Part 3
“What’s your poison?”
“Scotch.”
“We’ve got a pretty good show tonight. I think you’ll like it.”
“Counting on it.”
Angel tossed a twenty and leaned back, resting his elbows on the bar. He couldn’t care less about listening to the ear-splitting screeches of demons in search of the right path or Lorne living out his fantasy of a flashy Las Vegas megastar. The only show Angel was interested in had just walked through the door.
As if on cue, a soft melody began to play against a backdrop of muffled conversations. The tragic ballad befitting his predicament, a man lost without his woman and edging on the brink of desolation; Angel suspected Lorne was having a little fun at his expense.
Drowning out the melodic cries of the lovelorn, Angel perused his way up spike-heeled boots and tight pants, following a trail of leather wrapped curves to the clingy silk blouse showcasing the perfect glimpse of cleavage. Shades of charcoal dusted around her eyes, brown and hazel muted into the background of dark-hue cobalt.
It had been a long time since Cordelia dressed this way; and knowing this attention to detail hadn’t been for him, a guttural growl rumbled through Angel’s chest that had patrons scurrying to the far ends of the bar.
To those without intimate knowledge, Cordelia exuded confidence. The slight quiver of her bottom lip, her eyes nervously darting around the room, expertly camouflaged from every admirer except one. A slow sweep, her muscles tensing just a little more as she passed over each unrecognizable face, until finally spying her target. Still oblivious to the dark, penetrating eyes following her every move, Cordelia made her way to a small table in the far corner.
His concentration narrowed on his unsuspecting prey, Angel absently nursed his drink, a whiff of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. Although as uncomfortable as her informant, Cordelia covered her nervousness with a graceful yet unwavering determination. Other than a sharp wit, and a tongue known to make grown men cry, she had no real defensive skills; and Angel had to admit the woman’s savvy was impressive.
Cordelia slipping a photograph from the envelope clutched in her hand, Angel stretched forward for a better view; but even keen eyesight couldn’t pierce the murky illumination before she quickly snatched the picture away.
The informant shook his head, and Cordelia waved another fifty with one hand while jabbing a finger at his face with the other. A warning that he not play her, Angel suspected; and another grin tugged at his mouth until…
“I hear Crumb Cake’s Honey Bun found a new glaze.”
“Go away.” It was hardly more than a grunt, his intentness never wavering.
“Just offering a shoulder, Growly Bear.” Lorne grumbled back while motioning his order for another Seabreeze. “No need to get grizzly.”
“Cordelia was in here a few days ago; did you read her?”
The man was looking at the photograph again, and by Cordelia’s reaction, she was finally getting the right answers.
“Hard not to read an aura that’s screaming in your face. Kind of like yours is now, not that you’re actually looking at my face.”
“What did she want?”
“No can do big guy. Not unless you want me sharing your secrets-and stop snarling. The place is practically empty and it’s not even ten o’clock.”
Talk of secrets he couldn’t blame on his alter ego caused Angel to miss the last exchange between Cordelia and her informant. He pushed back the damning memory and refocused his attention on the present to find Cordelia already standing with the envelope securely tucked under her arm.
Swallowing the growl in his throat, he pushed from the bar, then stilled when Cordelia turned back and snatched the extra fifty from the table, raising an indignant brow at the man’s protest. And flashing a glint of amusement at the bold move, Angel took advantage of the delay, intent on greeting Cordelia outside the protection of Caritas.
~~~ ~~~~
Hoping to limit her exposure to LA’s less friendly nightlife, Cordelia had purposely parked near the entrance; but not in a million years did she expect to find Angel leaning against the hood of David Nabbit’s Ferrari.
Before she even knew it was happening, a soothing warmth washed over her; like a long hot soak when the bubbles last for hours. Angel and fizzy bubbles, the image brought a smile, for the brief second before her body stiffened and her expression cooled.
“Comfortable?”
“Nice car. It matches your blouse.”
Caught off guard by the comparison, her eyes zipped from the shiny red car to her shimmering red blouse. Although the odd coincidence was more than a little distressing, Cordelia wasn’t about to let Angel know just how much it perturbed her.
“I like them both. Now move so I can leave.”
“Which has the curfew?” Angel grabbed the keys before Cordelia could unlock the door, hungrily taking in the heat from her angry glare and the warm breath swishing from her lungs. “You or the wheels?”
“Neither. Not that it’s any of your business-and why are you here? You haven’t come near us for weeks.”
“I’ve been near, Cordelia. Just keeping my word and giving you time.”
“Then why now? Tonight of all nights?”
Angel’s timing couldn’t be worse if he’d planned it; which Cordelia suspected he did. They had put a lot of time and effort into tracking this informant, then convincing him the demon-killing vampire was no longer working with them. If Mickey saw her with Angel, he’d think they lied, and she could kiss goodbye any further help from the skittish half demon.
“Because you’ve had time.” Angel stepped closer, wedging Cordelia between his body and the car before propping his arms on either side of her. “And I miss you.”
Attempting to maneuver from the constricted space, her face blushed at the rush of memories from their last encounter, bodies rubbing, breaths heaving. So instead, Cordelia stilled, turned her head away and waited for Angel to back off. Time seemed to crawl, and it was getting harder to breathe. The air becoming hot and sticky again, much like it had that night on her balcony. And worse, the large frame holding her in place refused to budge. She hated that his closeness had this affect on her. It was just another indisputable proof that Angel was still a part of her.
“We’ve missed you too. Actually, we missed you for months.”
“I know you did.” Angel trailed his finger across her jaw line. “I shouldn’t have left.” He whispered, enjoying the slight quiver when his finger slid up her cheek and brushed the strands of hair from her face. “And I’m never leaving you again.”
“Stop it!” Cordelia shoved against his chest, the unexpected momentum causing him to almost stumble back before regaining his footing. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what, Cordelia?”
“This, you idiot.” Cordelia waved her arms between them. “You, with the hair touching and cooing like a lovebird.” Face red, nerves raw and tense, she clenched her fists as her body shook with a rage that threatened to consume her.
This… For them, the tiny pronoun spoke volumes of unspoken truths. As friends, he had abandoned her; but Angel knew that with each allusion to the lovers they would become, abandonment became betrayal.
Cordelia had betrayed him too, Angel reasoned. She promised her friendship and loyalty even as he warned her of the consequences, pledged her trust over and over again, even when he didn’t deserve it. But now, Cordelia not only wanted to abandon their future, she expected him to stand back and let it happen. And that was a mistake he wasn’t prepared to let either of them make.
“I know I hurt you.” Cordelia drawing back from his touch, Angel eased closer, all the while, gently maneuvering her against the car. “But you hurt me too.”
Cordelia didn’t know what to believe anymore. Except for bits and pieces nagged out of him, Angel had never willingly shared his feelings. Now, she couldn’t make him stop, and as ironic as it sounded, Cordelia almost wished things could to go back to how they used to be; her talking and Angel pretending to listen.
“I didn’t mean to-I didn’t…” And not finding the words, she simply shook her head.
“It’s okay. We just need to stop hurting each other.”
Cordelia looked into his eyes hoping to find some proof that Angel wasn’t just saying what she needed to hear. Whether he was or not, there was fear in his eyes, and Cordelia had never seen Angel afraid of anything.
“You’re right.” Her hand brushed across his chest, stilling when he tensed thinking she would push him away again. “But I need to go. The guys will worry.”
“You shouldn’t be out alone. I’ll drive you back to your…office.” Angel almost choked on the word, but it was something Cordelia needed, and as hard as it was, he intended to support her. That is, unless she took too long to realize leaving him was a mistake.
“Angel,” Cordelia stepped back, blowing a loud huff and rolling her eyes. “We just called a truce. Don’t ruin it by causing another argument.”
“I’m not the reason we argue. Now get in the car.”
“Give me the keys first. I don’t think you should be driving David’s car without permission.”
Too perfectly delivered for a slip of the tongue, her words stung with more force than any slap could. Cordelia driving another man’s car, wearing clothes that were probably purchased with his money. Angel folded his arms across his chest, letting the keys dangle from a crooked finger.
“You shouldn’t be driving that car, Cordelia.”
“Well that’s rather narrow minded. You have a car. You have a freakin’ convertible. And you’re allergic to sunlight!”
“Exactly,” Angel hissed. “I have a car, which means you have a car. We,” Angel jerked his finger back and forth between them, pointing from one to the other, “have a car.”
“Oh there’s just no talking to you.” Cordelia scoffed, rolling her eyes and waving him off with her hands. And deciding to let him argue with himself, she stepped around the arrogant vampire.
Angel’s arm looping around her waist, Cordelia’s feet left the ground as she let loose a scream that could wake the dead. But no one came rushing to her aid. Because there wasn’t a man or beast within hearing range willing to challenge her abductor.
Her trip ending almost as quickly as it began, she felt the hard jolt of her butt landing in the passenger seat. Angel following her halfway in, his nose brushing against hers as he strapped the seatbelt across her; Cordelia squeezed her eyes shut when a cool breathy, “See how easy it is, when we work as a team,” blew against her face.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” She screamed back, but composure regained too late, her answer came in the form of a slamming door. Anger undeterred, her tirade continued full force as Angel settled into the driver’s seat with Cordelia jerking around to meet him head-on. “You’re in big trouble buster. Things have changed, you can’t be bossing me around anytime you like.”
Having ridden this emotional roller coaster as long as he could stand for one night, Angel stretched across the narrow space of the sports car. Eyes glazed, his jaw was so tight with tension an audible crack sounded when he opened his mouth. “You’re right, Cordelia. Things have changed. And unless you want me to show you just how much…shut up.” Control little more than a brittle twig, he clenched his hands to keep from touching her. And his message obviously received, Angel quickly pulled away before he changed his mind.
Cordelia’s mouth opened and closed, the mousy squeak that managed to escape grating her last nerve. With the tattered remnants of common sense convincing her not to talk back, she jerked her head toward the passenger window, and accepted that Angel would have the last word — this time.
~~~ ~~~
“Wesley, I’m back.”
“Thank heavens. I was beginning to worry. What took you so-oomph!”
“Long?” Finishing Wesley’s question, Cordelia threw an annoyed nod at their unexpected guest.
It was bad enough that Angel didn’t think they could run the agency without him. With Wesley practically stumbling over his own feet, she wasn’t about to follow through on her earlier threat. Besides, what was Wesley going to do? Explain to the crazed vampire that accosting former coworkers was against company policy?
“Angel?” Clearing the unmanly squawk from his throat, Wesley half addressed half questioned. “This is…unexpected.”
“Wesley.”
Angel took an inconspicuous check of his surroundings, relieved when he didn’t detect Gunn’s presence. Whether estranged friends or sworn enemies, divide and conquer was an effective strategy. And as palpable as their discomfort was, putting Wesley at ease would be as simple as tapping into his elemental instincts—work.
“Cordelia tells me you guys have a case.”
She hadn’t mentioned the case; but Angel simply asking about their work, Cordelia felt the tug again. How easy it would be to slip back into the familiar routine and believe they could go back. Research, followed by discussion that Angel listened to as a perfunctory courtesy before going off to handle the threat on his own. For a long time their method of fighting evil worked, and made her feel safe. But as reality often does, it shattered her imperfect world, and with it, her imperfect safety net. With another notch of guilt, Cordelia belatedly remembered there were others to consider too. She couldn’t ask Wesley and Gunn to jump through hoops every time a confrontation with Angel had her reassessing the future.
“I’m gonna take off.”
Angel didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t irritated by her leaving, and Cordelia didn’t pretend to care. Snatching her purse from the drawer, she turned from his angry scowl and bid Wesley a quiet goodnight before closing the door behind her. Tomorrow, she would feel guilty over leaving her friend behind; tonight she needed to escape.
“Well,” Wesley wrung his hands uncomfortably. “This is…”
“Uncomfortable?”
“Quite.”
“So the case?”
“Ah yes, the case.”
Unsure of divulging confidential information with someone no longer a part of the team, Wesley was stalling. But unlike Cordelia, his resistance wasn’t fueled by personal motivation.
“I’m just curious Wes, don’t plan on getting involved with whatever you have going on.”
“Well then,” He relented, naively taking Angel at his word. “Christine Stevens, early twenties, discovered in an alley two weeks ago. Coroner determined cause of death to be a miscarriage. A rather violent one actually.”
“How so?” Angel questioned casually, as if feigning his interest out of courtesy.
“Her stomach exploded, and as a result she bled to death.”
“Why aren’t the police handling it?” Angel eased further into the perimeter, pulling a random book from the shelf and flipping through the pages.
“They did, as much as their limited resources allowed.”
“Limited resources? The police?” The book’s spine cradled in his hands, Angel snapped it shut and slid it back onto the shelf.
“The only identifiable DNA belongs to the mother.”
“Identifiable meaning human?”
“Precisely.” Wesley lifted his coveted research, displaying the overstuffed folder with a distinct air of pride. “We were contacted by the detective in charge of the case.”
Detective? Angel was unaware of any detective, an oversight he wouldn’t allow again. But as Cordelia took great satisfaction in pointing out, the building’s original sewer outlets were concreted over during reconstruction; which meant, around the clock surveillance would require the assistance of someone less restricted by daylight.
Angel caught the slight rise in Wesley’s heart rate, his lungs working a little harder. He was elated sharing the rewards of his investigative hunt, but more important, only minutes from revealing the trespasser that put Cordelia in danger.
“And this detective,” Angel quirked a brow wanting Wesley to fill in the blank, “came to you because?”
“Spade.” Wesley conveniently took the bait. “He needed someone knowledgeable with the preternatural aspects of the case.
“As in Sam Spade?” Angel asked disbelievingly.
“Yes, strange as it is. However, he seemed rather ill at ease discussing the demonic parameters of the investigation, so I felt it best not to pry with personal queries.”
“Go on.” Angel encouraged, taking advantage of Wesley’s concentration to give their new accommodations a closer scrutiny.
“We tracked down a social acquaintance of the victim; but when we arrived, she was gone. According to the apartment manager, Miss Fleming left without giving notice or a forwarding address.”
His head slightly cocked, he took in the surroundings. The architecture was modern, with clean lines; nothing alluded to the old space they had shared.
“And you suspect someone or something didn’t want you talking to this woman?”
“It stands to reason.”
Angel eased into Cordelia’s chair, pressing his palms flat against the desktop. The surface was uncharacteristically free of clutter with only a few neatly stacked files, and what appeared to be a recent photo of the three in their new office.
“And what does this Detective Spade,” Angel rolled his eyes at the ridiculous cliché, “have to do with Cordelia meeting an informant at Caritas. Alone?”
“We were able to ascertain that Miss Fleming spent a good bit time with a Mickey Kyle. But as he was rather leery of meeting with us, Cordelia thought he might be more cooperative if she met with him alone.”
Something was off, and though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, the missing piece was unsettling. Keeping his ears primed for any usable information, Angel gave the room an intensive scan, until his eyes fell on the back wall. An expensive looking landscape of the city, no doubt purchased secondhand, Wesley’s various degrees and diplomas, and their brand new registered detective license…but not the squiggly sketch of Van Gieson’s statue. Cordelia had drawn it to help him find the demon in her first vision, then later framed it as a tribute to their fallen friend. She had taken it from the hotel, leaving only a shadowed outline in its place. Could Cordelia be so desperate to escape their past that she would destroy the precious memento, Angel wandered, and worried that his search of self-discovery had caused more damage than he realized.
“Angel?” Wesley called out, not getting a response; then stiffened when dark angry eyes turned on him.
“And you accepted that as a reason for Cordelia to be at Caritas, alone with a demon?”
“Technically, he’s half-demon.” Wesley contradicted with a touch of a challenge in his tone. “If you would like to explain the dangers associated with her decision, you’re welcome to take a stab at it. But word to the wise, Cordelia stabs back.”
“Right. You said no, and Cordelia-”
“I believe her response was bite me bossy pants.”
~~~ ~~~
“Yea, like I’m gonna believe anything you say.” Draining the last of his beer, Merl slammed the empty mug onto the bar and headed for the exit. “I’m outta here man.”
“Out there,” Angel motioned with a nod toward the exit, “doesn’t have a protection spell.”
Merl looked at the door just a few feet away then back to the ornery vampire. If he wasn’t afraid of getting his head ripped off he’d suggest the blood sucker get help for his identity crisis. But as the pair of menacing gold rimmed eyes glared down on him, Merle figured there were worse gigs than playing Renfield to Angel’s Dracula.
“Two rules. One, I get paid.” Merle took off again, this time putting a little more haste in his step. Scaly fingers securely gripping the doorjamb, he turned back just long enough to deliver the final condition of his employment. “And two, you hang me upside down again, I tell that hot little number you’re payin’ me to spy on her.” Having no intention of waiting for the vampire’s retaliation, Merle dashed outside hitting the pavement at a full run.
~~~ ~~~
From his perch on the adjacent roof, Angel peered into the building’s only exposed window. The frantic hustle a few minutes earlier beginning to calm as the last of their wounds were accessed and bandaged.
Her small but loyal army tended to, Cordelia gave into her need for fresh air and stepped outside, providing a better view to inquisitive eyes. Hair mussed, clothes dirty, she had obviously joined the foray; the thought of her possible harm making Angel’s blood boil.
A blanket of bright, twinkling stars, the night sky was beautiful. Too bad she smelled like a week’s worth of unwashed hard labor. Nothing a good soak and scrub wouldn’t fix, Cordelia mused, and turning to find her ride, instead bounded into an Angel-shaped brick wall.
Her breath swooshed as strong hands gripped her arms jerking Cordelia against the hard, unbending frame. Two ebony orbs rimmed by flecks of gold flaring with rage; their encounter a few days ago paled in comparison. Overcome with fear, Cordelia stood frozen, the only movement inside her snug prison, uncontrollable trembling.
“I catch you fighting again, I’ll be paying Wes and Gunn a visit.”
With the span of a blink, she was free; the heavy clamp on her arms disappearing a split second before Angel. Face ashen, and knees a mush of flesh and bone, Cordelia slumped against the building, taking in deep calming breaths of cool air. Blood finally circulating through her veins and her head beginning to clear, she pushed up straight only to be startled again as Gunn rounded the corner.
“Girl you look like you just saw a-”
“Demon?” Cordelia finished. “Yea, they’re pretty hard to miss when there’s so many of them.”
“You okay, Barbie?”
“Just tired.”
“Come on. Let’s get you home so you can wash the stink off ya.”
“Oh like you smell all downy fresh.” Cordelia joked in an attempt to ease Gunn’s concern as well as her own apprehension. Following Gunn back inside to find Wesley, an eerie tingle bristled up her spine, and twisting her head around, she nervously glanced over her shoulder.
Gunn’s truck, a few of his crew heading out for a final patrol before calling it a night; everything she could see contradicted her fears. But Cordelia knew that beyond the illumination of a clear night sky and full moon, somewhere amidst the indistinguishable shadows, Angel was watching.
~~~ ~~~
Bert swung the sledgehammer, any additional leverage created by his extra limbs only managing to chip off a few fragments at best.
“This wall is over three inches thick.”
“Then put another tentacle into it. And keep your voice down. If we get caught…” Merl shook just thinking about the horrors the vampire could unleash when angry.
“I only got the four, and they’re arms not tentacles.”
“Oh, Octopus boy is sensitive. Well get over it, we have work to do.” Merle shot back his agitation as best he could with a hushed tone.
“Maybe I should desensitize your head, lizard breath.” Bert snarled displaying two jagged rows of short, razor-sharp choppers. Although he didn’t cotton to the slur on his appearance or lack of oral hygiene, Merl was no match for that suction cup of a mouth.
“Look man, we gotta work together. Drac wants that wall down.”
Bert was already taking another swing, his tenacity more likely rant-driven than a result of Merl’s encouragement. But whatever the compellent, this time a fairly large chunk of wall broke loose and crumbled to floor.
“Hit it again-Hit it again-Hit it again.” Merle chanted excitedly as Bert repeatedly rammed the heavy hammer, each swing harder than the one before it, until the surface collapsed under the relentless bombardment.
“I thought Dracula was a myth.” Bert questioned, staring up over one shoulder.
“He is…I think.”
“But you said-”
Merl dropped to his knees, joining his cohort in the heap of crumbled mortar. “Dracula is just the psycho vamp’s personality this week.”
“Like that Sybil chick?”
“Yea, only scarier. Like the stepmother.”
“Ooh, that old crow scared me.”
“Exactly.” Merl broke off one of the smaller chunks still clinging to the makeshift passage. “Dig Bert. Dig.”