Part 2
The Council had kept a close watch on the wayward vampire. Consistent reports of relative calm suddenly contradicted by crimes too eerily familiar to be dismissed, Wesley had been dispatched to assess the situation. Punishment he supposed, for failing his assignment in Sunnydale.
He cautiously maneuvered the hallway, eyes darting from side to side and concentration narrowed on his destination. One arm lay across his chest half disappearing beneath his coat, hidden fingers tensely gripping the small crossbow inside.
Glancing at the sign, Wesley briefly contemplated the oddity of a vampire operating a business. Though The Council had been aware of the half-demon Frances Doyle and his premonitions, it didn’t explain the purpose of establishing a detective agency. With an unsteady hand he turned the doorknob, anticipating a disgruntled greeting and woefully unprepared for worse.
The outer area was suspiciously empty, with only a single overhead light shining down on the ominous space. Surveying the dimly lit room, his sight landed on an inner office draped in total darkness. Most likely Angel’s, he surmised, mentally noting the closed door was likely locked.
Not that he expected Angel to be out and about in the middle of the afternoon, but his most recent report had confirmed Cordelia still worked with the vampire. Long, narrow fingers absently stroked his chin as the name rolled through his thoughts. The two barely noticed one another in Sunnydale. What catastrophe led Cordelia Chase to joining up with Angel? It was only one of the many questions needing answers before Wesley could determine how best to proceed.
***
Cordelia flinched when the unexpected knock intruded on her pretense of reading. Angel being her first assumption, proving she’d spent the last hour pondering her friend’s erratic behavior instead of enjoying Contessa Annabella’s latest tryst.
Though her options were limited, she did have a few. There was no point in pretending she wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out vampires have a knack for sniffing out the truth. Saving precious time, Cordelia jumped to her best option, determination fueled with obstinance. Even Angel would have to agree; when a secretary is maltreated by her boss, she gets the next day off with pay.
“Who is it-and I’m recuperating so go away.”
Cringing as she waited for the resounding no that was certain to blow through her door, Cordelia was already plotting a nastier comeback. Her stinging retort falling silent as a familiar but surprising voice filtered through instead.
“It’s Wesley, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.”
“Wesley!” Cordelia flung the door open. Delight and relief rushing into overstressed nerve endings, she threw her arms around him.
“Oh my, wasn’t expecting…but pleasant none the less.”
“Wesley, what are you doing here? Don’t just stand there, come in.” Sweeping her arm past her side, Cordelia ushered her guest inside.
Though as beautiful as he remembered, Cordelia looked different. Her face freshly scrubbed, and dressed in faded jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked younger but at the same time, older and wiser.
“Thank you. I’m in LA on business and thought I’d look you up.”
“You knew I was here?”
“Ah yes.” Wesley faltered, chastising his easily addled concentration. Only a minute in the young woman’s company and already he’d fumbled. “You mentioned it just before our rousing confrontation with the mayor.”
“Oh it doesn’t matter.” She practically squealed throwing her hands into the air before guiding Wesley to the sofa. “Tell me everything. Where have you been? What have you been doing? Want something to drink; tea maybe?”
“Cordelia.”
“What?”
“Breathe.”
***
“Emily Stiles, age twenty-two according to her driver’s license.” The officer informed, handing the wallet to Detective Lockley.
“Thanks Mitch, we’ll take it from here. Just make sure the perimeter is secure. This is the freshest crime scene we’ve had so far and I don’t want any evidence walking off on the bottom of someone’s shoe.”
“Sure thing. The coroner’s office is waiting to bag her so let us know when you’re finished here.”
A small flashlight perched in her hand, Kate walked the outer bounds methodically working her way into the killer’s center stage. Objective pinpointed and personal feelings safely guarded behind the protection of her LA detective shield, she was at home in the gruesome arena.
“You seem to have a flair for spying idiosyncrasies of the dead. So feel free to speak up whenever you’re ready.”
The length of the alley was marked off with bright yellow tape. A lone streetlight shining down making the space almost iridescent, Angel squinted against the stark contrast of light and dark. Turning away, he pushed back the inviting allure of life and death.
“I’m not spying anything you’d be interested in.”
***
“I don’t care how many notes you have on all the horrible things Angel did. He’s good now, and he’s my friend.”
Eyes lingering over the collection of files scattered across her coffee table, Cordelia contemplated the foolishness of her denial. To deny Angel scared her yesterday would be a lie. Lying to Wesley was one thing, but lying to herself was just stupid.
“Cordelia, I hope I’m wrong.” Wesley’s voice was soft, and it reminded her of the way someone spoke at a funeral. As though they were worried they might disturb the dead. “But I’m afraid the evidence is rather condemning. In the late 1700’s it was Angelus’ custom to sign his victims by carving a Christian cross into their left cheek. He wanted people to know it was his work.”
She and Angel had been taking care of each other for a while now and the one truth Cordelia couldn’t deny was that Angel always kept her safe. Something was going on with her vampire, which meant it was her turn to protect him. Cordelia picked up the folder containing pictures that matched Kate’s and flipping it closed, reached the circumstantial evidence to Wesley.
“You have to leave now.”
“But Cordelia, the evidence-”
“You can’t come in here and accuse Angel like this. You don’t know him…not like I do.”
***
Angel’s trek through the sewer was slow and aimless, every detail of the crime scene replaying inside his head. He had recognized the young woman, remembered her fear and the feel of life draining from her body. The only detail escaping his memory was actually killing her. That one missing piece could offer fleeting hope, or threaten the one person he never wanted to hurt. If he was stalking innocents again, his soul was losing control over the demon.
Coming up the back entrance from the sewer, it had taken only seconds longer for the male scent to reach him. Angel sprinted up the stairs, his flight silent as heavy boots seemed to float over the steps. On the upper level, the intruder’s scent still hung thick in the air.
Pulling the surrounding air deep into his lungs, he blocked out the lingering sweet redolence. Relieved to find her fragrance too faint for Cordelia to have been in the office, Angel concentrated on the masculine aroma. It was tinged with fear and familiar, but not a scent he could readily recall. The fact that its origin was human offering little comfort.
***
To say he was disappointed in his visit with Cordelia was an understatement. In hind sight, Wesley realized he had been too eager. Wanting to warn her of the likely dangers she faced with Angel, he had only made her more determined to believe the vampire’s innocence. It was obvious Angel and Cordelia had grown close; closer than any surveillance reports could describe.
Fortunately, his meeting with Detective Lockley had been more fruitful. Immersed in her case, she had readily accepted his guise as British police. Convincing her of his interest in helping with the case had been only slightly more difficult.
Again, his hand gripped the doorknob to Angel Investigations. Setting aside any ill-conceived hopes, Wesley prepared for the probability that, like Cordelia, Angel would not be receptive to his assistance. Twisting the tarnished handle, he stepped inside.
Freezing mid-pace, Angel’s head jerked toward the outer office. Thoughts of Cordelia and making amends for his latest blunder shifted to the masculine scent invading his domain a second time. His large frame barreled through the doorway, senses immediately relaxing as the identity of his intruder was revealed.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Angel leaned against the wall taking in the pompous watcher. “Wesley.”
“I imagine you didn’t expect to see me again.”
Angel marveled at how his past seemed to constantly intrude on his new life. Maybe he should have traveled further than LA, but with a past as old as his it was bound to catch up with him no matter how far he ran. And now that Cordelia was firmly imbedded in any future plans, running simply wasn’t an option.
“Honestly Wesley, I haven’t given it much thought.”
Clutching his briefcase against his chest, Wesley stepped further inside. His attention ever mindful of sudden moves as he approached the nearest chair. “May I?”
A quiet nod answered his request, fear only partially appeased by his host’s lack of movement. Deciding it was the only reassurance he was likely to receive, Wesley took it, settling into the chair and plopping his briefcase onto the desk.
“I’m here on council business.” Straight to the issue at hand, no point in procrastinating. It was only one of his father’s multitude of decrees.
“There’s no slayer here, and I don’t do business with The Council.”
Perhaps Angel’s father had a similar aphorism, Wesley promptly hypothesized. He tossed a folder onto the desk, the momentum ensuring its contents would slide across the surface. “Perhaps theses are reason enough to bend that rule.”
If Angel was caught off guard, his glacial countenance failed to affirm it. Stoic features remained indifferent at best, with only a hint of callous shadowing his face.
“So the council has you working police cases. You must have been a bad boy Wes; or do just prefer leftovers?”
Wesley cleared his throat, the audible croak displaying more distress than he’d intended. He wouldn’t allow past failures to undermine his mission. Tugging on his collar, he offered his final invitation to disclose or deny any knowledge of the murders. Confirming Angel’s guilt was imperative before moving to the second phase of his assignment. Before facing Cordelia with blood on his hands, he had to be certain an innocent man wasn’t executed. Even if the man in question was a vampire.
“It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together. Then you’ll have no choice but disclose your past.”
The Watcher had managed to gain Angel’s attention, albeit to a small degree. He would prefer to keep Kate in the dark and avoid the usual reaction to his secret life, but her discovery would be little more than inconvenient.
“You’re grasping at straws. Whether Kate Lockley knows I’m a vampire or not doesn’t matter to me.”
“I wasn’t referring to Detective Lockley. Although, her knowledge of your circumstances would interfere with other private involvements you may have.”
If Wesley was unsure whether he’d hit a nerve, the menacing form hovering over him alleviated his uncertainty. Nervous perspiration doting his forehead, he gulped as the glacial façade melted away, the threat of death taking its place.
Angel could hear the man’s heart thump behind his chest. His nostrils flaring, his demon reveled in the scent of fear and sweat.
“I’m only going to say this once. Cordelia is none of your business. Go anywhere near her and I’ll kill you.”
Wesley eased from the chair, his back painfully rigid. Collecting the few scattered pieces, he concentrated on stilling his shaky hands.
“For what it’s worth Angel, I didn’t come to LA with hopes of proving your guilt. On the contrary, I’m not convinced you’re responsible for these murders.”
“Get out.”
Any window of opportunity to invite Angel’s trust was clearly shut tight, and forcing his assistance would only distance him further from his goal. Walking toward the exit, his step faltered until turning at the last second.
“If Cordelia is as important to you as it appears let me help you before it’s too late.” The low growl emanated throughout the small space. It’s underlying threat sufficient proof any further attempts were useless. “I’ll be in touch.”
The demon wanted vengeance, but the soul that had lately waned into the background of his desires warned against another mistake. Cordelia was his priority, and Angel couldn’t afford the distraction of a puffed up watcher. He had to get to her, prove she was safe before Wesley could convince her she wasn’t.
***
Sinking into the steamy warmth layered with bubbles, Cordelia cursed as the heavy-fisted whack invaded her retreat. She wasn’t ready to face this conversation. Her peek into Angel’s past and his erratic behavior only two reasons confrontations would be easier in the light of day.
Putting aside her quest for a normal life wasn’t just an easy choice; it was the only choice. Angel needed her and she wouldn’t abandon him, but she had to remember her plans were temporarily on hold, not cancelled. Fame and wealth were her goal, not fighting evil. She would wear that aspiration like an insignia, reminding her who she was. Cordelia Chase would not fall in love with a vampire.
Although Angel’s visit was anticipated, it wasn’t even close to what she needed right now. Half her body immersed in the soothing soak, Cordelia wondered if her stubborn vampire might give up and go away.
Another hard whack threatened to splinter wood and Cordelia reluctantly accepted the inevitable. When Angel was ready to talk, he had a knack for getting people to listen. Grabbing her thickest robe, she maneuvered through the dimly lit apartment, feigned surprise to his visit already taking form.
Cordelia could feel Angel on the other side, almost like sensing an invisible presence. His breaths were deep and labored, blowing against her door. A vampire needing to breathe was never a good sign.
“Cordelia, if you don’t open the door I’ll break the lock.”
Sliding the latch, she opened the door just enough to peek around. “What do you want Angel? It’s a little late for a visit.”
Her skin was slick from her bath, and the aroma of apple blossoms filled his senses. Angel closed his eyes, letting the sweet, tangy fragrance waft over his tongue. “It’s not that late.”
Angel had her there. Most of her new friends were out enjoying life at nine o’clock, not hiding under a tubful of bubbles.
“No, it’s not that late.” Cordelia tugged on the lapels of her robe. “But I’m not really dressed for company.”
The exposed flesh under her chin disappeared behind fluffy chenille, skin promising to be soft and willing under his rough hands and taste like forbidden fruit. “Let me in Cordelia.”
A gentle push and the door gave a little more, allowing a harder fragrance to mingle with the sweet blend. This one capable of riling passion into rage. The Watcher had been warned, but like most foolish men, failed to appreciate the repercussions of disobedience.
“You’re not alone.”
It wasn’t really a question, but his clinched jaw and eyes dark as black ice, Angel expected an answer.
“No.”
His hands fisted, pale skin fading whiter under the tight clinch. Cordelia’s breath hitched, her muscles tensing under hands that hadn’t even touched her.
“You’re here.”
Angel had gotten used to Cordelia’s straightforward approach. Games weren’t her style and her sudden evasion only stoked the fire that threatened to burn them both.
The room whished by, her back pressed against the door assuring her Angel intended it to stay closed.
“Who was here?”
Denial ready to spit from her lips, she stopped when a raised brow warned against lying. “You’re the expert sniffer, you figure it out.”
“Don’t play me little girl. You won’t like the rules.”
“Ru… Lil… I’m not playing anything Angel. You’re the one playing guess who’s a psycho.”
“So innocent; aren’t you? Stop teasing me Cordelia.”
His voice brook no room for argument. It was obvious this conversation would go as Angel intended or else their disrupted lesson on consequences would resume. Acting coy wouldn’t help her, which left Cordelia with giving into fear.
“I’m not.” Panic was mounting with every press of Angel’s body, flutters of unswayable arousal only adding to her discomfort.
“What did he tell you?”
Angel already knew about Wesley and Cordelia wondered just who was playing who. She was right; something was happening to Angel, but now wasn’t the time to bring up Wesley’s suspicions. For now, Angel needed to believe the visit wasn’t important, because in his current mood, he’d likely break the man’s neck.
“God, paranoid much? Wesley’s in LA on business and he stopped by for a visit. That’s all.” Cordelia pushed against the hard chest holding her prisoner, blowing a frustrated huff when it refused to budge.
“So he just stopped by to reminisce about old times?”
“Angel, I had a life before coming to LA. One that didn’t include you. Now get off!”
Cringing, Cordelia waited for the backlash certain to follow her stinging riposte. None seemingly forthcoming, she began to relax, unaware as a hand abandoned its hold on her waist.
Getting off had suddenly become a relative term for Angel. Somewhere along the way intentions of assuring Cordelia she was safe had shifted to demonstrating his role in her life.
Meaty fingers gripped her robe, jerking her closer to the unhappy glower hovering over her. “Don’t dismiss me like I’m one those pups nipping at your heels.”
Forced onto her toes, Cordelia tilted her face away from Angel’s piercing glare. She could feel his breath blow hot across her cheek, it’s heat skimming down her throat. Careful not to sound too insistent, Cordelia focused on extracting her body from the strong arms pinning her in place.
“Angel, don’t do this. You’re upset, and you need to take a step back and calm down.”
He could feel the frantic thrum of her heart, her breasts heaving against his chest as air pushed in and out. Sliding his hands around her back, he pressed her further into his body as his lips descended to brush against throat. The swipe of his tongue across tender flesh eliciting a moan, its vibration strummed into his mouth.
Her arousal, chaste and sweet, drifted into the air mixing a spicy blend with anger and fear. Opening his mouth, Angel took in the air between them, the heady aroma intoxicating his senses.
“I’m not upset Cordelia. I’m tired of jerking off in the shower so you’ll be safe.”
Ridden on the crest of fear, a woman’s first trip to ecstasy could only end in regret. Making love with Angel promised carnal pleasures almost beyond Cordelia’s comprehension, but if the demon was taking control this wasn’t about love, it was about possession. As long as she was unsure of his heart’s true desires, hers was vulnerable to heartbreak.
“Did you kill those women?”
“No.”
There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his whispered denial, but eyes dark with passion could hide even the most wicked sin.
“If you’re lying, I won’t know. Please don’t let me believe a lie.”
“It’s not a lie. It can’t be.”
“Why?”
Peering into his eyes, Cordelia begged him to calm her fears, give her unblemished proof his past would not rule their future.
Angel’s heart clinched, his restless soul wrapping around and suffocating it. How could he attest certainty when riddled in doubt?
Wrapping Cordelia in his arms as tightly as he could without hurting her, his face nestled inside the curve of her neck, and he whispered his only unassailable truth.
“Because if I’m evil I can’t have you.”
Cordelia melted into his body. They may have their share of doubts, but balanced with hope and faith, they could define their own fate. Safely nestled inside Angel’s arms she could face any fear, except losing him. Angel was right. He couldn’t be evil, because that meant she couldn’t have him.
“You didn’t hurt those women. I know you didn’t.”
Prepared to prove Cordelia was his, Angel rested on the narrow edge of an irreparable mistake. He had underestimated her uncanny ability to look beyond his dark exterior. Cordelia’s intrinsic gift gave her insight into his soul even when it was lost to him.
“Go finish your bath, I’ll lock up.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Confusion shadowed her face. Angel was leaving and Cordelia had only begun to understand the bigger picture.
“Go.”
Angel tilted his head, motioning toward her bedroom and Cordelia reluctantly conceded. Nodding as she pulled from his embrace.
***
“No, I haven’t completed my initial assessment. Quentin, I’ve barely been in LA for a day.”
Wesley’s attention drifted from the flatulent oration spilling from his phone to the sparse furnishings of his hotel room. As head of The Council, he doubted Quentin Travers made do with such humble accommodations.
“No, that isn’t necessary. Nigel is close by should I require backup.” His duties for The Council becoming almost perfunctory, he barely considered the disregard emanating from his tone. “Besides, too much activity would arouse suspicion; which would only serve to undermine our plan.”
“Of course the authorities believe this is the work of a serial killer.” Wesley tipped the glass of scotch, welcoming the slow burn that slid down his throat. “The detective heading this case doesn’t have a clue what she might be up against.”
Having managed to alienate Cordelia and piss off Angel, Detective Lockley was his only positive accomplishment thus far. Travers however, didn’t need to be privy to current failings.
“Quentin, it’s late. I plan to meet with Miss Chase again tomorrow and with any luck procure her assistance.”
“Why?” Pulling the phone away, he glared at the small apparatus as though by sheer will his bewilderment would travel across the ocean. “Because my first priority is Miss Chase’s safety.”
Wesley briefly considered an abrupt termination of his report, but with the looming threat of unwanted reinforcement he instead pretended to listen. Downing the rest of his scotch, he inserted appropriate grunts and ahems into the rare and brief stretches of silence.
***
Cordelia searched the bathroom for her oversized nightshirt as she patted the towel over wet skin. Tense muscles appeased, her body needed sleep and dressing pretty for bedtime was a detail she was willing to overlook. That is until the view of a half-dressed Angel caused Cordelia to regret her sleepy choice of sleepwear.
Boots lined up on the floor were perfectly perpendicular to the bed. His shirt and pants carefully draped over a chair so even the slightest wrinkle wouldn’t mar them. However, it was his noticeably bare chest that caught Cordelia’s attention.
“Angel?”
Stretched out on her bed, Angel rolled onto his side; fingers grasping the blanket’s edge and pulling the covers back.
“Come to bed Cordelia. You’re innocence is safe for now.”
Giles had once told them Angel was a master vampire, but still naive, she had misunderstood its meaning. It wasn’t his lifespan or his ability to kill, or even his strength. It was his power to possess his desires that made Angel master of his domain.
Angel was regal and commanding. With a simple gesture, he could promise an impenetrable sanctuary or a den of iniquity. Escape from either promise was hopeless and as she settled into his arms, Cordelia realized she was no longer searching for deliverance.
“We’ll get through this, Cordelia. I promise.”
“We can’t handle this alone, Angel. We need help.”
Cordelia didn’t need to look to know his brow furrowed in question. The immediate press against her back as his body curved more fully around her and fingers pressing into her stomach were proof.
“Wesley,” she whispered. Wesley will help us…if you’ll let him.”
“Do you trust Wesley?”
“Yes.”
“I trust you.”