Chapter 4
Cordelia ran down the walkway, feeling an almost gentle tug at the flying skirts of her habit. She reached down and snatched up the fabric in her hand and felt a lick of fear race up her spine as she touched something cold and wet….clawed….reaching for her.
A jagged pain lanced through the calf of her leg as she screamed out.
“WESLEY!!!!” Terror poured through her, icy and sharp. “WESLEY!!!!!!!” Another sharp pain ripped through her shoulder and she pitched forward, falling to her hands and knees onto the cool brick walkway.
Nonononono…she chanted in her head as she rolled to one side and kicked out violently, hearing a soft hiss flit by her ear as she connected with something solid. She wasn’t aware of the pounding footsteps coming closer, only of the chill of the air about her, as if whatever the demon was, it was frozen and icy.
Suddenly, strong hands gripped her and yanked her up and off her feet, swinging her up into solid arms. She opened her eyes and almost sobbed with relief at seeing Angel’s face, hard and implacable, as he held her to him. His voice was low.
“Wesley. Take her. Get her back to your quarters. Lock the door. Gunn, go on ahead and watch out for any of the Sisters. Keep ’em from coming outside.” He didn’t even spare a glance at Cordy as he handed her off to Wesley and strode off, pausing to take in a cool scent in the air.
He stood, still, and took in the fetid scent of evil that wafted through the air. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up, and he growled, almost a sound of deep pleasure as he took off towards the fountain in the center of the courtyard.
He loped up to the fountain and stopped, carefully sniffing the air of the night. It was here. It was still here, and it wore malevolence like humans wore skin. Angel could smell it…could feel it. Hell, he could taste it. A chilled puff blew across the back of his neck and he spun around, but the demon drifted away.
Angel knew that whatever it was, it was gone for the time being.
He carefully walked around the fountain, then the diameter of the courtyard. Finally, he walked the walkway, slowly, checking the air as he moved through the open space. He finally stopped and looked into the night, braced as if on guard.
A small cough had him spinning around, and he relaxed as Sister Bert peered at him from a doorway. Her face was pale and her eyes huge.
“It was here, wasn’t it, Mr. Angel?” He didn’t bother to correct her, he just nodded. She seemed to gather herself up. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Cordelia. I need to go to her” He looked around, frutstrated, then back at Sister. “Damn. You need to be inside, Sister. Gunn and I will keep watch out here. Don’t come outside.” She started to speak and he waved her off. “No. I mean it. It’s out here, and it’s hungry. Do you understand that?”
She looked at him a moment, then whispered, “What is it? What is this thing?”
“You were right earlier, Sister. It’s evil. You can’t see it because…you’re…well, because your heart is pure and pious. Cordy told us.” He remembered Cordy’s words. “It needs innocence and piety. It feeds off that.”
Sister Bert thought about that. “How does Cordelia know?” Her voice was strong, but fear laced through her tone. “Is she familiar with this?”
Angel flexed, and scanned the courtyard. Whatever it was, it was gone, at least for now. He weighed his words carefully.
“You called us warriors, Sister. And, we kinda are. We…we fight against evils like this. We all bring something different to the fight. Cordelia brings…guidance. She’s guided.”
Sister Bert looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Of course she is. It is her gift.”
Angel snorted. “Kinda a crappy gift. Oh, pardon me.”
“That’s alright, Mr. Angel. I assume she bears a burden for this gift?”
“More than you could know, Sister.” He shook off the after effects of the moment and tried to smile at her. “You really should be inside. I’ll go back and check on Cordelia. I smelled…I mean, I could see that she’d been scraped up pretty bad. I need to go”
“Of course. Let me get my bag and I’ll go with you. She may need medical attention, and I can provide at least a cursory…”
“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Sister.” Angel shifted impatiently. He wanted to be able to talk to Cordy without an audience. But Sister Bert had already disappeared into the darkened recesses of the room and reappeared a moment later, clutching a lidded basket with a handle.
Angel sighed and gently took the basket from her and motioned her to walk on. They made their way down the walkway and encountered Gunn, who stood braced, holding a double sided axe in both hands.
Sister Bert stopped, eyeing the axe with a narrowed gaze.
“Oh dear.” She looked at Gunn. !I do hope you know how to use that, Mr. Gunn. It looks quite dangerous.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Gunn shifted from one foot to another, glancing at Angel. “I’m…experienced…with this thing. I mean, I can, you know…use it if I need to.”
“And…you’ve had to before, haven’t you?” Sister Bert calmly looked into his eyes. He nodded.
“Yes, Ma’am. It’s the truth. I’ve had to use it before.” She held his gaze for a moment and nodded, patting his arm as she walked by him.
“Carry on, Mr. Gunn. We’re going to tend to Cordelia. Come along, Mr. Angel.” Angel stalked on after her, ignoring Gunn’s wide grin as he saw the basket swinging from Angel’s grip.
They entered Wesley’s quarters and stopped, seeing Wesley leaning over Cordy, who lay on the sofa. Wesley had gently tugged the habit off and Cordy lay wearing white boy shorts and a matching tank top.
Blood oozed from a jagged cut on her leg and Wesley held a bloody cloth to her shoulder, murmuring to her softly as he cleaned the wound. Her eyes were closed and tear tracks glistened down her cheeks as she tried to breathe calmly. Sister Bert cleared her throat gently.
“Mr. Wyndam-Price, perhaps you and Mr. Angel should step outside. This isn’t at all proper.” Angel heard a soft choked giggle from the sofa and looked around Wesley to see Cordelia looking up at Wes.
“Yes, Wesley must be proper.” Cordelia’s tired voice held a thread of amusement. Sister Bert gently pushed around Wesley and peered down at Cordy’s leg, pursing her lips as she reached for the basket from Angel.
“I am sure this is all well and good for you, but in this place, different rules apply. Gentlemen, outside, please.” Angel shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at Cordy, his eyes stern. She smiled gently.
“It’s all good, Angel. Go on. We’re fine.” Sister Bert turned to look at them expectantly and they gave up, turning to leave the small room.
Outside, the crickets chirped in the increasing dark of the night, and the air was awash with the gentle salt of the sea.
Angel leaned against the wall and stared off into the night, his fists clenching in his pockets as he remembered how frightened Cordy had looked, and how fresh and sweet her blood had smelled as he lifted her to him.
She could have been killed. It had been close. He shuddered, closing his eyes.
“She’s tough.” Wesley’s voice was amused.
“Yeah, I know. She’s been through worse; she’ll be fine.” Angel’s answer was almost automatic.
“No, not Cordy, Sister Bert.” Wesley chuckled. “She had you and me scrambling to obey. I bet she runs a tight ship here.”
Angel nodded. “She’s…” He thought a moment. “She’s true to this. Her heart is strong.
Inside, Sister Bert gently taped a layer of padded gauze over the tear in Cordy’s shoulder and then quietly began cleaning the wound on her leg. She was silent for a moment while she worked, and Cordy closed her eyes blanching as fresh tears fell down the smooth plains of her cheeks.
Sister Bert looked at them briefly before continuing to clean the jagged cut on her leg. “Dear, perhaps it’s best if you let Mr. Angel and Mr. Gunn…”
“Oh, no.” Cordy’s eyes snapped open. “No you don’t. I get enough of that from Angel. Not you too. I’m here, and I’m staying.” She raised up onto her elbows and narrowed her eyes at the nun. “That…thing… took me by surprise and now…well..now, I’m just mad.”
Sister Bert clucked softly as she smoothed antibacterial cream over the cut gently. “You are stubborn, child. I would imagine you have to be, bearing such a difficult gift as you do.”
Cordy’s eyes grew wide. “Angel told you…”
“Mr. Angel told me nothing. It was guesswork on my part. He did acknowledge that it is difficult for you to bear, that it is taxing upon you.”
“Well…not so bad that I’d ever turn away from whatever evil I had to face to help you. That’s this gift, Sister. It helps people. How can I not use it for you and for these women? You can’t ask me to stop. Not now. I owe this thing now.”
Sister Bert sighed. “I would imagine Mr. Angel has conversations like this with you often?”
Cordy laughed, flopping back onto the sofa. “More than you could know. I drive him nuts. And I’m good at it. Now, that’s a gift I embrace.” The nun shook her head as she gently taped another padded gauze bandage over the cut.
“Two immovable objects. It must be entertaining to watch the two of you. It must make your relationship quite unpredictable.”
“Relationship? We don’t have a relationship.” Cordelia giggled a little loudly. “I mean, you know, he’s a friend. I’m a friend. Two friends. Kinda like, oh, two friends…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she was babbling. Sister Bert ignored her as she gathered up her supplies and placed them precisely into the basket.
“Of course, dear. You know that more than I do.” She turned to face Cordelia. “But I am serious. I am displeased that those who came to help us have come to harm.”
“It’s ok, Sister. Really. This hardly hurts at all.” Cordy smiled brightly up at her, and she shook her head, pulling a blanket off the back of a chair and draping over Cordy’s body.
“Get some rest, Child. I assume Mr. Angel will want to watch over you this eve. I will make excuses for you to Sister Mary Rose in the gardens tomorrow morning.” Sister Bert paused at the doorway as she clutched the basket to her tightly.
“You’re a terrible liar, Cordelia. I know that hurts horribly.” Her eyes twinkled. “Good thing you never took to the stage.” And she was out the door. Cordy groaned and lifted her arm to cover her eyes as pain lanced through her with the movement. She lay there, quiet, as the door opened and heavy footsteps sounded, walking to the sofa to stop just by her.
She lifted her arm from her eyes to see Angel as he knelt by the sofa, looking down at her with worry in his eyes. She grinned up at him, tired and worn out. “Why, Mr. Angel. You look concerned.”
Angel traced the drying tear tracks gently. “I am. And worried. You could have been…” he broke off. His hand tightened.
“I could have been, but I wasn’t. C’mon, Angel, it’s what we do.” She snuggled down under the blanket. His hand was cool on her skin, and it felt good.
He brushed his hand over the down of her cheek and looked into her eyes. “It knows you now. It knows about you, and about your gift. It’s going to want you. It’s going to hunt you.” He made the words raw and plain, wanting to scare her.
And he did. He saw her brow wrinkle as she thought about it, he could smell fear swell in the scent that was unique to her.
“You don’t know that.” Cordelia sat up, turning gingerly to sit on the sofa, facing him as he knelt. “I mean, it wants purity…and piety. I sensed that. It feeds on it.”
“Cordelia…” He rose and walked to look out the small window by the front door. “I know this thing. I don’t know exactly what it is, but lemme tell you what happened tonight. It was evil and wandering and it wanted something…beautiful. It wanted something beautiful and…precious…and…” His hands fisted without his realizing it as he spoke.
“pure. It wanted something pure. So it comes here, where innocence has a whole new meaning, and it thinks, jackpot. Bingo. Dinner is served.” He looked back at Cordelia; she held still, her face pale. “And it gets a bonus. It gets to take the innocence and break it. It feeds fear into this place. It gets power from the fear and panic that it creates.”
He turned again and looked out into the night, unable to watch her as he talked. “So, this demon has gotten lucky and scored himself a couple of treats. Nice, sweet, innocent nuns. Their very….purity… makes them taste richer…finer. Their flesh is ambrosia to him, addictive and delicious. So he comes here to find more tonight. And he finds it. Something sweet, but a little different. This one has a power…it has a light. If he can take that innocence…¦that flesh..that light…he’ll dine like a king. He’ll have found something he can use. Something no one else has…something he ruined, and he created.” The air was thick and still between them.
He didn’t look at her as he continued.
“It’s happened before. There was a young girl, like you, burdened with a gift of vision. She wasn’t strong like you, though. She was frail, and frightened. She decided to hide in a convent, rising up her life to be a Bride of Christ.” His eyes seemed to empty of all feeling, and Cordelia shivered at his flat tone.
“Her heart was good, and she had nothing but the purest of souls. But a demon happened to see her one day, and he smelled her very soul. He decided to make her his. And he did. He took her, and he took everything dear to her, and he made her as…foul…as soulless…as evil as he was. He did it because he could.”
Silence stretched between them. “And the demon didn’t stop with her. He looked around and thought…so much to break…so much pure strength to destroy. The demon was amused. Underneath the black robes…under the prayers…within the blessed walls…it was still flesh, and when he got done with each one…innocence had been given over to evil. To him.”
Angel’s tone was matter of fact. He felt Cordy’s gaze on his back and he slowly turned to face her.
“I know this thing, Cordy. I know him. I was him. And he’s had a taste of you, and he wants more.”
“Druscilla.” Her voice was a scratchy whisper.
He nodded. “That’s who I was, Cordy. It’s who I am, just right there, on a leash. I don’t deserve to be in a place like this, where all is good and hope and light. But here I am, and here you are, and fuck. What should be a haven is a trap for you.”
The only sound in the room was the muted ticking of the old mantel clock. Cordy looked up at him, silent, lost in her own thoughts. Angel waited, tense, for the words of condemnation.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. Gee. Everyone should have a hobby?” Cordy’s voice was dry.
“Angel…you could sit here and tell me every single thing you ever did when Angelus ruled, and I’d still never get it. I’d never understand, or even begin to know all that you did.” Angel looked at her, his expression bleak. “C’mon, Angel. What part of Scourge of Europe did you think I didn’t get?”
“So here’s the deal. I think about Angelus every freakin’ day. I look at you, being brave and kind and noble…” Angel snorted. “Yeah, noble. You don’t have to fight this fight but you do. So…everyday I tell myself…the past was bad, your past is…way beyond horrific. But this is now. Everyday, I stand right there with you, and the only thing that matters is who you are at the end of the day, not who you were last century, or last year, or even last week. You’re a work in progress, Angel. I wanna see what the finished work will be.”
Angel looked down at her, sitting there, wrapped up in the old comforter, and he felt something loosen in his chest. He crossed to her and scooped her up, turning so that he sat on the sofa and she sat across his lap.
She looked at him, shocked, then slowly leaned in and rested her head against his shoulder. The blanket shifted off her shoulder, and he looked down at the white strap of her cami-tank, sliding down her tanned shoulder, over the thickly padded bandage.
He breathed in her scent, noting the fear that was dissipating with each calming beat of her heart.
“Granny underwear, huh?”
“Well, yeah. If Granny’s a stripper.” She giggled softly, resting against his shoulder. A wave of warm comfort overtook her, and Cordy felt herself slipping under to sleep. “I don’t think the nun thing goes back to Angelus, you know.”
“You don’t?” Angel’s voice was calm; he could tell she was about asleep.
“Nope. I think you’re just a big ol’ perv.” Her voice was low and slurred.
He grinned, leaning his head back as he felt her body relax into slumber. Hmmm. He wasn’t a perv. Just because he had dreams about a certain seer slowly stripping off a nun’s habit…swaying hips and bare legs…climbing over him….
He shuddered. If he wasn’t doomed to hell before, he was sure bound for there now.
Perv thoughts and all.