Chapter 8
Blind she had been a captive. Now she was a slave to sight. She was chattel to the image that surrounded her and left her breathless. It was illusion. It was magic.
She watched as her supple breasts rippled like water around an unseen dipped toe. Her body floated, a diaphanous ship sailing on ghostly waves of skin and sinew. He was an unreflected ocean whispering seductively in her ear of forever and always; while invisible palms washed her skin, smoothing and searing her flesh with his lust in the here and now.
Rough fingertips churned and thrashed against her lips’ shores filling her mouth with salt and metal. Her spirit drifted on the fog of his heady male musk, bound to this plane only by a wisp of silk at his nape on her forearm.
Fixated at her core, hazel orbs widened in awe at the silky exposed folds glistening of moonlight on a black lake. Pink and plump, her labia surged and plunged slowly and smoothly on a fusion of their liquid passion. The dark entrance to her body opened and closed like a sea cave filled again and again with the tidal wave of his veiled sex.
In the mirror, nothing touched her but light. A dream of love so intoxicating the earth itself disappeared leaving only space and stars. But in his eyes she saw reflected a desire rooted deeply in dark, solid bone. And it was in these soulful mirrors that she finally came ashore, the light of his lips shining the way, crashing against the piles of his fangs, her voyage home complete.
Cordy zigzagged between the flaky LA lunchtime drivers. The vision of last night swam through her mind totally consuming her thoughts. Except for one. She had to know exactly what had happened. If it meant what she thought… She had to be sure. Staying up all night worrying hadn’t provided any answers, and she couldn’t stand not knowing one minute longer.
Be there. Please be there.
A screech of brakes and scent of burning rubber frightened her enough to concentrate on where she was going instead of where she had been. Only two blocks away but the glare of sun on smog burned her eyes and forced her to watch the ground instead of ahead.
The scarf whipped up as a Fed Ex truck sped by. Snagging the end from her face, she pulled too hard and flinched when the fabric around her neck abraded against the marks.
It wasn’t *what* it meant that bugged her. She knew that instinctively. What she had to know was if he…all of him…wanted it…wanted her.
She stopped for a moment, her fingers adjusting the covering to make sure the wound wasn’t exposed. Then she stepped into the street.
***
A fine mist filled the bathroom. Amazingly the water was still hot even though this was the second time since he’d stepped into the shower that he’d fisted his cock. Angel couldn’t get the vision of her out of his mind. But he had to. Today was the day he had to end it. If only Angelus hadn’t claimed her.
Whenever he thought about the look in her eyes as he’d bared his fangs and swooped for her neck, his hand began stroking. The dark acceptance, the heated desire, the light of welcome that burst from those gold-dipped hazel pools made his head spin and his body ache for her heat. How could he stop touching her – stop touching himself – with his scent and his mark caressing her neck every day teasing and taunting him?
He could almost smell her. She was close. His scent was buried deep in her, and it tugged at his mouth. Cold tile imprinted his back while he fondled his balls and pumped his hard shaft. As she got closer, his head fell back and his lips parted to capture her essence fully on his tongue. He took deep breaths and then swallowed her whole. A contented moan gave way to a hungry growl as his strokes got faster and stronger. Cordelia…
He could feel her skin, smooth and hot, and the texture of her blood, slick and thick on his throat. His tongue slipped out between his lips and fluttered tasting her sex, like milk and honey. Her guttural cries of need, desire, pleasure and pure joy filled his senses until his body trembled, his hips thrust madly and his hand rubbed his cock raw.
She was almost there. The aroma of their combined scents slammed him hard against the stall. Blunt teeth dug into his shoulder and powerful vaginal muscles strangled his cock. “Jesus, fuck. Cordelia!” He exploded again and again, his thick cream thinning with water and washing down the drain just as his body weakened and his knees met porcelain in prayer. His head in his hands, his body shook, chilled by what he knew he must do. How am I ever going to let her go?
Angel’s head jerked up at the sound of her cry. It was faint but it was her voice. “Oh, God. Cordelia!”
***
“I swear to God, man. She just stepped out in front of me. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh shit! Where’s the fuckin’ ambulance?” The kid paced in front of the bloody, dented fender and hood of his ’91 Colt nervously glancing from the car to the woman.
The policeman pushed the kid back. The last thing he needed was to see the body. He was a teenager and scared shitless. Not that he didn’t have the right.
Officer Stans and his partner had been coming out of the coffee shop. One second he was ogling a gorgeous woman crossing the street and the next she was flying through the air. She dropped with a thud, tumbled and stopped. Limbs akimbo and dark blood seeping from various wounds onto black tar, he had to close and open his eyes a few times to make sure it was real.
Finally realizing what he’d just witnessed, Stans told his partner to call for the ambulance while he checked the woman. Whoever she was, she was damn lucky to still be breathing. Getting her ID would have to wait until the meds could get her untwisted and on a gurney. Her shoulder bag had miraculously stayed put, and was now under her body and unreachable.
After his partner placed a blanket over her, he’d gone to deal with the driver. Good thing the kid had stopped and not made a run for it. At least he was smart enough not to do that. Or maybe there were just too many witnesses to risk it. Whatever. He wasn’t in the mood for a chase through busy city streets
The poor guy was shaking like an addict in withdrawal. Mumbling something about his mother killing him and Jesus and never fucking driving again, Stans grabbed his arm and made him stop. “Okay, take a deep breath, and tell me what happened exactly.” The kid looked into the cop’s detached gaze and threw up on his polished shoes.
***
Angel jumped over the banister and raced for the door. The position of the sun cast enough shadow for him to step a few feet outside. He raised his head and sniffed. Somewhere close was Cordy’s blood.
“Cordelia!”
He’d prayed he’d been wrong. The minute that it took him to bound from the tub and throw on some clothes had been spent entirely in prayer. But now there was no mistake.
Testing to make sure he was still a vampire he stepped forward beyond the shadows edge. The searing pain, sizzling skin, and smoke confirmed he hadn’t shanshued in the last ten seconds. “Damn it! Cordelia!” The cords of his throat almost snapped with the force of his yell.
When she failed to reply and the smell of blood got thicker, his frustration banded his muscles into coiled rockets. He propelled back into the hotel to comb every corner for signs of life. Coming up empty he stopped in the middle of the lobby and cried out. “Where the fuck is everybody?”
***
“I don’t know why you think I care.” Wesley watched a homeless man pee in the alley strangely nonplussed. His fingers tapped nervously on the Plymouth’s steering wheel.
“I didn’t say you cared. I said you knew. But, you’ve gotta have some interest if you know crap like that.”
“Really, Gunn. Just because I’m aware of current events doesn’t make me a fanatic. One can know that Britney Spears has released a new album without caring that she has.”
“Humph. Not in my world,” Gunn said.
Ever the safe driver, Wesley inched forward carefully when the red Miata in front finally moved after seemingly hours.
“Hey, guys,” Fred chirped from the back seat, her mouth full. “These tacos are getting cold. Anybody mind if I start eatin’?”
Gunn twisted around and laughed at the site of Fred biting off a huge chunk of shell with most of the filling dribbling down her chin. “Seeing as how you’ve already got most of your lunch already in your mouth, I guess that was a rhetorical question.”
Wesley looked in the rearview mirror and watched her eyes brighten and cheeks blush from Gunn’s attention. He pressed on the horn.
“Why in the bloody hell aren’t we moving?”
“Uh, because there are cars stopped in front of us?”
Wesley tightened his lips while doing the same to his grip on the wheel and shot Gunn an icy glare. “*That* was a rhetorical question.”
Gunn lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry. Just trying to lighten things up a bit. I’m guessing there’s a wreck or something up ahead. Maybe we should try the long way around before Fred here finishes all of our lunches.”
Wesley caught the wink and smile given to Fred from the man he currently wished had never joined Angel Investigations. He hated giving in to such a common emotion as jealousy, but Fred wasn’t just some woman. Fred was the woman and jealousy was just the tip of the flame.
Barely checking his mirrors or the position of his passengers, Wesley turned the wheel sharply and barreled through a parking lot and out the other end to get around whatever it was that was blocking his way. Unfortunately, he was sitting right next to him.
***
Angel’s cries echoed and faded down the deserted halls. Rage boiled in his gut and raced through his dead veins. With an animal howl he gave over to his demon and lifted the red couch above his head. Hurling it against the elevator doors, the sound of breaking wood was not nearly enough to sate his frustration and fear.
Even before the heavy furniture thudded to the floor he was already in the office, his arms a tornado of destruction. Mindless of everything in the world but the need to hurt something…everything…he left a path of busted bookshelves, ripped ancient texts, dented metal, and a carpet of smashed objects that had once adorned desks, countertops and cozy nooks.
His chest heaved and his throat burned as he screamed her name over and over. His entire being ached to reach her, to touch her, to protect her. Slits of amber scanned the room for more right to make wrong and already bruised fists pounded holes into plaster when there was nothing left to hit.
The smell of her tangy blood hit him again. A strong waft pinned him and he quickly turned and realized where it was coming from. He jammed his fist through the glass of the weapons cabinet to grab a sword before he followed the copper trail into the basement.
***
The siren cut through his mood and blank stare. Pulling to the right, Wesley checked his mirror to assess the emergency vehicle’s proximity and its direction. When it went down the street they’d just abandoned, Gunn had to gloat.
“Did I not call accident? Must be a bad one and somewhere near the hotel looks like.”
“Yes, that was a brilliant guess. Traffic backed up, lights still working, no known special event in the area. My first thought was a Mothra attack, but I see now that an accident was the more cunning deduction.”
“Man, what is with you? You’ve had a stick up your tight British ass for days now. You want to let the common folk in on the problem?” Gunn bored a hole into the back of his head and Wesley felt it. He slowly turned to face him.
“My tight British ass and what is stuck up it is none of your concern.” Wesley yanked the wheel to the left and peeled from the curb. He’d had enough fun in the sun. Enough of the sickening sweet glances between Fred and Gunn. Enough of the traffic. But not nearly enough self-pity. He needed to be consumed in the fire of it and torch anyone who came near. More than anything he wanted to get back to the office and find that Cordelia was in the midst of a vision so he could torture, pound, and shred something to death.
Fred captured Gunn’s eyes, tilted her head and shrugged. Wesley’s behavior of late had her a little worried, but not so much that it overshadowed her newly blossomed feelings for Charles. He’d get over whatever was bothering him. He always did.
But, right now Gunn’s hand was gently squeezing her thigh in reassurance, and she couldn’t help imagining it slipping further up and cupping her increasingly wet mound. She’d never been so turned on by someone just touching her leg before. She was suddenly very grateful Angel wasn’t there to sense what was going on inside her.
That thought was like a pail of cold water dumped on her. She imagined Angel’s look when they walked into the hotel and the moment he would realize what she was feeling. She’d be embarrassed and he’d be embarrassed for knowing her secret and a lot of embarrassed dorkiness would ensue. Suddenly she was sober and dry.
She swallowed and shakily asked, “Are we there yet?”
***
The sewers were wet, filthy and smelled like crap. Neither Angel nor his demon noticed. Nostrils opened, head up, he sped through the underground maze using the scent of her blood as his guide.
A few wrong turns, some backtracking and then he stopped. Above was a manhole cover and a heartbeat. Angel leaped up the metal ladder in one bound. He placed his palm on the heavy metal surface barely controlling the urge to push it open and be with her. She was so close but never more far away.
He tried to peek through the small holes but could see nothing. A wet, sticky drop fell through a crack and landed on his cheek. He didn’t have to taste it to know it was her blood. Another frustrated wail was about to burst from his chest when he heard muffled voices.
“Who’s next on the rotation,” a male voice asked.
“St. Vinnie’s,” a woman replied.
“Okay, call it in. Looks like a broken leg, possible internal bleeding, concussion, and spinal trauma. Miss? Can you hear me? We’re going to roll you over onto the board and stabilize your back and neck. There may be some pain. Okay on three. One, two, three.”
Instantly rays of light tore through the manhole cover as her body was rolled away from it. Angel gasped with pain and lost his grip on the rung falling to the sewer floor.
Part of him wanted to tear into the day and rip that guy’s head off for touching her. Only the throbbing of his scorched hands and face kept him leashed. A loud, deep, threatening growl vibrated in his chest ending up as a pained cry of “Cordelia” as he sensed her moving quickly away from him. The piercing siren of the ambulance becoming more faint as it sped away finally jolted him to move.
“St. Vincent’s.” At least he knew where she would be, and he knew he could reach her. It was the first hope he’d had since waking up and he raced toward it.
***
“Oh, my Lord.” The three stood in the garden doorway stunned.
“What the hell? Wasn’t this place in one piece when we left?” Gunn stepped down and turned around in a circle in the lobby unable to grasp the destruction.
Fred started to follow Gunn but Wesley pulled her back. “Don’t. Who or whatever did this may still be here.” Wesley instantly thrilled at the prospect of getting his wish fulfilled so soon. He tilted his head towards the weapon’s cabinet and Gunn took the hint. Both men quietly reached for their favorite tools. Wesley directed Gunn to go to the front entrance of his office while he moved in through Cordy’s office, hopefully trapping the culprit in the middle.
When the two met with no suspect to pummel, Fred joined them. “Um, maybe we should check on Angel. Ya know, make sure he’s all right. I doubt he coulda slept through whatever happened here and if he’s not down here, maybe whatever did this has him cornered upstairs.”
“Fred, you call Cordelia and make sure she’s okay.” Fred nodded and began searching through the wreckage for the phone. Wesley looked at Gunn. Both men steeled their resolve, nodded and headed upstairs.
The sound of a phone ringing made them all jump. Wesley looked toward the landing expecting the noise to rouse their unwelcome houseguest and bring it hurtling toward them in a rage. Carefully he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell, never taking his eyes off the stairs.
“C’mon man, turn that thing off and let’s get upstairs.” Gunn was a firm believer in kill now, answer annoying telemarketers later.
Wesley ignored him. “Hello?” As the person on the other end spoke, Wesley’s attention left the staircase and moved inward. “Yes, I know Cordelia Chase.”
Gunn and Fred tensed at those words. Both their minds immediately associated the carnage in front of them with possible harm to their friend. Fred ran to Gunn’s side and clasped his hand as they waited for Wesley’s next words.
Wesley’s eyes closed in pain and then opened widely with comprehension. His shoulders drooped and his head bobbed up and down as everything clicked in his mind. “We’ll be right there.” Wesley folded his cell and looked into Gunn and Fred’s worried expressions, not sure how to tell them except straight out.
He took a deep breath and stiffened his spine. All thoughts of jealousy and inflicting pain skittered to his subconscious as concern, dread and the mantle of leadership came to the fore. “Cordelia’s been in an accident. She is being transported to St. Vincent’s.” Fred gasped and wrapped her fingers around Gunn’s arm, digging her nails into soft flesh. Gunn didn’t feel it.
“Oh, my God. Did they say how she is? What happened? Is she okay? God, we’ve got to get Angel.” Fred started up the stairs.
“Wait!” Wesley yelled. “We’ll all go just to make sure it’s safe, but something tells me he’s not here.”
Wesley feared he knew exactly who and what had ravaged their offices. Mostly, however, he feared he knew exactly why.
