Post Apocalyptic Afterglow
This is a continuation of a story started in a thread called “After Willow Brings Word to Angel in LA”, about 5 pages back. (Last post around June 15.) Started as a two-page reflection and has burgeoned into a novella.
My apologies to any and all who were left hanging. Perfectionist (lunatic) that i am, i didn’t like the last section i wrote (Part 4) so i went back and rewrote it, which is why i am re-posting it with the following new developments. (Part 5) The rewrite's only a couple pages long, so...
Standard disclaimers, etc, you know the drill. Not worried about ratings, no 4 letter words that every 3rd grader hasn’t heard, no sex (YET! Hehe) Spoilers: takes place after “the Gift.”
Note: because i'm too lazy to UBB code all the normally italicized parts (internal dialog), they're in single quotes.
A recap, or What Has Gone Before:
Part One
This story follows the events depicted in the first installment of Rane's Post Finale, after Willow (and Tara) came to tell Angel about Buffy's untimely demise.
Okay, Angel bails, W&T retire, Cordy splits and Fred has popcorn for the first time in 5 years. I think that's everything. Oh yeah, after Willow falls asleep Tara comes down and asks Wesley to hold off telling Faith the news because they have a Secret Plan to get the only living Slayer out of jail. But he says he's already talked to her and that he last saw her tearing up the visitor's area of the prison. Of course she chooses that minute to show up, having just broken out of jail.
Part Two
Meanwhile, a deeply distraught Angel has gone for a walk on the wild side and decides that eating a couple of criminals probably won't ruin his diet. Unfortunately, he taps a couple of junkies who are very high on a variety of illicit substances and, presto change-o, hello Angelus. He was last seen converting creepy new best bud Billy Tobin to the un-dead.
Part Three
Back at the hoe-down, Wesley wigs at Faith’s arrival, Gunn asks more questions and Tara commiserates with a distressed Slayer who blames herself for not being there for the Buffster. Overcome with gratitude, the impulsive young Slayer kisses Tara just as Willow walks in.
* * * *
Part Four (re-written)
"Willow! What are you doing out of bed?" The words tumbled out as Tara felt her face grow hot.
"Oh god, no." Faith moaned, shrinking into the corner of the couch.
Tara felt terrible about doing anything to upset Willow. "Sweetie, we were just, you know...talking."
Willow didn't respond, just slowly raised her arms, drawing in energy for a powerful spell. Power began to roll off her in waves, causing the air around her to shimmer. She moved stiffly, strangely, as if she were a puppet controlled by invisible strings. Tara tried to move but the forces Willow called kept her pinned to the couch. She couldn't raise her voice above a whisper.
Willow’s eyes were glazed obsidian and an otherworldly wind whipped the hem of her nightgown around her legs, lifted wisps of red hair. She raised her right hand, a glowing spot of energy pulsing in her palm.
"I conjure thee, by Barrabas, by Satanas, by the Saracen Queen..."
The crackling ball of energy throbbed and grew, an fiery red orb shot through with twisting, branching fractures like black lightning.
Tara gasped in alarm. She knew what that was, and what would happen if the spell was completed. She closed her eyes and quickly whispered a spell of her own:
"By force of heart, my will decree,
As Diana's arrow, set me free.
She launched herself off the couch, shouting, "Willow, NO!" and clapped her hand over the growing ball of hellfire. It detonated with a sound like a thunderclap as the spell collapsed, knocking both witches to the floor, unconscious.
The smell of brimstone hung in the air along with eerie wisps of smoke that twisted and twined strangely as they slowly dissipated.
* * * * Willow and Tara lay crumpled on the floor. Faith put her hands to her mouth and just stared, horrified. 'This is all my fault,' she told herself. 'I don’t deserve to live; everywhere I go people get hurt.'
Gunn switched on the big overhead chandelier, flooding the darkened end of the lobby with light. He ran over to check on Tara, lying on the floor behind Willow. Willow coughed and raised her head groggily.
"What- what happened?" Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, not exactly happy to see Faith. "What are you doing here? What am I doing here?"
Faith stared bleakly past Willow. "Is she dead? It's all my fault." She hung her head, tears rolling down. "God, I'm so sorry. I didn't come here to hurt anybody."
"What are you talking about?" Gunn held a finger to the side of Tara’s throat. "She ain't dead, just knocked out. Fainted or something."
"What? Tara-" Willow looked around, panicked, found Gunn holding Tara. She gasped and grabbed for her lover, tugging her limp body into her lap. “Tara, are alright?’
"Oh thank god are you sure?" Faith knelt next to Willow and reached for Tara's hand. Willow shot her a warning look.
Willow cupped her girlfriend's face in her hands. "Tara. Tara, baby, wake up." She shook her gently, bent close to listen to her breathing, heard her make a sound. "Help me get her on the couch."
Gunn bent to lift Tara, but Faith beat him to it, lifting her effortlessly and setting her gently on the couch. She glanced at Willow, then backed away from her angry glare.
Tara gasped, then gasped again. Willow grabbed her shoulders. "She's having some kind of attack!" she cried.
Tara gasped a third time then sneezed explosively. "O-oh," she moaned, wincing and holding her head. "My head hurts." She wrinkled her nose. "What's that smell?" An acrid, sulphurous odor like overheated metal and burnt gunpowder still hung in the air.
Willow pulled a handful of tissues from the pocket of her robe. "Baby, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think, just...dizzy."
"Somebody get her a glass of water, please?” She looked at Gun and Wesley, but Faith jumped up and ran to the kitchen. Willow looked after her, frowning. The total change of attitude from the Faith she knew was jarring. She had promised Giles she’d give Faith a chance, but she was reluctant to trust her. Just in case she’d memorized a few spells that should be more than adequate to deal with the supposedly-reformed rogue Slayer.
Willow sat down on the couch with Tara's head on her lap. "You sure you're okay, hon?"
Tara raised her right hand and twisted it back and forth. "My arm feels kind of tingly. But yeah, just a little spacey."
“Would someone please tell me what’s Faith doing here? And how’d I get down here?”
“She just showed up on her own a little while ago. Apparently she broke out of jail.” Wesley didn’t sound to happy about it. “She does seem...sincere in her contrition, though she’s as impulsive as ever.”
Faith returned with water and a damp towel which she folded carefully and moved to place on Tara's forehead. She caught herself and handed the towel to Willow.
"So is somebody going to tell me what happened?"
"You don't remember?" Gunn asked.
"All I remember is going to sleep upstairs and waking up here on the floor. I don't know what happened to me. Or to Tara, either."
In a small voice Faith said, "We were sitting on the couch. Me and Tara. She made me feel better. She was really nice to me..." She looked down at her lap where she was twisting her hands together, worried and uncomfortable.
"She was nice to you and what? You decided to knock her out?"
"No! God no, Willow, I was grateful so I...I kissed her."
"Kissed her? You kissed Tara?" Incredulous, she looked down, but Tara had pulled the towel down over her eyes.
"I didn't mean anything, I swear. I mean, she's cute, but I wasn't coming on to her or anything. She just- she was so sweet and it made me think of- of someone else, and I just got carried away."
"Tara?" Willow looked at her for a response but she had pulled the towel completely over her face. "Tara talk to me." Her only response was an exaggerated fake snore.
"Tara-" More insistent, this time. Tara's belly bounced up and down with silent giggles and she pretend-snored again.
"Tara please-" Trying not to laugh, she lifted the towel but Tara grabbed the other end, starting a mini tug-of-war, giggling out loud. Willow lost it and started laughing, too. In a minute both girls were hugging and giggling as Wesley and Gunn looked on, baffled. Faith stood at the end of the couch, looking mortified.
Finally Tara picked up the story: "It was strange, you looked like you were sleepwalking. You said my name, but not like you knew where we were or anything. Then you looked at Faith and started the incantation. At first I didn't know what it was."
Tara described the ball of energy, and how she'd stopped the spell before it was complete.
"It sounded like some kind of magic cherry bomb," Gunn suggested.
"That was no harmless firecracker, I'm afraid." Wesley leaned forward, his voice low. "What you summoned was nothing less than Hellfire, if I'm not mistaken."
"Hellfire? But- I don't even know how. I mean, yeah, okay, I read the incantation, which witch wouldn't? But I don't have that kind of power. And I would never use it on a person." She cast a dark glance at Faith. "No matter who."
"I keep telling you, honey, you have more power than you think. The spell was almost complete when I broke it."
Willow was terrified at the idea that she could cast such a destructive spell without even knowing it. "But why? I don't understand. Why would I cast such a dangerous spell?
I mean, I'm not really a Hellfire kind of girl, you know? I'm more the cozy fireplace-fire type or a friendly little campfire-fire type, with marshmallows and scary stories but not too scary cause they give me bad dreams about bad things but even in a bad dream I've never dreamed about doing anything like..."
“Shh, darling, it’s okay.” Tara placed her finger over Willow’s lips to stop her babbling. “It didn’t hurt anyone.” She put her arm around Willow’s shoulders and gave her a reassuring hug. “We should go upstairs. Maybe you just need to get some more sleep.”
Wesley nodded. "We're lucky Tara was here. Hellfire doesn't just turn its victim into a human torch. They invariably go berserk, igniting everything they touch, including other people, who in turn ignite everything they touch." He realized that everyone in the room was staring at him in horrified amazement.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and, looking smug, went into lecture mode. "Surely you're all familiar with the burning of Nero’s Rome in 64 C. E., or the Great Chicago Fire in 1871, or the San Francisco Fire in ought-six? These are but a few of the accounts of the 'flamma elementum' in Hume's Paranormal Encyclopaedia-"
"But Wes," Gunn broke in, "I thought it was an earthquake that destroyed San Francisco."
"Ah, yes. Well, as those of us who've dwelt for any length of time in Sunnydale can attest, earthquakes are often associated with otherworldly occurrences and the release of the most dangerous of demonic forces."
Gunn frowned skeptically. "You sure that ain't just coincidence? I mean, earthquakes are pretty common around here. We had one just a couple days ago."
"When you've studied these matters as long as I have, you come to realize there's no such thing as a...ha-ha," he chuckled nervously as a large truck rumbled by outside, "...a coincidence in these matters."
Then they heard it again, a deep vibration pitched so low they heard it more in their bellies than their ears. It was no truck. They looked at each other in wide-eyed alarm as the marble flooring beneath their feet begin to tremble like Jell-O. The low rumble quickly grew to a bone-shaking roar.
"Earthquake!" screamed Tara, wrapping her arms protectively around Willow. No one noticed that the red-haired witch’s eyes had again gone opaque.
Faith headed for the door then stopped, realizing no one was following. She crouched like a surfer on the curl of a wave, shifting her weight as the floor shuddered beneath her. Gunn and Wesley tumbled to the floor as chunks of plaster begin to rain down. Willow and Tara were tossed off the couch and wrapped their arms around each other, holding on for dear life.
Glittering glass prisms and beads began to fall from the chandelier high overhead like deadly crystal raindrops, exploding into shards as they hit the floor. Faith glanced up to see it swinging wildly, one side of the mounting rosette already broken loose. There was no way to get everyone clear. Vaulting over them she grabbed the couch, holding it on her back like a shield above the four prone bodies as bits of glass and plaster rained down..
After another handful of interminable seconds the shaking began to subside. The creaking, rumbling and groaning finally quieted and Wesley slowly raised his head, coughing and shaking plaster dust out of his hair. "Well, as I was saying, there's no such thing as a-" With a deafening crash, the huge chandelier slammed down on top of the couch, driving Faith to her knees as glass exploded in every direction. "-coincidence," he whispered, collapsing in a dead faint.
Part Five. Wherein Angelus continues his wild walkabout and Faith suffers some serious angst.
From here on we’re into the all-new stuff.
* * * *
Angelus found the keys right where Billy had dropped them. The crime scene was deserted except for a couple cops in a patrol car parked behind the Lexus, waiting for a tow truck and the coroner. He slid Billy's corpse off his shoulder onto the picnic table. "Now don't you be going anywhere. I'm feeling a bit peckish."
He appeared silently at the side of the police car. "Hey, how ya doin'?"
The startled cop gasped, dropping a ketchup-laden french-fry on his blue serge shirt. "What the hell do you want?"
"I'm lookin' for a bite to eat."
"Dunkin Donuts two blocks down. Now move along."
"Actually, I'm in the mood for takeout." The cop looked at him strangely.
"Sorry, lame joke, couldn't resist." Without any warning he dragged the cop halfway out the car window and tore into his throat with his fangs. His partner tried desperately to pull him back in, bellowing with outrage as he dug out his gun. When Angelus disappeared into the bushes he scrambled out of the car to follow. He managed to get one round off before his neck was snapped, though he missed his target. The bullet took off the top of Billy's right ear and lodged in his brain. Needless to say, being even deader than the vampire who'd killed him, he didn't feel a thing.
"I got plans for you, Billyboy, but hauling you around like a sack of spuds ain't part of it.” Angelus said, dumping Billy's body into the trunk of the Lexus. “Now that I'm feeling like my old self again, I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine."
* * * *
The shaking had stopped. Faith heaved the couch to the side. The metal frame of the chandelier landed with a crash and rolled noisily across the floor. "Is everyone alright?"
Gunn, coughing and wearing the same coating of plaster dust as everyone else, waved a hand and slowly stood. It was difficult to breath through the clouds of dust.
“Damn, girl!” He raised his eyebrows at the young Slayer, impressed, then tugged on Wesley's arm to help him up. He remained curled in a ball on the floor, his hands clutched over his head.
Tara raised herself on one arm and whispered hoarsely:
"Tropo, Strato, Aero, Exo,
Elements are brought to bear.
Earth and Fire, spread upon the Waters,
Let the air be cleansed."
She made a sweeping gesture and a cool breeze swept through the room, precipitating the dust and immediately clearing the air. Willow moaned weakly and tried to rise, then collapsed on her side. Tara pulled her onto her lap and wiped the dust from her face. "Honey, are you okay?"
Gunn looked at Tara. "How'd you do that?" but she was too concerned with Willow to answer. He turned his attention back to Wesley. "Yo, Wes, it's over. You can come out now."
"She seems to be getting weaker." Tara looked up at the others, worried. "She must have tried to do some kind of protection spell. We have to do something." Her tone was desperate, but no one knew what to do.
Wesley finally raised his head and looked around. Everyone but Faith seemed shaken by their near brush with death. The lights in the office were still on and everything seemed quiet. He let Gunn help him to his feet then lunged forward to wrap Faith in a smothering hug. “We owe you our lives,” he bleated, his voice breaking with emotion.
She held her arms out, clearly uncomfortable but resisting the impulse to shove him away, them squirmed out of the embrace. “Uh, yeah, whatever.”
Wesley looked nervously at the ceiling. "If everyone is intact, perhaps we should move outside until we're sure the building is safe. There may be aftershocks."
Willow swayed on her feet and clutched at Tara. "Sweetie, can you walk?"
Faith held her hands out, and with a nod from Tara she scooped the unsteady girl up in her arms and strode out into the garden. She avoided looking down, fearful of the accusing look in Willow’s eyes.
Outside in the garden they sank wearily onto stone benches, feeling stunned. Faith gently laid Willow down with her head on Tara's lap, then took off her coat and spread it over her. Underneath she wore a faded blue denim prison shirt with a number stenciled above the left pocket. Tara took hold of the young slayer’s arm. “Um, Faith? What you did in there? That was really...brave.”
Faith met her eyes for a moment, then embarrassed by the sincerity she saw there, she shrugged and turned away. “Hey, no sweat. It’s my job.”
Wesley sank down onto a bench opposite the girls, still shaking in reaction to his first major earthquake.
Gunn smacked a fist into his palm. Wesley whooped and jumped to his feet, then sank back down onto the bench sheepishly. "Oh, sorry Wes, but I almost forgot about Fred. Why don't y'all just chill here and I'll go check on her."
"I'll come with," Faith volunteered.
"Wait!" Everyone looked at her as Tara spoke up. "Listen." They all looked at her expectantly but she just sat there with her head cocked to the side.
Gunn snapped his fingers. "Damn, you're right."
"What?" Wesley glanced around warily, anticipating the next disaster.
Gunn nodded at the quiet West Hollywood street. "You grow up in LA you kinda get used to it, the earthquake thing. There should be, like, car alarms, sirens." The neighborhood was completely still. "It’s too quiet.”
"You're saying this wasn't a natural occurrence."
"Not hardly."
Faith turned and headed for the doors. "We need to find out what's going on here."
Gunn followed her inside.
She paused at the top of the stairs to look down into the darkened lobby. "This place looks like some kind of old movie set. Sort of creeps me out."
"You should have seen it before we got rid of the Thesulac Demon. Nasty bugger, all tentacles." He shuddered. "I'll look in on Fred while you take a look around, check for damage, or..."
"Yeah, I know. Creature features."
But all the damage seemed to be confined to the center of the room where the chandelier and parts of the plaster ceiling had come down right on top of them. The rest of the room was almost completely undamaged. Two more identical ceiling fixtures hung undisturbed. As she looked around the mezzanine she saw that, aside from the layer of plaster dust, there was almost no sign of what had felt like a 6.0 earthquake downstairs. ‘Either this place is built like a brick shithouse or we’ve got some deeply weird weirdness going down here. This is way beyond coincidence, like all those so-called “accidents” that kept happening the last few months in jail.’
Being in prison sucked. It was boring, demeaning, and brutal, but in a strange way it made things easier. The senseless sameness of everything, they unvarying routine, removed the distraction of living in the world and let her focus on herself. Of course, being virtually invulnerable helped. It didn't take long for word to get around that messing with her could be very bad for your health.
She began studying the books Angel brought her. That had been hard, too, stopping every other sentence to refer to a dictionary. But she'd kept at it, even getting some unexpected help from a sweet old ex-minister whose Doctorate of Divinity degree hadn't stopped her from poisoning two husbands.
Besides the reading, she'd spent a lot of time thinking about the lessons her Watcher, Sister Adelaide, had tried so hard to teach her. Lessons about the hidden talents that were as much a part of a slayer's legacy as superhuman strength and speed. She'd been a lousy student, though, too impatient to wrestle with the impenetrable jargon and flowery language of the compendiums and histories in her Watcher's library. She liked the fighting, though; her Watcher had some pretty cool moves for a nun.
After her workouts she'd buy Faith dinner and talk nonstop while she ate. Some of it had sunk in. A lot of it, actually, but what was the point? Why learn all that stuff if the Watcher already knew it? She'd never imagined being without her. Without her Watcher what was she? Just a kid, a messed up kid with no idea of what to do or how to go on. Alone.
‘Why, Sis? Why didn't you stop me? We never should of gone in there. I was so stupid, rushing in like that, thinking I could take him. Then watching what he- what happened, to someone that I.... Dammit! Damn damn damn damn damn!’ She gripped the balcony railing so hard the polished oak began to creak and splinter. ‘And then that fucking bastard Kakistos, dogging my ass for months, chasing me all over the country, running, hiding, no food, no sleep, fighting for my life. How many times did I wake up sweating over some sound in the dark, afraid that he'd found me? Afraid, and relieved that it was over.’
By the time she got to Sunnyvale, she had completely shut down emotionally. Nothing got in, nothing got out. There was no better drug to numb the pain than full-tilt violence and mayhem. She learned to take real pleasure in dancing on the edge of the precipice, flirting with death. On some level she knew her life had become a kamikaze mission, and she didn’t cared. Death could be a powerful ally, if you didn’t care about dying. Even the undead feared death. But she didn’t. Not any more...not since that night.
It was still impossible to think about what happened to Adele. For months she had pushed that memory back down as soon as it surfaced. She'd never been able to talk to anyone about it. Except Buffy. ‘Buffy. God, if only I hadn't been such a stone cold bitch. You even talked your Mom into offering me a room and instead I insisted on staying in that fleabag motel. I wanted- I needed you to understand. I needed you. And I hated you for making me feel.’ She pounded her hand on the railing as a sob escaped her lips, then another. She tipped her head back, biting her lip, eyes squeezed shut as the tears leaked out.
She remembered how it was when she and Buffy were hunting together, sharing a purpose, an instinct. It was like having a sister, a twin almost. She remembered the unspoken communication, the way they would move together like a dancer and her reflection, every motion synchronized, flawless, deadly, invincible. And she remembered when she started feeling things one never would, never should, for a sister. Thought of Tara and Willow crossed her mind, and for a second she felt a heart-deep stab of jealousy.
‘You were the best, B., my missing half. Together we were perfect. Face it, girl: you had it bad, and you got scared. That’s when it all went to hell, wasn’t it? You could never understand, B. You, with all your perfect friends, your perfect family, your perfect life, to lose the only one you ever had, the only one that mattered. No one could stand it, getting hurt like that again. I don't know how I survived the first time. Maybe I didn’t. Not really. Maybe I died that night when I- when Adele did, and everything since is just what flashes behind your eyes in that second between the blow that kills you and the realization that you’re really dead.’
‘When I got to Sunnydale it was like I was in a dream, where none of it ever happened. Whatever I was doing, it wasn’t living. Part of me died when I lost her, and from then on I was just spinning my wheels, waiting for the rest of me to catch up. And you didn’t disappoint, girlfriend. When the time came you were there for me. You did your level best. It isn’t your fault I didn’t die.
Down the hallway Gunn stepped out of a room, closing the door softly behind him. "She’s sleeping like a baby. I don't see any point in waking her up."
She kept her back to him as he approached, not wanting him to see her face. "Look, I'm going to check around the other side." She headed toward the shadows at the end of the hall then stopped. She still didn't turn around. She wasn't about to let any guy see her crying.
"Downstairs it looks like a bomb went off, and up here, nothing. Maybe the floor's just weak down there or something." He didn't sound like he believed it.
"Yeah, or something."
"Well, I'm going to tell them it's safe to come back inside. They're all just about asleep on their feet."
"Yeah. I'll patrol. I mean, I'll just check things out."
He noted the huskiness of her voice, the way she kept her face averted. "You sure you're okay?"
"Five by five."
As she moved down the dimly lit hallway, she could feel a sort of heaviness in the air. It felt like a tugging at her insides, like when a vampire was near, only not quite. It was the feeling of powerful magical forces at work, that much was for sure. ‘It could just be that spell that Willow did earlier, but there's something...’
She headed toward the other wing of the building, not sure what she was looking for. She didn't want to admit it, but she was scared. ‘Now I'm just being paranoid. Angel's got plenty of real enemies, like that pack of lawyers that hired me to kill him. I don't need to go blaming all this on my bad luck. Or karma. Whatever.’ She looked up and down the long, deserted hallway. Apparently this wing wasn't used at all. "Damn, it's quiet in here. Too quiet."
From the garden outside there sounded a piercing shriek of absolute terror.
* * * *
End Part Five
Coming soon: almost everybody (except Wesley)
========================================================
Part the Sixth
Wherein more exciting and unexpected stuff happens.
* * *
All four tires howled as Angelus pulled the Lexus around the off ramp at over 80 miles an hour then accelerated hard down Figueroa St. “WHOO-YEA!” He howled, barreling down the empty street. “This has just got horses beat all to hell.” He shifted into fifth as the speedometer climbed past 110 then stomped on the brakes and cut the wheel, sending the car into a two complete 360 degree spins. “Whoa, almost missed my turn, there.”
He ground the transmission into second gear, not bothering with the clutch, and headed east. Vampire strength and reaction times more than made up for his lack of knowledge about standard transmissions. A few blocks ahead a pair of patrol cars, their lights flashing, blocked the road. “Well, well, what have we here...” He roared down the street straight at them, then crash-downshifted, swerving the car across the curb and onto the sidewalk, sending an LA Times box crashing through the window of a TCBY shop. One of the cops tried to back his car up but Angelus rammed the Lexus into the rear of the Caprice, ripping off its bumper and pushing the car back into the road. The two cops emptied their pistols at him as he sped off but all they managed to do was put four more copper jacketed slugs into Billy Tobin’s bruised and battered corpse.
A few blocks later Angelus tore around a corner and pulled the car into a 24 hour Thrifty gas station, side-swiping the cashier’s booth. The white-turbaned Sikh attendant gaped at him in astonishment as he stuck a running hose in through the Lexus’ window and hauled the body out of the trunk. “Almost there, Billy. You’re gonna love this. First a little puzzle for you to solve, just to make sure you’re worthy of the honor.” He tossed Billy’s lighter into the car and jumped back as a huge yellow fireball erupted with a loud WHUMP, blowing out all the car’s windows. “Oh, yeah! I just love a good bonfire. Nothing brings out the crowd like a fire.”
The station attendant ran into the street, beating at the embers in his beard and crying, "All men dead! All men dead!"
Down the block and across the street he kicked in the door of an apartment building and rode the elevator to the 5th floor, all the while singing an ancient drinking song to the corpse he carried over his shoulder.
"My Thunder, no fear on’t, shall soon do it's Errand,
“and, dam'me! I'll swing the Ringleaders, I warrant,”
At the top of the stairs to the roof he opened the steel fire door and dumped the body onto the graveled surface. Down the street the sounds of explosions and breaking glass accompanied the lurid orange light reflecting off the buildings. “You see, Billy, we can’t just be letting any old rabble into the club. First ye must be provin' yer worth.” He stuck a card in Billy’s open mouth then forced his jaw closed. “Sleep tight, boyo, and don’t let she sunshine bite.” He broke the inside doorknob off and tossed it out onto the roof. The door locked itself behind him with a soft ‘click’ as he sang his way down the stairs, tunelessly bellowing out the end of the verse:
"I'll trim the young dogs, for daring to twine
"The Myrtle of Venus with Baccus’s Vine.”
Down on the third floor Angelus knocked on the door of apartment C. A few minutes later the door swung open. “Angel, what are you doing here at this hour?” Her voice was barely a whisper, husky with sleep.
“Hello, Katy. I thought it was time we got a bit better acquainted.”
* * * *
Willow had finally found the energy to sit up. She leaned against her lover's shoulder, her eyes closed. A drop of blood trailed from her nose.
Wesley frowned at her, worried. "Do you think she'll be alright?" he asked.
"I-I think so. She needs to get some sleep. I hope it's safe...to can go back inside, I mean." Tara realized that Willow might not be his only concern.
"You're worried about her. About Faith I mean." Tara could tell by his expression that her guess was on the mark. "You think she might still be, like, dangerous?"
"I don't know. She's certainly changed. It's as if she's aged half a decade in a year. The problem is- has always been, I suppose, I don't understand what's going on inside her head. She’s always been impulsive, unpredictable."
"She’s different from how she was last year. Mellower."
Gunn came back out into the garden. "Everything inside looks copacetic; Faith is still checking upstairs, but I think it's safe to go back in." He bent to feel Willow's forehead. "How's she doin'?"
Willow's eyes fluttered and opened slightly. She gave him a weak grin and he smiled back. "You had enough excitement for one day? Balls o' fire, earthquakes. What's next, rain of frogs?"
"Toads..." Wesley corrected him. "Rain of toads, I believe, is the traditional..."
His voice died away as Willow suddenly sat bolt upright, her eyes in a fixed stare and her face expressionless.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Willow didn’t reply, just stared straight ahead, her lips moving silently.
Wesley leaned forward to look at her, then gasped as he saw that her eyes had gone completely black. "Willow? Are you-" R-R-RIBBIT! He was interrupted by a loud croak from the bushes.
Tara yelped as a big, green bullfrog landed with a SPLAT on the bench right next to her and leapt away. There was a pattering sound like raindrops falling in the bushes around them, accompanied by assorted croaking and cheeping noises, then frogs of all sorts and sizes, from tiny spring peepers to giant Texas bullfrogs, began to fall from the sky. They leapt to their feet as dozens, then hundreds of the hopping, croaking, slimy creatures rained down in an appalling, horrifying deluge.
Tara grabbed Willow's arm and tried to pull her up, but she was completely rigid. A fat bullfrog landed in Willow's lap and sprang at her face, snapping her out of her trance in time to snatch the frog out of the air. She stared at it just long enough to gasp in terror then let out an ear-piercing shriek that was somehow magically enhanced. The frog popped like a stomped-on grape and the windows in the facing wall exploded in a glittering storm. Light bulbs popped, plunging the garden into darkness. Shards of stucco spalled from the walls and ricocheted like shrapnel. Willow drew another breath and screamed, “Discede!” and threw her arms wide. Everything within a radius of ten feet became airborne as it was blasted away from her. A barrage of frogs splattered against the garden walls like buckshot. Tara, Gunn and Wesley were thrown backwards into the flattened bushes among the hordes of suddenly-silent amphibians.
Faith burst out of the front doors and into the garden as a few frogs timidly resumed their chorus, leaping forward to catch Willow as she tumbled off the bench. The others scrambled out of the bushes, frantically brushing off the tiny peepers and sucker-toed tree frogs clinging to their clothes and hair. Tara and Gunn were okay, but Wesley staggered drunkenly, his hands clutching his head in pain. He had been right in front of Willow when she screamed.
Faith again scooped up the insensible witch and they all rushed back inside to escape the mob of frogs. In the office Faith laid Willow on the couch. Tara knelt next to her, wiping bits of frog innards off Willow’s hand as she mumbled, tossing her head from side to side as if lost in some disturbing nightmare. The powerful magicks she had invoked had drained her energy to a dangerous degree.
Gunn led Wesley to a chair. "I think we’re all pretty clear on who’s working all this mojo,” he whispered. “What I want to know is, why? It don’t seem like she’s doing it on purpose.”
“I THINK WE NEED TO DISCOVER-” Wesley shouted.
“Sh-h!” Gunn held a finger to his lips then reached to pluck a small green tree frog from Wesley’s collar. He added it to the one in his pocket.
“Sorry, sorry. My ears are still ringing. Though I must say, that was one of the most impressive displays of magickal...”
Gunn put his hand over Wesley’s mouth and dragged him away from the office, then motioned for Faith and Tara to join them. “Don’t even think it. We’re in some serious trouble here. The redhead is...”
“Willow,” Tara broke in. “She’s W-Willow and she would never hurt anyone, not on purpose. And especially not with her magicks.” She looked over at her love, pain and worry plain in her eyes. “Besides, this is hurting her more than anyone.”
Wesley smiled slightly, reassuring. “Of course. I think this is another attack on Angel, no doubt at the instigation of Wolfram and Hart. Willow’s being used or manipulated somehow. Have you any ideas about how to stop it? A warding spell perhaps?”
“Um, maybe. I mean, yes. I think so. Do you have herbs? Valerian root, skullcap, chamomile?”
Wesley nodded. “Of course, anything you need. Anything.”
“If she stays asleep, and I cast a protection spell around the bed, that should make it impossible for anyone outside to influence her.”
“I’ll brew some tea up, straight away.”
“Thanks. Faith, could you help me get her upstairs?”
“Lead the way.” The Slayer gently gathered Willow in her arms and followed Tara to their room.
Wesley watched them go, captivated by the sway of Tara’s hips as she ascended the stairs. He swallowed with difficulty. “My word...” he whispered, unaware that his mouth was hanging open.
Gunn poked him, chuckling, “Yo, Wes. Give it up. I don’t see her switching sides anytime soon.”
“No! No, of course not. I didn’t mean...it’s just, there’s something about her. She has that classic sort of beauty, like a film noir actress from the 1940’s. Ingrid Bergman perhaps, or Lauren Bacall, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yep, that Willow’s one lucky gal.”
Wesley nattered on as if he hadn’t heard. “There’s a certain ethereal quality about her, both innocent and seductive at the same time. It’s the eyes, I think. Or the mouth, yes, definitely her mouth. Those lips are quite, ah...or maybe it’s the voice.”
“Damn, English. Trust you lose it over a gay chick.”
He did a double take and looked at Gunn, completely flustered. “Me? Why, I...I just got a bit carried away, that’s all.”
“Yeah, so I noticed. Look, shouldn’t you be getting busy with that tea?”
“Oh yes, I...” He looked up as Faith came racing down the stairs, then sagged with exhaustion. “Oh dear lord, what is it now?”
“Why didn’t someone tell me that Angel just found out about Buffy?” Her dark eyes were filled with worry. “Tara said they just got here today. Well, yesterday, whatever. Just before you came to see me. Did anyone talk to him since he took off?” The two men looked at each other and shrugged.
“Jeez, guys, don’t you get it?” They answered her with blank stares. “Men,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“You think whoever’s directing these magickal attacks could actually manage to track him down?” Wesley sounded skeptical.
“I’m more worried about what he might do to himself.” She paced nervously back and forth, biting her lip, then spun to face them. “You can’t imagine what it does to you, losing the one person you can’t afford to lose. Nothing makes sense anymore, inside or out. It can turn you into someone you don’t even recognize.”
Gunn winced at the memory of his sister, killed by vampires right around the time he’d met these people. “I know a little about that. You got any idea how to find him?”
“You’ve got wheels, right?” she asked.
“My truck is right outside.”
“Let’s go. Wesley, you should get that tea up to Tara.”
“Yes, of course. Is there anything else I can do?”
She shrugged. “You might as well get some rest. You might want to sleep with a stake under your pillow, though.”
* * * *
End Part 6
Next: Reunion.
Someone gets what they've got coming.
BTW, i live for feedback. (don't we all?)
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Part 7
***
Gunn ducked into the office and grabbed the tranquilizer rifle then led Faith around the corner to where his truck was parked. “I hope you ain’t counting on me to lead you to Angel. Dude could be anywhere.”
She stopped at the corner and pulled a length of thread from her pocket. A small twig with a tiny green leaf at one end and a button tied to the other hung from it. “Demon compass, according to Tara.”
“Lemme guess. That button from one of Angel’s shirts?”
She just nodded and held the thread up as the twig spun slowly, then stopped, pointing southeast, towards central LA. “When we get close I’ll be able to sense him.”
“Huh. So tell me something: how’d you manage to get yourself out of jail?” He got in the truck and unlocked the passenger side door for her.
“Doesn’t matter. If you can’t jump over a twelve foot fence it wouldn’t do you any good. The hard part was convincing them I was headed for Mexico. I had to let them see me without getting caught.”
“Yeah, so?” Gunn started the truck and headed around the block, rolling slowly up the alley behind the hotel.
Faith rolled down her window and tilted her head back, breathing in the cool night air. “So I stole a truck, used it to block three lanes of I-5, then jumped off an overpass. Lots of witnesses, nobody followed.”
“What about helicopters, dogs?” Gunn pulled out onto the avenue and headed south past the front of the hotel.
“If what you really want to know is, did I kill anybody breaking out, the answer is no. Right after I jumped off the highway a city bus pulled up and I just hopped on. Lucky break, I guess. I’m sure the cops are combing the back streets of Tijuana right- Hey!”
Gunn grabbed her shoulder and shoved her down on the seat. Flashing blue and red lights filled the cab of the truck as they drove past the hotel. Three unmarked police cars had just pulled up out front.
The brakes squealed loudly as Gunn stopped the truck at the corner. “Well, Miss Clean Getaway, this don’t look like Tijuana to me. Maybe you want to hop out and tell them rollers they’re in the wrong city. That way you won’t have to explain to Angel about you bringing the heat down on him.”
Faith slid off the seat and looked at him. “It isn’t all my fault. The only person who’s been to visit me is Angel. That’s the only reason they’d come here.”
He gunned the engine and headed on down the road. “I’m sure he’ll take comfort in that thought when he’s in front of some judge explaining what’s up with all that medieval weaponry.”
“Yeah, well, if he’s turned back into a psychotic killer it won’t really be an issue, will it?”
He didn’t reply, just scowled angrily as he drove down the street. Ten minutes later he was still wearing the same expression. Faith checked Tara’s magickal compass. “At some point we’re going to have to head east. Not yet, though.”
Gunn continued driving in silence. She looked at his stony countenance. “Are you still pissed about the cops showing up, or what?”
“All right, seein’ as how you asked, I think you’re trouble. Not just cause of the people you killed. Maybe they needed killing, I don’t know. But from what I hear, anyone who gets close to you ends up with more trouble than they need.”
She bit back an angry reply. ‘It didn’t take him long to forget that I just saved his life.’
She let the little twig hang between her feet, out of the wind. It spun slowly then stopped, pointing left. “Turn East, first chance you get.” As the truck accelerated down the deserted street the demon compass slowly pointed more and more to the south again. “Go right. We’re getting close.”
“Damn,” Gunn swore. Faith looked up as he slammed on the brakes. A sawhorse barricade blocked the street. Down the block fire trucks and police cars lit the night with flashing red lights. A cop walked toward the driver’s side of the truck with his hand raised. She tugged her coat closed over her prison-issue shirt and tilted her head down so her hair partly covered her face.
“Road’s closed ahead,” the cop said, shining his flashlight in their faces. “There’s been a fire. You’ll have to go around. Which way are you...hold on.” He stepped back and listened to the radio at his shoulder, then spoke into it, placing his hand on his holstered weapon. “Please step out of the vehicle.”
Faith tensed, her mind racing. She knew she could get away, but that would mean getting Gunn arrested. Another cop had gotten out of the car parked beyond the barricade. This did not look good. She looked over at Gunn but he just sat there, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered. “I’ll tell them you picked me up hitchhiking.” She reached for the door handle.
“Don’t you move,” Gunn said softly. “Don’t do nothing.”
“Step out of the vehicle now.” The cop sounded impatient.
“All right. No problemo,” Gunn said, climbing out of the truck.
“You’re Charles Gunn, aren’t you?” The cop quickly checked him for weapons.
“No, I’m Rodney King. You want my autograph?”
“Very funny. We want to ask you a few questions about your friend Rondell. Seems he’s gone missing. If you come along voluntarily it might not take too long. Or if you prefer, we can place you under arrest and this could turn into a very long day for you.”
“Hey, I got nothing better to do with my time than listen to a bunch of questions I don’t know the answers to.”
Suddenly another flashlight came on, shining directly in Faith’s eyes. “What’s your name, miss?” the other cop asked.
“What you wanna be buggin’ her for? Her name is Cordelia Chase and she don’t even know Rondell.”
The flashlight beam searched around the cab, then pointed down at the closed fist in her lap. “What’s that in your hand?” he asked. She slowly opened her fingers, revealing the small twig and it’s tied-on button. He stepped back. “Looks clean,” he called out to his partner.
Gunn looked in the window, trying to act casual. “Yo, Cordy, why don’t you take the truck to work and I’ll hook up with you later on?” He mouthed silently to her: Find Angel.
She looked him in the eye and nodded, then slid over into the driver’s seat and carefully backed the truck away. As she drove around the block she started shaking. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a confrontation with the police that hadn’t ended in a brawl and with her running away.
As she drove a wide circle around the roadblocks, she realized the emergency vehicles were converging from every direction on the same place she was trying to get to. Finally she parked the truck and started working her way through the crowd starting to gather on the sidewalks, using them for cover from the police. She definitely didn’t want to have to try to explain the tranquilizer gun she carried in its case.
It didn’t take long to find both the building Angel was in and the kicked-in back door. The burning gas station at the corner was too close by to be a coincidence. Now she was worried. If Angel had turned she’d have to kill him, and she honestly didn’t know if she could do it. But if he was responsible for that disaster down the street, no one he knew was safe until he was dead. It wasn’t until she got to the fifth floor that she realized there was more than one vampire in the building and that one of them was on the roof.
Reaching out with her senses, she tried to decide which one to go after, but she wasn't geting anything. She realized she'd broken out in a cold sweat. 'Come on, come on. So what if it's been over a year. It's just like riding a bike, right? You never forget how.'
But forgetting wasn't really the problem. The real worry was that she just didn't have it in her anymore, that she'd changed too much, given up too much of what she'd been, to be able to kill. If the unbearable load of guilt and remorse she carried around like a ball and chain slowed her hand she'd die, and she wouldn't be the only one.
***
Tara tucked Willow in after a quick shower. She had just finished pouring a ring of Sand of Thebes around the bed when Wesley knocked on the door. He was carrying a tray with the tea she’d requested.
In the hall he handed her a slender, calf-bound volume. “I don’t yet know what, exactly, is causing these phenomena, but the spell I’ve marked should help negate any further attempts at outside influence.”
“Thanks, Wesley. You should get some sleep. You look really tired.”
“Oh, no need to worry about me. Much to do, yet. Research and preparation, that’s the key. Probably be at it all night.” He puffed out his chest, giving her a self-satisfied smile.
“Well, ah, I’d best be getting to it.” But he didn’t move, just rocked back and forth on his feet, looking at her, hands clasped behind his back.
Tara was starting to feel a little self-conscious. “W-was there something else?” she asked finally. The tray was starting to get heavy.
“Well, I don’t think there’s any cause for alarm, but it might be wise to ward your room against vampires. Fred’s too, if you’d be so kind.”
“Vampires? Here? In- in- in the....” She looked nervously up and down the hallway. “You mean a particular vampire, or...”
“Just as a precaution, you understand. I don’t think there’s any immediate danger.”
“I, um, don’t think you answered my question, exactly.”
“Well, ah, perhaps, well...Angel.” He winced as he said the name.
“Angel?” Now she was worried. A hundred questions ran through her mind, but he clearly was reluctant to talk about it.
“Yes, well I, ah...goodnight.” He turned and almost ran down the hallway.
“Night, Wesley.”
‘What’s going on here?’ she wondered. ‘Faith went flying out of here like her tail was on fire, too. Maybe we should leave here in the morning. Or at least find out exactly what's going on.’
At first it looked like Willow was asleep, then she rolled over and blinked at Tara.
‘I’m not going to let anything happen to you, my love. No matter what.’ She gave her a reassuring smile and set down the tray.
She joined Willow on the bed and poured a cup of tea for her. “Is it okay, honey?”
“Mmm, yes. Good sleepy tea.” She leaned her head against Tara’s shoulder, fingers gently stroking her arm.
“Do you need anything else, love?” She took the empty cup and set it aside.
“Just you, Tara,” she whispered. “Always.” She raised Tara’s hand to her lips and kissed it, then pressed it to her cheek as she snuggled against her.
Tara leaned down to kiss her lover’s forehead. She loved watching Willow fall asleep, the way her long, curved lashes dipped lower by degrees as the lids slowly hid her emerald eyes; the way the corners of her mouth curled up in a secret little smile, the way the years fell away until she looked as peaceful as a child.
When she was awake every facet of her complex personality was reflected in her face: the quirky and infectious sense of humor, the unfailing kindness and generosity, the insatiable curiosity and fierce intelligence, the unique mixture of breathless innocence and intense sensuousness that was both sexier and more deeply romantic than anything Tara had ever imagined possible. But as she fell asleep all these varied aspects seemed to melt into the background, leaving only the reflection of her innate sweetness on the calm surface, a picture of perfect and timeless beauty.
A drop of moisture appeared on the back of Tara’s hand, a tear, as her heart overflowed. ‘With all the terrible things that have happened, I still feel like the luckiest person alive.’
***
Kate Lockley peeked out from behind the door and squinted at the vampire in the hallway.
“I’m really not in the mood, Angel. This might be tea time for vampires but for us humans it’s the middle of the night.”
Angelus lifted his hand to force the door open and immediately felt the presence of a mystical barrier. Unsure of what it implied, he fought down his impulse to explode into rage. This situation called for something more subtle. “I’m sorry, Kate. I wouldn’t be here at this hour if it wasn’t an emergency.”
“What is it? If it’s about the fire...”
“No. I really should come in and explain.”
“Just tell me.” She wasn’t about to let him see that she was wearing nothing but the pale blue uniform shirt she’d just grabbed off the back of a chair.
Angelus wracked his drug-clouded mind for a reasonable response. “Well, you see, it’s-” Then he saw her eyes go wide with alarm.
“Angel, get down!” Kate shouted. He swung around in time to see Faith pull the trigger of the tranquilizer rifle. The dart snagged in his coat and fell to the floor.
He dropped into a crouch. “Missed me, Slayer. My turn.” He charged, batting away the rifle butt she swung at him, slammed her into the wall, then threw her sideways, following with a kick to the ribs that lifted her off the floor. She fell to her hands and knees then swept one leg out, knocking him down. Leaping on top of her he rained blows at her until she bucked him off and scrambled to her feet.
Kate ran for her cell phone then back to look out the door, trying to steady her hands enough to dial 911.
Angel was back on his feet. Faith connected with a solid roundhouse kick to the side of his head, then hit him left, right, and left again, staggering him. “I’m sorry Angel. I hate to have it end like this.” She pulled a stake out of her coat pocket.
He circled warily. “This can only end one way, Faith.” With a roar he went into vamp mode, baring his fangs.
“You got that right, vampire, and time’s on my side.” She shifted her eyes toward the lightening sky out the window.
“It isn’t over yet,” he growled, leaping forward to grab her arm. They spun together, fighting for control of the stake, first one then the other bouncing off the walls, shaking the building. Then Angel swung her around toward the door and let go, sending her crashing into Kate. Both women tumbled back into her apartment.
He leapt to the door. “Kate, invite me in!” he shouted. “She’s a killer.”
“No!” Faith screamed, lunging with both hands for Kate’s mouth.
She was a split second too late. “Angel, help!” she yelled.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, stepping through the door.
She grabbed her cell phone and crawled behind the couch as the two proceeded to destroy her living room. The same “All lines are busy...” recording was still playing. ‘Every idiot within two blocks must be calling about the fire.’
Dashing into her bedroom, she grabbed the revolver from her nightstand and ran back out. She was just in time to see the girl smash her VCR over Angel’s head then follow with an uppercut that launched him completely off his feet to land on his back out in the hallway. She’d seen demons fight before, but never imagined that a mere human, especially a slender girl like this one, could pick up a two hundred pound vampire and toss him around like some kid in a pillow fight.
Kate followed her out into the hallway and trained her gun on the girl standing over Angel. For the first time in her life, she seriously considered just shooting without any warning. Fortunately for Faith her training overrode her fear. “Freeze!” she yelled. “I have a gun pointed at the back of your head. If you even twitch, I’ll shoot.”
Faith stood with her hands out, motionless. “Please, just listen to me. Angel’s dangerous, you can’t turn your back on him.”
“Just how stupid do you think I am? I know you broke out of jail yesterday, and the first place you show up at is the arresting officer’s. If Angel hadn’t been here I’d probably be tied to a chair right now getting the same treatment you gave your friend Wesley.”
Angel yanked Faith’s coat down around her elbows, trapping her arms, then shoved her forward against the window. “Keep an eye on her Katy, she’s a slippery one.”
“Look,” Faith cried desperately, “I’m the only one who can keep him from killing you. A gun won’t stop him. I’m the only chance you’ve got.”
“You got that right, Faith,” Angel chuckled, then stepped forward and slammed a foot into the middle of her back. She burst through the window, tumbling head over heels to the ground three stories below.
Kate screamed and leapt back, looking at Angel in horror. “What did you- you killed her.”
Suddenly he was standing beside her and the gun was in his hand. In full vamp face, he grinned at her. “She was right, you know.” With one backhanded blow he knocked her back into her apartment and onto the floor. Standing over her he closed the door behind him and locked it. “She was the only chance you had.”
***
=========================================================
Part 8
***
When Lilah Morgan had heard from an underworld contact that someone was trying to contract the services of a Khorshan Mage, her first reaction had been to laugh. Everyone at the office knew the story about the former Senior VP who had tried the same thing a few years ago. The joke was that he’d been transferred to accounting. The punch line was that he now lived in a terrarium and the data entry associates took turns catching bugs for him to eat. But when word came that a powerful wizard had appeared in response to a summoning, she decided it was time to take things into her own hands.
She rolled over and frowned at the man in her bed. There was barely enough light filtering through the loft windows to see him. He was snoring loudly, though that wasn’t what had awakened her. With all the exercise they’d gotten last night she should have been sleeping as soundly as he was, but her curiosity had gone from nagging to maddening and she was seriously considering a variety of extreme measures to get some answers out of him. He had been less than forthcoming so far.
‘Maybe I’ll take him for one more spin first, though. Whoever said those little blue pills don’t work on women was crazy; I feel as randy as a teenager. Of course, noting beats the thrill of sleeping with the enemy.
Andrew Collins, he said his name was. It had turned out to be true; or at least that was the name she’d found on his papers when she’d searched his clothes. He was English, no question about that. It was also certain that his rugged good looks and considerable charm concealed a man who was capable, cunning and ruthless. But who he was, and what he was up to, were a mystery. Of course, she could call the office and have them send a team over to interrogate him, but that would take time. Worse, it would mean she’d have to share the information. Lilah didn’t like to share.
‘This is making me crazy. I want answers and I want them now.’ She slid out of bed and walked into her study. From a drawer she took a small, specially-fitted 9mm automatic and a fat silencer, screwing it onto the barrel as she walked back into the bedroom.
She stood naked at the foot of the bed, back straight, feet wide apart, arms level and elbows locked, pointing the gun at the man’s head. “Andrew? Andrew darling, it’s time to wake up.”
He just mumbled and rolled over, so she fired a single shot into the pillow next to his head. Even with the silencer it made a pretty loud POP in the enclosed space. He was instantly awake and sitting upright. His mouth slowly closed as a crooked grin replaced his look of surprise. “Mornin’ luv.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he slowly reached for a cigarette. “That’s a good look for you. Very Emma Peel.”
“Why, thank-you.” She smiled at the compliment, though her eyes held about as much warmth as a rattlesnake stalking a desert rat. “Let’s cut right to the chase, shall we? First I have a few questions. Then, depending on your answers, I’m either going to make coffee for one, or for two.”
“Fair enough, swee’pea. But, depending on your questions, you either don’t need the gun, or it’ll be of no use.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. First, you’re the one who summoned the Khorshan Mage?”
“I think you already know the answer to that one.”
“Alright. Leaving aside for the moment how you managed to arrange his cooperation, who do you work for, and what’s their agenda?”
“Oh, I don’t mind telling you. Others made the arrangements, I’m just the errand boy. I delivered the Sword of Tamerlane to the Mage in exchange for his services. Had some sort of sentimental value, I gather. As for the other, I’m a private contractor, and my employers aren’t the sort to rely solely on my discretion to protect their identity.”
“I have access to mind readers who can quickly find out if you’re telling the truth.”
“My point exactly. Now, you are the one holding the gun, but seein’s how I’ve scratched your itch, how about you scratch mine? Which big dog are you attached to?”
She tossed her hair and lifted her chin. “I’m nobody’s hired piece of tail. I’m a Vice-President at Wolfram and Hart, one of the city’s most powerful law firms.”
“Lawyer, eh? Well, I didn’t figure you for some cheap trull. No offense,” he quickly added.
“None taken. Yet.”
“Considering who you work for, maybe we should both lay our cards on the table. I believe we share some common interests. And enemies.”
“Maybe. I’d like some more answers, first. For instance, what exactly are you and this Mage up to?”
“Oh, just your basic termination. A young woman named Faith.”
“Faith? The Vampire Slayer?”
“That’s the one. From what I hear your firm would welcome her cancellation.”
“Yes, that would be...helpful.” She lowered the gun, finally. “It won’t be easy.”
“It might be easier if we worked together. Are you aware that she’s in town?”
“She’s escaped from prison?”
“Yesterday. How about we discuss it over coffee? For two.”
“How about later.” She dropped the gun on the nightstand and knelt on the bed. “Right now I’ve got a better idea,” she purred, crawling over to straddle him. “I always find playing with guns so...stimulating.”
Some time later, while Lilah was in the shower, Collins took out his cell phone and hit the speed dial. “This is Collins.” He listened impatiently to the reply.
“Oh, bugger the password, just take a message. For Quentin Travers, right. ‘The quarry is flushed.’ That’s it.”
* * * *