Title:Riddle Me This…
Author: Helen
Posted: 6-24-2005
Email: helen_taft@msn.com
Rating: NC-17 + R – Violence and scary stuff
Pairing: C/A
Summary & notes: This is in response to a challenge posted in the challenge thread of ST (Page 4). None spoilery background is that Cordy left Sunnydale after ‘Lovers Walk’ and Buffy died fighting the Mayor. Set in the early days of Ats the fic is entirely AU. As for the CURSE, Willow passed out before she got to that particular proviso.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the show, its just fanfic! No profit made and no infringement intended. Also, the basis of the challenge follows Sandra Browns novel, Charade. I’ve not read it myself and won’t be in case it knocks me off stride.
Feedback: Please and also, feel free to include criticism too if you feel the urge so long as it’s constructive. Thanks everyone for the FB on previous parts :hug:
Posted: AO & ST
Distribution: Go team + Angel’s Archive + Just Fic
Notes: A special thanks goes to Cerian for her help with the heart transplant research and Zanita for doing my fabulous ficpic.

---

PART NINE

On Sundays the gym was fairly quiet and there were no morning classes scheduled. A few dedicated fitness addicts were working up a sweat on running machines, or half-heartedly pushing up some weights but that was it. For once, Hilda was absent from behind the reception desk and Cordelia felt some of the tension knotting her shoulders loosen as she headed for the female staff locker room unseen.

After a night spent jumping at every bump and scrape; huddled in a cheap motel room that epitomised grunge, she was glad of the small break. Just coming out of that sleazy unit with its leaking tap, lumpy bed and stench of mildew, Cordelia had been shaking with fear and half expecting some ugly great scaly monster to jump out from behind every car and bush. Getting away from whatever that thing had been in her apartment had been easy, thanks to the fact it hadn’t given chase in broad daylight. But not knowing what she was up against had given her a seriously bad night of snatching naps between watching the flimsy door.

She needed her meds though and thanked whatever lucky stars she had left for the habit of keeping a stash at the few locations she frequented. There were some at Angel’s office, but wild horses wouldn’t drag her back there. Not until she’d calmed down enough that she wouldn’t leap at him screaming like a banshee anyway.

Knowing you’re on a demon’s most wanted list is a sure-fire distraction from heartache though. I have to give it that.

Unfortunately it wasn’t a total distraction. Sometime during the endless night the numbness had receded leaving both wrenching pain and a boiling wrath that just begged for release. When she hadn’t been busy watching the knob to see if it turned, she’d fantasised about every grindingly humiliating situation she could put him in. Largely featuring, Angel, begging endlessly and in a great deal of excruciating pain.

The locker room was located at the bottom of a corridor and past the now closed cafeteria. Directly outside a pair of soda dispensers stood like sentinels on either side. Showers were at the rear and crossing the tiles and skirting the benches, Cordelia shook off both the scowl and the memories; telling herself she’d wasted enough time and energy on a lost cause. It wasn’t like she didn’t have other things to worry about- like survival.

Inside her locker the colourful pillboxes she’d brought from a craft stall were right where she expected them to be. Cordelia loathed the drugstore brown tubs with a passion and if anyone asked what she was taking, barring a few, she always said they were vitamins. It wasn’t vanity, she just hated dealing with the boringly predictable response when someone found out she’d had a heart transplant. The questions were always the same and she preferred not dwelling on the answers thanks very much.

Like rats caught in a maze, that led back to things she was trying not to dwell on. Angel had been different and she’d thought it was because they shared something in common, like a too close association with death, or some other alcohol-induced philosophical crap. Well didn’t she feel like a total fool? The asshole had already known. Pills in her backpack along with a badly needed change of clothes, Cordelia slammed the locker door much harder than she needed, “Bastard?”

“Cordelia.”

Startled, she yelped and dropping her bag, spun with a hand at her throat. It was the last voice she wanted to hear and she didn’t need the expression on his face to tell her his mood matched hers. On top of the night she’d had it was too much.

“Oh for Gods sake!” Cordelia threw up her hands in helpless fury, “unbelievable, my luck is just unfrickin’ believable. I should have known not getting ambushed by Reich-girl when I came in was pushing it.” Glaring, she snatched the backpack up off the floor again, “Don’t tell me you’ve been skulking around waiting for me. Cos that just…ugh!”

It was a moot question since he was there. Angel ignored the dig. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked instead, “I’ve been searching for you everywhere. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Judging by the familiar brooding scowl, he wasn’t any happier to be there than she did to see him there. Standing, blocking the exit with his solid bulk, he effortlessly sucked all of the brightness out of the locker lined space.

Her heart was still thumping although with rising ire now. After everything she’d found out this just took the biscuit. Could he even spell gall? Cordelia goggled, “Me- get myself killed? Hey, I’m not the one coming within staking distance of a woman who’s just dying to see you turn dust-bunny, dumbass.”

Stomping over to meet him they ended up practically toe-to-toe. This close she saw remorse soften impenetrable brown eyes. Reminded of his wrongs the taut line of full sculpted lips relaxed, turning Angel’s face poetically penitent. “Cordy, I understand you’re upset. I know I was wrong to keep it all from you-“

Upset? He thought she was just upset? Was he for real? “Understatement much? And you’re missing the point, asshole.” Accusingly, Cordelia finished, “You set me up; saving me, the job, the date- everything. It was all a big con so you could keep tabs on me, knowing some nutjob wants to cut out my heart.”

“I didn’t…well not exactly. I-” Faltering, dark eyes closed briefly as if he were reaching deep inside for something. Sighing, he tried again, “Look, I’m sorry I lied about everything…and if it helps I’ve been kicking my ass about that for days now.” Apology out his expression hardened, “but you can’t just up and disappear like that-“

“Oh yeah, watch me.” Obdurate, Cordelia went to slide past him.

Strong fingers wrapping around an elbow stayed her. Instantly, her head snapped up and they locked gazes. Pointedly, Angel said, “I saw your apartment, it’s a mess. They found you didn’t they? You need me-“

“Hah! Like a hole in the head do I need you.” Twisting free, Cordelia retreated a few steps to create some distance rather than risk trying to pass him again. She didn’t want his hands on her for any reason.

At a stand-off, she sneered, “Why would I need help from a guy who gets off on pretending I’m someone else? If I’m supposed to be impressed by how far you were willing to prostitute yourself, you’re way off base, Angel.”

Her voice cracked like a lash and Angel looked angrily appalled. “That is not true. I already knew you-”

He may as well have kept his mouth shut. Cordelia wasn’t interested in his denials. Quirking a brow, she cut him off coldly, “Wanna know something else? I can’t figure out who’s more pathetic- me for not seeing it before it got that far- or you for being such a sick and twisted jerk.”

That gibe was another direct hit and Angel’s jaw hardened enough to crack. It was a double-edged sword though because any satisfaction she felt was tainted with bitter pain. Tension trembled between them and the calm tone when Angel spoke next was strained and forced, “We don’t have time for this. They have your name and can track you here. Get your things, we’re leaving now.”

Only a cold day in hell was less likely at this point. Loose dark waves flew as Cordelia shook her head and vehemently she said, “Forget it. I’m not interested in you or your protection. I’d rather deal with this psycho, alone and buck-naked, than stomach you for another second.” War declared she made another determined beeline for the exit.

“Too bad,” Angel ground out and moved to intercept using his body as a blockade. For once his expression matched his mood and he looked as pissed as he sounded. Visibly clenched fists warned he was reaching the point beyond trying reason. “You may not want to listen to me, but I refuse to let you get hurt. You have my protection whether you want it or not.”

This confrontation coming so soon after their lovemaking was electric. She could see the awareness hovering at the back of his eyes just like she was sure it was in hers. There was a pregnant pause while she worked out her chances of diving past a vampire without getting caught. Then decided it didn’t matter. Screw him and his superhuman reflexes!

“I’m not leaving here with you.” Icy as only she could be, Cordelia crossed her arms, “You’ll have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.”

Blank-faced, Angel said low, “If that’s the way it has to be, so be it.”

~

When she dived to his left, Angel let her go past without trying to stop her and simply spun on his heel and followed. Given the public nature of the gym, the nearer she got to the exit under her own steam the better. He’d figure how to get them to the car in daylight when the time came.

Tracking her required little skill; leaving him with attention to spare to think about the irony of her accusations. She thought he was using her to hold onto Buffy and the opposite was true. Cordelia had done in a few shorts weeks what nobody had been able to do in the time since Buffy had died; helped him put her to rest and move on. The differences between his relationship with Cordelia compared to Buffy where numerous, but none more so than his willingness to let her put herself in danger.

Buffy had been the slayer and his duty had been to assist her. Loving Buffy had made that task both harder and easier. Harder because he’d had to stand back and let her make her own decisions and follow without question regardless of his opinions. Cordelia on the other hand was an ordinary girl. Angel knew he was in the wrong and she had a right to be hurt and outraged, but she was about to find out he wouldn’t stand back and let her waltz into danger.

He’d hoped reason would work, but hadn’t counted on the effect of finding her would have on his temper, especially after a hellish night spent desperately searching. The second Angel had laid eyes on Cordelia, he’d been pulled by the dual urges of shaking her until she rattled for scaring him like that, and kissing her senseless for escaping whatever had ransacked her apartment. Anger, pride and love warred inside him in a potent mix.

Reason had failed. Now, as much as Angel hated the idea of manhandling her, he was willing to do just that. If it kept Cordelia alive then the end justified the means, even if it hurt his own chances of fixing things between them. Besides, who knew better than he that death had a finality very few grievances could match. Not that it stopped him from wanting to punch something- hard, and born out of sheer frustration.

Nearing the end of the corridor lined with sport wear ads, his footfalls were almost silent, drowned out by the click-clack of her sandals on the spotlessly clean floor. Up head, the swing doors between the corridor and the main reception area were closing behind Cordelia’s stiffly held back.

It was time to close in. Using inhuman speed, Angel exited directly behind her and before the door had closed. On the other side though, it was only those selfsame inhuman reflexes that stopped him from barrelling right into her. Cordelia had come to an abrupt halt. Swiftly scanning the previously empty reception area, the reason for that became clear.

While he’d been arguing with Cordelia the ante had just got upped. Half a dozen black-clad men, all wearing military style body armour and holding automatic weapons were dotted around the eerily frozen reception. Frozen until one of the raiders settled his gaze on Cordelia.

“Cordelia Chase,” he said and he wasn’t asking, “Step this way, please.”

Angel clamped a hand on her shoulder and pulled her behind him, “Forget it. She isn’t stepping anywhere with you,” he said, “best advice I can offer- leave the same way you arrived.”

Getting out of here without a serious bloodletting was unlikely, but Angel figured it was worth a shot. These men were human not demon and killing them wasn’t on his to-do list, unless they insisted by putting Cordelia’s life at risk.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” the apparent leader replied, “Ms Chase will accompany us and if you don’t want to die today, everybody else will keep out of our way.”

“Ya think? Ms Chase might have something to say about that,” snapped Cordy over his shoulder. The higher than normal tone gave away her tension, “Excuse me for having a thing about *not* getting abducted by creeps waving guns.”

There was no discernible reaction to the gibe. Connecting with the human to judge if he would fire on unarmed civilians, Angel was met with cold indifference. He meant business. So did Angel.

“I may be wrong, Cordy, but I’m guessing negotiating isn’t his strong suit?” quipped Angel trying to delay while he wracked his brain for a feasible plan. He preferred action to thinking and that was fine when it was only his ass on the line. Today he was forced to think about it first.

There were four of them with one having a hold of another woman near the stairs down to the underground parking lot. Young, Afro-American and wearing sky blue shorts and a tee-shirt bearing the gyms logo, she was scared out of her wits and had her gaze locked with Cordelia. They knew each other, Angel realised seeing Cordelia was staring intently back. Not that her having friends here was surprising considering she worked at the gym, too.

Great, just to complicate things the hostage has to be someone she knows. Not that Angel intended to let the girl come to harm, but he didn’t want Cordelia trying any heroics while he worked out how to get them out of here in one piece.

“Make your way over to me with your hands out,” ordered the gunman. “If you make any moves I don’t like, I shoot your boyfriend in the head.”

That concept was painful but not deadly, although it would incapacitate him and allow them to take Cordelia. Lucky he had vampire reflexes, thought Angel. Not that he was going to let it get that far.

Behind him Cordelia hesitated and Angel could feel her expectation like an impatient shove in the centre of his back. He would love nothing more than to oblige her and start swinging. Unfortunately, a swift assessment of the situation and his ability to take out four armed men before they could get off a shot had him cursing silently. With one holding a hostage and another standing in the patch of sunlight before the revolving door, it didn’t look good. That was not good until a face staring grimly through the glass from outside caught his eye.

Angel had never been more pleased to see Wesley than he was at that moment. Their silent communication was brief. They’d take two each.

Given the high risk factor of somebody getting hurt from gunfire, Angel knew they had to move fast. Given their equipment and icy demeanour these men were professionals. Meaning they’d have the sense not to converge on him and narrow down the distance he’d have to close to get from one to another.

This fight had to swift and brutally effective. Hesitancy would end in tragedy. Angel timed his first move to the exact moment Wesley erupted from the glass revolving door and dived onto the man stood guard there. Pushing, Cordelia out of harms way, he dropped to a squat and leaping into the air, flipped over once before landing like a cat directly behind the leader.

The would-be abductors hadn’t been expecting that. To give the leader credit he shook off his shock and reacted quickly. Whirling to face Angel, the human dived to the side and aimed his gun at the vampire’s middle. He still hadn’t figured out what he was up against though, and no matter how quick his reflexes were he was still only human.

Grabbing the gun’s cold barrel with his left hand while it was still in motion, Angel squeezed and gave the metal a sharp twist. Put under tremendous pressure it snapped before a shot was fired. Staring up from a waxen face, blue eyes went wide with incredulity. The sharp stink of fear flared Angel’s nostrils as he bent down and grabbing the straps of the black moulded body armour, lifted the man high the air before launching him to crash into a small grouping of vinyl covered chairs tucked into the corner.

The furniture didn’t survive the experience and the human didn’t so much twitch when he finally came to rest. That was one down leaving three to go. Over by the street exit, Wesley was doing okay by the looks of things so Angel concentrated on his next target.

Wesley had a similar idea to Angel. When he exited the revolving door the gunman was already swinging in his direction. Thankfully, close enough to grab the barrel he pulled it away from the man and then rammed it into his unprotected crotch. Bent double and gasping in pain, Wesley was able to wrench it free from him and aim; then fire at another one of the team before he could get a clear shot. Satisfaction surged, knowing the hostage was at least out of immediate danger with her captor writhing in pain from the bullet in his thigh.

Even though he still had an opponent who was fast recovering, Wesley spared a quick glance to check how Angel was doing. As he watched, the vampire ducked under a wild scattering of shots; then swivelling on one heel whipped up his other leg in a high arcing kick that connected audibly with some vulnerable cartilage.

Good. They were almost done with only limited shots fired and no wounded innocents. Movement to his right warned his first opponent was getting back into action, but a flash of long dark hair caught Wesley’s attention. Cordelia was on the move and his heart flip-flopped in his chest. Why the devil wasn’t she sitting safely tucked under something bulky and protective?

Angel had already disarmed the man and under the now cracked visor of his helmet blood was still flowing freely from that earlier kick. Feeling magnanimous with the ease of victory, Angel asked, “Why not just give up now? You’re leader is out for the count. Face facts, you’ve lost.”

A lip curled under the damaged nose, “Screw you. We were sent for the girl. So, we ain’t leavin’ until she’s in our custody.”

The tenacity of the guy was worrying. Also, his flat statement begged a few questions. Not holding out much hope, Angel tried anyway, “I know you’re not cops. So, who are you working for, Anton?”

As expected the human didn’t bother to answer, but launched an attack that was designed to be blurringly quick and stun an opponent into frozen immobility. Angel deflected the flashing arms with chopping hands easily. Raising his left arm to block one aimed at his neck, he followed through with a hard right that grazed his knuckles and finished off the black helmet. While the human staggered, Angel continued his counter attack with a snappy one-two combination that would have laid a less stubborn opponent out flat.

Pulling his punches was mandatory for a vampire who didn’t want to kill the human he was fighting. Angel did so instinctively knowing using the full power he was capable of would just add another soul to his body count. It made fights longer than they needed to be but normally that wasn’t a problem. Until out of the corner of his eye he saw Cordelia reach the other girl and snatch up the fallen gunman’s rifle.

What the hell was she doing? Angel wondered angrily. Distracted he failed to see the kick that landed on the backs of his knees hard enough he toppled forward. Braced and landing on his hands, Angel refocused back on the fight and forgot about keeping anything back. Snapping out his own foot, he connected with an ankle and heard it crack. Yelping at the searing agony the human collapsed close enough he could roll over once and slam an elbow into the man’s throat.

That was the end of that one. Rising back to his feet in one lithe move, Angel looked to where he’d last seen Cordelia and clashed with wary hazel eyes. Then they disappeared behind the door leading to the basement. Striding after her and the woman he assumed she’d taken with her, Angel’s shoulder hit the door moments later and rebounded back. Trying the handle one more time it moved enough to open, but was caught on something jamming it on the other side.

Frustrated he growled, “Damn it, Cordelia. What the hell are you playing at?”

It was a rhetorical question since she’d already made it plain she didn’t want anything more to do with him. Given his last sight of her reaching for the big black rifle, it didn’t take a genius to guess she’d used it to bar the door so he couldn’t follow. Damn stubborn women who don’t know when they need help!

Cursing fluently, Angel stepped back and aimed a snap kick at the door just above the lock. It held but the sharp crack of something on the other side suggested it wouldn’t hold for long. Wesley, having finally finished off the last of the gunman joined him and it was two thunderous kicks that splintered the makeshift barricade and allowed the chase to begin.

~

They nearly fell down the stairs. “What the hell was all that about? Who were those guys? Why-“

“Lilly, less of the twenty questions and just run, okay?” Ears still ringing from the thunderous gunfire and heart pounding with trepidation, Cordelia dragged her friend around the corner and down the last few steps to reach the parking garage. Half of her wondered why she was running from her best prospect for protection, and the other half was terrified of failing. From above the splintering crash of the door giving way had her pulse leaping and legs breaking into a sprint.

“…you park in your usual place?” she asked breathlessly over one shoulder.

“Yeah, but Cordy-” was the confused reply; cut off when reaching the beat-up blue mustang, Cordelia snatched the keys off her and got the drivers door open herself.

“Sorry,” she apologised, “I’ll explain later, but we have to move, now!”

Pushing a still protesting Lily over to the passenger side and chucking her backpack into the tiny back seat, Cordelia cranked the engine, slammed the door and stomped on the gas all within seconds of reaching the vehicle.

Lily was looking at her like she was insane and Cordelia didn’t blame her. But, all she knew was that for some reason it was imperative for her sanity that she not let Angel catch up with her. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she couldn’t face being around him. Analysing why would have to wait though. The rear wheels squealed as she roared away from the parking space and headed down the lane, aiming for the ramp and sunlight.

In the rear-view mirror she spotted a dark; intent figure appear out of nowhere that soon grew terrifyingly larger. Angel was gaining on them. Her right foot pressed harder on the gas. Wesley was nowhere to be seen and she guessed he’d gone after the Plymouth.

“Crap, crappity crap!” At that thought Cordelia abandoned caution and stomped down on the accelerator, feeling the old car try to respond with a roar and a jerk. God, trust her to have a beat up old wreck as a get-away vehicle. What she wouldn’t give for her Mercedes from back in her high school’n’monied days.

“What the hell is going on, Cordy?” yelled Lilly over the frantic din of the straining engine. She finally managed to snap her seat belt into place and then reached over to do the same for Cordelia.

“I’ll explain when we’ve lost them,” replied Cordelia, “although, trust me when I tell you, you won’t believe a word of it.”

Every second glance was towards the rear-view mirror. She could see Angel’s expression clearly now and it didn’t bode well if he managed to catch up with the racing car, or her. Well, if she needed another reason to make sure he didn’t catch up, he’d just given it to her. Up head the bright glow of sunlight beckoned. Next to her, Cordelia heard Lily whistle and ask, “Who is that guy? He can run.”

Yes, he could…among other things. “I’ll get back to that later,” offered Cordy grimly and tightened sweaty fingers around the steering wheel. It was going to be close. God! I hope we make it, she prayed.

The ramp leading up the exit was only feet away and any sane person would slow down to drive up it. Cordelia didn’t have that option. The car’s rear juddered violently and flashed sparks as the back bumper made contact with the hardened concrete. Fishtailing madly, she still didn’t slow and roared out onto the sun-washed street.

Lily’s terrified screech was almost drowned out by blaring horns. Seconds later and with one hand pressed to her chest, chocolate brown eyes snapped indignant fire as she glared, “Cordelia Chase, you are never driving my car again, ya hear?!”

~

Anton hated motels and hotels were much too public for his needs. The split level rental house in Glendale was the better option, despite being characterless with its ultra-modern moulded furniture, built in cupboards and electrical paraphernalia. Needing little and wanting even less, Anton left no clutter and made no mark on the place. If the realtor who’d shown him round paid a return visit, she would have a hard time finding evidence it was occupied. Not that she would visit since the rent was paid up six months in advance.

It was a costly expense considering he would likely only need it for half that time, but the price was worth it to have no hindrances or interruptions. That being the case the business-like knock at the door was surprising and unwelcome.

Sat in the family room; dwarfed by the massive leather armchair he was sitting in with his grey head resting along the back and eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, Anton waited to hear news on the thirteenth prospect. In the lull, he’d unknowing sunk into memories of his daughter and the too short time he’d had with her. Now the heavy knock pulled him from the almost trance-like state. Closing gritty eyes, Anton exhaled heavily with regret as the intrusion registered.

Rising to answer the summons, he staggered disoriented before steadying himself and as he did so there was another knock, sharper and impatient.

Shaking his head to clear it, he became aware of something damnably familiar. The scent of violets wafted around the room. The problem with delving into the past was the ghosts that tagged along for the ride. As always happened when Anton thought of his dead daughter, he was assailed by an insistent presence that had begun plaguing him the moment his mind had turned to revenge. Wafer-thin and slyly beguiling the infinitesimal presence was like something hovering just on the very edge of his vision. Only when he turned to focus on it, it disappeared.

Another knock echoed through the single storey house, harshly demanding this time. Pulling himself together, Anton made it to the door and composed his expression to appear forbidding as he pulled it open.

Before he could demand they go away a thin square box stinking of grease and cheese was thrust towards him through the gap. “Pizza delivery,” a bored and impatient voice announced.

By the his appearance the unwanted visitor partook of his own product too frequently for his health; rotund with spotty cheeks, lank hair and a round face sporting a vapid expression was what the mage saw when he focused on the intruder.

“I did not order pizza or any type of food,” he said crisply, “I suggest you double-check your delivery address.”

“1223 De Longpre Avenue, right?”

“That is correct, but I-“

“Somebody ordered and paid for pizza from this address.” A shrug of red and white stripped shoulders showed pure indifference, “Just take the box, man. I don’t care what you do with it after I’m gone. I got a schedule to keep to.”

A sudden spasm of deep inner trembles shook, Anton and suspicion had him jerking around to stare at the hall console, horrified to see the phone was off the hook with an open telephone directory next to it. It was all the confirmation he needed and the why of it was something he didn’t want to find out.

He snatched the box with hands that could barely hold it for shaking and snarled, “Get out of here, now!”

The pizza man didn’t hear the pleading under the demand. The urgently closing door rebounded off a scuffed black boot. “Hey man, what about a tip?”

Blanching and falling back a step as his motor control faltered, Anton couldn’t hold it back any longer. The box fell from numb hands with veins that rippled with something unnatural and stood out grotesquely from paper-thin skin. Too late.

“You fool,” Anton howled, helpless to stop the lunge that ended with his hands around the ignorant human’s throat. “You should have left while you could.”

Jubilant and chirpy bird song was drowned out by the harsh, desperate sound of choking. On the hall floor, sunlight dappled the polished hardwood and splashed across red pants that jerked spasmodically along with the legs they covered. The death throes lasted only moments, followed by a dragging sound and a thud against one interior wall.

Coming too, the first thing Anton saw was the blood streaking down the white-washed wall of the hall and pooling next to the skirting board.

Above them the corpse was a gruesome sight. The body had been hooked onto a row of coat hooks that ranged along one wall, the blunt edges sunk deep into the flesh. Most of the uniform had been shredded, revealing the deep gouges and drying rivers of blood that stained the mauled surface. More tellingly, the familiar tracery of engorged veins mapped every visible surface of skin.

The savagery of the brief attack was staggering. His hands were tacky and he dared not look down to see the same gore decorating them. The fact that he’d tried to spare the man was little comfort in light of the results of his failure.

“Why?” he asked it coming up to his knees.

As Anton expected the unkempt head whipped up with impossible strength and locked gazes with him. Gone where the terrified pools of mossy green, replaced by feral yellow lined with black; the pupils hazed with deep red.

“Can’t a demon say hello to a friend?” a deep voice replied thick with taunting innocence. Bluish lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “Hello, Anton, it’s been too long since we last chatted.”

Sickened, Anton stared at the congested face of his latest victim. “You murdered an innocent being so we could chat?” His voice was hoarse and he was forced to swallow to moisten his parched throat.

“Don’t look at me, I’m in the corpse,” it denied and smirked, “Besides, if my eyes don’t deceive me, its you with his blood on your hands- not to mention spattered all over the rest of you. Tsk Tsk, my friend, what a mess.”

They’d had this debate countless times over the years. Drooping with exhaustion, and looking every one of his hundred plus years, the mage said, “Just tell me why you’re here and let’s get this over with.”

“You’re having another attack of conscience, Anton,” the demon told him, “I don’t like it. You know that.”

Denial was impossible. The thing confronting him resided inside Anton and this little demonstration was little more than a warning. A voice inside his head he could ignore, so for added impact the demon would draw an innocent to be used as a temporary infestation if it felt it was needed.

Guilt was useless since his culpability was hardly in question. Standing, Anton faced it with a ram-rod straight back. “Whatever attacks of conscience I have they do not last and will not change my course,” he grated, forcing himself to not look away from the horror he was conversing with. “When we struck our bargain-”

“-You were wallowing in grief for your murdered daughter. I think you forget how lucky it was I was in the vicinity. Was it not I that offered you a means of getting revenge on the creature that snatched her from you?” The sham sympathy that briefly flickered across demonic eyes disappeared. “And did you really think I would accept a bargain with you and not see that your promises come to pass?”

“I’ve already told you I will keep my promises.”

The demon wasn’t finished. “You abandoned your cause and crossed over without any hesitation. With your eyes wide open, I might add.”

“I’ve never said otherwise.”

“Maybe not, but don’t think I don’t know you…know how much you despise what we do?” the corpse’s head cocked thoughtfully before continuing, “I admit your repugnance does make all of this so much sweeter, but since you’re getting what you want, you can’t complain over me getting some extra little enjoyment out of using you.” With every word spoken from that twisted mouth the more the air turned more fetid and rank.

“Cease this, demon. I already know what I’ve become,” whispered Anton, writhing inside, “I will not falter as you very well know.” Disgusted anger rose up and he waved a hand at the dead man. “This kind of exhibition is unnecessary and don’t think I don’t realise you use any pathetic excuse to manifest yourself and torment me.”

Seeing his anger it turned coy and Anton’s skin crawled, “Oh please, don’t let’s argue when we’re so close to achieving all we’ve worked for.”

Then the thing inhabiting the pizza man looked down with interest at the body it was wearing, remarking idly, “By the way, do you like the change of apparel? I picked him out of consideration for you since you took such exception to the priest in Mexico.” It grinned at the memory, “Now that one had the sort of a delicious irony that makes eternity worthwhile.”

Fists clenched, Anton felt renewed waves of revulsion that required swallowing before he could demand very, very quietly, “Leave him so I may dispose of the body. This discussion is over.”

Across the hall, the smile faded while those dreadful eyes seemed to grow hypnotically larger; thrusting with hot pokers inside Anton’s skull. He’d angered it. When the demon spoke again all traces of humanity had disappeared and the voice was a bowel clenching mixture of high-pitched and grating, “Fail this time and no matter how many innocents you tempt me with… this time it will be your flesh I’ll have. Before I pass you onto my disappointed children that is.”

Anton believed the demon. Its appetite to consume human flesh was only equalled by the need to corrupt it. “I will not fail.”

~

Lindsay was late. With all that was going on in the firm with the Chase riddle solved, he figured he was allowed, but clients still expect you to arrive for an appointment on time. Hurrying wasn’t his style though, so he waited until he was out of the elevator to break into a jog for his car. Couldn’t have the juniors witnessing him rushing around like his tail was on fire; respect from those below you was crucial in a rise towards power. Lindsay didn’t intend to lose any of current momentum this case was giving him.

One of the firm’s security guards was just finishing a sweep and Lindsay slowed to give him a friendly thumbs-up as he passed him, then wrinkled his nose at the sour smell of sweat that lingered in the mans wake. No prizes for guessing why he’s got garage duty, he thought with a smirk.

Approaching his glossy black BMW, Lindsay couldn’t help but admire yet again its gorgeous European lines. Secretly he still preferred the brute power and throaty roar of a good ol’ American truck, but there was nothing like a foreign make for shouting out you were on the up and up. It was a small thing really, but Lindsay always factored in the details when they didn’t cost him anything.

Lilah had parked too damned close again and he had to sidle down the driver’s side. Cursing her, he tossed his leather document wallet onto the roof and reached into his pocket for the keys, forgetting as he always did that it was remote locking and he could have opened it from fifteen ft away. Busy wondering if he could even get in from this side, he looked up with a startled jerk when a metallic scrape came from way too close.

A blurring fist slammed into his face and instantly a curtain of black swallowed him whole.

~

Angel couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so filled with conflicting emotions. Fury, terror, anxiety, guilt, remorse and not a small amount of hurt roiled and surged in crashing waves. Anton and his demons, Wolfram and Hart, the Watchers Council; they all knew who Cordelia was and they all had their reasons for wanting to get hold of her first. She was in terrible danger and…she’d run from him.

He let the hurt spike since it was more bearable than the terror. For the first time since the case began Angel wasn’t sure he could protect her from what was hunting her. If they found her before he could there was little he could do. She’d made it clear she didn’t want his protection. Her words back at the gym came back to haunt him. “I’m not interested in you or your protection. I’d rather deal with this psycho, alone and buck-naked, than stomach you for another second.”

Coming out of there empty-handed, Angel had given into a growing desperate frustration and turned his attention to another angle. With Lindsay MacDonald unconscious in the trunk, the Plymouth was purring along with Wesley driving and him hidden from the sun under a scratchy grey blanket. Thankfully traffic was light and moving along without too many delays as they headed Southwest towards the Bay and the docks.

Twenty minutes later the pervasive scent of saltwater, diesel oil and sand beat back the ever present odour of ozone and Angel knew they’d arrived at their destination. Which was a good thing since the racket coming from the trunk would be audible to anyone they stopped near. Lindsay had awakened about five minutes earlier and hadn’t been pleased with his accommodations.

Blessed shade, felt even through the thick blanket soothed some instinctive tension. An instinct that was hardly surprising for a vampire roaming around in daylight. Then the car came to a gentle halt just as Wesley announced unnecessarily, “We’re here.”

To give Lindsay credit he came out swinging furiously. Angel stepped back out of the way and let gravity do some of the work for him. Over balanced, Lindsay toppled out of the trunk and all it took was a yank of his feet to have the devils advocate sprawling on the dirty concrete floor of the empty dry-dock.

Sinking to his haunches and flipping him over, Angel smiled grimly and said, “Hello, Lindsay. How’s tricks?”

“Screw you, asshole.” Squinting in the muted light after being locked up in the dark so long, Lindsay was still arrogant enough to verbally spit in the face of a vampire.

“I figured you were a few cans short of a six-pack, but this insanity is outstanding even for you,” he said, adding coolly, “And don’t think this abduction won’t get reported to the proper authorities the moment I get free.” He didn’t seem to doubt he would get free, “Assault and kidnapping are serious offences. You’ve crossed the line, bud, and I’ll have a ringside seat while they nail you to the wall- both of you.”

Halfway through the tirade Wesley got up and pulled a lever buried in the ground that was half his size. Instantly there was a boom followed by the sound of mechanical winches pulling something heavy and decidedly metallic.

Hearing the deafening screech of metal on metal, Lindsay’s head swivelled as he belatedly took in his surroundings. “Where the hell are we?”

Angel was happy to enlighten him. “Santa Monica dry-dock. Well one of them anyway. You might want to hold off on those list of charges, Lindsay. At least until we’re done here. I’m just guessing, but we might be adding drowning if you don’t answer some questions to my satisfaction.”

There was a long silence while he digested the news. Then craning his neck to search for Wesley, Lindsay asked straight out. “Fired or not, you’re still a watcher. How can you stand for this?”

“Because you’re an evil son of a bitch who consorts with demons,” he answered coolly; aware of the irony of that statement.

When Lindsay went to sit up, Angel shoved him back down. “I want to know why, after failing miserably to abduct Cordelia Chase; you were calmly going off to a meeting?” Angel asked softly, “what have you guys done that allows you to just sit back and wait?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Lindsay coolly, “Wolfram & Hart is a law firm. We don’t go around abducting the city’s citizens- unlike some I could mention.”

“And of course Wolfram & Hart is too upstanding to be involved in the murder of twelve of those innocent citizens?” queried Angel with heavy irony. “As for our little party, I wouldn’t be pointing any fingers if I were you. I haven’t forgotten who makes up the majority of your clients and in case I failed to mention it before…those goons at the gym,” he paused while Lindsey’s gaze flickered, “…I interrogated one and they admitted they were working for you.”

“Your lies won’t wash with us,” added Wesley, coming over to stand beside the prone man, “Your involvement isn’t in doubt. The best thing you can do is come clean with the truth.”

“Maybe, but I don’t agree.” Giving up, Lindsay licked dry lips, his only sign of nerves. He directed his next words at the vampire looming over him, “You’re wasting your time with this. We both know you won’t kill a human being, even one you think is the scum of the earth. I’m not telling you anything.”

Not so long ago he would have had a point, but not now with Cordelia being hunted down like an animal. If it wasn’t for the urgency, Angel would have been almost glad to spend some time inflicting pain on this human. Pounding the ever livin’ crap out of something was a sure-fire stress reliever. After this case was over and Cordy was safe, he figured he was due some therapeutic rounds with something big and vicious.

Eyes the colour of obsidian narrowed to malevolent slits. “Wrong on both counts,” countered Angel. Then without looking away, instructed tersely, “Wesley, get the rope out of the trunk. I think Lindsey here needs convincing we mean business.”

Drowning had an impact that broken bones couldn’t match. Lindsey might think he could withstand pain, or even black out from it before he revealed anything. What he didn’t realise and couldn’t fathom no matter how he liked to play at being evil was that after decades of sadistic experience, Angel knew that depriving a human of oxygen induced an overwhelming panic faster than any other type of torture. Throttling had a similar effect, but he didn’t trust himself not to squeeze too hard and snap the bastard’s neck.

“You will tell me everything I want to know, Lindsey,” he warned and noted the birth of true terror in deceptively candid blue eyes. “I’m being lenient in thinking you didn’t know Cordelia Chase is mine- in every way. You’re a bright spark, you figure out if your cushy job is worth your life.” Assured he had his full attention, Angel finished softly, “Just for the record, if you delay me enough that I don’t get to Cordelia in time, I’ll be back for you, and your screams will have the real Angel’s weeping for you.”

~

“Your cousin lives here?” Cordelia whispered it since she was pretty sure she didn’t want her consternation to be overheard. The dark, gloomy rooms looked more like caves and they were teeming with people, or more accurately, kids. Very, very tough kids with an edge of mean that screamed ‘don’t mess with me’.

“Second cousin’s,” corrected Lily, “You said this problem of yours involves vampires, and while it might not look much. Gunn and Alonna run a tight operation here. We should be safe…” she paused and grimaced, “…if he’ll take us in.”

That didn’t sound good. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“We don’t exactly fit the profile. No offence but you still have that aura of beauty queen about you and I have a job and a place of my own. Gunn normally only takes homeless street kids in.”

“Great,” retorted Cordelia in a hiss, “You couldn’t have mentioned that before we trekked all the way out to this dump?”

“Sorreee!”

There wasn’t time for more before a deep masculine voice intruded followed by a powerfully built figure striding into view. Tall, black and handsome with a proudly shaved head, he carried himself with an arrogant assurance that would almost have passed for princely if not for the swagger. The way everyone got out of his way suggested he was in charge. Behind him a diminutive girl kept up easily, arguing with him and calling him an arrogant cuss.

“Alonna, quit it. We’re fighting a war here and the vamps are slowly taking us out day by day. If we want to survive we have to take risks.”

“So, your great strategy for survival is to waltz right into their turf and hammer the dinner bell? That’s pure crazy and you know it.”

The man stopped and heaved a sigh before settling a scowl over his face, “Al-onna…” he warned.

“Gu-unn” she shot back and stopped too with her hands on her hips, expression mutinous. “I love you and I don’t want to left behind to collect your body parts after you’ve taken one too many risks.”

Like ice-cream on a hot day his expression melted. “I love you too littl’ sis…” he turned around and walked off before continuing, “which is why I have to do everything I can to protect you and the rest of our people.”

“Ugh!!”

Feeling like an interloper and hating standing about and waiting to be noticed, Cordelia tensed when those liquid dark eyes settled on her then slid to Lily. Recognition lit their depths. “Lily, what brings you down to where the poor folks live?”

It wasn’t the friendliest greeting she’d ever heard. Cordelia felt Lily stiffen and could feel waves of defensiveness emanate from her friend. “I got a job, Gunn. Don’t make me rich though. I wish you’d stop with the accusations of forgetting my roots.”

“Just saying how I see it,” he retorted and then gave Cordelia a once over that was anything but complimentary, “Who’s…this?” The pause suggested he’d been considering something offensive, but couldn’t think of anything bad enough.

Geeze, this guy doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder. He has a goddamned mountain, volcano and all. That metaphor wasn’t exactly comforting since he did appear to have an eruptible quality about him. Cordelia forced herself to offer a hand, smile and say cheerfully. “Hi there. I’m-”

“I was asking, Lily,” he interrupted and ignored the hand.

Lily matched his scowl, “She’s a friend of mine. Cordelia Chase meet Charles Gunn and his sister, Alonna.”

“Hey,” said Alonna warily. Compared to her brother though it was as a good as an enthusiastic hug.

The scowl didn’t budge off Gunn’s face. “I didn’t get the memo about us turning into a tourist attraction. If you’ve seen enough I suggest you get back to the mall, its closing in a few hours and you’d hate to miss-“

“Shut-up, Gunn, and let Lily speak.” Alonna butted in and gave him a speaking glare.

Aware they’d garnered an audience of street kids, Cordelia felt her opinion of the girl sky-rocket. She must have sent have sheen of tears Lily couldn’t blink back, too. Hot scathing words trembled on the edge of tongue and she bit them back for her friend’s sake. What was that saying again? You can pick your friends but not your family. Too true.

“We’re in trouble,” Lily admitted huskier than she would have liked, “We need your help.”

“You pay taxes don’t you?” Gunn replied, although with a lot less sting, “Call the cops they might actually respond to you.” He crossed his arms and refused to look at his sister. His posture screamed defensiveness.

“You ever tried explaining to cops that bumpin’ uglies like vamps and monsters with slice’n’dice claws actually exist,” asked Cordelia, jumping in because she just couldn’t hold back any longer. “If you have I’d like to hear about it, or maybe not because we all know they’d be rolling on the floor laughing their asses off right before calling for a shrink.”

~

“You were pretty rough on them.” Alonna pointed out, one shoulder braced against the arch.

Gunn didn’t look up from his pallet, or stop scribbling on the pad propped up on his pillow. “I’m letting them spend the night against my better judgement, so don’t bug me about this, Alonna. You ain’t my conscience.”

There was a pause. “Okay,” she said and turned to go.

Her giving up so easily poked his suspicions. He looked up, “that’s it?” he called to her departing back.

“Yup, it’s not like I’m your non-existent conscience or anything. I just live here, too.”

Alonna’s tone said it all. She was pissed and was going to make his life miserable for weeks if he didn’t make amends; which meant making amends to their cousin, and her friend. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his eyes, muttering, “Women were put on the earth to bug men. God hates us; that’s the only explanation.”

Cordelia wanted nothing more than to find Charles Gunn, give him a piece of her mind and then throw his grudging offer back in his face before walking right out of the stinking hovel he called home. She would have done except for the prickly fact that they had nowhere else to go, and no money to find anywhere. It didn’t take a genius to guess that if someone had access to her employment records, they’d have a similar access to her bank card transactions.

After the last thirty-six hours any natural buoyancy she had was totally deflated. As far as she was concerned you couldn’t be called paranoid if someone really was after you, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she’d seen ‘Enemy of the State’ more times than she could count.

“Hey, can we talk?”

The feminine voice intruded on her gloomy musings and made her jump. It took a second for Cordelia to pull herself together and past a wan smile on her face, “Sure, talk away. I’m sick of my own thoughts anyway.”

Lily had gone asleep an hour ago, exhausted by finding herself swept up in supernatural murders. Sat on the floor with her back to a wall with more holes in it than a Swiss cheese, she swept the ‘room’ and said wryly, “I’d say pull up a chair-“

“I’m used to it,” said Alonna with a grin. Squatting down in front of Cordelia she pressed her hands together and flicked her an uncertain look. “Lily told me you’d had a heart transplant, pretty rough, huh?”

As far as unexpected questions go, that one was hard to beat. Tamping down the initial urge to tell the girl to shove her questions up her ass, Cordelia stared at her. Usually a good judge of character, excluding vampires, Cordelia got a definite sense there was a purpose to the probing. Curious to know what that purpose was, she finally answered, “Rough, yes. Pretty, no.”

Alonna nodded and then looked expectant. Irked, Cordelia felt her face harden and irrationally decided what the hell.

“Having your chest cracked open isn’t my idea of fun and that’s just the start of the surgery. After they’ve put somebody else’s heart in place of your own they sew you up with enough wire to stock a hardware store,” she drew a line from her breastbone down to her belly to make sure Alonna got an idea of the size, “and then pump you so full of drugs you send the next few months in a daze. If you’re lucky you have family to help you, I spent my recuperation in a nursing home because my parents walked out one day and never came back, leaving me with the mess of their tax problems to sort out from my hospital bed.”

“Not that life’s not peachy now. I only have to go back to be poked and prodded every six months and take enough drugs to down an elephant every day. Saying all of that, I’m one of the lucky ones who didn’t reject the heart so at least I’m still alive. And if my luck holds I won’t turn up for my check-up one day and find out I have coronary artery disease.”

Running out of steam, Cordelia decided she wanted some answers of her own, “Was there a point to all of this? Or is this your idea of girl-talk?”

“We had a baby brother, Tommy. Gunn loved that kid so much. He was always playing with him and he had this gorgeous laugh. A real belly laugh that started in his toes, ya know?”

Bemused, Cordelia thought back and couldn’t recall every hearing a little kid giving a belly laugh. “Sounds nice,” she offered uncertainly. And this is leading where?

Alonna wore a faraway expression. “He laughed all the time. When he got so sick we had to take him to St Christopher’s, I missed that laugh like it was air I needed to breathe.”

Oh God Cordelia could guess what was coming and felt her heart sink as the memories of small frightened faces in the hospital ward came back to haunt her.

Alonna was lost to her own memories. With arms hugging her knees, Alonna’s voice turned husky, thick with tears. “Of course we barely had a roof over our heads, never mind health insurance. He didn’t stand a chance of a transplant, so they sent him home and we had him back for a while. He was the sweetest kid that never got to live. Sometimes, I still hear him singing lullaby’s to himself when the pains in his chest got bad enough he got scared. Two days after his fourth birthday we woke up one morning and he was curled up in a ball. He looked so normal but he was cold and wasn’t breathing. He’d gone and left us. Gunn didn’t speak a word for a month.”

Her whole body was numb and Cordelia knew it wasn’t due to sitting for so long on the hard bare floor. She had to swallow a few prickly balls of acid stuck in her throat before risking speech. “Okay, I guess that explains the interest. Except I can’t help thinking you had another reason. You don’t know me well enough to have a burning desire to make me feel better, so- care to share.”

“She didn’t tell you about Tommy for your benefit, she told you for mine,” explained Gunn from the door, or what was once a doorway. Brother and sister shared a look, “she was trying to remind me how precious life is.”

Unlike Cordelia, Alonna had known he was there and didn’t bother denying it. Unrepentant, she turned to eye him over one shoulder. Brown eyes identical to his were still filmed with tears. “Did it work,” she asked bluntly.

Instead of replying directly, Gunn pushed away from the bare wood of the frame remains and directed a level look at his houseguest. “You and Lily can stay as long as you need,” he said and manfully ignored his sister’s grin of victory, “And I’ll need to know more about your demon problems, ASAP.”

In place of relief, Cordelia only felt an avalanche of guilt that was incredibly draining. Forcing her body to rise, she dusted off her hands and admitted, “Sure, but I don’t know if what I have to tell you will help much.” Honestly insisted she warn them, “And what I do tell you might make you wish you’d not changed your mind. I’m not exactly healthy to be around right now.”

---

PART TEN


Wesley shifted his balance restlessly. Leaning against one of the columns in the airport terminal, he was waiting for the Council people to arrive; hoping to God his hazy memory of the man Georges would be sufficient to recognise him. Dusk had fallen and free to roam Angel was racing through LA’s streets towards the area Cordelia had been traced to.

It hadn’t taken as long as he’d feared to persuade the corrupt lawyer to talk and their suspicions over the lack of concern after losing her at the gym had been proven correct. Cordelia was unknowingly carrying around a tracking device attached to the bottom of a pillbox. The fact that the device was on the move proved she hadn’t been saved by fate and left it behind. Knowing that, Wesley was uncomfortably reminded of races he’d seen at the dog-track as a child. As in, just like the mechanical bunny, Cordelia couldn’t hope to outrun or evade her pursuers.

Had he done the right thing? That was a bugger of a question. Wesley still agonised over his decision to reveal the truth in light of her disappearance, and probably would continue to until she was safe. He sighed, puffing out stubbled cheeks and couldn’t help thinking that whether she’d meant to or not, Cordelia arriving at his apartment seemed to have been the catalyst that set everything off.

After he’d lost her and expecting the worst, Wesley had been relieved when Angel brushed the ‘how’ aside in favour of finding her. A benefit, he supposed, of having an obsessive nature that focused on priorities.

The dog-track metaphor was hardly reassuring though. Aware she saw Angel as the problem rather than a solution, Wesley only hoped the vampire’s predatory nature gave him the edge over the rest of the pack and he reached her first. He’d be combing the streets, too, if not for the other information prised from the half-drowned man. As much as they’d tried to prevent it, this deadly drama was coming to its final violent act and little could be done to stop that now. Only the outcome was undecided.

Wesley was here at LAX because, when the time came, they’d need every head they could muster if they were to prevent a catastrophe sixty years in the making. On that front at least luck had not entirely deserted them and fate, it seemed, had stepped in to ensure those heads came together in the same place.

A vaguely familiar figure striding out from the arrival’s tunnel and flanked by three heavyset men pulled Wesley from his musings. Straightening up, he went to meet them. Unwelcome if hardly a shock in the circumstances, Wesley gave each one a brief scrutiny. Unfortunately, he knew the type very well; bulky bodies covered in nondescript clothing, military style short hair and blank faces all screamed council operatives. An irritating bunch of yobs in his opinion.

Striding through the millings crowds and travellers anxiously staring up at electronic boards, Wesley kept his expression wiped free of anything except mild surprise. Reaching the quartet, he stopped and held his hand to the man he did know. “Theodore Georges, welcome to Los Angeles.”

Half expecting the gesture to be ignored given his history, Wesley was relieved when his hand was shaken. Direct blue eyes surveyed him from under bushy brows. “Mr Wyndham-Pryce, good to see you fit and well. California life agrees with you I think.”

“It does indeed,” he said with a polite, reserved smile.

A responding small smile lifting mobile lips suggested his discomfort was noted. “Thank you for meeting us.” Georges said ultra civilised, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to get away given the circumstances.”

“I almost didn’t,” said Wesley and turned his attention to the trio openly assessing him from the sidelines. By the look on their faces they didn’t like what they were seeing. Blandly he added, “I wasn’t aware you were bringing anyone else. Why don’t you introduce us while we make our way to the car?”

Without waiting for agreement, he led the way knowing they’d have no choice except to follow.

“We don’t need introducing…just bringing up to date so we know what we’re dealing with.” The tone was cold, uncompromising and exactly what Wesley had been expecting from them. It was meant to rankle and it did.

Blandness slipped. Provoked, Wesley responded in kind, “It’s a bit late in the day for a charge of the light brigade,” he said, “Don’t misunderstand, we’re grateful for any assistance, but to be blunt, I suspect its Mr Georges expertise that will prove more useful than yours.”

The short silence was broken by Teddy whose initially muffled voice suggested strangled laughter, “Call me Teddy, please. Anyone who puts a wrinkled old man over three trained bulls gets to call me by my first name.”

That was the only reaction until the five of them stepped into an elevator. Before the doors had even closed, Wesley found himself grabbed by the front of his shirt and roughly shoved into the back of the cubicle.

“I know all about you, Pryce.” The council man snarled. Aggression and distaste warred on a pitted face. “As far as I’m concerned your very existence brings disgrace to the Council, so don’t push your luck. Tell me what I want to know, when I want to know it and stay out of my way, and if you’re really lucky I may not decide to erase you simply because I can. Got it?”

They were all so distracted they didn’t see a man step into the elevator, sliding nimbly between the closing doors before they shut. Glancing over his attackers shoulder, Wesley saw the salt-and-pepper hair covered by a floppy tan sunhat and reached into his pocket.

“Loud and clear,” said Wesley and lifting his hand, opened it and blew sharply so that the dust gathered inside scattered all over the man’s face.

As he did floppy hat whirled and blew a similar handful into the face of a second, as did Teddy into the third. The three council operatives staggered, looked shocked and then simply dropped into identical heaps on the elevator’s floor just as it came to a gentle stop and the doors slid back.

The floppy hat came off to reveal the craggy face of Rupert Giles. “Well that went quite smoothly I think.”

Having stepped over the bodies, as one they turned to look back inside. Wearing a bemused frown, Teddy asked uncertainly, “Are you sure we won’t need them?”

“No, I agree with, Wesley,” replied Giles, “They only further unstable an already volatile situation. Its better we keep them out of it.”

The elevator doors slid shut. Shrugging fatalistically, Teddy eyed his two ex-colleagues with a sort of resigned acceptance, “You do realise I may get sacked and join you on the disgraced list after this little escapade?”

Deciding it wasn’t his place to get into that, Wesley simply quirked a brow and turned to lead the way to the car. Not denying it, Giles clapped a hand on Teddy’s shoulder and turned him to follow Wesley, “What do you care at your age? Its not like you need the money and most importantly you’ve had one foot on the side of rebellion as long as I’ve known you. So, don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this…old man.”

As simply and speedily as that the pair got back into their old groove.

“What have I told you about calling me old, Rupe? You’re not exactly a picture of youth and beauty yourself. In fact, leathery comes to mind. It must be all that sun-“

“If you feel out of your depth, you should have turned me down when I suggested it on the phone.”

“I would have turned you down except I had one foot out the door on the way to the airport. You caught me at a low moment and I hate flying.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Stop bickering,” chided Wesley, folding himself into the driver’s seat of the Plymouth. “Good God. It’s like being stuck with a pair of school boys.” The engine started with a deliberate and hurrying roar, “Let’s get on shall we? We do have lives to save. Did you bring the Book of Amaharan like I asked?”

Climbing into the back, Teddy looked contrite. “Of course, of course. Apologies, Wesley. May I call you, Wesley?” he asked handing over a heavily wrapped package. He didn’t think it worth mentioning how bloody difficult it had been smuggling it out.

“You may.” A manila folder was tossed into the newest renegade’s lap, “Here’s some general information for you to look at. Having got rid of the unwanted baggage, I can now tell you what we’re up against as we drive.”

“You’ve found out some new information?” asked Giles from the passenger seat.

‘Found’ wasn’t quite the description he would have used thought Wesley with some irony. Smiling grimly he nodded, “Today has been revealing to say the least. Have either of you heard of The Order Aueryun?”

“No- oh, hold on. It does ring a bell.”

Giles was quicker on the uptake, “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a group of spell-casters forming an alliance to keep the balance between light and dark etc etc?”

Navigating his way out and to the surface streets, Wesley nodded, “Yes, and the original alliance dates back further than the Crusades. In fact there is a strong suggestion that it originated in the Middle East before spreading to Europe and later on the new world. The last known activity was just before WWII,” he paused, “Until now.”

There was a moment’s silence. Giles decided to state the obvious, “A dozen murders in a few weeks doesn’t sound much like balancing to me.”

“Anton Silverous was the last in a line of very powerful mages. Following the death of his daughter he went mad with grief. According to our source he allowed himself to become a host to a demon known as Ushkil.”

It was Teddy’s turn to connect the dots. “The Sumerian demon supposedly defeated by the Assyrian god, Ashur? Now I understand why you wanted that particular book.”

“The one and only,” nodded Wesley, “According to legend, Ushkil aroused the wrath of the gods for introducing the concept of cannibalism to the peoples of Mesopotamia. After his defeat and as a punishment for his crimes, Ashur banished him from the physical world.”

“Hmmm, all well and good, except…now he’s back. Is that it?”

“It gets better,” advised, Wesley, shooting Giles a look that had the older man sitting up and bracing himself, “According to my source. The real story on this creature is that Ushkil was once a part of the inner circle of a group of beings we know as the ‘Senior Partners’ of Wolfram & Hart.”

There was yet another silence while that news was digested. Wolfram & Hart’s evil tendrils had spread far and wide and no explanation on who they were was necessary in this company.

Wesley continued, “Apparently he was too much even for them. In the end they kicked him out for causing trouble and getting some kind of penalties slapped on them by the PTB’s. The way it was described reminds me of a chess game. Only Ushkil liked to cheat and would get everyone into hot water.”

“This is all very nice and confusing, but what is his purpose in obtaining a slayers heart and banishing Angel’s soul?” asked Giles, losing a little patience.

“It’s quite simple. Ushkil wants back in and the Senior Partners want Angelus. He cut a deal and has been working towards delivering on it since 1942.”

Having flicked through the folder’s slim contents, Teddy held up a photograph of a beautiful girl grinning widely at the camera. “Is this the girl, Cordelia, you mentioned?”

“Yes,” answered, Giles, “Although heaven only know how we stop this creature from achieving its objective and killing her,” he turned to Wesley, “Unless you’ve managed to haul a god into this mess?”

“I wish, but unfortunately none where available,” replied Wesley, “Still we have to try,” he continued more sombrely. “The deal was that if Silverous manages to bring forth Angelus permanently. Ushkil’s banishment will cease and he will take over the mage’s body completely. Worse, he will be a true immortal- as in unkillable by any means.”

“So,” sighed Giles, pulling out a square of white linen for a nervous polish of his spectacles, “Our usual recipe of unmitigating disaster then?”

~

Hair soaked by the persistent rain drifting down from the night sky, Angel swiped the moisture off his face and dropped down from one roof onto another lower one. Gravel crunched under his feet as he crossed over the asphalt towards the edge. There he squatted on his heels and peered down at the street below.

Directly underneath a trashcan flickered orange and smoked from the fire smouldering inside. Surrounding it were several youths sporting tattoos, bandanas and thick shirts. As dress codes went, he’d seen better decided Angel before dismissing them and searching further afield.

He’d already searched and discounted two blocks and found not a trace of her. Getting more desperate by the second, Angel forced his panic to recede rather than let it hamper him. He had to believe she was safe and sound or go mad. She had to be around here somewhere. Unless of course she’d moved on. Knowing he had no way of finding out if that was the case, Angel refused to consider it.

If he just had an inkling why she’d come to this part of town, he might stand a better of chance of narrowing it down and actually locating her. Unfortunately, Angel didn’t have a single clue. This was definitely not Cordy’s usual scene. The possibility that Lindsey had lied crossed his mind, and it wasn’t until two of the youths looked up his way that Angel realised he’d vamped out.

Calming himself was getting to be impossible. Rising to his feet and backing away, Angel knew only that he had to move and do something. Long strides lengthened further, getting faster and faster until he was speeding blur running full pelt across the roof.

Launching himself high, he leapt between that building and the next; then kept on going onto the next. Arms pumping and neck corded, every sense was on full alert and stretching in every direction. Which was fine except that without a heartbeat, or constant rush of breath there were no sounds to help drown out the name running constantly through Angel’s head. Or the screams that erupted from somewhere further down the street.

As hints went, that one was fairly strong.

By the time he located the building they were coming from they’d reduced to sporadic yells and wailing cries. Luckily, finding a way in was a snip and the few guard stations were now unmanned. The strong smell of fresh blood assailed Angel’s nostrils as he made his way closer to where the sounds of scuffling, weeping and desperate calls were strongest.

Everywhere was in disarray and despite being passed several times, nobody questioned his right to be there. Reaching what looked to be some kind of communal area, he stopped and took stock. The first thing that hit him was the familiar fragrance that was unique to Cordelia.

She was nowhere in sight though. “Who’s in charge here?” Angel shouted urgently over the din.

“That would be Gunn,” said a small voice.

Looking around, Angel sought the voice that had answered him and found her. Behind him and to his right stood a teenage girl. The combat jacket she wore was several sizes too big for her small frame, making her look vulnerable rather than capable. Forced to look up given the difference in their heights, Angel saw the tears streaking down a smudged, dirty face.

She looked too young, scared and freaked to be clutching the throwing axe she had in a death grip. Shakily she said, “He’s at the armoury getting ready to go after the vamps.”

“It was vampires that did this?” asked Angel sharply, dumbfounded. He hadn’t been expecting that. Why it was a shock he didn’t know, perhaps he’d thought the other monsters of the world had stepped out of the ring with Anton’s arrival.

“Vamps and something else,” she shook her head dazedly, “I never seen anything like ‘em before.”

She was in shock as were all of the people he could see here. They were little more than kids and Angel was filled with emotions he couldn’t act on right now. As much as their misery affected him, he had to find out what had happened to Cordelia. Getting distracted now just wasn’t possible. After, if he survived, he would come back Angel vowed.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing the girl a reassuring smile and hoping she wouldn’t realise he was a stranger and clam up. “Where’s the armoury? I’m looking for a girl who was here. Cordelia-”

On the point of turning away, she went still and her gaze sharpened. It wasn’t with suspicion though. “Brunette; big smile and really pretty with a sort of…I dunno…classy air about her?”

His tension soared. Two youngsters dragged a body past him. Side stepping out of the way, Angel nodded. “Sounds like Cordelia. Why, did you see her- see what happened to her?”

There was sympathy on her face now. “Hey sorry, man. I wish I had better news. They took her along with Alonna, Gunn’s sister.”

~

Continue on...