PART 10
Wesley shifted his balance restlessly. Leaning against one of the columns in the airport terminal, he was waiting for the Council people to arrive; hoping to God his hazy memory of the man Georges would be sufficient to recognise him. Dusk had fallen and free to roam Angel was racing through LA’s streets towards the area Cordelia had been traced to.
It hadn’t taken as long as he’d feared to persuade the corrupt lawyer to talk and their suspicions over the lack of concern after losing her at the gym had been proven correct. Cordelia was unknowingly carrying around a tracking device attached to the bottom of a pillbox. The fact that the device was on the move proved she hadn’t been saved by fate and left it behind. Knowing that, Wesley was uncomfortably reminded of races he’d seen at the dog-track as a child. As in, just like the mechanical bunny, Cordelia couldn’t hope to outrun or evade her pursuers.
Had he done the right thing? That was a bugger of a question. Wesley still agonised over his decision to reveal the truth in light of her disappearance, and probably would continue to until she was safe. He sighed, puffing out stubbled cheeks and couldn’t help thinking that whether she’d meant to or not, Cordelia arriving at his apartment seemed to have been the catalyst that set everything off.
After he’d lost her and expecting the worst, Wesley had been relieved when Angel brushed the ‘how’ aside in favour of finding her. A benefit, he supposed, of having an obsessive nature that focused on priorities.
The dog-track metaphor was hardly reassuring though. Aware she saw Angel as the problem rather than a solution, Wesley only hoped the vampire’s predatory nature gave him the edge over the rest of the pack and he reached her first. He’d be combing the streets, too, if not for the other information prised from the half-drowned man. As much as they’d tried to prevent it, this deadly drama was coming to its final violent act and little could be done to stop that now. Only the outcome was undecided.
Wesley was here at LAX because, when the time came, they’d need every head they could muster if they were to prevent a catastrophe sixty years in the making. On that front at least luck had not entirely deserted them and fate, it seemed, had stepped in to ensure those heads came together in the same place.
A vaguely familiar figure striding out from the arrival’s tunnel and flanked by three heavyset men pulled Wesley from his musings. Straightening up, he went to meet them. Unwelcome if hardly a shock in the circumstances, Wesley gave each one a brief scrutiny. Unfortunately, he knew the type very well; bulky bodies covered in nondescript clothing, military style short hair and blank faces all screamed council operatives. An irritating bunch of yobs in his opinion.
Striding through the millings crowds and travellers anxiously staring up at electronic boards, Wesley kept his expression wiped free of anything except mild surprise. Reaching the quartet, he stopped and held his hand to the man he did know. “Theodore Georges, welcome to Los Angeles.”
Half expecting the gesture to be ignored given his history, Wesley was relieved when his hand was shaken. Direct blue eyes surveyed him from under bushy brows. “Mr Wyndham-Pryce, good to see you fit and well. California life agrees with you I think.”
“It does indeed,” he said with a polite, reserved smile.
A responding small smile lifting mobile lips suggested his discomfort was noted. “Thank you for meeting us.” Georges said ultra civilised, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to get away given the circumstances.”
“I almost didn’t,” said Wesley and turned his attention to the trio openly assessing him from the sidelines. By the look on their faces they didn’t like what they were seeing. Blandly he added, “I wasn’t aware you were bringing anyone else. Why don’t you introduce us while we make our way to the car?”
Without waiting for agreement, he led the way knowing they’d have no choice except to follow.
“We don’t need introducing…just bring us up to date so we know what we’re dealing with.” The tone was cold, uncompromising and exactly what Wesley had been expecting from them. It was meant to rankle and it did.
Blandness slipped. Provoked, Wesley responded in kind, “It’s a bit late in the day for a charge of the light brigade,” he said, “Don’t misunderstand, we’re grateful for any assistance, but to be blunt, I suspect its Mr Georges expertise that will prove more useful than yours.”
The short silence was broken by Teddy whose initially muffled voice suggested strangled laughter, “Call me Teddy, please. Anyone who puts a wrinkled old man over three trained bulls gets to call me by my first name.”
That was the only reaction until the five of them stepped into an elevator. Before the doors had even closed, Wesley found himself grabbed by the front of his shirt and roughly shoved into the back of the cubicle.
“I know all about you, Pryce.” The council man snarled. Aggression and distaste warred on a pitted face. “As far as I’m concerned your very existence brings disgrace to the Council, so don’t push your luck. Tell me what I want to know, when I want to know it and stay out of my way, and if you’re really lucky I may not decide to erase you simply because I can. Got it?”
They were all so distracted they didn’t see a man step into the elevator, sliding nimbly between the closing doors before they shut. Glancing over his attackers shoulder, Wesley saw the salt-and-pepper hair covered by a floppy tan sunhat and reached into his pocket.
“Loud and clear,” said Wesley and lifting his hand, opened it and blew sharply so that the dust gathered inside scattered all over the man’s face.
As he did floppy hat whirled and blew a similar handful into the face of a second, as did Teddy into the third. The three council operatives staggered, looked shocked and then simply dropped into identical heaps on the elevator’s floor just as it came to a gentle stop and the doors slid back.
The floppy hat came off to reveal the craggy face of Rupert Giles. “Well that went quite smoothly I think.”
Having stepped over the bodies, as one they turned to look back inside. Wearing a bemused frown, Teddy asked uncertainly, “Are you sure we won’t need them?”
“No, I agree with Wesley,” replied Giles, “They only further unstable an already volatile situation. Its better we keep them out of it.”
The elevator doors slid shut. Shrugging fatalistically, Teddy eyed his two ex-colleagues with a sort of resigned acceptance, “You do realise I may get sacked and join you on the disgraced list after this little escapade?”
Deciding it wasn’t his place to get into that, Wesley simply quirked a brow and turned to lead the way to the car. Not denying it, Giles clapped a hand on Teddy’s shoulder and turned him to follow Wesley, “What do you care at your age? Its not like you need the money and most importantly you’ve had one foot on the side of rebellion as long as I’ve known you. So, don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this…old man.”
As simply and speedily as that the pair got back into their old groove.
“What have I told you about calling me old, Rupe? You’re not exactly a picture of youth and beauty yourself. In fact, leathery comes to mind. It must be all that sun-“
“If you feel out of your depth, you should have turned me down when I suggested it on the phone.”
“I would have turned you down except I had one foot out the door on the way to the airport. You caught me at a low moment and I hate flying.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
“Stop bickering,” chided Wesley, folding himself into the driver’s seat of the Plymouth. “Good God. It’s like being stuck with a pair of school boys.” The engine started with a deliberate and hurrying roar, “Let’s get on shall we? We do have lives to save. Did you bring the Book of Amaharan like I asked?”
Climbing into the back, Teddy looked contrite. “Of course, of course. Apologies, Wesley. May I call you, Wesley?” he asked handing over a heavily wrapped package. He didn’t think it worth mentioning how bloody difficult it had been smuggling it out.
“You may.” A manila folder was tossed into the newest renegade’s lap, “Here’s some general information for you to look at. Having got rid of the unwanted baggage, I can now tell you what we’re up against as we drive.”
“You’ve found out some new information?” asked Giles from the passenger seat.
‘Found’ wasn’t quite the description he would have used thought Wesley with some irony. Smiling grimly he nodded, “Today has been revealing to say the least. Have either of you heard of The Order Aueryun?”
“No- oh, hold on. It does ring a bell.”
Giles was quicker on the uptake, “It wouldn’t have anything to do with a group of spell-casters forming an alliance to keep the balance between light and dark etc etc?”
Navigating his way out and to the surface streets, Wesley nodded, “Yes, and the original alliance dates back further than the Crusades. In fact there is a strong suggestion that it originated in the Middle East before spreading to Europe and later on the new world. The last known activity was just before WWII,” he paused, “Until now.”
There was a moment’s silence. Giles decided to state the obvious, “A dozen murders in a few weeks doesn’t sound much like balancing to me.”
“Anton Silverous was the last in a line of very powerful mages. Following the death of his daughter he went mad with grief. According to our source he allowed himself to become a host to a demon known as Ushkil.”
It was Teddy’s turn to connect the dots. “The Sumerian demon supposedly defeated by the Assyrian god, Ashur? Now I understand why you wanted that particular book.”
“The one and only,” nodded Wesley, “According to legend, Ushkil aroused the wrath of the gods for introducing the concept of cannibalism to the peoples of Mesopotamia. After his defeat and as a punishment for his crimes, Ashur banished him from the physical world.”
“Hmmm, all well and good, except…now he’s back. Is that it?”
“It gets better,” advised, Wesley, shooting Giles a look that had the older man sitting up and bracing himself, “According to my source. The real story on this creature is that Ushkil was once a part of the inner circle of a group of beings we know as the ‘Senior Partners’ of Wolfram & Hart.”
There was yet another silence while that news was digested. Wolfram & Hart’s evil tendrils had spread far and wide and no explanation on who they were was necessary in this company.
Wesley continued, “Apparently he was too much even for them. In the end they kicked him out for causing trouble and getting some kind of penalties slapped on them by the PTB’s. The way it was described reminds me of a chess game. Only Ushkil liked to cheat and would get everyone into hot water.”
“This is all very nice and confusing, but what is his purpose in obtaining a slayers heart and banishing Angel’s soul?” asked Giles, losing a little patience.
“It’s quite simple. Ushkil wants back in and the Senior Partners want Angelus. He cut a deal and has been working towards delivering on it since 1942.”
Having flicked through the folder’s slim contents, Teddy held up a photograph of a beautiful girl grinning widely at the camera. “Is this the girl, Cordelia, you mentioned?”
“Yes,” answered, Giles, “Although heaven only know how we stop this creature from achieving its objective and killing her,” he turned to Wesley, “Unless you’ve managed to haul a god into this mess?”
“I wish, but unfortunately none where available,” replied Wesley, “Still we have to try,” he continued more sombrely. “The deal was that if Silverous manages to bring forth Angelus permanently. Ushkil’s banishment will cease and he will take over the mage’s body completely. Worse, he will be a true immortal- as in unkillable by any means.”
“So,” sighed Giles, pulling out a square of white linen for a nervous polish of his spectacles, “Our usual recipe of unmitigating disaster then?”
***
Hair soaked by the persistent rain drifting down from the night sky, Angel swiped the moisture off his face and dropped down from one roof onto another lower one. Gravel crunched under his feet as he crossed over the asphalt towards the edge. There he squatted on his heels and peered down at the street below.
Directly underneath a trashcan flickered orange and smoked from the fire smouldering inside. Surrounding it were several youths sporting tattoos, bandanas and thick shirts. As dress codes went, he’d seen better decided Angel before dismissing them and searching further afield.
He’d already searched and discounted two blocks and found not a trace of her. Getting more desperate by the second, Angel forced his panic to recede rather than let it hamper him. He had to believe she was safe and sound or go mad. She had to be around here somewhere. Unless of course she’d moved on. Knowing he had no way of finding out if that was the case, Angel refused to consider it.
If he just had an inkling why she’d come to this part of town, he might stand a better of chance of narrowing it down and actually locating her. Unfortunately, Angel didn’t have a single clue. This was definitely not Cordy’s usual scene. The possibility that Lindsey had lied crossed his mind, and it wasn’t until two of the youths looked up his way that Angel realised he’d vamped out.
Calming himself was getting to be impossible. Rising to his feet and backing away, Angel knew only that he had to move and do something. Long strides lengthened further, getting faster and faster until he was speeding blur running full pelt across the roof.
Launching himself high, he leapt between that building and the next; then kept on going onto the next. Arms pumping and neck corded, every sense was on full alert and stretching in every direction. Which was fine except that without a heartbeat, or constant rush of breath there were no sounds to help drown out the name running constantly through Angel’s head. Or the screams that erupted from somewhere further down the street.
As hints went, that one was fairly strong.
By the time he located the building they were coming from they’d reduced to sporadic yells and wailing cries. Luckily, finding a way in was a snip and the few guard stations were now unmanned. The strong smell of fresh blood assailed Angel’s nostrils as he made his way closer to where the sounds of scuffling, weeping and desperate calls were strongest.
Everywhere was in disarray and despite being passed several times, nobody questioned his right to be there. Reaching what looked to be some kind of communal area, he stopped and took stock. The first thing that hit him was the familiar fragrance that was unique to Cordelia.
She was nowhere in sight though. “Who’s in charge here?” Angel shouted urgently over the din.
“That would be Gunn,” said a small voice.
Looking around, Angel sought the voice that had answered him and found her. Behind him and to his right stood a teenage girl. The combat jacket she wore was several sizes too big for her small frame, making her look vulnerable rather than capable. Forced to look up given the difference in their heights, Angel saw the tears streaking down a smudged, dirty face.
She looked too young, scared and freaked to be clutching the throwing axe she had in a death grip. Shakily she said, “He’s at the armoury getting ready to go after the vamps.”
“It was vampires that did this?” asked Angel sharply, dumbfounded. He hadn’t been expecting that. Why it was a shock he didn’t know, perhaps he’d thought the other monsters of the world had stepped out of the ring with Anton’s arrival.
“Vamps and something else,” she shook her head dazedly, “I never seen anything like ‘em before.”
She was in shock as were all of the people he could see here. They were little more than kids and Angel was filled with emotions he couldn’t act on right now. As much as their misery affected him, he had to find out what had happened to Cordelia. Getting distracted now just wasn’t possible. After, if he survived, he would come back Angel vowed.
“Thanks,” he said, flashing the girl a reassuring smile and hoping she wouldn’t realise he was a stranger and clam up. “Where’s the armoury? I’m looking for a girl who was here. Cordelia-”
On the point of turning away, she went still and her gaze sharpened. It wasn’t with suspicion though. “Brunette; big smile and really pretty with a sort of…I dunno…classy air about her?”
His tension soared. Two youngsters dragged a body past him. Side stepping out of the way, Angel nodded. “Sounds like Cordelia. Why, did you see her- see what happened to her?”
There was sympathy on her face now. “Hey sorry, man. I wish I had better news. They took her along with Alonna, Gunn’s sister.”
***
She led the way through a maze of corridors and derelict rooms filled with yet more milling kids. One of the rooms they passed through was filling with dead bodies. Recognising of them, Angel felt sick fury rise up.
Cordelia’s friend from the gym had lived another few hours. Escaping only to die at the place she’d sought refuge. Sudden guilt sucker-punched him. Maybe these kids have been fighting vamps for years he thought, but it was my mistakes with Cordy that racked the stakes up too high. Responsibility weighed heavily.
Oblivious the girl motioned him on and walking through to the next room, she pointed at a tall heavily built young black. She needn’t have bothered, Angel would have guessed he was Gunn. Standing between two trestle tables covered with an arsenal of weaponry, he was passing them out like they were going to war.
He had a wild, reckless air that Angel empathised with. He knew what it felt like to lose a loved one, knew how every second of delay before he went after her was like a hot poker in his soul. Unlike this man however, Angel had learned patience and how not to fall into the trap of thinking determined zeal would win the day. When he remembered that lesson anyway.
Introductions would be superfluous, so Angel didn’t bother with them yet. “Do you have a vampire nest in the area?” he asked loud enough to pierce Gunn’s intense concentration.
”Who wants to know?” asked Gunn fiercely. He conceded only a brief glance from checking a crossbow and handing it over to a plump, cherubic looking Latino roughly half his size.
Feet planted apart and hands loose at his sides, Angel braced himself. “Angel,” he said and took a wild guess, “I’m a friend of Cordelia’s. Although she probably told you otherwise.”
In the middle of testing a wicked looking hunting knife for sharpness, Gunn’s head jerked up with brown eyes narrowed to furious slits, “You the vamp?”
Denying it was useless. “That would be me,” Angel admitted and held up a hand, palm out, “But I don’t mean you or yours any harm. I just want to find Cordy and kill the things responsible for this.” He quirked a brow, “Seems to me we have at least the last thing in common.”
Human and vampire clashed. Finally, turning away, Gunn conceded, “Maybe, but first I want my sister back. After she’s safe I’ll make sure it never happens again. As for you, I don’t need help from no damned vamp to kill your kind- soul or no soul.”
If it wasn’t for the urgency, Angel knew he’d be facing a much more deadly debate than this one. Barely concealed hatred and distrust lay thick in the air. A few of the kids who were close enough to pick up on what was said ranged a semi circle around him. Pale faces were twisted with grieving fury; the staring eyes hot with the urge to kill. It would only take one word for them to converge on him in a stabbing frenzy.
One of the kids got close enough for the spear with the stake on the end to be swatted aside. Angel didn’t twitch so much as a muscle. “If Cordy told you about me, I’m betting she told you we’re on the same side. I can help you.”
“I told you-“
“We don’t have time for a debate,” said Angel cutting him off, “Its not just vamps you’re dealing with here. If you want your sister back as much as I want Cordy then you’ll listen to me.”
***
Cordelia was terrified but she’d figured out one thing. They couldn’t kill her until the time was right. If she was feeling optimistic that meant she had time to cook up an escape plan. Of course having a pair of the ugliest and meanest looking demon’s she’d ever seen flanking her wasn’t great for her chances of escape, no matter how much she racked her brains for inspiration.
It would help if she knew where she was, but it was pitch-black except for the circle of foul-smelling candles surrounding her. Even when her vision had adjusted all she could see was a dirty floor that seemed to go on forever, a few paint chipped columns and one wall with big boards covering what she assumed where windows.
Cordelia was hoarse from yelling and shaking from left-over adrenaline after being snatched and brought to wherever this was. If that wasn’t harrowing enough, watching as Alonna was given over the vampires as soon as they’d got here ranked pretty high in the twist-your-heart-right-out-of-your-chest stakes, too.
Even worse, Alonna’s screams had fallen silent a good long while ago. Cordelia might not have known the girl long, but sometimes a connection can be instant. Her grief over the brave street-fighters fate was almost as sharp as seeing Lily lying in a pool of her own blood. Losing them both; right before her eyes and helpless to do anything to help them was heartbreaking.
Behind the grief, escalating terror and pain, lurked a walloping load of guilt. With both arms clasped around her chilled body in a vain attempt to lessen the shaking, she couldn’t help thinking that if she hadn’t let hurt pride and humiliation prod her into running from Angel, they’d still be alive. In fact if it wasn’t for a stubborn instinct to survive that guilt may have been crippling.
Did that make her a bad person? Cordelia didn’t think so. If she lived to see tomorrow, then would be the time to sit down and workout how the crap had ended up hitting the fan so badly. The only good thing about any of this; if you could call it a good thing, was that these monsters had seriously underestimated Cordelia Chase if they thought she was cowed. Screw that!
Maybe it was vanity, or ego or whatever, but as far as she was concerned it took a lot of grit and stubbornness to have gotten this far in her life. Cordelia wasn’t cowed. She was pissed, royally pissed. The kind of pissed where if she got a chance she was going to be the one ripping some hearts out. She was tired of being a fate’s favourite victim. No more, damn it! I am *not* giving up without a fight. What are they gonna do- kill me?
Seeing a group of people emerge from the deeper darkness interrupted her attempts to shore up her courage. Belly sinking, Cordelia had a feeling she was going to regret thinking that last one. Of the seven or so figures three of them were human. Two of those were dressed in suits and the third was wearing some kind of burgundy silk robe. For some reason, she found the old man in the robes repulsively mesmerising.
Geeze, how’s that for contradictory?
Maybe it was a trick of the light, but as she watched them walk towards her, Cordelia saw a flash of pale at the periphery of her vision. Not sure why, she was certain there had been something furtive about it and hope soared for a moment. Trying not to make it obvious, she attempted to pierce the gloom in all directions and came up with nothing.
“Crap, so much for hope.”
Refusing to give-up on that sliver of hope, she carried on looking until robe-guy suddenly demanding she be ‘brought to the table’ kind of put a damper on her search. Jerking her attention back to the approaching group, the rattling she’d heard was explained as Cordelia spotted what looked like a mobile surgical table- with straps on each corner.
Her reaction was knee-jerk, “Oh, you are so not strapping me to that thing.”
Unfortunately her protests were ignored and in current circumstances brute force wasn’t something she could fight. Dragged, kicking and screeching she glared hotly up at the grinning vampire holding her down on the gurney. “God! I hate vampires,” she hissed up him, “Go eat one of your bosses. They look tasty.”
“I’d rather eat you, doll-face,” he said, topaz eyes gleaming with unholy appreciation, “And they’re not my bosses. We’ve made a mutually beneficial deal is all.”
Her lip curled. “Whatever…just keep your squinty eyes off my neck. I didn’t survive a hellmouth to come here and get snacked on by stinky vagrant-vamp.”
“This one knew the slayer according to our records,” a new voice broke in, “Kind of ironic don’t you think.”
Turning her head to locate him she realised it was one of the suits. Oily dark hair was scraped back, revealing a youthful face with eyes that suggested they’d seen and done things that would have Satan’s crusty toes curling.
“Indeed,” said the other suit, “however, let’s not be rude and introduce ourselves to Ms Chase. After all she did do us a huge favour by running away from Angel and practically right into our clutches.” Grey hair, smooth voice and a softly wrinkled face weren’t enough to hide bone-deep ruthlessness.
That hit home exactly like it was supposed to. There was a roaring in her ears that could have either been anger or panic. Deciding she preferred anger, Cordelia lifted her head off the thin mattress and jeered, “Ya think? Angel’s on his way here right now and getting ready to kick your wrinkly butts,” she prayed she wasn’t lying. “So, thanks for the front row seat. I’d hate to have missed the show.”
“You mean you’ve allowed yourself to get caught as part of an elaborate plan to draw us out?” He looked amused at the idea, “How noble and self-sacrificing of you, my dear. Let’s hope Angel gets here in time to save you.”
“Besides, how can you miss the show? You’re the star,” he continued with his head cocked enquiringly to one side. Then waved it all over as inconsequential, “Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I’m Holland Manners…”
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you but I’d be lying.”
“…and this is my colleague, Lee from Wolfram & Hart, and finally that gentleman over there is, Anton Silverous.”
One hand was snagged and placed inside a strap. Wrenching it free with surprising strength, Cordelia cried out when the hand was re-captured with crushing force.
“Now, now,” interrupted Manners, “there really is no need to be so rough with her. Lee, perhaps our guest would be less resistant with a gentler, human touch,” he suggested, still all smooth, urbane charm.
“I don’t care who restrains her. Just get it done. My patience is wearing thin,” snapped the old man in the robes. Those were the first words he’d spoken and they didn’t bode well.
Cordelia’s skin crawled. Opening her mouth to disabuse them of the idea that she considered them human, she snapped it closed again, realising this might be the chance she was looking for. Slim but still a chance.
Holding her breath, she waited until he’d begun to slip the end into the buckle and then made her move. Whipping up her legs in a kick high enough to do a head roll, she caught Lee on the side of his face and continued with it until she rolled right off the end of the gurney. The second her feet touched the floor she was off, sprinting away from the circle and the momentarily stunned figures inside it.
Hardly daring to slow enough to see where she was going, Cordelia had no warning of whatever it was she ran into. Rebounding off the obstacle, she fell to the floor winded. Gasping, heart pounding and sickly aware she’d lost her chance, Cordelia blinked to clear the coloured spots floating in her vision and felt her jaw drop open with shock.
“Alonna?” she asked in hoarse disbelief.
“Hey, girlfriend,” grinned the young girl cockily. “What’s your hurry?”
Still trying to figure out why she was scared of the girl, Cordelia was powerless to resist the strong hands that wrapped around her upper arms to lift her up from her sprawl. When she was back on her feet it finally sunk in. “You’re a…a-“
“Vampire, yeah. Ain’t it the greatest?” Morphing with a growl into the horribly familiar face of a vampire, Alonna’s grin widened and winding back a fist, punched Cordelia hard enough that she was sent flying back towards the circle of lights she’d only just escaped.