Part 4
It was just before noon before Cordelia had ventured out of the small room. She found Wesley and Fred – minus the mysterious Gunn – studying in the small office off the old lobby. Fred’s eyes lit up like an anxious child when she spotted Cordelia and by the looks of her restlessness, Cordelia couldn’t help but feel as if Wesley had forbade her to disturb her until Cordelia herself decided to emerge from her room.
When Cordelia reached the office Wesley smiled a nervous, tight smile and apologetically mentioned Angel’s sudden absence and assured Cordelia that when Angel returned to the hotel he would speak to him again about her problem.
“I think he’s going to help me” Cordelia began quietly as she took the seat next to Fred in the office. “I mean, I think… I hope that’s where he is now.”
Wesley’s face changed from false encouragement to disbelief, “You spoke with him?” he asked quietly, cautiously.
“I met with him last night.” She didn’t know why she left it at that, didn’t blurt out that he had scared the crap out of her in her room and that his help had sported a large and unforgivable price tag. She supposed it was either fear or pride, or a little of both. “He left me with the impression that he would help.”
“You saw Angel?” Fred asked with awe and fear.
Cordelia nodded. She stared at Wesley to gauge his reaction, wanting to know if this was something she could believe in, something Angel would really do.
Wesley stared for a moment as if in deep thought and then stood. “I hope for you sake, for all our sakes this is true, Cordelia,” he looked down at her, hope flashing for one second in his eyes before vanishing. “Still, you shouldn’t have gone to see him without me, Cordelia. Risking yourself in that way was extremely unwise” he admonished lightly. But his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. As if Cordelia’s news had meant more than just the possibility of Angels assistance.
If he only knew.
Wesley then moved quickly to the bookcases, pulling off several old tomes, suddenly ignoring to two women who sat in the office.
“Come on” Fred finally said as she stood. “I’ve seen ‘im like this before. He’ll be in there for hours, days even” she smiled at Cordelia as if Wesley’s odd behavior was the most natural thing in the world.
Cordelia stood and followed Fred from the office, looking back as Wesley searched frantically through volume after volume, wondering briefly if something she said had sparked his hurried and enthusiastic study.
She glanced at the blackened double doors that blocked out the afternoon sun. Adrenaline shot through her body fast and hard. Her heart began to race and her skin felt feverishly warm. They didn’t know. He hadn’t told them. She could walk out of those doors, run away from this madhouse as fast as she could. Angel had foolishly trusted that her words would be strong enough bars to hold her captive here while he was gone. But she could leave. She didn’t have to keep her promise. What was a promise to a demon? A demon who had given her no other choice, forced her into her present predicament.
She looked away from the doors with disappointment as fight or flight turned to despair and depression. She followed Fred to the staircase. Yes, he was a demon. A demon who probably at that very moment held her father’s life in his hands. He was no fool, and he obviously knew that neither was she. He didn’t need bars or chains to keep her locked in the hotel. She wouldn’t run, wouldn’t risk her father’s life – the very thing she had bargained her freedom for.
Cordelia looked at the back of Fred’s head as Fred chirped on about showing her around the massive old hotel, about how great it was to have a visitor, even if she couldn’t stay. The woman hardly took a breath and didn’t really seem to care if Cordelia took part in the conversation or not. Even so, Cordelia couldn’t help but feel comforted a little in her presence. It had been a long time since she had had true camaraderie with a member of the female sex. The few friends she had left behind in Sunnydale had abandoned her side the moment they realized that she and her family were broke. It was nice to be around someone who didn’t care about material things.
A thought flashed. If she told Fred about what had happened, maybe she could enlist the other woman’s help. Gain an ally for a future escape, after her father’s safety was secured. She opened her mouth to speak, to interrupt the naïve woman as she chatted on, but then closed her lips. Would Fred even believe her? She thought of Angel as some hidden and mysterious guardian. And it wasn’t as if Angel had locked Cordelia away in some tower or chained her to the wall. She didn’t look like a prisoner. No matter how she felt.
When the two women reached Fred’s suite Cordelia could not help but gasp as she walked through the double doors. It was enormous. It consisted of three huge rooms – a sitting room, bedroom, and a master bath that made Cordelia’s mouth water. So much for the naïve girl who didn’t care about material possessions.
There were French doors in the sitting room and bedroom that all led to a balcony that stretched the entire length of the dwelling. Its décor matched Fred’s accent and screamed cottage-country with it’s aged wooden furniture and patchwork quilts. She’d obviously tried to recreate some of what Cordelia guessed was her home and had spared no expense in doing so.
“Are all the rooms like this?” Cordelia asked.
“Just the ones we live in” Fred answered as she took a seat on the sofa. “Like I said last night, Angel gives us what ever we need. All we have to do is ask.”
Cordelia was beginning to suspect that she knew the reason the humans here lived with Angel, and it had nothing to do with curses or vendettas or agoraphobia and everything to do with luxury suites and a Sugarvamp with a deep pocket. She only wondered what he got in return.
“Did you really see him?” Fred asked, seeming freer now that they were away from Wesley.
“Yes” Cordelia sat down in the oversized chair across from Fred.
“What was he like?” she sounded like a child waiting for a story.
“He was….” Cordelia took a deep breath. “He’s just like you described him. A wounded animal. Wretched, sad…. temperamental and terrifying.”
“Why did you go there, Cordelia?” Fred asked with genuine worry. “Weren’t you afraid of what he might do to you?
”
“I was petrified” she paused a moment before continuing. “But I didn’t go to him” she confessed.
Fred let Cordelia’s words sink in and rubbed her bare arms as if a chill had passed through the room. She had lived through the hell of Pylea for years, seen and experienced things that would probably shock the woman in front of her, but still she couldn’t help but glance around the room as if Angel could pop out of a shadow at any moment. “Wesley says he never comes down. Never” she said more for her own reassurance, knowing that Cordelia had spoken the truth.
“Well, evidently he does.”
***
For the rest of the afternoon, Fred and Cordelia steered clear of the subject of Angel. Cordelia pretended not to think of Angel or her father and played the part of contented guest as she followed Fred through the hotel. She showed her Wesley’s room on the third floor- not quite equal in size to Fred’s but stuffed full of English antiques, a sterling silver tea set with china, and a collection of books housed in an ornate, floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Then there was Gunn’s suite on the fourth level – contemporary, sparsely yet very nicely furnished, complete with a plasma television and a stereo and game system that seemed impressive. She saw the small kitchen off the lobby, the basement that housed a washer and dryer and makeshift gym-slash-arsenal, and even took a peek out at the disheveled and dying courtyard just to the side of the building..
There was a surprise around every corner in the old hotel – the luxurious suites tucked away down dark and crumbling hallways, the gothic look of the weapons that hung on the basement wall next to the modern necessity of a washer and dryer. It was as if the building defined its residence perfectly, a mixture of old and new, of civilization and of ruin.
It was nearly five when Fred decided it was time for a sandwich break in the kitchen. But Cordelia couldn’t stomach the idea of food, her worry for her father still swimming in her mind and gut. So, desperate for another form of distraction, she offered her assistance to the still engrossed Wesley.
Seemingly glad for the help, Wesley handed her a stack of old books. “Scan these quickly. It’s not completely necessary to read every line. When you come across any of these keywords” he pointed to a small list. “Mark the page with one of these” he placed a pad of post-its on top of the pile.
Looking around the room for a comfortable spot, she decided on the lobby sofa outside the office and plopped down her heavy load before stretching out on the cushion. She glanced at her list of words before she began. Demon psyche. Demon mind. Psychological trauma or traumatic occurrences and the demon brain. She placed her list by her side on the couch and began to flip through the first book, wondering why she felt slightly angry at how Wesley could, in good conscious, take all of the treasures she had seen in his room from Angel and not spend his valuable time researching the curse that kept his benefactor in the shadows.
***
Angel looked up at the hotel and then down to the large gash that had begun to heal. There was no way he could scale a wall or jump from rooftop to rooftop tonight. Although the wound to his side was now healing fast, he had lost a massive amount of blood in the fight and on the seat of Wesley’s car on the drive back from Sunnydale. Oh well, he could afford to buy the man another. He’d earned a new car ten times over for his efforts, fruitless as they were.
He looked at the side doors to the building. It was still just after ten. He wondered if she had stayed. If her fear for her father and her pride in her word had locked her into her deal as he had hoped. He tried to sense her in the air, but he was too weak. He needed blood and he needed it soon. But first he had to swipe Gunn’s cell phone from his room. Cordelia’s father would be calling soon, and he couldn’t risk her not receiving a personal message.
He looked back at the doors, knowing he couldn’t walk through them. He looked up at the building again, hoping that it wouldn’t take what energy he had left as he leapt up to the first ledge.
***
Cordelia was dreaming. She saw her father slumping at Angel’s feet, a look of pain and terror on his face. She tried to run to him but her feet felt heavy and she couldn’t seem to move. She opened her mouth to scream, to call out to him, but her voice failed her.
Angel turned then. His face was just as it had looked the night before – jagged fangs, ridges and piercing yellow eyes. But then there was a shimmer, as if a mist crossed his features and for a moment there was something else, something masculine and human, and then nothing.
She opened her eyes and tried to focus on the room. Raising up she pushed off the cover someone had laid over her and hazily scanned the lobby. There was no sign of Fred but she spotted Wesley standing in the small office with another man. They were absorbed in a hushed conversation until Wesley’s eyes caught hers.
“Cordelia” Wesley greeted gently as he walked from the office, followed by the handsome young man that could only be Charles Gunn. “You’ve been out for a while. We thought it best not to wake you” he was all politeness.
Cordelia tried to shake off the fog of sleep and stared at the two men.
“Cordelia Chase, Charles Gunn” he introduced the man who had slipped up beside him.
He was tall and handsome and his presence exuded a power and a knowledge that was obviously beyond his years. His deep brown eyes were sad, but his jaw was strong and firm. She understood, after seeing his impressive size, why Angel used him when he ventured out into the dark streets of L.A.. The only thing she couldn’t understand is why this man would walk beside a vampire as he …’hunted’ was what Fred had called it.
Then she remembered the plasma screen and knew why he would. He looked so strong and noble. Like someone who could never be bought. What a disappointment. “Hi” she gave a half-hearted wave.
Gunn just nodded his head once, seemingly indifferent if not a little bothered by her presence. He stared at her for one second, as if sizing up her character, and then turned and headed up the stairs.
“You’ll have to forgive him” Wesley explained as he took the seat beside her. “He’s been out for a few days following a lead on a nest of vampires.”
“So he didn’t go with Angel then.”
“Cordelia, I’m not even sure Angel went. We are talking about Sunnydale you know. Could it be possible that you misunderstood his intensions?”
She took a deep breath and rubbed her face with her hands before smoothing down her sleep-tousled hair. “I don’t know, Wesley. I’m not really sure now what happened last night.”
“Well” he stood and offered his hand. “Perhaps you should go to your room. I’ll come and see you as soon as he returns and we’ll get this all cleared up, alright?”
Wesley was trying to comfort and encourage her and it was working like a charm. Cordelia couldn’t believe this was the same man who had warned her away, had looked less than happy to see her the night before. Now it almost seemed as if he were glad she was there. She had barely recognized her once crush when he opened the door with rude words and a gruff face. It was good to see some of what she had remembered and liked about him return.
He walked her to the stairs and watched as she began to take the first few steps. She paused and turned around. “Wesley?”
“Yes.”
How could she ask him why he took money from a vampire without it sounding insulting? “Goodnight” she settled.
“Goodnight” he answered back and watched her as she walked up the staircase and disappeared down the hall, wondering if he had finally found the cure.
***
Cordelia opened the door and flipped on the light immediately. Once she knew that the room was empty she stretched and yawned, wondering after her long nap how she was ever going to sleep. Deciding on a quick shower before she put on her borrowed nightgown again, Cordelia sat down on the edge of the bed to remove her shoes. That’s when she saw it. A cell phone sitting on top of a small, smudged piece of paper.
She reached over and sat the phone aside and picked up the note.
He’ll call at midnight. You know what to say to him. And what not to say.
It wasn’t signed. As if it would have to be. She read the note again. Her father was alive. Angel had saved him. Tears spilled over her eyes and dotted the smudged note, making her focus on the dried blood smeared fingerprints. Was it her father’s blood?
She glanced at the time on the face of the phone. Eleven fifteen. Forty-five minutes and she would hear her father’s voice ‘again. She practiced in her mind what she would say to him. First, she had to convince him to get out of Sunnydale. He’d need money but she hoped that she could get what she needed to send him from Fred.
She looked at the time again and watched until it turned to Eleven sixteen.
***
Angel slumped against the wall of his dark room, a container of blood held loosely in his hand. Well, he had done it. Gone back to Sunnydale and kept his part of the deal. Soon her father would call her and there would be, what he imagined, a tearful reunion.
She’d be gone by morning.
Why had he done it? Why had it been so important to help her, to make her promise her life to him?
When he had first heard of her trouble from Wesley, he had vowed not to help her, even as he asked Wesley to check into her father’s situation further. And when Wesley approached him for a second time for his help, Angel vowed not to help her, even as he met secretly with Gunn and had him scout out the Kremlocks’ lair.
He had followed her situation from the moment she had made contact with Wes, vowing with each step he took that he would not help her, even though he knew he would.
He had never intended on scaring or humiliating her the way he had the night before. His aid to her was supposed to be quick, silent, and anonymous. But as he watched her march down the dark street, ready to face hell for someone she loved, something stirred in him that he had not felt in ages, and the thought of her groveling at the feet of the Kremlock had made him boil with rage.
Angel could hear his demon laughing at him from the dark recesses of his mind, calling him a fool for thinking that he had the balls to do what he really wanted, to make her keep her part of the deal.
Angel glanced down at the container and tried to lift it to his lips but the effort seemed too great. He sat it on the floor beside him and closed his eyes to rest, feeling for the first time in a long while that he truly could.
***
The phone startled her even though she watched as the numbers clicked to twelve o’clock.
“Daddy?” she answered.
“Thank God, Cordy. Are you alright?”
“Yes. Where are you? Are you safe? Are they….?”
“He killed them all.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and an unconscious, although begrudging, ‘thank you’ to the vampire.
“Cordelia, where are you?”
She looked down at the note, the vague but obvious threat it held. “I’m safe, Daddy. That’s all I can say for now. He hasn’t hurt me” she hoped that would remain true, “And there are other humans here.”
“He has others?”
“They live here with him. It’s….complicated. It’s kind of a safe house” she lied. “For the people he helps.
”
There was a long pause before he could regain his composure. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never meant for any of this to happen. I just…..” he broke off.
“It’s alright, Dad” she slipped into her familiar role of comforter, telling him everything was alright when it wasn’t, pushing the severity of what he had actually done out of her mind.
“You’ve got to get out of there, Cordelia. If you had seen him….the things he did to the Kremlocks…..you’ve got to get out of there. He gave me some money” he offered hopefully. “I could come and get you. We could go to New York. You’ve always wanted to live there.”
No she hadn’t. He wanted to find her mother. “I’ll be fine, Dad” she said softly. “He gave you money?” his comment finally registered.
“He said it was so I could leave town” he sounded disgusted. “But by the amount I’m sure that it was supposed to be some sort of pay-off.”
“Dad, where are you?”
“Close to you I hope. I’m in L.A.. I used to have a lot of business contacts here, remember? I recognized the area code when the vampire left me the number.”
“I can’t leave, Dad. Not yet anyway.”
“I love you, Cordy. And I’m not leaving this town until I find a way to get you out of this. Now tell me where you are” his voice took on the authoritative tone of a parent.
“I can’t. I’m sorry” she tried not to cry. “I agreed to it, Dad” a few tears slipped silently down her cheeks. “It was a price I was ready to pay.” Her heart swirled with a mixture of emotions – sadness for the forced separation from her father, anger at him and his greed and the desperate means it had pushed her to, and a disturbing recognition of just what Angel had done for her father that night.
She had expected him to keep his part of the bargain. Save her father. But he had given him money to escape Sunnydale. From the sound of it he had given him enough to live on for a while. He’d bought him a bus ticket and given him a way to communicate with his daughter, an assurance that she was alright. Even though she figured the phone would be turned off by the morning, she couldn’t help but feel some gratitude for her ‘jailer’. That he would consider at least a small amount of her and her father’s feelings in this terrible situation that he had helped to create.
There wasn’t much left to say between the two, and after a few more tears and several apologies and promises of rescue, her conversation with her father, the last she was likely to have for a while, ended.
She sat on the edge of the bed, trying to sort out the demon who had terrified her the night before and the one who had took great care in ensuring her father’s safety. She thought about her deal with the vampire, still unsure as to exactly what it had meant. She stood and began to slowly walk to the door. Whatever it had meant, he had come through with his half and now it was time to pay on hers.
***
Of course it was the last room, the darkest at the end of the decrepit hallway. She swallowed hard before entering. It had been difficult to push herself forward as she searched each abandoned room on the top floor, but she was ready. Whatever terrible fate he had in store for her, she was ready to face it. Surely, as horrible as it might be, it couldn’t compare to anything the Kremlock would have done to her.
She scanned the room. It was full of shadows, so much so that it was impossible to discern if he was there or not. She cleared her throat. “I want to thank you for the money you gave him” she called out quietly as she moved slowly through the room, trying desperately to focus her eyes on anything. “I know it wasn’t part of our deal….and Im s’ure I’m going to pay dearly for every penny of it” she mumbled the last part to herself. “But ….thanks, anyway.”
Her eyes were starting to work with her a bit and she noticed a slit of street light filtering through the seams of a heavy curtain. She crossed the room cautiously, her heart racing as she braced for sharp fangs to descend upon her in the darkness. Surprised that she made it all the way to the curtain, she started to wonder if he was even there, if she had really found the right room. Until she opened the heavy drapes that led to the baron balcony and turned to the room that now revealed itself to her in the soft glow of the L.A. night.
He sat slumped against the wall just beside the curtains. His head was bowed and he was so still. Like death. His left hand loosely touched a plastic container that sat on the floor beside him and it took her a moment to realize what the dark liquid contents must be. She shivered and felt a nauseating turn in her stomach.
Was he dead? ‘Okay, stupid question,’ she thought. She crept a step closer, noticing the deep tear in his jacket and the dark wet shadow that surrounded it. He was hurt, badly. She looked back at the curtains. In a few hours, the sun would rise. She could be free. But she looked back at the large gash to his side, remembering how he had gotten the deep wound, saving her father. Not only saving him, but murdering all of the creatures who would have hunted him down. He’d given him money and a way to contact his daughter. As sick as it seemed, she was grateful.
She crept closer, knowing that it was a mistake, knowing that she was screwing up the best chance she had of getting out of this mess. Reaching down she took the container from his hand and suppressed a gag as she slowly lifted the container to his lips. He didn’t move. She pressed the container harder between the seam of his mouth. He was still.
Pulling the container away, she started to consider the option of going for Wesley when she heard a low and rumbling growl vibrating the chest in front of her. Startled, she dropped the container to the floor and tried to get on her feet as fast as she could. A cold, hard hand locked hard around her wrist, preventing her from standing. She stared into the glowing, amber eyes that were inches from her face.
Wrenching her arm free, Cordelia scrambled to her feet. Angel bared his fangs and clumsily lunged for her, but his weakness was her advantage and she ran from the room. She raced to the stairs, taking them two at time. She never even noticed Wesley as she made a mad dash through the lobby and out the doors. She was only two steps from the front of the building when she bumped into him.
“You didn’t think it’d be that easy did you?” Angel asked, his weakness seeming suddenly nonexistent.
“I…I” she backed away slowly.
“You…you” he mocked, “were running out on our deal.”
She stopped backing away and stood a few feet from him in silence.
“Cordelia?” she heard Wesley calling her name from the doors of the hotel.
“Did you think I’d let you just leave without collecting my part of the bargain? You do remember our bargain don’t you? Your life, for your father’s.”
“I remember” she swallowed.
“Well, he’s safe. Will be for a long time I imagine, unless he gets it into his head to mess with demon loan sharks again. I kept my part of the deal” he closed the distance between them. “The question is, are you going to keep yours?”
She looked up at him, her body still trembling from the scare she had gotten upstairs.
“Hurry up and decide, Cordelia. I’ve had a long night and I’m starving.”
So that’s what it was to be. Of course. Did she think she would be anything but food to a vampire? Oh well, at least it was over. No more running and dealing and worrying. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, ready if not eager to pay her debt.
The street was quiet for a moment and the wind blew the thick chestnut strands of hair from her shoulder. Angel stared at her rapid pulse and closed his eyes, cursing himself for the starving comment. Of course that’s what she would think. He opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment. How could he let her go back into the world without anyone to protect her from her own fierce loyalty and blind bravery? He reached out and took her wrist gently but firmly, causing her to open her eyes and look at him with question.
“You’re not my dinner. I bargained for your life, Cordelia. Not your death” he stated and turned to the hotel, guiding her back through the doors and to the lobby he had not entered since the first night he came upon the dwelling.
Wesley looked on in shock as Angel led a stunned and quiet Cordelia back to the stairs. “Angel?” he questioned.
“Ms. Chase is going to be staying with us for a while, Wesley.”
“You’re going to assist her father?” Wesley followed beside them.
“Cordelia’s father is safely hiding himself away in a moderately priced motor lodge by the LAX.”
“You went to Sunnydale?”
Angel didn’t answer but simply led a still mute Cordelia up several flights of stairs as a confused Wesley trailed behind.
When they reached the next to the top floor, Angel led his ‘guest’ down the hallway to a set of double doors, pushing them open with one hand. “You’ll be more comfortable here. Make a list of the things you’ll need and Wesley will have what he can here by tomorrow.”
“I’m not staying here, not on this floor” she argued, her trance finally broken.
“Yes. You will” he challenged. “And you’ll make a list of what you need and give it to Wesley as soon as you’re finished.”
“I NEED my father.”
“That, I think, is the last thing you need.”
“Ugh” she huffed in frustration and crossed the threshold of the room.
“The list” Angel said as he handed her a small notepad and pencil that Wesley had fished from his jacket pocket.
“I have everything I need” she crossed her arms defiantly.
“In that little bag you brought? Come on. I’ve lived a long time and I’ve met a lot of women – most not half what you are” his words seemed so warm and sweet, before he finished. “High maintenance, every one of them.”
Cordelia let out a aggravated, feminine growl and snatched the pad and pencil from his hand before slamming the doors.
Angel turned and tried not to smile.
“That was uncalled for” Wesley admonished. “The girl is obviously distraught over her father’s near death.”
“Yes, and that’s all she’s been thinking about and dealing with for too long. I just couldn’t stand to see that look of hopelessness in her eyes any longer.”
“So you opt for anger instead.”
“Always works for me. Anger’s the best distraction of all. Besides, I’d rather see her face flushed with rage at me than streaked with tears and worry for that idiot of a man.”
***
High maintenance? Cordelia stared down at the small piece of paper she had torn from the pad. The nerve of him! How could he look at her, knowing all she’d given up, all she’d risked for the truly important things in life and insult her like that. Oh yeah, he was a demon. She scolded herself for continuously forgetting that little fact about her ‘host’.
She looked down at the paper and pushed it away. Reaching over to the blank pad, she pulled it in front of her and began to vigorously write. High maintenance? She’d show him a level of maintenance he’d never forget.
***
Wesley crept into the dimly lit room, surprised to find candlelight glowing in the always darkened, condemnable room. He crossed the floor to the balcony where Angel stood. The scene gave him a shiver, too eerily similar to the predawn hour he had caught the vampire in that same stance, ready to face the sun.
He cleared his throat even though he knew that Angel sensed him as soon as he stepped onto the floor. “I’ve got her….list” he held out the notepad as Angel turned around.
It was full, from cover to cover. Angel took the small pad and absently flipped through it, an uncharacteristic smile gracing his jagged mouth. “Give her all of it. Double the things you can.”
“But some of the things on that list are….”
“All of it, Wesley. And the room too. I want you and Gunn to make it as comfortable as possible. Don’t spare any expense. She’s giving me a test. A test I intend to pass.”
Wesley reached back, took the notepad and turned to leave the room. He tried to force away the smile that was trying to creep across his own face. Unwilling to get his hopes too high, but feeling as if the cure to Angel’s curse lay not in the old tomes down stairs, but in their feisty guest from Sunnydale.
