Chapter 5
The wooden stairs were rickety and old, and they creaked a protest at his weight as he climbed the spiral flight slowly. The belfry was cool in the late afternoon, and Angel thought of the reason that anyone would be in a belfry.
It was to send a message. Someone went in the belfry to send a message by ringing the bells. Maybe it was the time of day, or maybe it was to send joyous news. Maybe bad weather was approaching. Here, maybe it was time for mass.
Or evening reflection. He stopped and let memories drift through his mind…memories of another time and place, and the echoing ring of bells, covering shrill screams and pleas for mercy.
He had held cooling flesh in his hands and had drunk his own kind of communion in another belfry. He had desecrated it with an act of evil violence that seemed to hum through his veins just at the mere memory.
Before last night, he had just wanted this case over with. The very depth of the evil he had brought to innocence rested in his gut like a rock. He was edgy and had to tamper the turmoil down within him, feeling it simmering up near the surface of his consciousness.
That was yesterday, before some dickwad of a demon had taken a shine to Cordy. Now he was just pissed. No, make that enraged. He had given up on the little mental plug on the hole in his inner wall that held his demon at bay.
He had found Cordy, battered and cut, flailing out with her legs at some unseen presence that was toying with her, and all restraint had crumbled. Now, he had a mission beyond…well…the mission. He had a bloodlust for whatever had harmed Cordy. He was on a hunt much different than the one he had come here for.
He would still serve the mission; no getting around that. But this time, that jagged tear of bloodlust would find satisfaction, too. Because some little poseur of evil was about to find out that it had the Scourge of Europe on his ass.
“Mr. Angel. You are investigating?” Sister Bert’s voice gently disrupted his thoughts. Startled, he looked down around the spiral stairs and saw her staring up at him.
“Yeah. Was just looking at the place where…” He paused.
“Sister Luisa.”
“Right. Sister Luisa. Just taking a look at the…scene.”
“The police were here and disturbed much; I’m afraid there’s not much else to see.”
Angel thought a moment, looking at faint traces of a recent smear on the wall near the railing. He sniffed, leaning in closer to the small, almost unseen shimmer on the wall.
“I’m not the police, Sister.”
“No, indeed. You are not.” Something in Sister Bert’s voice caught his attention and he looked down at her, his gaze unreadable. She met his stare placidly, and they were both silent for a moment.
“Something you want to say to me, Sister?” Angel’s voice was almost a challenge. He didn’t need this right now. One hint as to who and what he was and she’d kick his ass right out into the waning sunlight of the late afternoon.
And he’d let her. It would only be appropriate, and a dark voice in the back of his mind laughed and mocked him for his resignation.
“No. No, not at all, unless you wish to tell me that you’ve solved the caper.” Her voice was calm.
“This isn’t a caper, Sister.” Angel turned back to the wall, brushing at the surface with his fingers and looking at the dusted pads of his fingertips. “A caper is finding Aunt Mary’s pearls. This is…..” He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked slightly at the tips. “This is….”
He paused, and then looked at her, lost in thought. “This is a Gholian Demon. It’s….” He sniffed at his fingers again. “But they’re not invisible. What the hell is that about?” Sister Bert looked as if she wanted to ask him something but just then his cell phone rang, startling him.
The notes of Pop Goes the Weasel played a tinny tune as he fumbled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, trying to answer it.
With a sigh, Sister Bert walked up the last few steps and gently took it from him, pressing the send button and handing it back before stepping back down. He looked away as he answered, trying to recover lost respectability.
“Yeah. In the belfry. Sewer. No. Looking at one of the sites……yeah, I did. A trace of blood….demon blood. I know it. It’s……you do? How? Oh. Well, I’ve run into Gholians before, and they were never invisible. This has to be a spell. Call back to Mrs. Chang’s shop and see what she’s heard. Yeah.” His voice dropped.
“How’s Cordy? Yeah, that’s for the best. No, don’t tell her anything…let her rest. You know how she…. yeah. OK. Let me know what you hear, Wes.” And he looked down at the phone, frowning a bit before tentatively pressing the end button.
When the screen winked out, he grinned at Sister Bert before casually shoving the phone back in his pocket.
“Ok. We’re in business. Now all we need to do is….” He stopped, realizing how much Sister Bert had been let in on.”
“Now all we need to do is turn the warriors loose.” Sister Bert smiled sadly. She turned to walk back down the circular stairs and Angel followed slowly. They both stopped at the bottom and looked at each other a moment, silent.
Sister Bert finally sat on a small bench just inside the door and looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “I gather that you don’t travel in the light, so to speak.”
“If only you knew.” Angel’s mutter hung in the air.
“Hmmm. I suppose so. There are, of course, all kinds of explanations for that. None of which are possible to most minds.” Angel met her gaze, lips pressed together. She went on. “Of course, that….gholain demon….that doesn’t exist, either. So, here we are, faced with all kinds of impossible things.”
She looked out the front door. “And the day isn’t even done yet.”
“Sister.” Angel’s voice was low. “You keep calling me a warrior….but….I’m not. Warriors choose to do what they do. I have to do this.”
“Nonsense. No one makes you. You did choose. You choose every day.” She looked at him a moment. “Will you laugh too hard if I say that you and I have similar jobs?” Angel raised his eyebrows at her as a grin tugged at his mouth.
“We do. We do a work that few can understand, or appreciate. It is, of course, a choice for us both, but it is also a calling. We’ve been called. No one can know how difficult it is, to answer that call. To give yourself to a life so….” She thought a moment. “So solitary from what others are used to.”
“Maybe.” Angel leaned against the wall, looking down at his feet for a moment. “But you….you came here with a clean slate. You came here with a pure heart. Me….” He picked his words carefully.
“Me….I came a little late to the party. Before this, my life was…..it was a life of evil. It was beyond what you think of as evil. And before that, before evil came to me, I was a waste. So, how much are we really alike, Sister? How similar are we now?”
Her voice was hard. “We are alike in every way. Children of God. Believers of what we know to be true. Everyday we both rise and fight a fight few seem to want a part of. And we both forge on. There is recrimination in all you do, Mr. Angel. There is sorrow, and there is need. And we both prostrate ourselves upon altars…mine an altar of the church, and yours….an altar you have made to the greater good.”
Angel looked at her, feeling a kind of gentle warmth creep through him. He looked away, chuckling a little nervously as feelings he was frightened of and unused to began to filter through….a faint peace….a small glimmer of self forgiveness.
She looked out the door again, thinking. “You and your friends. You all fight on the same side as women who hide behind walls and offer up a life of service and prayer. We all just call our lives different things.” She grinned, a small, tired grin.
“And when the day is done, if my day is done today, or next week, or years from now, I shall know that I fought every single day to meet my calling, and I will know that whatever my reward or place is in an afterlife, I will go there fearlessly and content.”
They were both silent a moment. Angel finally said in a low voice, “You really believe that.”
“Yes. Of everyone.” She chuckled a bit. “I wouldn’t worry about Cordelia. I have the feeling she will be fine. And she’s a lot stronger than I think you give her credit for. She’s not fragile.”
Angle started, remembering Cordy saying those very words to him just a two nights ago. He grinned slightly at Sister Bert. “No. Nothing is going to happen to Cordy. Heaven doesn’t want her and Hell’s afraid she’ll take over.”
Sister Bert laughed gently and rose, walking to the doorway. Without looking back, she stopped and said in a near whisper, “Bless you, my son. And all that you do.” And she was gone into the gathering darkness.
***
Angel waited till just after dusk and walked along the outer walls, silent and watchful, till he reached Wesley’s quarters. He pushed the door open and walked in, looking around till he spotted Cordy, sleeping on the sofa. She had on an old t-shirt of Wes’, and the comforter wrapped around her snugly except for one long tanned leg which stuck out of the cozy folds.
Angel grinned and crossed to her, kneeling and looking at her peaceful face for a moment. “She’s not fragile.” Sister Bert’s words echoed back to him as he raised one hand and stroked her cheek, soft and downy. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned sleepily.
“Hey. You have got to get Wesley to give you some of this percocet. It’s great stuff.”
He grinned wider. “Good dreams?”
Her eyes popped open and he noted a fine flush poured over her face. She twisted and sat up, brushing at her hair that tousled around her face. “Um..yeah…ya know….me…at Niemans…with a brand new no limit card….that kinda thing.”
“Yeah. That kind of thing.” Angel echoed. She hadn’t been dreaming about Neimans. He was sure of that. He could sense her agitation, and smell…oh god, he could smell her arousal. He held the smirky triumph off his face. “A shopping thing.”
“Well, yeah. What else would I dream about?” She seemed flustered, and she leaned forward to get up and grimaced….feeling the wound under the bandage at her shoulder pull apart. “Ugh. I need to change this bandage…”
“I will.” Cordy looked at him. “C’mon. I’ve been paying attention as you did it to us….I can be a nurse.”
Cordy giggled. “Nurse Angel.” He grinned and rose, getting the supplies that Sister Bert had left behind. He sat back down beside Cordy on the sofa and gently turned her to the side so he could get at her shoulder.
The t-shirt hung off her slightly, but not enough to pull the collar back.
“Um….Cordy….you need….you need to pull the shirt off. Over…something.” She looked at him before looking away and gently tugging the t-shirt up and over her head, making a face at the stretch of the wound.
Angel sat, looking at the sleek line of her bare back as she tugged the comforter up over her chest, holding it to her as she waited for Angel to touch the bandage.
“Angel?” Her voice was quiet.
“Yeah. Yeah. Hang on.” He lowered his head, which turned out to be a mistake in the calm down plan when his eyes rested on the tracings of the tattoo at the small of her back, peeking out at him over the waistband of her white cotton bikini panties. He mentally beat himself as he reached for the bandage at her shoulder and lightly tugged at it.
“Just rip it away, Angel, I’m a fan of the get it over with theory.” He grinned slightly. That’s it, honey. Just face it and deal. And he ripped it off her skin. She didn’t even flinch. “Thanks. I think that’s better.”
Angel gently cleaned the wound and dressed it, both of them silent throughout. Finally, Cordy broke the silence, her voice husky.
“So…hear from Wesley?”
“Oh. Right.” Relieved to have something besides her fine ass to talk about, Angel told her about finding the trace of demon blood and Wesley’s research. “He’s calling Mrs. Chang. If an invisibility spell was cast, it would have gotten back to her.” Cordy nodded.
Angel gently taped the last edge and held his hand still at her back. He felt her pulse quicken and her body stiffen up just slightly. He laughed to himself, a giddy feeling he was unused to. Nieman’s my ass. She’s dreaming about me. He stroked her bare shoulder gently. She stiffened even more and slowly turned around to face him.
Holy cow. Angel. Nurse Angel was sitting there, touching her like…well, like not a nurse. Not a nurse was sitting there and touching her shoulder and she felt as if she were going up in flames. And he knew it.
When she could finally meet his eyes, they were squarely on her face, intent and dark. “Angel?” Her voice was an incredulous whisper. He leaned in just as she turned more…leaning in towards him.
Her mouth….it was lush and firm and he wanted it right then, at that moment. He leaned in, taking in her scent…her warmth, and felt a whisper of breath against his mouth as he watched her eyes slip closed……
A shrill, frantic cry ripped through the silence of the night. Angel jumped up and Cordy followed, letting the blanket fall she grabbed at Wes’ t-shirt and tugged it back on. Angel ran to the door and opened it, peering out into the night and sniffing intently.
Turning to Cordy, he growled, “Stay here.” With a stride out of the small house, he was gone into the night. Cordy stood frozen for a moment before looking around frantically for her shorts.
Angel loped through the grey night, all senses alert and on edge. He could feel the malevolence, chilled and sharp, wafting through the night. Another weaker cry reached him, and he broke into a dead run, heading for the gardens in the middle of the courtyard.
A feral growl and hiss sounded from a bed of flowers, and Angel approached the broken blooms slowly as he felt the demon rise and drift away. Footsteps sounded pounding on the sidewalk behind him and he turned in time to see Cordy barreling towards him, concern on her face.
Angel grabbed at her and tried to turn her away but he wasn’t quick enough for her to not see the crumpled and lifeless form that lay staring into the faintly shining stars with sightless eyes.
Cordy wasn’t even aware of her knees giving way, or of Angel supporting her weight as he turned her away and walked her back several steps. The crushed rose petals fluttered down in tatters around the body like a rain of blessings. The heart did not beat.
And on Sister Bert’s face was gentle contentment.