Part 8
Long lashes fluttered, drowsy eyelids reluctant to open against the small stream of light flowing from the adjacent room.
Where… How… “Wesley?” Cordelia whispered, scanning the familiar surroundings and refusing to believe heaven and Wesley would use the same decorator, decided she wasn’t dead.
“Did you and Gunn find me? Was…” It could have been a dream. It felt like a dream. Maybe they had found her passed out on the floor; but why bring her here? “What happened, why am I here?”
“Angel brought you here.” He paused letting the morsel of information sink in. “It was rather fortunate you invited him in before fainting.
“Yea, guess so.” She mumbled, turning her head away. Lucky to be alive maybe, but as fuzzy as the events were Cordelia was sure she hadn’t invited either vampire into her home.
“What did Angel say?” Simple questions were easier until she had a better understanding of just what was real. For all Cordelia knew at the moment, Darla had been nothing more than a hysterical hallucination.
“Hmmm…” Wesley procrastinated. Angel had been vague, even for Angel; volunteering only that Cordelia had fainted when Darla tried to break in. Then insisting he couldn’t risk losing her trail again; he took off, Gunn nipping at his heels and muttering his own brand of death threats.
“How do you feel? Perhaps you should rest-”
“Wesley…” Cordelia sat up, and immediately regretting the rushed move grabbed her head until the room slowed its psychedelic spin. “Where is Gunn-oh God is he all-”
“I’m sure he’s fine.” The quickly ushered attempt offered little comfort in the absence of actual facts. “Gunn is with Angel…” Wesley briefly paused weighing his limited options only to decide he had none. “…tracking Darla.”
And there it was. Proof she wasn’t insane, well not totally. Both Darla and Angel had been in her apartment…without an invitation. The restrictive access of a psycho ward was looking better and better.
“How long have they been gone?”
“About two hours.”
“And you haven’t heard from them?”
“Cordelia, try to get some rest. I’m brewing tea.”
Why was she the only one worried about Gunn helping one psycho vampire track another psycho vampire? If his calm demeanor was any indication, Wesley believed their friend was safe; which meant Cordelia wasn’t alone in her down-slope to blissful delirium.
A muffled “oh good,” grumbled into the pillows as she settled back into bed. “Tea will help.”
***
They had been walking for hours, the cold and heavy rainfall little aid in their pursuit. Gunn was breathing hard, his legs aching under the strain of keeping up with Angel’s rapid maneuvers around and sometimes over the buildings standing in their way.
Angel was like a bloodhound, Gunn thought. Once the vampire caught Darla’s scent there was no stopping him.
“You know man, if you’d gone after your ex with this rabid tenacity in the first place…well we wouldn’t be doing it now.” Gunn shook his rain-drenched jacket, happy they were entering the next building instead of scaling it. “And in the freezing rain.”
“Not telling you again.” His voice was gruff. Tired from lack of sleep and the stress of his relationship with Cordelia deteriorating before it had a chance to start, Angel wasn’t in the mood for Gunn’s streetwise observations. “Darla is not an ex. Vampires don’t…couple.”
“Whatever man. All I know is this bitch is going down for the last time.”
“I don’t have a problem with that, but if you let your emotions get the best of you, you will.” Angel eyed his young companion. Breaths labored and heart racing; his nerves were raw and he was itching for a fight. “Darla will snap your neck before you even feel her hands around your throat.”
“You just worry about sniffing her out and let me worry about my neck.” Gunn huffed, almost unaware of the involuntary roll of his head.
***
“What now,” Wesley hissed at the unexpected knock. Dropping the kettle back onto the stove, he headed to the door, certain Gunn would have called with news of Darla’s demise.
“Evening amigo,” Lorne offered to the surprised face greeting him. “Just thought I’d drop by and check on our little princess-and is that your famous tea I smell?” Lorne forged ahead; and ignoring Wesley’s dropped jaw, he marched into the kitchen taking a chair at the small table.
“Cordelia is sleeping, thankfully; and you knew she was here how?” Wesley asked, pouring two cups of his fresh brew.
“Why ask when you already know the answer?”
“Humor me.”
“The big guy called; riled about some big bad showing up unexpectedly.” His torso stretched up, leaning over the narrow width separating them. “But you and I know somebody was slack with their translating; don’t we?”
“Alright Lorne,” Wesley reluctantly admitted. “You were right. The scroll does refer to someone from Angel’s past with the power to derail his quest of shanshu.”
“What else? Come on don’t be shy.” Lorne coaxed, his grin stretching even wider at Wesley’s scowl.
Wesley settled into the chair, gulping down his tea and releasing a loud and weary sigh. The words of Anatole were clear on one point. The vampire with a soul would choose between dark and light; and that choice would bind his fate for eternity.
“The Serpentine is most likely Darla, but we have no way of knowing which choice Angel will make.”
“Angel will destroy Darla because he hates her, but she’s not why he’ll choose one path over the other.”
“Then we have to hope for the best and be prepared for the worst.”
“Denial is a nice little safe-house; but newsflash professor, the big bad wolf is about to blow your house down.”
The few pieces of cheap china clinked as he shoved from the table. Wesley abruptly stood, back rigid and neck painfully stiff; and he poured what he was certain would be a long session with the calming elixir.
Wesley had no doubt Lorne believed Angel and Cordelia were part of some cosmic plan to save Angel’s soul. His dilemma was accepting that saving Angel’s soul was worth risking Cordelia. Two nights ago he had glimpsed the old Angel, the one he had called friend and trusted unquestioningly. But the vampire he encountered at the hotel and the one that had brought Cordelia here was the same out of control, feral creature that had waged war on Wolfram and Hart, claiming anything or anyone else inconsequential.
“There is no reason for us to believe Cordelia is the Artemis. Her influence over Angel was of little consequence when Darla was resurrected.” Regardless of Lorne’s intentions, Wesley refused to involve Cordelia until he knew if they would be staking one or two vampires tonight.
“The curse imprisons the evil one, but the soul is without shackles. Only by choice can it be bound to this world. The vampire must choose or the darkness shall devour. There is but one truth.”
Lorne smiled at the oracle’s voice echoing in his head. Even when the truth is scary, with absolute certainty came comfort.
“Whether you like it or not, Cordelia is the only one that can stop Angel from returning to the dark.”
“I was under the impression Angel had returned to the simplicity of his evil past months ago.”
“You haven’t seen the big guy evil, and believe me, you don’t want to.” Lorne stood from the table swallowing down the last drop of tepid tea. “Don’t look so glum, watcher of the crusaders, you don’t have to tell sleeping beauty. Cordelia gets a choice in this one, and worrying whether her prince is behind door number one or door number two will only make it harder.”
***
The building smelled of waste and decay, but mostly it smelled of death. Gunn scrunched his nose, tucking his chin deeper into his wet jacket. The odor of his own clothes wet from rain and sweat was easier on the sinuses than the putrid stench of the gruesome hideaway.
“Can you tell if the stink we’re looking for is in here?”
“Darla doesn’t stink,” came the barely audible, but no less gruff reply.
Angel was hunting and the warehouse held too many scents to sift through. He couldn’t afford the distraction of annoying wisecracks. Catching the faint aroma of her perfume hadn’t been easy. In their hundred and fifty years together, Darla’s choice of fragrance had rarely changed. There was a time he would have smiled at that thought, but not now. Now that simple familiarity would lead him to his prey.
“Did daddy bring me a yummy treat?” The sultry lilt cooed from blood-red lips, belying its childish reference.
Her hair was long and dark, her shoulders petite and slender, and her skin as pale as the moon. She was beautiful, Gunn mused; if you were stupid enough to forget she was a wild animal with fangs and claws wrapped inside a pretty hide.
“Guess this one likes dark meat.”
“Gunn shut up-Drusilla, where’s Darla? I need to find Darla.”
“Daddy is angry. I like daddy when he’s angry.”
“Man this is getting us nowhere fast.” Gunn lunged only to be yanked back, his head bouncing with a painful jerk.
“Don’t be stupid, she’ll drain you in a heartbeat.” Angel commanded. His eyes cold and distant, Gunn questioned which vampire would be easier to take down at the moment.
Angel studied the young vampire. Slender fingers pinching the flair of her dress and pulling it away from her body, she swayed back and forth. Drusilla had performed the impish recital many times seeking his pleasure, and Angel struggled against the desire to close his eyes in shame. The girl had been innocent to the evils around her, and he had taken great pains in showing her all the glorious wickedness the world beheld. Only then did he risk the final transformation, making her a killer. Until a few months ago it had been his most unforgivable sin.
Her nails slid down his cheek. They were long and sharp, and painted blood red to match her lips. When had Drusilla moved and how had he missed her float across the floor? The answers didn’t matter, Angel needed information and he knew how to play his Dru.
“Dru baby, where’s mommy? Daddy needs to talk to mommy.” Angel purred, his head bent low so that his mouth nipped at her throat.
“Mmmm,” she thrummed to her maker. “Mommy said not to be naughty.”
“But it’s daddy that rewards you.”
Gunn felt sick, his stomach churning as he watched the disgusting scene unfold. “Fuck this.” He bellowed onto their private stage, lurching forward, weapon in hand.
Flesh cool and smooth crumpled, and Angel squinched his eyes tight as her fluid form sifted through his hands.
Angel’s eyes snapped open, the point of Gunn’s stake still hovering in the empty air in front of him. “What the hell did you do?” He snarled, a hand instinctively gripping Gunn’s neck. “Drusilla was our best chance of finding Darla.”
“Don’t try your crap on me. I ain’t buying it.” Gunn choked out from the tight restriction of his throat. “Looked like you forgot all about finding your other bitch.”
His fist hit against the wall next to Gunn’s flinching head. “You idiot, you’re all idiots. Playing superheroes when you don’t have a clue what you’re up against.” Moving closer, he shoved until Gunn was wedged between his body and the damp wall. “It’s a miracle you’re not all dead.”
“Then perhaps we should stop playing and get down to business.” His tone stringent, Wesley pressed the tip of his crossbow into Angel’s back, low enough to miss the heart but hopefully close enough to prevent any sudden moves. “Now I suggest you release my friend or join yours on the floor.”
Angel’s fingers slipped from their tight cinch, slowly lifting one by one until leaving only a burnished band in their place. He stepped back, freeing his captive and slowly turned to face a possible foe.
“This isn’t what it looks like Wes. I was angry…that’s all.”
“Yes well, when you get angry people seem to die.” Wesley challenged, his crossbow still aimed and ready. “Gunn what happened here?”
“You mean besides the nasty freak show I was forced to watch?” Gunn grumbled, rubbing his hands over the tender ring around his neck. “We ran into the crazy one. Guess Angel’s having another family reunion.”
Wesley peered at the clump of dust, feeling a slight pull on his emotions. Not sharing another’s pain didn’t lessen his understanding of their loss. “I am sorry Angel. I don’t presume it’s any easier for you to lose someone you care about. But this is about survival and making choices. I won’t risk sentiment influencing the wrong choice on my part.”
“You shouldn’t have left Cordelia alone,” was Angel’s simple reply. Forging ahead, he turned back, when instead of following Wesley knelt beside the lingering debris. “What are you doing?”
Not bothering to look up, Wesley muttered from amid his jumble of Latin phrases. “I didn’t, Lorne’s with her and I found an incantation that will thwart any attempts of raising a vampire from dust.”
“Good move English, but make it quick. One down and one to go.”
***
Her face pale, hazy eyes half disappeared under tired lids. The stress of the last few months was taking its toll; but ready or not, Lorne doubted life would wait patiently while Cordelia hid under the covers.
“Wake up sleepyhead. How’s the noggin?”
The soft twill invaded her sluggish brain. Not even close to what I need right now. The inner voice that had become Cordelia’s constant companion grumbled at her self-appointed counselor.
Willing her eyes to focus on the room swimming around her, she reached up to inspect her questioned noggin. “Ouch! No wonder my head feels like it challenged a freight train and lost. Did somebody hit me?”
“More of a something instead of a somebody, kiddo.” Bare brows raised, Lorne leaned forward meeting Cordelia’s inquisitive and confusing squint. “The floor hit you.”
“The floor? Well that’s just great. I can’t even defend myself against the floor.”
“That’s OK princess, your champion was there to rescue you from the mean ole hardwood.”
Cordelia’s eyes rolled at the bold inference. It felt like a long time since Angel had been a champion of anything, let alone hers. He had left LA without a word, and the fact there was nothing he could have done to make things right didn’t make running away right. Add to that, Angel had abandoned them to deal with Darla alone, it was impossible to believe he could ever be her champion again.
No, it was time to stop hiding, she determined with a renewed resolve. Her friends had stuck by her even when she shut them out and now they were willing to risk their lives to take Darla down.
“Where’s Wesley? I need to find out what’s going on with Darla.”
“He went to join up with his troops. I can see why you made the professor leader; not only high on the brain meter, but he probably has more brawn than meets the eye.”
Cordelia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was official, they were all crazy. What were they thinking banding together to form their own superhero club with a vampire as their leader? They had been alone, that’s what. Each abandoned by a life that had turned its back, they had found each other and through their misfortune had found their greatest fortune…friendship.
Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about the past or reflect on what might have been. Angel had fallen into Darla’s trap once, quickly dismissing their importance in his life. Regardless of his recent efforts to make things right with her, she couldn’t risk trusting him again, at least not where Darla was concerned.
“I’ve got to find them-and you’ve go to help me.” She ordered, struggling against her body’s determination to remain in bed.
“Whoa-Whoa-Whoa, princess. Let’s not go off half cocked. Let’s leave that to the professional. You know, the king of act now regret later.” Lorne warned in the most playful tune he could muster. The last thing Angel needed right now was Cordelia caught in the line of fire, and worst, giving Darla the perfect ammunition against him.
She’d had enough and was past tired of holding all the crap inside. Tired of pretending everything was normal when her life was beyond falling apart, Cordelia decided it was time to let the world in on her and Angel’s dirty little secret.
“Reality check Lorne,” Cordelia yelled as she scrambled from bed and began a frantic search for her shoes. “I’m not a princess. I’m a has-been cheerleader slash may queen voted most popular three years running-who got stuck with visions I can barely handle. And you…you’re a nightclub entertainer who does a little spiritual guiding on the side.”
Shoes now laced and snuggly tied, her only immediate dilemma was a missing sock. “Where the hell is my sock-and in case it slipped by you; a marriage counselor you’re not.” Snatching the hiding sock from beneath Wesley’s bed, she scrubbed it through a clinched fist ridding it of attacking dust bunnies. “But that’s good because I’m not married. I’m a victim; at least I was, but not anymore.”
“Well its about time!” Lorne shrilled to the high heavens. “If you’d wallowed in pity much longer I was gonna slit my wrists.”
“What?” Cordelia blared as she shoved her foot into the dust-nappy sock. “What was all that feel the pain princess, the pain is real…embrace it? I ought to embrace your ass with my foot.”
“That’s my girl.” Lorne gulped at the fiery heat flashed in his direction. “The one that scares the heebie-jeebies out of me.”
“So the bitch is back and all is right with the world-now either help me or get out of my way.”
“But I have been helping you prin…” Gulp “Uh sweetie, but your fight is not out there.”
“Not out there! Are you crazy? I can’t hide out while my friends risk their lives.”
Lorne was in over his head and sinking fast. Maybe Cordelia was right; he was only a glorified barkeep that happen to have a knack for cryptic readings. How could he help Cordelia understand what he barely understood himself? How could he make her believe The Powers hadn’t abandoned them when he had his own doubts?
“Sometimes Cordelia blind faith is all we have; and sometimes that’s enough to get us through the rough patch.” It was worth a shot, and Lorne was rather proud of his delivery. “I know you’re worried about your friends…all of them. So what do you say we have a little faith in our three champions?”
“Enough with the half-ass messages Lorne. If you have something to say then say it. I don’t have time for truth or dare.”
He was losing her, and if that was the case he had nothing else to lose. Should have known, Lorne inwardly groused, Cordelia Chase would never be satisfied with anything less than the whole enchilada. “You’re place isn’t out there sweetie. Let Angel do his job; it’s hard enough without you distracting him.”
“Distrac-”
Lorne cut her off with a frantic wave of his hands. “Geesh, glad I only have to satisfy you with information.” Then pinching his lapels between his fingers, he straightened his jacket with an exasperated jerk. “Now, as I was saying; the first battle is almost over, but the second is just beginning…and that’s where you come in.”
“Fine!” Cordelia threw her jacket on the chair then settle into it herself. Legs crossed and finger darting threateningly in his direction, she issued her own brand of ultimatum. “You have thirty seconds to tell me everything you know before I rip your pea-green head off.”
GULP!
***
Concentrating on the unique scent of his target, the menagerie of odors filling the old warehouse had been sufficiently block out. Angel was close; which meant Darla had caught his scent as well.
He had instructed his reluctant hunting partners to flank left. Their objective; a sneak attack from behind while he approached head on. The fact that this maneuver would move them further away instead of closer to their goal made it the perfect plan.
It was fitting that they would finish this the way it had started…alone. Darla had made him what he was. Not a killer or even a monster. That accomplishment, Angel had no doubt Liam would have achieved on his own.
Darla’s intervention in his life had simply made certain the bad in him would never die; and for that Angel would destroy her.
“Hello Lover. Miss me? I missed you.”
The sultry drawl floated across the dark surface, its wicked hold shivering up his spine. His breath hitched, and Angel marveled at the absurdity as he choked on the stale air trapped in the back of his throat. Death faces death and he had an uncontrollable compulsion to breathe.
“I’ve been missing you for months. You’ve been a bad girl Darla, always a step ahead of me.”
“Couldn’t teach you all of my secrets; now could I.”
“Dru is dead.” He deadpanned.
His eyes cold and dark, Angel watched for even the smallest reaction. But like him, Darla had been incapable of love; a shortcoming rarely corrected by death, natural or otherwise.
“You don’t seemed moved by our loss. Tsk, tsk; not a single tear for our Dru. You are a cold bitch.”
A heavy boot slid forward, the other sliding in its trail. A skilled predator, not even dead-still air fluttered as black leather floated over the concrete surface fading into pitch dark cover.
“The boy will pay for taking our Dru.”
She shifted her stance, and with a fluid motion turned to face him again. Jaw clinched and brow furrowed, eyes black as night glistened, betraying her secret.
“You expected more than revenge? My dear boy has been pretending to be human for too long. I can still fix that nasty little problem; if you’ll stop being stubborn.”
Her voice willful, it carried the slightest tremor, lost to one not waiting for it. Darla was afraid. It was an emotion Angel wasn’t accustomed to witnessing. Only slight, but it was there; and that was enough. If she doubted her ability to stop him or his need to deliver her final death then he had a chance.
“I don’t pretend to be something I’ll never be. I just decided to crawl out of the sewer and leave you behind.”
“Oh lover, you are confused. You were in the sewer when I found you. I showed you the way out; remember?”
“I remember. I’ll always remember the evil we perfected…long after you’re gone.”
His arm swung out, the back of a clinched fist striking its blow across her cheek. Back arched, her head lobbed in the direction of his swing, the sound of bone crushing under the force of curled knuckles filling the eerie silence.
Caught unprepared for the first attack, she was helpless against the shove of his boot into her stomach. Scrambling for only a second before her feet lost their footing, her body flung into the air and slapped against the wall before slumping onto the floor with a heavy thump.
Darla sucked in a breath, gagging on the stench pulled into her lungs. She needed to distract her opponent, buy time to regroup. A hand cupped over her mangled cheek, she gasped out her most vengeful threat. “She’ll never want you. To her you’ll always be a monster.”
“Maybe so, but I’ll have her just the same.” Angel hovered over her crumpled form, his breath hot and wet spewing into the cool air. “The only difference…you won’t be around to mess it up again.”
She had found her opening. Thoughts of the girl needing him but not wanting him, hating that she needed him made Angel weak. And that would be his undoing.
He hunched lower, his hand reaching out to circle her throat; and Darla waited until she felt the sweep of his fingers brush against her skin.
“My dear boy doesn’t need me for that. You’ve had two hundred and fifty years of practice…watching what you can never have slip through your fingertips.”
Kicking out, her foot landed against the side of his leg just above the knee, the narrow spike of her heel slicing through flesh and cartilage until it was embedded behind his kneecap.
Angel threw his head back, his grunt echoing into the cavernous space as his legs buckled and he landed in a heap on top of her.
Ripping her heel from the jagged wound, Darla drew her leg back and prepared for another strike; this one aimed at the heart she was determined would never beat.
A large hand closed around her ankle, and with a twist the slender bone snapped; her cry keening into the night.
Feminine features morphed, the strength of her true nature forcing back the pain rifling through her body. Nails, elongated and razor sharp, ripped up his throat then plunged down, tearing across his face.
Desperate to escape his heavy weight, Darla wriggled frantically shoving against the massive chest pinning her down.
His hands reached out to capture her fumbling fists, instead knocking them aside and targeting her throat again. Angel squeezed, feeling her larynx crush under a hundred years of anger and regret.
“Can’t strangle me,” choked from her constricted passage, “but then you always did forget not to breathe.”
Anger ebbed as a wave of remorse washed in. Angel hated her, hated what he believed she had made him do. He needed her to feel all the pain he had forced on Cordelia, but none of it was Darla’s fault. She had never taken his right to choose, that was never within her power. She had simply shown him an easier way, and he had taken it, reveling in its freedom until he had to pay the price.
Angel rolled back onto his knees and shifting as much weight as his uninjured leg could hold, brought the two of them up. His hands still wrapped around her throat, Darla’s limp body dangled above the floor like a worn out rag doll.
There was no measure of pain one could inflict on the other to make up for their sins. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save us.” He whispered.
His grip wrapped tight, Darla struggled helplessly against his intentions. Bone and flesh fell victim to his strength, tearing away as her neck twisted inside the trap of large and determined hands. Demon form fading to soft, feminine features, Angel closed his eyes as her agonizing screams blew against his face. And with a final snap it was over. Flesh shattered into dust, sifting through his fingers still clinched around empty air.
Already knelt beside Darla’s remains, the incantation gripped inside nervous fingers; Wesley’s voice drifted up from the floor. “Angel?”
“It’s done.” He whispered, his sight still fixed on the black void in front of him.
“I can see that.” Wesley waved a dismissing hand toward Gunn, shushing any remark before it could fall. “Are you alright?”
“No.”
Angel slowly turned from the scene finding Gunn blocking his departure, stake in hand and ready.
“We have a right to know. Why didn’t you take her out the first time?”
Ignoring the question he didn’t know how to answer, Angel stepped to the side prepared to move around the young man. “Get out of my way.”
“He’s right you know.” Incantation complete, Wesley rose from the floor wiping the clinging dust from his pants. “We deserve to know why you were so determined to destroy Darla now…without any witnesses.
His eyes were dark and cold, as empty as his soul. Angel had his truth, and it was unbearable. Darla was gone, yet the pain and regret remained. Lost for an answer, he moved forward, intent on hiding behind the dark cover of night.
Darla wasn’t to blame, and neither was his father. Angel and Liam had always made bad choices because they were easier. The penance was always the same; he would live with his choices for eternity. How could he help them when he couldn’t help himself? What could he say to make them understand he had finally turned from the easier path, taking the harder one instead?
“I raped Cordelia.”