3
The bar was on the 50th floor of LA’s glitziest, most glamorous hotel, complete with the breathtaking view and enough beautiful people to fill a hundred glossy magazines. Men and women wined, dined and danced in exquisite attire – dashing tuxedos, long, lavish gowns and glittering diamond jewellery.
Champagne was served like it were going out of style and an exclusive and brilliant jazz band played in the corner.
Faith surveyed the large room from her position behind the bar. She glanced in the mirror, quickly adjusting her bowtie and waistcoat. She’d drawn the short straw – being the waitress while Buffy and Cordy dressed up in luxurious ball gowns, but in all honestly she couldn’t be happier. At least she was comfortable.
“Do you think you could stop checking yourself out in the mirror long enough for someone to get a drink around here?”
Faith spun around, grinning at her latest customer. “Evening ma’am. What can I get you?”
Buffy raised an eyebrow from her bar stool, her long blonde hair slickly combed back and tied up in a bun. She wore an elegant strapless red gown and elbow length gloves to match. “Ma’am?”
Faith shrugged. “It’s all part of the costume.”
“Right.” Buffy said. “I’ll have a martini.”
“Coming right up.” Faith turned and grabbed a martini glass from the shelf. She poured the clear liquid into the glass and speared an olive, dropping it in. She placed the glass in front of Buffy.
“Thank you.” Buffy sipped her drink, looking up in surprise. “Nice.”
“Thank *you*.” Faith grinned. She looked over at the elevator from which several people were now pouring out. “Any luck with the Count?”
“Haven’t seen him yet.” Buffy said, without looking up. She spun on her bar stool, her gaze scrutinizing as it travelled over the room. Tuxedos were visible everywhere but clearly, she hadn’t yet recognized the man Wesley had shown them a photograph of earlier that evening.
“Pardon me mademoiselle.” Someone bumped lightly against her shoulder and she turned around, staring at the handsome man in a tailcoat. He smiled politely at her, then turned to Faith. Something about him was familiar. He spoke with an accent and his entire demeanour was suave, sophisticated. “I’d like a whisky on the rocks, s’il vous plaît.”
Faith nodded and set about the task. She piled ice into the small glass, glancing up into the mirror lining the back of the bar. The man was looking elsewhere but Buffy was looking right at her, her eyes wide. Faith raised an eyebrow.
‘That’s him.’ Buffy mouthed, subtly pointing her finger in the direction of the man. ‘That’s the Count.’
Faith’s eyes widened. She quickly poured the whisky into the glass and placed it on the counter top. “There you go, sir.”
The Count reached for his wallet but Faith raised a hand, stopping him. “It’s on the house.”
He seemed surprised, but smiled slowly as he looked her up and down. “Merci. Perhaps I can return the favour a little later during the evening?” Faith smiled and the Count picked his drink off the counter, raising it to her and then turning, stepping away from the bar.
At Buffy’s look, Faith shrugged. “What? Might as well buy the guy the drink if we’re gonna make it his last.”
Buffy rolled her eyes, twisting in her seat so she could follow the Count’s movements as he made his way across the room. He stopped to grab a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, placing it in the hand of a woman on his right. He smiled winningly, striking up a conversation.
“Smooth.” Faith said, impressed.
Buffy pressed her middle finger just inside her ear, activating the communication device there. Faith could just about make out Cordelia’s irritated, “It’s about time.”
“Got him.” Buffy said. “You’re good to go.”
She removed her finger, her eyes never leaving the Count. He was still with the same woman, clearly his next target. They needed to move fast.
Faith released a breath. “Come on, Cordy.”
On cue, the elevator dinged and the doors parted slowly to reveal Cordelia. She stood in the doorway, one arm leaning against the side of the lift. Her shoulder length hair hung in loose curls and she wore an off-shoulder, midnight blue gown with a thigh high slit. Diamond jewellery decorated her ears, neck and wrists.
Harry Winston, eat your heart out.
Several heads turned towards the elevator, observing the newest arrival. A small smirk slid onto Cordelia’s face as she stepped confidently away from the door and into the room, never looking directly at anyone. A waiter offered her a flute of champagne and she took it with a smile, bringing the glass to her lips.
She paused then, her eyes locking with Buffy’s. She raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Buffy’s glanced at the Count, then back at Cordelia, then repeated the movement. Cordelia began moving across the room and towards the Count, her expression cold as ice as she weaved through the crowd.
Within a few moments she stood in front of him, her lips stretching into a beautiful smile. Faith grinned as the Count abandoned the indignant woman he’d been talking to and turned to Cordy with a smirk. He bowed slightly, probably introducing himself. Cordelia extended her hand and he took it between his, pressing a kiss to it.
“Why is it that all the hot guys we see or meet lately are dead?” Faith made a face, glancing at Buffy. “So what do we do now?”
Buffy smirked. “Sit back and watch the show.”
***
Cordy successfully managed to hide the grimace as the Count’s lips brushed her hand. She noticed his lack of body temperature at the contact. He straightened, his hold on her still firm as he took a step closer.
“Mademoiselle,” His gaze was piercing as he held her eyes. “Would you do me the honour of a dance?”
Cordelia nodded, allowing her lips to curl into a smile. The Count led her through the crowd and to the dance floor, turning to face her and pulling her close. She stretched out her arms, her right hand curling around his shoulder, elbow bent sharply, her left sitting lightly in his right as he led her in the tango.
“You are,” He murmured, “the most exquisite woman I have ever laid eyes on.”
Cordy barely suppressed the rolling of her eyes. Instead, she smirked. “And *you* are living up to your licentious reputation.”
The Count laughed, apparently delighted with her. They spun around and Cordy wrapped her calf around his leg as he bent her over his elbow. He pulled her up, bridging the gap between them and she found her nose pressed against his shoulder. Her eyes scanned the crowd. Jealous women looked on as she danced with the most wanted man in the room and for a moment, Cordy was tempted to let the vacuous idiots discover the truth for themselves.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She used to be one of them not so long ago. And they certainly didn’t deserve to die.
The hand she’d curled around the Count’s elbow tensed in anger. He glanced at her but she didn’t spare him a look as they continued to dance, her body moving rhythmically with his, her chin held high.
Slowly, the dance came to an end and Cordelia loosened her hold on him, expecting him to do the same. The Count however, held her close, his lips moving against her ear in a whisper.
“I would like to show you something.”
Cordelia raised an eyebrow but was careful to keep the sexy half-smile she’d glued on upon arrival. “I’ve heard that before.”
The Count smiled but his grip tightened, conveying the message that he wasn’t giving her a choice. “Please. Come with me.”
Cordelia relented, sighing. “Oh, alright.”
The Count grinned wickedly, pressing another kiss to her hand before he wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her through the crowd and out onto the large, magnificent balcony, away from the party, the music and the people.
Where, Cordelia realized, no one would hear her scream.
She allowed the Count to lead her all the way to the edge of the balcony, her side pressed snugly against his. She had to admire the view from where they stood – it was breathtaking, the lights of Los Angeles glimmering brilliantly beneath them.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” The Count asked her, his arm still around her waist.
“Yes.” Cordelia turned to face him. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”
The Count smiled slowly. “In part. The truth is I just wanted to get you away from that crowd – all to myself.”
He ran his hand over her bare shoulder and cupped the side of her neck, stroking it. Cordy fought the urge to shudder, all her senses on high alert at the way his nostrils flared and his eyes darted to the pulse in her neck.
She smoothed both palms over his chest and up his arms, holding his gaze. “I’m flattered.”
He pressed against her lower back, bringing her flush against him as he tilted her chin up, pressing his lips to hers. He was a good kisser, she’d give him that. Evidently the man had had some practice. This was probably his ‘routine’ with his victims.
She cupped his face, her thumbs pressed cautiously against his jaw line as she guided him. That mouth of his wasn’t going anywhere near her neck.
He cupped the back of her knee, pulling it over and around his thigh. Cordy whimpered for effect, pulling away briefly to breathe. The Count searched her lips out again, sliding his palm up the side of her leg, over smooth, flawless –
“Ow!” The Count ripped himself away from her, staring in shock at his bleeding hand. He looked at Cordelia’s leg, just visible through the thin thigh high slit. Cordy pulled the material back, revealing the stake hidden in her garter, pointy side down.
The Count’s jaw dropped.
Cordy smirked. “Surprise.”
Without a moment’s wait, she punched him square in the jaw, sending him reeling back. His head snapped forward, the face of a vampire, eyes an angry yellow. He lunged for her, shoving her hard against the balcony railing. She stumbled and he grabbed her by the shoulders, curling his fist and throwing it forward. But Cordy was faster. She brought her knee up, slamming it into his groin and stopping him mid – punch. The Count’s face constricted in pain and he growled, bending over.
Cordelia used the momentarily weakness to her advantage, slamming her elbow into his jaw. He fell sideways onto the railing, his hands grabbing it for balance. Cordy whipped the stake out of her garter, flipping it in her hand.
In two steps she curled her hand in the Count’s hair, jerking it back and exposing his chest. She brought her lips close to his ear.
“Considering I’m a woman an’ all? This whole killing us thing you’ve got going on is a real turn – off for me.”
She plunged the stake into his chest, wincing when he screeched in agony. In seconds, there was an explosion of dust and Cordy coughed, waving it away. She pressed a finger against her ear, activating her communication device.
“All clear.”
***
Buffy removed the finger from her ear. She downed the last of her martini, turning to Faith. “That’s our cue.”
Faith cleared the empty drinks that had been placed on the counter, putting them away. She straightened and gestured towards the elevator, smirking at Buffy. “Ladies first.”
***
Music still blared from the party and Cordy stopped short of making her way back inside, glancing through the balcony doors and observing the dancing couples, waiters and suspicious, jealous women that obstructed her path to the elevator.
More importantly, the woman she’d lured the Count away from had her eyes locked on the door leading to the balcony and was making a beeline this way, along with a couple of men who looked like they could very well be the Count’s minions.
The odds were that the woman had kept a steady watch on the door from the second the Count had left with Cordy on his arm. Which would make it impossible to explain how he’d conveniently disappeared without going into the whole vampire thing. Plus, the woman was a card-carrying member of the unsuspecting public and would most likely prefer to think Cordelia under the influence of drugs or garden-variety insanity if she went with the truth. Then there was the fact that she was outnumbered. And there was no way to get from the balcony back into the bar except the doors in question.
Well, that exit was out.
Hastily, Cordelia snapped the stake in half, throwing it over the railing. She pulled her dress over her left leg, removing the lengthy garter wrapped around her thigh. It was in fact a transportation device, one that would get her off the balcony with no one the wiser.
She ripped the blue material halfway off the top, revealing the several hundred feet of gossamer thin cable inside that Wesley swore on everything holy and his future progeny was as strong as steel. She wrapped one end of the thick, blue material twice around the railing, tying it in a square knot for security. The torn end that was attached to the steel cable went in and around her palm and she held it tight, glancing over the edge of the balcony.
“Fifty stories.” Cordy breathed out. If Wes said it would work, it would work, right? “No biggie.”
With that, she leapt off the edge, the steel cable unwinding speedily and sending her gliding down the side of the building. Her dress flew out and upwards from underneath her as the ground rushed towards her at a rapid pace. The breath rushed out of her lungs and her head spun as the ground approached her, closer and closer and – she squeezed the built in brake device, wincing as the cable jerked and halted. She felt her heels hit the pavement, her hand immediately releasing the material in her palm. It sliced though the air above her, reeling back into place at the top of the building.
Oddly calm, she ran a hand through her hair, massaging her shoulder and inner elbow as she took in her surroundings. Her eyes quickly landed on the car parked right in front of her, as well as the two figures seated inside, both looking a little impatient and a LOT bored.
“What took ya?” Buffy asked, yawning as she reclined in the back seat.
“Quit whining.” Cordy said, getting into the passenger seat and slamming the door shut. “At least your dress is dust free.”
Faith grinned and turned on the ignition. “Job well done, ladies.” She pulled the car out of park and onto the street. The radio clicked on and the girls laughed, nodding their heads rhythmically to the tune that blared out. Triumphant, they drove off, disappearing into the night.
**
Wesley pulled out his keys as he performed a balancing act on the stairs, his files precariously placed under his left arm. He locked the office, carefully sliding the key into his pocket, lunging for a folder when it nearly slipped out of his hold.
“Need some help with that?”
Wes froze, his heart suddenly beating a little faster in his chest. Slowly, he turned around.
Kate Lockley watched him with amusement, her eyebrows raised.
“Detective Lockley.”
“I told you to call me Kate.”
“Yes, Kate. Sorry.” Wesley muttered, wondering why he sounded like a teenage boy suffering the early stages of puberty. “I’ll manage, thank you.” He gestured to the stack of folders under his arm, inwardly groaning when the movement caused a couple to slip out. They clattered noisily against the pavement.
Kate chuckled, coming forward and lifting them off the ground. She held them against her chest, smiling smugly at him.
Wesley adjusted his glasses, looking sheepish. “Alright, I suppose that could have been avoided.”
“I bet you don’t ask for directions either.”
“Yes, well I’m only human.”
“You mean only male.”
“That too.” Kate and Wesley grinned at each other in a moment of comfortable silence, neither entirely sure what to say or do next.
Eventually, Kate cleared her throat. “So, I was just in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d stop by and say hi.”
“Oh, well that’s nice…” Wesley said, nodding his head vigorously. “That’s uh, very nice…very thoughtful of you…to stop by – ”
“You wanna buy me a cup of coffee?”
“Would love to.”
Kate grinned at the quick answer, cocking her head. “Great. Lead the way.”
“Well,” Wesley began, “Seeing as you’re carrying my folders, it’s only fair you choose the place.”
“A gentleman!” Kate teased. “I didn’t think they were any left.”
“Yes, well I’m English.” He held out his free arm and she took it, laughing as they walked down the street.
—
The girls had arrived at Buffy’s house a little after their disposal of the Count, hoping to unwind and stay there till morning, when duty would call, and case files about evil law firms and vampires who’d signed away their souls would need to be opened.
“I hate this movie.” Faith grumped, curling the big duvet snugly around her. She wiggled around in her position on the rug, settling once she was comfortable.
“Quit whining.” Cordy stepped over her and took a seat on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn in one hand, the remote control in the other. “Hold on, where’s the – Buffy!”
“Relax, I got it.” Buffy wandered out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine clasped in her hand. She balanced three glasses under her right arm, bending down so Faith could take them from her. “What are we watching?”
“Stepmom.” Faith said, rolling her eyes. Cordy smacked her with a pillow.
“Cordelia!” Buffy pouted. “You know that movie makes me cry.” She jumped off the sofa, heading back towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna need ice-cream…”
“What’s wrong with the movie, Faith?” Cordy asked, crossing her arms.
Faith turned to look at her. “It’s all schmaltzy AND there’s no sex.” She flicked her hair, staring at the television. “Does nothing for me.”
“Yeah right!” Cordy looked disbelieving. “You just don’t like to admit you cry every time you watch it.”
Faith’s eyes narrowed. “I do NOT cry.”
“Course not.” Cordy grinned, winking at Buffy as she returned to the living room with a tub of ice-cream that practically matched the size of her torso. “You’re a cold, heartless bitch.”
“Damn straight.”
“You forgot vicious.” Buffy took a seat. She began pulling down the sleeves of her jumper and restlessly picking at the material. Cordy glanced over at her, poking her in the shin.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Buffy smiled. “Just…thinking about work.”
Cordy frowned. “What about work?”
“Aah, I see.” Faith said, resting her arm on Cordy’s leg. “I mentioned sex and the CEO of Wolfram & Hart popped into your head.”
Buffy laughed. “Uh, no. Well…kindof.”
Faith shrugged. “I’d jump him.”
“So, what’s new?”
“Fair point.”
Cordy raised an eyebrow. “Uh, forgetting something? He’ll lose his soul if he ever experiences a moment of perfect happiness.” She contemplated that for a moment. “That’s gotta suck.”
“Hmm,” Buffy shrugged, “About the same as searching vainly for someone to make you perfectly happy.” Her expression seemed to crumble momentarily but then she shook her head, trying to recall her train of thought. “I still find it weird that we’re gonna help Wolfram & Hart.”
“But we’re not.” Cordy reminded her. “Just their CEO.”
“Who wants out.” Faith added.
Buffy shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I know. It’s just…what if he doesn’t come easy?”
“Oh, you have no idea how wrong that sounded…” Faith smirked.
Cordelia ignored her. “Maybe he won’t to start with. But that’s why it’s a good thing we’re so persuasive. Look, Angel’s unhappy, the Powers want him back on their side, Wes told us what to say, and the way *I* see it – we have a job to do and we’re gonna get it done, whether he trusts us or not.”
When Buffy shot her a look, she shrugged. “Oh, come on, he’ll warm eventually. How could anyone find us less than lovable?”
Buffy smiled. Cordy patted her thigh and sat back, grabbing the remote control. “Now can we get back to our priorities, please?”
Faith groaned. Buffy chuckled. “Sure.”
The DVD player was switched on and the opening credits began playing across the screen.
“Here.” Buffy addressed Faith with amusement, dropping something into her lap. “Just in case.”
Cordy didn’t see what it was but seconds later the box of tissues came flying through the air and smacked Buffy in the face.
***
He slipped his shirt off his shoulders, throwing it into the laundry basket on his way to the king sized bed. The mattress was soft, the cushions goose feather and the blankets the most luxurious silk. It was like lying on heaven’s finest cloud.
Except that this was hell.
He growled, rubbing a hand over his face, his head pounding and his stomach swirling with nausea. Witnessing twelve dead nuns would do that to a guy. What was it one of his employees had said?
At least it wasn’t thirteen.
He’d barely resisted smashing the guy’s face in but he’d settled for firing his ass instead.
People were dying and being harmed and he could do nothing to stop it. It wasn’t like before. He had money now, yes, but wealth didn’t liberate you from limitations. He was a man who knew a great deal about limitations – knew this one would be impossible. Allowing innocent lives to be destroyed was not as easy as avoiding sunlight or restraining from too much physical contact.
Though God knows those were hard.
But there was nothing he could do – he was bound by contract, restricted by his own foolish decision. And he could do nothing but watch from the wings as everything he’d worked for fell apart around him.
Maybe it was his bad day, maybe it was his foul mood but deep inside he know this chronic melancholy was bigger than that. It was this place and this deal and the reason for it that consistently swam through his mind, never allowing him peace.
He sat on the bed, pulling open the top drawer in the table beside it and retrieving a photograph of a young teenage boy. The boy was smiling, an expression he’d seen on him far too rarely in the time they’d spent together. The boy was happy now, loved and safe, from others and from himself.
He released a heavy sigh, running his fingers over the photograph. Quietly, he slipped it back into the drawer, shutting it. He leaned back on his bed, closing his eyes against the tears that stung behind them.
He was running out of hope.
