Awakening the following morning on the couch, Blair waited until Jim was showering before poking his head through the curtains and checking out his bedroom. The monster had been lounging on his desk. Blair could have sworn it yawned just to show off its long, white fangs. It was gone. Blair sniffed the air. No zoo smell either.

Had he been imagining it?

Or was Jim right; was there a mystical side to this sentinel thing?

Dropping to his hands and knees, he peered under the futon. Okay, the coast appeared clear... for now. Blair returned to the sofa and gathered up his bedding. He felt like seven kinds of wuss for making Jim check his room last night - like a parent checks his kid's closet for monsters. Blair had refused to sleep on his bed. Now, in the cold reality of morning, the whole episode seemed unreal.

Inside the bathroom, Jim's shower was nearing end. The rasping sound of the nylon sponge over skin was gone. Blair could hear the shampoo being rubbed into the short bristles on the older man's head. The guy had a routine and Blair couldn't help but memorize it. Funny thing though, at the dorm that sort of thing drove Blair near insane. But here at the loft, with just Jim around, everything was fine. In fact, Blair found himself monitoring Jim without thinking about it. It was the weirdest thing.

They sat side by side in the front seats of the Ford.

"So this is a stakeout," Blair said with thinly veiled boredom.

"Yep," Jim answered.

"How long do we watch?"

"Until the perp shows or our shift is over."

"The fun just keeps rolling in, huh?"

Jim snorted and waved a hand at the text books on the floor and in Blair's lap. "So read or something. Be happy this isn't the middle of the night."

Blair shifted some of the books around. He didn't feel like studying biology right now. He wanted to talk about sentinel stuff, but he preferred to have Jim bring up the subject. The guy was being stubborn.

"If you're planning to start the spring semester, you'd better hit the books, kid."

"Yeah, I know, I know." Blair flipped open the textbook titled Wildlife Ecology and Management and tried to read. It didn't work. "Jim? Did Jack see spirit animals?"

Jim stroked his eyebrow for a long fifteen seconds. "Yeah, he did."

"So, what did it mean? Was it like a premonition or something? Did bad things happen afterwards? What type of animal did he have?" The questions rushed out before Blair could stop them. He had half a dozen more, but he made his jaw snap shut and watch Jim shift in his seat.

Jim answered the last question first. "He told me it was a lion, an Asian lion to be specific."

"Those are pretty rare," Blair said. "Very social animals."

Jim smiled fondly, his gaze unfocused. "That was Jack."

Blair knew he was trespassing in private memories, but he had so many questions. He gave Jim a few minutes of silence before pressing on. "And the premonitions?"

"Huh?"

"Did the visions mean anything?" Blair held his arms out, palms up as he shrugged. "What's the point?"

Jim's answer was a muttered `here we go' and the cop reaching for the handle. Blair spun in his seat, quickly scanning the shopping mall parking lot.

"What? Where?"

Jim had the door open. Blair reached for his own handle, but stopped when the older man pointed a stern finger at him. "You stay."

"What?" Blair answered. "I should-"

Jim's reply was rapid-fire, "Sandburg, park your ass in that seat and don't move it till I get back." And then he was running between parked SUVs and mini-vans.

Blair's hand stayed on the door handle, his emotions conflicting. What had Jim seen? The guy they'd been looking for, probably. Some up-and-coming drug dealer that blew into Cascade a few months ago. No big deal. Lots of new crooks hit town, Jim had said. Only this time, the local crooks were pissy about undercut prices. The newcomer was a threat to their business. A major war was brewing. All they knew so far was the guy had a pox face and liked to hang out in country western bars.

Invisible spiders scurried up and down Blair's spine. He tingled with dread; something was wrong, very wrong. The door seemed to open on its own. Icy air slipped into the cab. It wasn't raining or misting. The overcast sky teased Cascade with more moisture, but it had held off all day. Blair planted one leg on the ground and froze like a small child flirting with disobedience.

Jim had made it perfectly clear: stay in the truck.

Blair got out, grabbed the side wall to the bed, stepped on the tire and climbed in. Technically, he was still in the truck. He stood and surveyed the lot. From this new vantage point he could see Jim. The cop was hunched over and flitting from car to car as he moved closer to this destination. Blair searched the sea of metal for whatever that might be. Thankfully the closest person was over in another section of the parking lot, far enough away not to be in Jim's way.

Oh shit. Blair gasped at the sight of his black panther standing on the hood of a station wagon two lanes over. The big cat was watching Jim. His tail snapped the air with anger.

This was seriously bad. Blair tore his eyes away from the animal spirit and back to Jim. Where was he going?

There.

It wasn't a person Jim had seen, but a white, paneled truck. A witness had reported a similar truck was used in the last confrontation between pox face and the local drug dealer. Two bodies had been found in the aftermath.

Placing his hands flat on the roof of the cab, Blair leaned forward and let his vision take him where Jim had forbidden his feet to go. Yes, Pox Face was behind the wheel of the truck. The sentinel could see a perfect profile of the man; black coarse hair that flopped over his forehead, ravaged complexion, large knuckled hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Pox Face was mad. Blair could see the shoulder and waving hand gestures of another person sitting next to the driver.

Switching his focus back to Jim, Blair could see the cop was closing in on his prey. Shit, Jim hadn't even called for backup. This couldn't be a good thing.

He looked back at the truck. Then Blair saw the gun and heard something that caused his heart to climb into his throat.

Blair jumped from the truck bed and started running.

The truck was five parked cars away now. Jim pulled out his cell phone and dialed just as a gunshot exploded the silence. Jim juggled his gun and his phone, moving quickly to a better defense position. The dispatcher answered. Jim quickly reported his location, his situation and urgent need for backup.

A powerful engine started up.

Too late, backup wasn't going to arrive in time. Jim cursed himself for not calling earlier. He just hadn't been sure this was the truck they were looking for. The sound of a slamming car door made Jim peer around the back of the red Ford Explorer. But the bad angle didn't offer a clear line of sight. Jim scurried around to the other end and edged closer. The truck's transmission dropped into gear with a grinding crunch and started to reverse out of the parking spot.

Jim rose to peer over the hoods of the cars between him and the moving truck.

Yes, an adult male with a gory head wound lay sprawled on the asphalt. From the brief look, it was obviously a fatal shoot. Another dead drug runner? Can we say probable cause? Jim grinned and moved forward to make his arrest. First he had to stop the truck.

"JIM!"

Jim stood and turned in horror.

Blair was running down the lane toward the truck. Jim changed course, running away as fast as he could while still hunched over. He raced between the grills and bumpers of the parked cars. Judging the distance correctly, he turned and darted back out into the drive lane, catching the nineteen year-old around the waist and jerking him safely back between a parked van and a sedan.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jim snapped.

"Gun!" Blair said with a gasp, alarm showing as he waved his hands. "Y-you didn't call for help. There's-"

Jim grabbed a handful of coat and jerked Blair to his feet, then pulled him down until he knelt on one knee at his side. "Shut up and stay behind me."

The truck was out of the parking stall now, completing the turn to drive away. Jim could see the license plate had been smeared with mud. He moved forward. Perhaps he could shoot out a tire.

A hand pulled him back.

"Sandburg!" Jim exploded, turning around and knocking the arm away.

"Jim!" Blair shouted back. "You're not listening! There are people in the back of the truck. I can hear them talking! I can smell the gun oil!"

What?

The truck was driving away now. Jim looked and saw the shadowy figures of half a dozen men through the open roll-up door just as it closed with a slam. He yanked Blair down, out of sight behind the parked cars.

Shit, he would have been mowed down.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I know you said-"

Jim covered the kid's mouth, pinning him carefully to the car door as he pulled out his cell phone again and hit redial. Blair remained completely still. Jim removed his hand and patted Blair's shoulder as he reported the direction and number of suspects within the back of the truck. He warned responding units they were heavily armed, based upon the new sentinel's report.

Up until now, everyone had worked under the assumption this guy had been a loner. It appeared he was picking up a small army.

Jim took a deep breath. The truck was gone. He still had a body to deal with. The perp hadn't left any live witnesses yet, why would he change now?

In a hesitant move, Blair reached out with both hands and caught the front of Jim's coat, his fists trembling. "I c-can't..." he whispered disjointedly, "... just watch... if..."

One arm catching Blair around the shoulders, Jim pulled him in close. Blair shook in his grasp. "It's okay, I know," Jim whispered.

And he did. Jack had explained it once while they had both been three sheets to the wind after a particularly frightening shootout. Jim was the guide to a sentinel. Jack had called him a freaking lifeline, something to be held onto at all costs if that sentinel had a chance in hell to remain sane. It didn't matter if a sentinel was forty or nineteen, the feeling was strong.

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