping Jim's wrist. "That's all right, man. I know you're fighting this thing. I'll be here for you. Huh, sounds like a song. Sorry, can't remember which one right now." Blair straightened, and gazed at his partner's swollen and disfigured face.
"I've got something to tell you, Jim. This falls into that category of stuff you only listen to when you're not being a cop, man." Blair tried for a smile, and failed. He swallowed. "I heard the wolf, Jim. And the panther. I was sound asleep. The next thing I know I'm sitting straight up in bed, wondering what the hell woke me. That's when I heard it. The wolf. I've heard wolves howl before, man, but this was different. I didn't know an animal, spirit or otherwise, could sound like that. So full of anguish, like something had--" Blair stopped himself from completing that thought. "Then the panther growled. I freaked, Jim. I knew something awful had happened, even before I remembered you were on that undercover gig, or Simon called.
"Damn it, I knew. I knew--but not soon enough." Shoulders slumping, he bowed his head. Barely audible words escaped him. "Please, Jim, fight this thing."
He became aware of the arm twitching beneath his fingers. For a moment he thought Jim was coming to. His hopes were dashed when he realized Jim was having a muscle spasm. The scream of the panther and the howl of the wolf overlaid themselves while Blair watched in horror as a full-fledged convulsion gripped his friend.
"Jim!" Blair's gaze shot to the heart monitor. Jim's heart rate was up to one hundred and eight beats per minute. Too fast! OhGodohgodohgod. He grabbed the call button just as the doctor and two nurses barreled in. Before he knew what was happening he found himself gently but firmly pushed from the room.
Chapter Two
Blair stood staring at the closed door, numbly trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, taking a deep breath, he turned around--and came face to face with the worried countenances of half the detectives of Major Crime.
He was only vaguely aware of two more hospital staff rushing into Jim's room; he just stared at Jim's friends. His friends.
He must have blanked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, Simon was there beside him, with a hand on his shoulder. "Sandburg? Are you all right?"
All Blair could do was nod.
"What's going on in there?" Simon jerked his head toward Jim's room. "What happened?"
"Uh." Blair swallowed, his throat suddenly closing. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath, and pushed the panic down. Get a grip, man. Steadier, he opened his eyes again. "Uh, he, uh, started having convulsions."
Everyone was silent.
Blair looked up when he felt Simon squeeze his shoulder. He let himself be steered over to the chairs next to the wall, and sat down. Detective Henri Brown appeared in front of him with a cup of coffee. Blair smiled his thanks as he accepted the hot beverage. Wrapping his hands around the Styrofoam, seeking its warmth, he took a tiny sip of the caustic brew, but that was all.
"So, anything new?" Blair finally asked, when the silence was becoming oppressive.
"They found the other bodyguard," Simon answered. Blair looked at him inquiringly. "Dead."
Blair closed his eyes, sagging back against the chair.
"Now what?" he asked. "Guess that blows our theory that the bodyguard did this, huh?"
"Well, not entirely. We're pretty sure he killed the other guard. The gun found on him was the same one used on the other man. But you're right, it doesn't look like he was working on his own."
"Great, so that's one mystery solved, but we don't have a clue who killed the other guard." Blair said resignedly.
"Actually, we might."
Blair looked up hopefully. "Yeah?"
Simon nodded. "Rafe and Brown found a hotel key and a scrap of paper with a message on the body. The key is for a room at the Travel Lodge on Route Two east of town."
"You think whoever we're looking for is going to show up there?"
"Don't know, but Rafe and Brown are going to go check it out."
"What about the message you found?"
"It's in Arabic. We'll have to get a translator to decipher it."
"Can I see it?"
"Why, can you read Arabic?" Simon asked, looking a little surprised.
Blair rolled his eyes. When was the captain going to learn? "Simon, I'm an anthropologist. Part of being an anthropologist is learning some of the languages. I've been to the Middle East, I might remember enough of the alphabet to decipher it."
Simon motioned to Brown, and Henri pulled out a plastic evidence bag containing a notepad-sized piece of paper. Blair took the proffered item, squinting to bring the curls and squiggles of the foreign alphabet into focus. His glasses were on his desk in his room, at home.
He stared at the script. The writing was smudged and he struggled to puzzle out its meaning.
"Sandburg? Blair? Blair, can you read it? What's it say?"
Blair blinked, and looked into Simon's worried eyes, realizing the captain had called his name several times. Shaking himself, he rubbed his face. "Sorry, Simon," he said. "Yeah, I can make out most of it."
"Well, what does it say?" Simon prompted, a touch of impatience tingeing his voice.
"Uh. 'Been tricked. Murphy actually spy named Ellison. Take him out. Motel. 1930 hours.'" Blair continued to stare down at the paper after he'd finished relaying the message.
There was a long moment of silence.
"Damn," Banks said softly.
"So his cover was blown," Megan added.
"But what's this talk of him being a spy?" Rafe asked.
"Brother, you know most folks over there in the Middle East think anybody from the U.S. is a spy," Brown said.
"That doesn't matter right now," the captain growled. "Get over to that motel and check it out. Now!"
The detectives didn't have to be told twice. With a round of "Yes, sirs", they turned and headed for the elevator. Joel paused long enough to lay a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Hang in there, Blair. We'll find whoever did this to Jim."
Blair turned his face up to the former Bomb Squad captain, smiling slightly. "I know, Joel. Thanks."
Joel patted his shoulder, then straightened and looked at Simon.
"Bring us back a suspect, Joel," Simon said.
Taggert nodded decisively, and hurried to catch up with the others at the elevator.
Blair heard Simon breathe a heavy sigh, but barely looked at the captain as the big man sat down beside him. He still held the note in his hands, staring at it.
"Did you see this symbol, Simon?" Blair asked after a moment. He pointed to the small symbol at the bottom of the page.
"No, I hadn't. What is it?" Banks took the plastic bag, and examined the note. At the bottom, very neatly drawn, was the picture of a grinning skull wearing a beret with a dagger behind it.
"I'm certainly no expert on the subject, but isn't that a military insignia?"
"You might be right, Sandburg. Have any idea what it is?"
Blair shook his head, staring at the small drawing. "No, but I bet it has something to do with Covert Ops."
"What makes you think so?"
"I've seen a similar insignia before. Same dagger, but just the beret on top of it."
"Where?"
"In some of Jim's old Army stuff. He told me it was one of the insignias of the Green Berets."
"Oh."
The door to Jim's room opened, and both men stood up, their discussion temporarily forgotten. Blair watched worriedly as the doctor emerged. He bit his lip when he saw the man's grim expression.
Looking tired and haggard, the doctor walked up to them. "We got the convulsions stopped."
"But?" Blair asked.
Dr. Margulies sighed heavily. "His condition is much worse I'm afraid. After getting the initial convulsion under control we gave him two percent lidocaine to numb the pain of the muscle spasms. Unfortunately, he had a reaction to the medication, and his heart began throwing PVCs. The reaction passed quickly and his heart returned to a normal, though accelerated, rhythm. However, now he's hyperthermic and hovering near coma. We must get his body temperature down as quickly as possible."
Even as the doctor said this, two nurses emerged from Jim's room and hurried down the hall. They returned minutes later with a cart bearing large tubs of ice, wet sheets, and towels.
Blair's legs turned to jelly and he sank into the chair he'd just vacated. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to stay in control. He couldn't afford a panic attack right now. He leaned forward on his elbows, gripping his head in his hands. Everything that had happened in the last few hours threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it down, knowing if he lost it now, he wouldn't be able to help Jim.
He straightened finally and looked at the doctor. "Have you managed to figure out the toxin?"
"The final lab results aren't back yet, but we're pretty sure we're dealing with some type of envenomation. From what, we don't know yet. One interesting thing of note, whatever was in that syringe seems to be an antivenin."
"An antivenin? That's good, right?" Blair asked hopefully.
The doctor shook his head slightly. "Well, possibly yes, possibly no."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Simon demanded.
Blair jumped, having forgotten the captain's presence.
"If it is an antivenin, we have no way of determining whether he got enough of it, or even if it's the right one. I would have expected his condition to be much better than it is, but there are cases where antivenins simply don't work, even if given in time." The doctor paused. "I'm sorry, I wish I had better news for you."
The corners of Blair's mouth twitched into a grim smile, silently acknowledging the doctor's efforts to be cautiously optimistic. He shrugged. "I know you're doing everything you can."
Dr. Margulies said, "You can go back in. Just be careful to stay out of the nurses' way."
Blair nodded, and moved toward Jim's room. He was barely aware of Simon following him.
As he entered, his eyes darted immediately to his partner's immobile form. Two of the three nurses seemed to be removing the ice they'd placed around his groin and under his armpits. The third nurse was sponging and fanning his torso. He was still mostly draped in wet sheets, and a strange looking scarf-like object had been wrapped around his neck. One of the nurses, finished removing the ice, reached up and turned it.
"What's that?" Blair asked curiously.
One of the nurses smiled at him. He returned it automatically.
"It's a special cool-pack. It helps cool the body temperature by cooling the blood passing through the major veins in the neck. It's been proven quite effective. Already his temperature has dropped to a hundred and three degrees from a high of one-oh-six. Another two points and we'll be able to remove the wet sheets."
"Great." Blair gulped. "Did you say a hundred and six?"
"Don't worry. We caught it in time, so there should be no permanent damage," one of the other nurses assured him.
"I'm glad to hear that."
The nurse smiled again, returning to her task.
Blair and Simon stood back out of their way, watching them work.
"I didn't know Jim could look so frail," Simon said quietly.
Blair nodded, not taking his eyes off his unconscious friend. "I know what you mean," he whispered. He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder and looked up into Simon's concerned eyes.
No words passed between them. No words were needed. Each knew the other's concern for their friend.
They were asked to leave while the nurses removed the wet sheets, put a fresh gown on Jim, and changed the bedding. When they were allowed back in several minutes later, Blair went directly to Jim's side.
Jim looked even paler than he had before. Blair reached out and gently brushed the other man's forehead before clasping Jim's hand. He needed that skin to skin contact, and the Guide was sure his Sentinel needed it too.
"I'm back, Jim. Simon's here, too. Gave us quite a scare, you know that?" he said quietly.
The whoosh-thump-click of the ventilator was the only answer he received.
Blair closed his eyes briefly, offering up a prayer to anyone who would listen. Reluctantly withdrawing his hand, he snagged the most comfortable chair in the room, pulled it closer to the bed, and sat down. Within moments he'd sought contact with his partner again, this time gently wrapping his fingers around Jim's wrist. The pulse that beat there was fast, but it reassured him that his friend was still fighting.
"I suppose it's pointless for me to suggest you go home and get some rest," Simon said quietly.
Blair turned to look at the captain, whose presence he'd once again forgotten, and smiled tiredly. "You're right, Simon. It is pointless, so don't waste your breath."
Simon shook his head, but a smile tweaked the corners of his mouth. It disappeared quickly, however, as he said, "I'll stop by the loft and get you a change of clothes and a razor before I come back."
"Thanks, Simon," Blair said gratefully. "Any idea what that symbol might mean?"
The captain blinked, looking confused.
"You know, the symbol on the paper."
"Oh. No, I don't know what it could mean. Maybe it's some kind of signature or calling card. Maybe a search of that motel room will turn up something. We'll just have to wait and see."
Blair nodded reluctantly. "Do you think--"
Simon held up a hand, effectively cutting off what he was about to say. "Sandburg, before you ask me if I think they'll turn up anything, I don't know. I'm going to head to the station and wait for some answers to those questions. I'll let you know if they find anything, all right?"
"All right."
"Good. Now, you do the same. Let me know if anything changes."
"Okay."
Simon gazed at Jim's still form for a moment. Quietly, he left the room.
Blair watched until the door closed all the way, then turned back to his friend. "We're all worried about you, Jim, man. Rafe and Brown and Joel and Megan were all here earlier, checking up on you. Don't forget you have friends here, Jim. We're all pulling for you. I'm going to be with you every step of the way." Blair kept up a soft litany of reassurances, on some instinctive level knowing Jim could hear him, even though he gave no sign of it. Eventually his eyes got heavy and his throat grew hoarse. He stopped speaking for a little while, laying his head down on the mattress, next to Jim's hand. He closed his eyes. "Hang in there, Jim. I'm still here," he whispered, just before sleep claimed him
Chapter Three
Blair ran. To where or to what, he wasn't sure, he just knew he had to get there as fast as he could. The trees and undergrowth were thick, but didn't hinder his flight. Jungle. Blue jungle. Blair forced himself to run faster, dodging and twisting around the dense foliage. Faster. Time was of the essence. He dodged another broad leaf, and tripped, soaring over the downed tree that was in his path. Morph. He was now Wolf. Landing lightly, his stride never faltering, he continued his flight through the jungle. There was a break in the trees up ahead. He dug his claws in and pushed himself harder.
There! He saw movement. He broke through the clearing, and slid to a stop.
Panther lay writhing and snarling on the ground. A scorpion sat inches away from the big feline, stinger arched over its back, poised to strike again. Wolf growled, and pounced, neatly severing the arachnid's tail and crushing its head. Giving the beast one good shake, he tossed it over his shoulder and went to his friend. Panther was still writhing and twisting in agony as Wolf nuzzled his chin. He whined sorrowfully. Panther grunted in reply, gradually lying still.
*****
Blair's eyes opened. For a moment he simply stared at the sheet beneath his cheek, trying to gather his wits. He gasped and sat up as the vision came back to him. Oh God, a scorpion! With a shaking hand he reached for the call button, gripping Jim's wrist a little tighter in the other.
A moment later a nurse poked her head around the door. "Is there something you need?"
"Uh, yeah," Blair glanced at the clock. Two-thirty. Twelve and a half hours since Simon's fateful call. "Is Dr. Margulies still here?"
"I believe so."
"I need to talk to him. It's important. I might have an idea what Jim was poisoned with." Blair spoke calmly, but urgently.
"I'll page him for you."
"Thank you."
The nurse left and Blair turned his attention back to Jim. "I know what it is, Jim! I know what it is. I just hope I've figured it out in time."
Blair continued to hold Jim's wrist, chewing on his lip as his mind raced.
"I know some scorpions are nasty, and some aren't so bad. Judging by your reaction I'd say this one was one of the nasty ones, but I have no way of knowing if your sentinel abilities are exacerbating the problem or actually helping. God, I hope I'm not too late. Fight, Jim, fight. You can beat this, especially now that I know what we're up against."
Only fifteen minutes later Dr. Margulies entered Jim's room. "Mr. Sandburg, I hear you might have thought of what could be affecting your partner?"
"I think so. Anyway, it's an idea."
"Well, let's hear it."
"You think it's a venom, right?"
The doctor nodded.
"Have you considered a scorpion sting?"
Dr. Margulies thought over this information. "That would be a highly unusual way to poison someone. Besides, Cascade is too cold and wet for most species."
Blair shook his head, nearly frantic to get his point across. "Jim was working undercover as a bodyguard for the visiting Saudi Arabian Prince Al Saud. We think someone in or close to the prince's entourage is responsible. Couldn't a scorpion or its venom have come with them? I know there are several deadly species in the Middle East. It's not impossible. Is it?"
The doctor considered this. "No, it's not impossible. And your friend is showing classic signs of scorpion envenomation. I'll have the lab concentrate on Buthidae species in Southwest Asia."
"Uh, you might want them to check species in Central and South America, too. Jim used to be with Army Special Forces in that area. There's a slim chance that whoever attacked him has some past association with him in the Army."
The doctor nodded. "I'll have the lab get right on it." He stopped at the door. "Mr. Sandburg, you are aware that with scorpion envenomations, there is no conclusive evidence that antivenins work?"
Blair took a deep breath. "No, I didn't know that. But it can't hurt, can it?"
"If in fact what was in the syringe found with Mr. Ellison was antivenin, and the right one, then no, it can't hurt to try."
"Thank you, doctor."
Margulies nodded again, and left.
"Do you hear that, Jim? He thinks it's likely that you were poisoned with scorpion venom. Hang in there, Jim. Your Shaman is doing his best to find this thing."
Chapter Four
"Sandburg?"
Blair opened his eyes at Simon's concerned voice. He straightened from where he leaned against the wall and waited for the big man to reach him. He knew tears were visible in his eyes, but he didn't care.
"Blair, what is it? What's happened?" Simon asked anxiously.
He opened his mouth to speak, then had to swallow the lump in his throat. "His, uh, blood oxygen level took a nose dive. They're in with him now."
"Do you know what's going on?"
Blair shook his head.
Both men looked up as the door to Jim's room opened and Dr. Margulies stepped out.
Blair waited expectantly, not liking the doctor's grim expression.
"Mr. Ellison is suffering from pulmonary edema, fluid in the lungs. I kind of expected this after the high fever and convulsions this morning. I've prescribed something to help draw off the fluid, but it's going to put further stress on his kidneys. Unfortunately, it's either that or let him drown."
Blair refused to let himself dwell on that, instead focusing on the doctor's face. "I get the feeling there's something you haven't told us."
Margulies sighed. "He's slipped into a coma."
Blair's eyes slid shut as he slumped against the wall.
"Damn," Simon whispered.
"Yeah, damn," Blair agreed quietly.
"I'm sorry. There's little we can do about that."
With a supreme effort of will, Blair spoke. "Thanks, doctor. Can we go back in now?"
The doctor gave an affirmative gesture, murmured something encouraging, then walked off.
Blair turned and slipped inside Jim's room, Simon right behind him. He quickly took up his post beside his friend's bed, taking a gentle hold of Jim's hand. "I'm here, Jim. Haven't gone anywhere. I'm here," he whispered.
The room was quiet for a long moment.
"Here, Sandburg, I brought you a change of clothes. Why don't you go get cleaned up? You'll feel better."
"I can't, Simon. I need to stay here with Jim. I promised I'd stay right here."
"Sandburg, it'll take you all of five minutes to change and splash some water on your face? I'll sit with him. Now, go."
Reluctantly, he stood. "You have to touch him, Simon. He needs to know there's someone here with him."
"I will, Blair. Now, go on," Simon assured, changing places with him. "The sooner you get in there and get changed, the sooner you'll be back here where you want to be."
Blair spun on his heel, snatched up the duffel the captain had brought, and disappeared inside the bathroom. When he came out less than ten minutes later, he looked much more presentable. He hadn't realized how mussed his hair was. He'd nearly scared himself in the mirror. He'd looked like a wild man with his curls going every which way and almost eighteen hours of dark beard stubble on his cheeks. It was a wonder the doctor and nurses even took him seriously, as disheveled as he'd been.
Speaking of the doctor, the man was back, leaning over Jim as he stepped out of the bathroom.
"Thanks, Simon," Blair said, worried by the physician's appearance so soon after leaving.
The captain smiled. "I thought you might appreciate it." Simon stood up and switched places with him again.
"Doc? Has something changed?" Blair asked.
Dr. Margulies straightened from his examination of Jim, actually smiling slightly. "No, for the moment, there's been no change in your friend. I just received some news I thought you'd like to hear. It seems your hypothesis was correct."
"You've found it?" Blair asked eagerly.
"Found what?" Simon questioned.
"The poison in Jim's system. I thought it might be from a scorpion. Dr. Margulies was going to have the lab check. This is great! Do you hear that Jim? They've found the toxin!"
"Calm down, Sandburg."
Blair settled, casting an apologetic glance at the captain before turning his attention to the doctor.
Dr. Margulies simply shrugged at the interruption. "Yes, the lab determined that it is indeed scorpion venom. They've even managed to narrow it down to the genus Leiurus, found throughout the Middle East. One of the most toxic venoms in the scorpion world. And, we've also determined some antivenin has been administered, but nowhere near enough."
"So, if he gets more of this antivenin, he'll be okay?" Simon asked.
The doctor shook his head. "We don't know that for sure. It certainly won't hurt, but at this point, it might be too late."
"What do you mean too late?" Simon demanded before Blair could open his mouth.
The doctor's expression turned regretful. "Mr. Ellison's condition has deteriorated rapidly, and he's now in a coma. The prognosis isn't good. Even if we had the serum here, which we don't, he might be beyond saving."
"We have to try," Blair said emphatically. "Jim won't give up. We've got to give him every chance we can."
The doctor sighed. "I don't think you understand. The only source for this antivenin is Africa or the Middle East. There's no way we could have any here before tomorrow evening, and by then it could be too late."
Silence.
Blair looked away, focusing on Jim's still form. He stared at his friend, seeing again the battered and bruised face, the purple mottling on his neck, the burn marks on his arms, the tubes and wires and patches hooked to and into his body. He rubbed his thumb gently over the back of the hand he held. Blair bowed his head., closed his eyes and took several deep, centering breaths. He refused to give in to the crushing despair. Wolf sat beside Panther, wagging his tail. Panther's thrashing was slowly ebbing, until finally he lay panting. Wolf whined encouragement to his friend. Panther responded with a weak, but determined growl. Blair opened his eyes and lifted his head.
Turning back to the doctor and Simon, he said again, calmly, "We have to try. Please?"
"I really don't--"
Blair gave Simon a beseeching look, and to his gratitude Simon took up the argument.
"It has to be worth a try, doctor. What happens if we don't try to get hold of that serum and Jim lives past the time it would have gotten here? We'll wonder if we might have saved him."
"You're right. I'll get started with the phone calls. But remember, all our efforts might fail," the doctor warned.
"How's that saying go? Something like, 'To attempt and fail is better than to fail to attempt.'," Blair said quietly.
This elicited a small smile from Simon. "Come on, Doc. I might be able to help expedite this process. With any luck, maybe we can get that serum here before the sun sets tomorrow."
The doctor nodded in acquiescence and led the way out of the room.
Part 2 of "The Vigil"