Chapter 12
Angel didn’t pause as he kicked in the high school’s door.
He headed straight for Cordelia’s locker. Angel punched it open. He rifled through the books and papers, stopping only when his fingers touched soft material. He looked at the hair scrunchy, bringing it up to his face. It was full of Cordelia. Without thinking, he stuffed it in his pocket.
He slammed the broken door. No hints to where Cordelia lived. He stood in the middle of the hallway for a moment before he realized where to go.
He stood outside of the main office for a moment, considering. Then, with a shrug, he pushed his fist through the door and went to the file cabinet. Angel flipped through the files until he found the student’s records. He smiled as the address of Cordelia Chase came to light.
Angel paused as he moved through the hallways. Randomly he started to destroy lockers.
He stood at the exit, satisfied by the results.
***
Angel leaned against the Plymouth. It was a prized possession that he hadn’t used since he drove into Sunnydale, but that night he needed it, since the address he found was in an exclusive area on the border of Sunnydale’s town limits.
Angel studied the gated mansion. It put the one he stayed in to shame. He ran towards the gate lifting up in the air, clearing the iron barrier. He stalked close to the house, jumping to the second story where the heartbeat’s concentrated. He peered through the window and saw a mother and father putting their small son to sleep.
Angel stepped back. Nothing hinted at Cordelia’s scent. She wasn’t there.
Angel dropped to the ground and went back to his car. He thought about The Dress Place, but labeled it a last resort.
He looked back up at the estate he’d just violated. That was her listed address for school. It had been since her freshman year. She had lived there.
He got into his car heading for another destination. He stood in front of City Hall, scanning the area for a night watchman. Once satisfied that area was clear, he smashed in the door. He studied the wall directory and headed for deeds section.
He looked at the many file cabinets and books scattering the room. Angel went to the file cabinet labeled with his best calculation for Cordelia’s year of birth. He flipped quickly for the record of transactions filed in 1981.
Angel took a deep breath, nothing. When he found her, he wasn’t that sure that he wouldn’t kill her. She couldn’t just disappear from him. Angel looked at the file immediately before, again nothing.
He grunted as he yanked the next drawer. His eyes fixed on an address. It was there, the deed to the mansion that he just visited. Bought by the Chases’ in 1980.
Then he went to the drawer labeled the current year’s date. It didn’t make him feel better that he found the address immediately. The estate was sold two months ago, but he found nothing in the other papers to indicate that the Chases’ had bought a new home. For two months, Cordelia had lived where ?
He slammed the drawer shut, rocking the metal cabinet on its foundation.
Angel ran straight to his car, speeding to The Dress Place.
He pulled up in front to the store and jumped out, not sensing the presence of the beefy security guard. He strode up to the glass door and shoved his fist through it.
He was only in the store for a moment when a barely audible click sounded in the quiet. He dove to the left as a shotgun blast burst around him. Angel stood and stared down at the homemade burglar trap. Okay, now he was really pissed.
He moved quickly to the marked office door and tore through the metal cabinet. He grabbed at Cordelia’s employment file and went back to his car. He drove off as red and blue sirens came in from the distance.
***
Angel pulled off to the side of the road, grabbing at the file and searched until he found Cordelia’s address. He threw the papers back on passenger seat and took off.
Angel stared at the empty field. It wasn’t irritation that fueled every part of his body- it was pure rage. Cordelia had continuously lied and he had no idea where she was.
Angel took a deep calming breath that did nothing to stop the urge to pummel his car and everything else that could be destroyed.
Angel looked up to the sky. Soon it would be dawn. Tomorrow. First thing, he would be at Sunnydale High. If he couldn’t find her and the answers, then some one would have to pay.
Chapter 13
Angel rolled off the king sized mattress barely taking note of the clock that told him that it was 11:00 a.m. and headed straight to the shower.
He let the water flow over him, as he remembered the night. His fist hit the tiles and he slumped against the shower wall. The lies that he had discovered were weeks in telling.
He would find Cordelia and the truth.
***
Cordelia hid her yawn against her hand. The morning sucked has much as the night had. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all.
It seemed like every ten minutes she woke up trembling in fear or ready to cry. The first dream had snuck up on her. She had staged her death changed her identity moved to a small backwater town, but still Angel found her. And worse she hadn’t even looked like Julia Roberts.
Then she dreamed she had trained to punch, kick and hurt in self-defense, yet she still lost, and was stuck in a damp dreary cave prison. She hadn’t looked like Ashley Judd, and the psychotic hadn’t looked like Angel, but in her dream she knew it was him.
And for the rest of the night dreams of Angel’s anger and torture kept her tossing and turning.
She had barely stayed awake in the shower, but by the time she got out and dressed she felt better, exhausted but no longer feeling the lingering fears of the dream.
Then everything started to suck again when she got to school and found her locker had been destroyed along with about half of the student population’s’.
And now, her history teacher was aiding her exhaustion by putting her to sleep.
“Cordelia.”
Cordy looked up to find her teacher staring at her.
“Yes?” She asked, resting her elbows on her desk.
“Clearly, you’re too ‘tired’ to answer our question.”
Cordelia leaned back crossing her arms. She was so not in the mood. “Repeat the question, please.”
“My question was about the Declaration of Independence.”
“What do you want to know about it? Some trivia about Thomas Jefferson, the guy that paraphrased John Locke and others to write the whole thing? Or something about the whole ‘ self-evident truths’ sentiment and then let’s-kick-Britain’s-butt-cry. Or were you asking about how not PC it really was? You know, ‘One people’…’We the people’…’All men are created equal” meaning of course, as long as you were a white male property owner?” Cordelia looked up at her teacher.
“I…I…” The teacher glanced to the clock. “It’s seems…um..the class is over. Time to go.”
Cordelia got up as the bell rang, gathering her books and ignoring the snickers that were being directed towards the stuttering teacher.
God, how long would the day last? She leaned against the hallway wall as the students lucky enough to still have lockers scrambled to them.
She flinched as her cell vibrated in her pocket. She had five missed calls starting at 5: 00 a.m. She was scared to answer it or find out what the calls she missed could mean.
She took a deep breath. “Hello?”
“Honey, are you alright? Where are you? Why didn’t you answer?” Miss Twittle’s concerned voice filtered through the phone.
Cordelia knew she wasn’t going to like this. “I turned it off to save my batteries after I talked to you. Is something wrong?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at school. What happened?”
“He broke into the store. The police didn’t find a body, but hopefully the shotgun has incapacitated him. But still you better be careful. Your file is gone. I should’ve burnt it. I’m sorry. But, Barney will be happy to go to the school in case he shows there. Barney has a .48 and a .32 strapped to his ankle.”
Cordelia’s mind froze. “I’m okay,” she answered. “You shot him?”
“Oh no. I set up a gun trap in the store. It worked. I wasn’t sure. It was the first time I actually tried it. I’m quite excited.”
Cordelia shook her head and locked her knees to keep from slumping down to the floor. “Miss Twittle?”
“Gladys, dear.”
“Right. Gladys.” Cordelia gulped, praying. “There was no sign that anybody had been injured?”
“No. The police didn’t find any signs of it.”
Cordelia couldn’t believe it. The woman was disappointed that there wasn’t a dead guy on the floor.
She pressed her palm in between her eyes. Her lie had gotten so out of control. “The police? What did you tell them?”
“I’m afraid that I had to give them a description of your stalker. They were getting quite testy about the trap, so I had to explain it.” Miss Twittle huffed.
“Great.” Cordelia didn’t know if she could handle the picture of Miss Twittle in a cage built by her lies. Angel wasn’t going to like being arrested. Hopefully, the Sunnydale police would exhibit their usual inability to investigate anything that wasn’t up in their face.
“Um, Gladys, I have to go to my next class. I’ll see you at work.” Cordelia needed to run and hide.
“Oh no, dear, the shop has to be closed for repairs. The shotgun blast broke the front window and door. I’ll let you know when it’s re-opened. Honey?”
Cordelia stared at the phone. Oh god. Her lie hadn’t stopped her from getting fired. It made her job explode into nothing. “My job?” Cordelia tried to keep the panic out of her voice.
“Of course, you’ll have your job when the store is re-opened. That reminds me. I need your address.”
“My address?”
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll keep it safe. I’ve learned my lesson. But, I do need it for your paychecks.”
“My paychecks?”
“Yes, dear, the one from last pay period and future ones.”
A smidgeon of hope sparked against Cordelia’s panic. “Future?”
“Of course, dear, I have informed Mrs. Macintosh how much the sales have increased since your employment. She doesn’t wish to take the chance of losing you to another store while The Dress Place is being repaired. Unfortunately, it will only be the hourly wage as the shop won’t be open for you to make any commissions.”
“You did that? ” Cordelia locked her knees together again to stop from falling to the floor. ” Oh. Okay. I’m staying…”
“No. Dear. Not over your cell phone. They are notoriously unsafe. The calls can be intercepted.”
“Oh.” Cordelia rubbed her temples. “Um, I have a P.O. Box, I can tell you that.” Cordelia waited. “Miss Twittle?” She asked into the silence.
“I’m not sure,” Miss Twittle said finally. “They can be traced. To be safe, I still suggest going to a pay phone.”
“Pay phone?” Cordelia tried to think. There were two in the cafeteria. “I can call at lunch.”
“Lovely. Now write this down. 555-2345.”
“Miss Twittle, are you sure no one was injured at the shop?”
“We could only wish, dear. Have fun at school.”
‘Have fun’? Cordelia’s head was spinning. Miss Twittle was seriously disturbed and completely wonderful. Cordelia was still going to get paid.
Cordelia scrunched up her forehead. What if Miss Twittle was wrong? What if the burglar had been injured? Oh god. What if it had been Angel?
Cordelia glanced at her watch. 11:30 am. She was going to have to skip her next class and go to Angel’s. She wasn’t sure exactly where he lived, but she had an idea from Buffy’s monologues about Angel-angst during her times at the Scoobies’ after school meetings.
Cordelia could find him. She had to. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate until she was sure he was all right. If he weren’t Miss Twittle’s culprit, then she’d figure out some sort of explanation about why she was there. If he was the culprit, she had no idea what to say. But that nightmare didn’t change her need to go.
Cordelia looked around. All the students had scattered into their respective classes and there were no teachers around. She had a clear shot off campus.
She quickened her pace to the doors but gave a muffled scream as she was suddenly swung up and carried into a supply closet.
Cordelia was dumped unceremoniously on the floor, her mouth still covered by an unmovable hand. Her eyes squinted at Angel as he raised his finger to his lips.
Cordelia slowly nodded, relieved to see him but still more than a little freaked.
Angel waited a full beat until he was sure that she wouldn’t yell out. Once he was satisfied, he stood and pulled the chain to illuminate the room. His satisfaction that he had caught her hadn’t in anyway diffused his anger. He could only hope that Cordelia was smart enough to tell the truth.
He was thrown for a loop, when Cordelia suddenly started moving her hands rapidly over his chest. “Are you hurt? Please, tell me that you didn’t break into the store. Tell me you didn’t get shot,” she hurriedly begged. “Tell me.”
“I didn’t get shot.”
“Oh thank god.” She wrapped her arms tightly around him.
Angel looked down at the dark hair buried under his chin unsure what to do with his hands or what to say. He wanted to tell her that her arms around him would go a long way in making the talk they were going to have easier on both of them.
Her embrace had caused more of a dent in his anger than any words could. If she had just done that last night, a lot of aggravation and property damage could’ve have been avoided.
He held on to her wrists as she stepped back.
“I swear, Angel, I had no idea about the shot gun. She didn’t call me until just now. Well, she called earlier but my phone was off.”
Angel gazed into her eyes. “Why?”
“In case you broke in, I guess,” she shrugged and then looked up at him. “Why in the world would you break in? You have something against dresses?”
“Answer the question.” Angel wasn’t prepared to discuss his frantic need to find her or the increasing rage in his failure. “I think it is only fair, since something you told her almost got me shot.”
Cordelia winced.
Angel hadn’t really believed that Cordelia had wanted him to get shot, but her embarrassment and regret knocked his anger down another notch.
“I had no clue that Miss Twittle would be so — into it all. All I wanted –” She stopped to glare up the vampire. “It’s all your fault.”
Angel arched his eyes brows. “Really?”
“I get that I made you mad by saying that your were Bu —-” she paused, obviously rethinking the direction of her words. “Could you let my arms go, please?” She shot him her most charming smile.
Angel studied her hands in his. He didn’t want to.
“Come on, Angel,” she complained.
Angel dropped her hands before the temptation to brush beneath Cordelia’s sleeves could take hold.
“Hmmph,” Cordelia automatically rubbed at her wrist. “It’s all your fault.”
“You said that already.” He suddenly frowned at her actions. “Did I hurt you?” He snatched a wrist examining it for redness.
“No. Geez.” She pulled back, and then shot a finger into his chest. “If you hadn’t tried to get me fired I never would’ve had to make up the story.”
Her hurt glare made him want to defend himself. “I didn’t…”
“Did too.” She poked again.
“Stop that.” He grabbed at the offending hand, keeping it in his.
“No.” She poked him a third time.
“Yes.” He manipulated her hand so that it was imprisoned against his chest.
Cordelia tugged. “Let me go.” Her glare turned suddenly to curiosity. “Hey, you don’t have a heart beat,” she exclaimed, wiggling her fingers underneath his hand seeking out more chest area to test. Angel dropped his hand in astonishment, the action giving Cordy’s hand more room to move.
“I’m a vampire, Cordelia. Dead.” He couldn’t take his eyes of the hand brushing along his sweater, dueling with the amazement of her actions and cursing the material of his sweater for blocking the heat.
“Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “But, I never felt a non-beating heart.” She fisted her hand and gently knocked as she leaned in closer.
“What are you doing?”
“Seeing if you echo,” she said, stifling her giggle.
“I’m dead, not hollow.”
She shot him a laughing smile.
Angel frowned at her smile. It was real, it was beautiful, and he didn’t want to stop it. But he had to know the truth. “Your story.”
“Oh right.” Cordelia’s shoulders slumped. “Can we take this out of the closet? I don’t like closets.”
“Don’t stall.”
“I’m not.” She puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t like them. Bad memories. Xander.”
“What does he have to do with your fear of closets?” Angel’s mind swerved with the change of topic.
“Not afraid of them, it’s just that Xander and I…” A blush crept up her neck. “Nevermind, here’s fine.”
Their constant battling had made him forget Cordelia and Xander’s previous romantic relationship. For some reason, even the thought of it made him angry.
Cordelia sighed. “Miss Twittle had just been waiting to get something on me and you gave her that something with your stupid lie.” Cordelia glared and then rolled her eyes at his incomprehension.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. You set me up. She jumped all over the fact that I didn’t have a clue about a man coming into the store to order a dress for his mother. She wouldn’t believe me that it never happened. She was too busy going on and on about how handsome you were. Pfft, mother, my butt.” She glared at Angel. “So, I told her you weren’t a customer, but a psycho stalker and that you may have…” Cordelia bit her lip, her glare shifting to one of sweet innocence.
Angel was almost afraid to hear what Cordelia hoped her sugared-coated glance would dilute. He nodded for her to go on.
“Um, that you may have killed your mother, your father, and an old girlfriend that you drove crazy before you killed her, who happened to have dark hair.” She said quickly. “I didn’t tell her you were a ‘grr’, though, I swear,” she said, patting his arm, as if it made it all better.
Angel shook his head. “I guess I should be grateful, otherwise the home made burglar alarm would’ve been equipped with a crossbow.”
Cordelia winced again. “I had no idea, really. She sucked up the melodrama and danger bit like that.” Cordelia snapped her fingers. “Letting me go home early, park up front, even hired a security guard. She’s been really nice. It’s weird. OH.” Cordelia squeezed her eyes tight, peeking at Angel. “She gave your description to the police.”
“So, I’m going to be arrested for stalking you?” Angel was conflicted. In one lie Cordelia had enraged him, yet, he couldn’t quite get past the sweet smile and the diabolical effectiveness of the lie.
“The Sunnydale Police Department is pretty bad,” Cordelia said encouragingly. “So, I wouldn’t worry too much.” She patted his arm again. “I told you everything and I have to go to class. Glad you weren’t shot.” She quickly reached for the doorknob.
“No, you didn’t.” Angel held the door shut.
“Yes, I did.” She turned crossing her arms.
“No, you haven’t told me why you’ve been lying about where you’ve been living.”
“I haven’t.”
“Yes, Cordelia you have. Tell me.”
“Where I live is none of your business,” Cordelia snapped, her eyes widening. “You broke in to the store to find out where I live, didn’t you.” Cordelia stepped back. “You really ARE stalking me.”
“I was worried.”
“Why?”
Angel hoped that he could convince her. Because her refusal to tell him the truth would just piss him off again, otherwise.
“You weren’t at work. Miss Twittle told me that you’d gone home sick. Both she and security guard were acting suspicious. Of course, now I understand why. But at the time, I didn’t and decided to see if you were all right. But that was difficult because you don’t seem to live anywhere.”
“I live somewhere.” Cordelia shifted her feet.
“Where? Cordelia, just tell me. It’s only fair, isn’t it, since your lie almost got me shot and could get me arrested.”
“You started it,” Cordelia protested. “Why did you come back anyway? You had already done your damage.”
Angel sighed. “I wasn’t trying to get you fired, okay? I just wanted to know how many nights you were going to continue to be reckless and walk by yourself. The story seemed the best way.”
“Why do you care?”
Angel slowly brought her chin up with his finger. “Because, contrary to your opinion of me, I do care about other things than Buffy, including stubborn young women who don’t have the sense to at least take the proper precautions when walking alone at night.”
“I took precautions, I had —“
“The spray of holy water you wanted me to stand there and wait for? I could’ve had you by the throat in a second.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to work.” She stepped back.
“Is Europe —” Angel paused, comprehension dawning. “You lied about that too.”
Cordelia closed her eyes. “I got a room at a motel on Riverside, okay? Miss Twittle suggested I go there after I told her that you were a crazy stalker. I did it to make her happy.”
“No, Cordelia.” Angel wasn’t about to just accept her sudden willingness to answer one question to avoid another as the truth.
“Yes, Angel.”
“Cordelia, I broke into the store. I took your file. Are you saying that prior to last night you were living in a open field?” Angel wished she’d just tell him.
Cordelia shoulders slumped. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“I’m staying a motel on Riverside. That is the truth, okay?”
Angel studied her. He believed her, but she was still hiding something. Angel thought back to what he learned last night. “Your parents aren’t in Europe. Where are they?”
Cordelia held his stare for a moment then looked to the floor. “I don’t know.” Cordelia finally admitted in a small voice.
“You aren’t working to go to Europe. You’re working to survive.”
Cordelia’s eyes hardened. “You will not tell anyone. No one.”
“Cordelia, you can’t stay in that hotel alone. Not, if it’s the one I’m thinking of. It’s not safe.”
“I am eighteen, not twelve. I can take care of myself.”
“Stay with friends.”
“What friends?” Cordelia spit out a chuckle.
Angel winced. “Cordelia.”
“Shut up.” Her tone was as glacial as her expression. “You got your ‘truth’ and I hope you choke on it. And stay the hell away from me.” She reached for the door.
Angel didn’t stop her. “Not fucking likely,” he said lowly as the door slammed shut.
***
Angel stopped from kicking through the door and going after her. Rushing wasn’t the way to accomplish…
What? He smashed the palm of his hands into his eyes. Angel bore down further until the pressure brought some clarity to his thoughts.
He couldn’t go running after her. It was in the middle of the day. He knew where she would be for the next few hours. It would be insane just to sit in the closet and wait for her to pass by so he could yank her back into the small space.
Angel pulled out the hair scrunchy. It was coated in the false smells of shampoo and hair spray. Cordy’s scent was there but he needed more.
Angel leaned towards the door. The halls were silent, so he started out into the hallway. His feet took him to a science class and Cordelia sitting at a small desk. He frowned, barging into the room and holding her down wasn’t the way. He concentrated and turned down the hall towards the gym. He stilled at the sight of the students playing volleyball, and then slipped through the doors, staying in the shadows until he got to the locker room. His nose twitched as one scent out of many drew him to a long metal cabinet.
He studied the locked container for a moment, then ripped at the combination lock and opened the door. This was true Cordelia, or at least as true as he would get right then. He blocked out the artificial aroma of deodorant and perfume targeting the soiled clothes shoved to the bottom. He brought her t-shirt to his nose.
The material held everything and the answer he sought. He felt better and conversely his body itched at the same time. It wasn’t that he had somehow failed in his ability to identify Cordy’s scent, not completely. The underlying spice was more than one single thing, it was deeper, and more taunting than anything he could’ve labeled with a simple euphemism.
The problem had been that he separated the elementally female part of her, the scent of earth and the primordial promise of life, with the unidentifiable scent. All women had the other to a certain extent, blooming when the blood and body matured to ensure childbirth and fading as the time passed, nature’s way of ensuring that males recognized the holder of the life of the species.
But now he realized that he couldn’t discount the universal scent of women, in his questioning. In Cordelia, the scent of pure female was wrapped up and blended with sex, sin, sweetness, fire and innocence taking nature’s insurance to a whole new level. It was an enthralling flavor that was in place to do more than signal procreation, it was designed to tempt and drive the male of the species crazy with the promise of impossible pleasure.
Stupid. He had been searching for another Irish flower or exotic spice. Instead he should’ve been searching for every man’s Mecca.
Angel shoved the t-shirt into his jacket. The girl was in danger. He wondered how she stayed safe for so long. She was as vulnerable as a bitch in season. Unknowingly, she would get herself hurt or killed just by being.
It wouldn’t happen. He would make sure of it. He shoved the broken metal piece back into the joke of a lock and gave a slight tug, smiling, as it didn’t fall open in his hands, but in fact refused to budge.
He left through the gym’s showers down into one of the several entrances to the tunnels that weaved under the school. His hands shoved into his clothes, fingers twirling the stolen fabric.
