Part 2
12.30 a.m.
The rotating lights from the squad cars bathed the front of the apartment building with an unearthly blue glow. The paramedic van had already come and gone having uselessly attended a scene where death was not in question. Now a white van labelled starkly with ‘mortuary’ waited in its place.
Angel avoided the gaggles of blue uniforms standing hunched and uneasy in the buildings doorway, using the basement as an entry point instead. Finding Kate was simple; he just followed the sound of voices on the third floor.
Every single bulb in the hallway had been broken and glass crunched underfoot as he manoeuvred his way around white-coated forensics technicians wielding brushes coated with black power.
Kate’s voice drew him and the tight edginess in it was audible halfway down the hall. “I don’t care if you have to fly halfway around the world to find the guy. Just find him. Jesus, we’re racking up the bodies here and personally, I don’t want another one added to the tally.”
He winced picturing the tension on Kate’s face. She was a dedicated law enforcer and this case had to be killing her.
There had been twelve names on that donor-recipient list Angel had given Kate. Ten were now dead with eight of the murders already completed before the connection was picked up. Angel felt a flicker of anxiety flare from the knowledge he was keeping the thirteenth a secret; Cordelia Chase. He was losing sleep wondering when the demons would turn their attention on Sunnydale’s once-upon-a-time princess.
The door was open. Kate; blonde haired and pretty with a penchant for mannish clothes was standing beside the covered body. At least five other people were milling around the small, neat apartment.
“Kate” Angel said to announce his presence.
“Angel,” she said crisply, looking up with something akin to desperation gleaming out of sky blue eyes. “Glad you could come at such short notice.”
“No problem. You know I’ll help when I can.”
She missed the inflection in the last three words. “We need all the help we can get and I’m not too proud to say it. This case is a total nightmare. We’re running out of victims and I hate feeling helpless.” Kate dropped wearily to her haunches next to the corpse. Under the fluorescent strip lights the deep shadows on her face seemed etched as she looked up at the vampire. “We should have been able to protect him.”
Her frustration was palpable. Angel didn’t know what else to say, “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. We’d still have this pegged as a random killing by a serial killer if it weren’t for you.” She sighed and steeled herself to unzip the gory remains, “I just wish we could stop the bastards.”
It was the same MO as last time, only this woman’s face was fixed along even more terrified lines. Kate’s words gave Angel a chill and he froze, waiting for her to catch his eye. “You can’t stop them; just delay them until I find out whose doing this and end it. Remember, Kate, these killers are not human.”
Unwillingly Kate responded to that quiet demand. Then rallied her wits and rebelled. “It’s my job-“
“It’s your job to protect, not die in vain. We talked about this, don’t welch on me now.” Angel was always uncomfortably aware of her attraction to him, but it was intertwined with her trust in him and he wasn’t willing to try and untangle them. Sometimes it even came in handy, if only subconsciously. He could see he’d won.
2 p.m.
Cordelia gave her best winning smile to the parents of the worst behaved seven-year-olds she’d ever had the misfortune to come across, “Hi, you must be Mr and Mrs Velman. I’m so sorry to drag you away from your shopping like this, but the arcade is clearly signed; under eights must be supervised at all times.”
For very good reasons she didn’t add. Up until the last ten minutes the customer services desk had, thankfully, been quiet today, even though the mall itself was busy with everybody buying last minute treats for night-time when the trick-or-treaters were let loose.
Accepting embarrassed apologies with a serene nod and another smile, Cordelia puffed out a relieved breath when the tow-headed little horrors were pulled away.
Out of hearing she let out what she really thought. “And next time don’t try and offload your responsibilities on the poor unsuspecting public. God, those two need a leash and a cattle prod. Brats!”
Chin cupped in a palm and getting back to her magazine, Cordelia leisurely turned a page. “I am never having kids. Never, ever. There isn’t enough money in the world-“
“Excuse me, Miss?”
Geeze, sneak much? She plastered on another smile and slid the magazine out of sight. “Oh hi. Sorry I was miles away. Can I help you?”
That marked a frenetic hour where it seemed everybody needed something from her; wheelchairs, lost parking tickets, lost children, lost car-keys. Every time she turned there was another harassed and irate customer looking for her to solve their problems. “It’s a conspiracy, that’s what it is. Someone up there has decided to pay me back for refusing to do Saturdays.”
It was a running battle between Cordelia and her boss that she refused to do evenings or weekends. Like she was dumb enough to agree to work during the malls busiest hours. Having two jobs was bad enough she reasoned, and the benefits associated with staff discounts only swayed her so far.
The Starbucks kiosk beckoned, and she gave into it rather than return to her station and yet another dweeb who’d misplaced his spouse, rug-rats, Oldsmobile, sense of direction or colostomy bag.
The beige and forest green uniform was still a draw and she had to skirt around a waterfall to avoid a militant looking woman towing a shrieking child. Reaching Mecca she said feelingly, “I need to win the lottery,” to the guy inside the kiosk.
“You and me both,” was the laconic reply. “The usual?” he asked reaching for a paper cup. His name tag was the same as her, a big smiley face with text in the middle. His name was Bud, a good match for his blonde hair and tanned face.
She liked him better now he‘d given up hitting on her and just kept it low-key and friendly. “Yup, and give me an extra shot of espresso. Something tells me I’m going to need all the energy I can get today.”
“Coming right up.”
Leaning on the counter, Cordelia rolled her neck to relieve tension induced by being friendly when she felt like screaming. A bunch of girls passed them by and caught her attention. Long sleek limbs encased in designed jeans, slinky tops to teasingly expose tanned perfumed arms were perfectly accessorised with Italian shoes and Prada purses. Blonde hair was worn long and glossy. They looked like the pampered princesses she’d been. Today, it stung.
“God, I miss those days.”
“What?”
Wincing, she gave Bud a sheepish smile and took her coffee, “Never mind, and thanks.”
“Sure. Oh and here’s a tip, avoid the demons.”
Choking on a mouthful of foam, Cordelia turned back thinking she couldn’t have heard that right. “Come again?”
“The demons; actors paid to entertain the shoppers. They’re roaming all over, didn’t they tell you?” He could tell by the blank look on her face she hadn’t. Leaning over he explained, “So customers don’t sue they’ve been told to keep any um… antics to the mall staff. We got told we’re expected to take part at the staff meeting this morning.”
She’d overslept and missed it. “You have got to be kidding me?”
“Would I do that to a fellow colleague?” Grinning, Bud shook his head. “Why do you think I haven’t moved out of here once today?”
“Great, where can I get me one of those,” she grumbled and moved off again, warily eyeing the crowds moving between the escalators, fountains and circular gardens. Demons had always been drawn to her, which was why she’d always been lumbered with the role of bait-girl by Buffy. Just because she was a couple of hundred miles away, she didn’t make the mistake of thinking the fake kind would be any different.
As fate would have it, when searching for demons she spotted a familiar dark head on broad-black covered shoulders, or at least thought she had. Angel was here, shopping? As in, willingly being stuck among crowds of people, dodging speeding buggies and painted clowns on stilts selling balloons? For the first time in hours a real smile blossomed. “What, he ran out of crushed velvet long-johns and thought he’d pop into k-mart. This I gotta see.”
Still not certain she wasn’t seeing things, Cordelia made her way though the obstacle course made up of candy, hot-dog and toy vendors towards where she thought she seen the vampire. A glance skyward allayed a sudden stab of fear. Of course there was no direct sunlight, everybody would bake and then who would part the shoppers from their cash, or credit cards.
So, it was possible Angel was here, just not very plausible given what she remembered of the dour and brooding vamp with a soul.
Intent on her own hunt, Cordelia forgot all about watching out for demon/actors until a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Jumping like a scalded cat and spinning around, hazel eyes widened seeing a guy who looked like he’d got Frankenstein and big foot mixed up in a bad way. Oh crap.
Back-peddling she lied, “Hey, I’d love to..ya know…help with the holiday mood and all, but I’m running an errand, so-“ She bumped into another of them and groaned. God, could this day get any worse?
A dark blur answered that silent question. Before she could blink Semi-naked and hairy Frank was picked up and thrown bodily to crash into the candy stand, getting himself covered in pink candy-floss; while the cowl-covered monk in a skull mask was picked up by the throat and swung around once before being catapulted through the glass window of an electrical store. Ouch!
Oh-my-God. “Angel” she wailed, “what are you doing?”
In the process of grabbing her up to haul off to safety, Angel paused, “Saving you from demons.”
Cordelia’s jaw dropped in disbelief, “Are you insane?” Thumping him hurt her hand more than him. The dumbass just looked bemused and glanced down at the spot on his chest she’d nearly broken her knuckles on. “Forget I asked, of course you’re freakin’ insane. Only this time you’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Hey!” Dark brows lowered into a severe frown. Hands on hips, Angel growled low, “They were attacking you-“
“They were actors. It’s Halloween for chrissake. You might know it; it’s the one night in the year you’re actually expected to roam around causing mayhem.” She yelled infuriated.
The penny dropped, well crashed, and not for the first time around this girl, Angel wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. All around them a crowd of onlookers stood ogling them and looking fully prepared to bolt if he started tossing people around again.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know-“
She wasn’t having any of it. “What the hell happened to that so-called super vamp sense of smell?” A hand waved wildly in front of his face, nearly smacking him on the nose, “I thought you could tell the difference?” she asked, irritation in every line.
“I can-do…normally…” flustered, Angel stopped and tried again, “what I mean is, normally, yes.”
“So, what? It took a day off today of all days and you decided to pay me a visit and get me fired?”
Fired? Angel gulped realising the mess he’d caused would have repercussions for her. “I’ll explain it wasn’t your fault. You won’t get fired.”
“You think?” she jeered.
Out of the corner of her eye, Cordelia saw the security guards wading through the crowd. She shoved him away, “Get out of here, Angel, before I change my mind and let them drag you off to a padded cell.”
He didn’t want to leave her, but couldn’t think how to smooth this over. Usually he would just punch his way free. “Cordelia…”
“Will you just get going, already. You can’t help me and what the hell do you think they’ll say when they can’t find your pulse?”
9.p.m.
“Those look gruesome,” Lee smirked, “I didn’t know ogling photos of mutilated corpses was one of your peccadillo’s.”
“They’re not. I’m just thinking is all.” Lindsey flicked him a sardonic glance, “You should try it some time.” He was beating his head against a brick wall, but couldn’t stop, no couldn’t afford, to stop trying. Frustration was bitch who unfortunately loved him. Dropped the grisly photos, he rubbed a finger between tense brows, before admitting low, “Holland is getting testy about the thirteenth name.”
“Hmmm, still can’t find the elusive, Mr Chase, huh?” Dropping into the chair opposite, Lee stretched out his legs. “Don’t you just hate it when that happens? It’s just a name, somebody somewhere knows him.”
“Somebody knows, yeah. Its just finding who that is that’s driving me insane.” The swivel chair was one of Lindsay’s favourite things about his office. Turning to survey the cityscape below his expression turned pensive. “Thirteen, unlucky for some,” he murmured without thinking.
Unseen, Lee grinned again, enjoying Lindsay’s tense pre-occupation. “Keep your priorities straight, unlucky for them you mean.”
Lindsey just grunted and wished Holland had given this case to someone else. At the time promotional opportunities had blinded him to the pitfalls. It wasn’t taking human life that bothered him, unless it was his own. No, he could handle that knowing that it would have happened anyway, only giving someone else the kudos if he suffered an attack of conscience. The way he figured it, humans were only tolerated by the senior partners, so what were a few early deaths?
Lee was talking again and reluctantly Lindsay tuned back in, “…why not do one of those radio ads. You know the ones I mean, emergency broadcasts when a family member is dying and nobody knows how to get in touch.”
The idea had merit except for one crucial thing. Swinging back, Lindsay was pleased to shoot him down, “Then what happens when he turns up dead, Lee?” He shook his head in mock admonishment, “What have I told you about thinking and consequences, huh?”
As usual, the barb slid off Lee’s rhinoceros hide. “Pay someone to pay someone to do it. Hell, throw in a reward. What have you got to lose?”
9.30 p.m.
Unaware of the strife she was causing a law firm she’d never heard of, Cordelia Chase was having a crisis of her own. She’d arrived on location expecting a bit part in a romantic drama, only to find she was the lead in a porno. Shocked to the core and speechless for once, she’d been hustled downstairs to get changed before she could work out which screeching objection to get out first.
It looked more like a scrap of black net that a costume, worse the sequins seemed designed to draw the eye, rather than conceal her nipples.
“Will somebody please tell me what I’m doing here? God, I should have guessed from the title. Sugar and Spice, ugh. Tom, you are so dead when I catch up with you… big fat weasel!”
Tom was her soon-to-be-fired-after-maiming agent. Snatching the offending costume off the peg, she gave it a shake as if that action alone would make it a little more substantial and heckova lot less whorish. It didn’t work.
“No way am I wearing that.” Throwing it down in disgust the garment landed in a tangle of sequins and gossamer thin nylon. Whirling to pace, she threw up her hands. “Damn it, I should have smelled a rat when I found out it was a night-time gig. Is the guy deaf? I said drama, comedy and commercials. At no time did I say I’d do porn, eww!”
Hands on hips, both cheeks puffed out as she pondered her latest excruciating embarrassment. She had to get out of here. The only problem was she was surrounded by a film crew that looked like they belonged on the Jolly Roger. Somehow she didn’t think they’d take her leaving well.
“So sneak. You can do sneaking can’t you?” Still pacing as much as her short denim skirt would let her, Cordy shrugged. “How difficult can it be? Porn-kings…not exactly loaded with smarts, ya know?”
Maybe not, but she was in a basement bathroom with the ‘movie’s’ director pacing the hall up top waiting for her to emerge. Rather than deflating her that realisation just got her more irate. Pride had her stilling with a spine ramrod straight.
A black scowl creased between perfectly plucked brows. Who the hell did he think he was, stopping her from making a dignified exit when none of this was her fault? She hadn’t had a clue what the project was about until she got here. If they couldn’t film today; it was their own problem, not hers.
Well, there was no point wasting any more time. Snatching up her purse Cordelia stomped towards the stairs and freedom.
“I’m leaving and if he tries to stop me, I’ll kick him hard enough to turn him into a eunuch, then scream until his eardrums burst.”
Rattled and with her aggravation meter squarely in the danger-zone, she didn’t stop with the epithets and diatribe the whole time she was ascending. “…Jerk, loser- scumbag. I mean who the hell does he think he is, patting my ass. Nobody pats my ass unless I give them a certified written invitation.”
Shuddering just thinking of that narrow, leering face, Cordelia faced the fact she’d made a mistake staying. It was too late now, but she should have turned around and walked out the second she laid eyes on him and felt her skin crawl.
What really pissed her off was the fact that normally she was so careful, priding herself on always checking out the details in advance. Today she hadn’t and all because, thanks to Angel’s hero complex, she was now fired and lucky if she didn’t get stuck with a repair bill. Was there such a thing as insurance against idiot vamps?
“Okay, so I’m dumb. Everybody’s allowed to be dumb occasionally. It’s like a cosmic law or something.”
Temper had the door slamming open harder than intended, but Cordelia didn’t slow down. In the hall she didn’t just meet Steve, the scum-bag in question, she barrelled into him. Before he could do more than blink and open his mouth, Steve found a stiff finger jabbing into his chest, scrupulously avoiding gaping areas of canary yellow shirt.
Glaring hazel eyes shot sparks, “You need a shrink if you think I’m gonna wear that thing you call a costume downstairs. You, mister, have just wasted my time.”
Just thinking about the hours she’d spent agonising over her wardrobe and hair had her temper skyrocketing. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to curl hair like mine? Forever that’s what.” Tossing aside long glossy dark strands, she continued to rant, “For your information, I am an actress. As in, I’m selling my talent and not my body. Got it, sicko?!”
Steve didn’t even realise he was backing away down the hall, but her single nail felt like a talon digging for blood. Her mouth kept flapping but he didn’t catch any of it, too, caught up by her beautiful and furious face. She was spitting mad, but fucking gorgeous with it. Seeing that flushed face with honey eyes flashing fire, he couldn’t help but get hard thinking about the fun they could have filming.
Jesus, she was a wildcat. Saliva pooled in his mouth. Hank had the equipment which was why he was in front of the camera, but hey, that didn’t mean only he was the only one got to sample the goods. Thinking with his gonads and bypassing his brain, he wrapped a hand around a warm, slim arm.
“Sweetheart, why so angry?” She stopped and stared, narrow-eyed. Missing the signals he gave her his best smile, “We can work this out. Just go and put the costume on like a good girl and we-“
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve just said, have you?”
Guilty as charged. “I was captivated by your beauty.”
Could he spell smarmy? “Yeah right. God, you’re so pathetic it’s unreal. I’m outta here.”
Vibrating with angry disgust, Cordelia swept past him and was at the door before it sunk in for Steve that his actress was walking out on him. He lunged, catching her arm just as she pulled open the front door. They weren’t in a studio today, but a private house and once outside there was no security to stop her, or him for that matter. A tingle spread over his scalp at the errant thought. After the last time, he’d sworn he’d never force another one, but today temptation was strong enough to swamp caution.
Wheedling he said, “Look, you can’t go. I’ll never get a replacement actress in time for today’s shoot. C’mon gimme a break.”
Shaking him off like he had a disease, Cordelia raked him with a scornful glance. “Not a chance and besides, you don’t need an actress, you need a prostitute.” A brow arched, “Among other things.”
Her tone was unmistakable. Grabbing hold of her again, Steve’s narrow face became pinched, the thin lips disappearing altogether. “There’s no need to be bitchy. It’s just a job?” He was getting pissed and it showed.
Cordelia didn’t give a crap if he was getting angry. “Beg to differ, asshole. Now…let-me-go!”
Steve’s thoughts whirled like a rat in a maze. Hitting on a solution his expression turned cunning. He knew how to change her mind and afterward it wouldn’t matter, they’d have the tape as evidence she’d been willing. “No.”
Cordelia gaped “What did you say?”
Her threat radar, usually so proficient, had been drowned out by indignation. Now it kicked into overdrive. Oh Crap!
9.37 p.m.
“I don’t like this,” announced Angel into the silence.
Wesley glanced up from his book, penlight in one hand. “It’s a house?” He made it a question. “Besides, do you really want to risk another fiasco like in the mall?”
That’s was true and it looked innocent enough, but over the last two centuries Angel had learned not to question his instincts. Opening the Plymouths door, he left Wes with a simple instruction. “Wait for me here. I’m going to check it out.”
Eyeing the tall, powerful figure loping across the street, Wesley shrugged and lost interest when the vampire disappeared amongst the cars and van parked on the drive.
Back inside, Steve the Weasel was a lot stronger than Cordelia had given him credit for having that irritating wiry strength men had even when they weren’t built big. No matter how she struggled and dug in her heels, she was still dragged down the hall and into the floodlit great room.
Pushed into a black leather armchair; panic forced her to re-evaluate her approach. Shakily she said, “Look, can’t we at least talk about this?”
“No.”
So much for a new approach. Ah well, talking is overrated anyway.
“Fine, let’s not talk then.”
When Steve came back holding a syringe aloft, Cordelia went as tense as a coiled spring. Thinking it was fear, he was unprepared for the white-out pain when she lunged and grasping his balls in merciless fingers, yanking and twisting until he was yowling in pain. He bent double as Cordelia jack-knifed to her feet. The top of her head met his chin and snapped the head back with tongue crunching power.
Dizzy and seeing spots, Cordy dived for the door and screamed when a hard hand grabbed onto her hair, ruthlessly halting her flight. Dragged back to the chair, tears stung her eyes from the pain in her scalp. Hoarsely she said, “Did I mention I’ve got herpes?”
When Angel stepped into the room nobody noticed. They were all too caught up in the action being caused by a screeching, scratching and kicking female with shapely legs and curvaceous ass being displayed for all to see. Fighting with all of her might, Cordelia hadn’t realised her skirt was around her waist. Later she’d figure that some things just slip your mind when everything you are is being threatened on a fundamental level.
Lots of things flew through Angel’s head; cracking skulls, breaking limbs or tearing them off, ripping some genitals off bodies and stuffing them in mouths for them to choke on. Violence, an integral part of his make-up thanks to being a demon, was for once welcome. A red mist of rage rose up.
A single glance assured him she hadn’t been stripped, meaning the assault hadn’t got sexual yet. He still wanted to kill them. Any girl being treated this way would cause him to intervene, but he knew Cordelia and that made it personal.
Three men were wrestling with her on the chair, two of them holding her arms and trying to still her legs, while the third was injecting something into her. Wading in, he lifted needle-guy and one of the others by their collars off her and simply knocked their heads together, knocking them senseless, before tossing them into a virtual forest of camera’s and boomers. With the last of the trio, he drew back and drove a fist full into the guys shocked face, sending him spinning away with a spurt of blood and several loose teeth.
They noticed him now. With his back to Cordelia, Angel faced them off and counted a total of seven males in the room. Seven-to-one, it didn’t take much imagination to guess how this would have ended. Given what he was and how he’d been before being resouled, he got the visuals in 3-D, and the resulting urge to vamp-out had ripples running along the skin of his face. Behind him, Cordelia’s thundering pulse and panting breaths filled his ears until he tuned them out to focus.
Dazed and frightened out of her wits, at first Cordelia had thought they’d pulled off her of their own accord; until she’d looked up and saw a darkly murderous face she recognised. Heart leaping, she realised why the attack had ended so abruptly. Still handsome and yet brutal with his teeth gritted and lips drawn back in a snarl, he was literally a sight for sore eyes. Angel had come to save her- again. Second time lucky she thought semi-hysterically.
Oh God, only in her world were the saviour’s vampires. Bizarrely nobody else, not even a room full of cops, could have made her feel safe so quickly. The kicker with that was that as the fear drained her temper soared again.
“Are you okay, Cordelia?” Angel asked a little tersely, something she forgave him for since he was standing between her and them.
“Peachy now you’re here.” The rusty sound of her voice gave away more than the words. She licked her lips and tacked on a heartfelt, “Thanks.”
He had his back to her and didn’t see the building fury. It felt like every muscle in her body was clenched to snapping point. Goose-bumps chased along the skin of her arms and legs. Everything she’d suffered in the last few minutes was nothing more than a taste of what might have been if not for Angel. Growing up on a hellmouth meant she was used to being saved- from demons. Heck, that was almost natural, but needing to be saved from human beings was more than she could stomach.
Through the thick fog of rage coursing through her, Cordelia heard Angel talking to her attackers, “The only reason you aren’t lying in a pool of your own blood is that Cordelia has been through enough tonight. We’re leaving and if any of you move, I’ll reconsider.”
Leaving, just like that? The words came out of nowhere, “Don’t let me stop you, Angel.”
They were like the ripples following a rock being thrown in a still pond. All eyes swung her way. Standing, Cordelia stepped out from behind the protective shield of Angel’s tall frame with her head high and eyes gleaming. “In fact, forget that. I’m not leaving…”
She made a slow beeline for Steve, “…until I give you all something to think about for the future.”
Stunned by her reckless move, Angel gaped and then went to intervene; halting the attempt when she snapped her head around to pin him with a glare. He didn’t need to hear the words, don’t try and stop me. Every line of her stiffly held body screamed revenge. Cordelia saw his acceptance when his gaze shifted back to the men.
Turning her head, she got back to stalking a dazed and uncomprehending Steve. Angel stepped back, content to remain a silent warning of swift reprisal if she didn’t get her way.
A few minutes later, outside with the star-studded and clear sky making the air crisp, Angel watched Cordelia walk stiffly towards the Plymouth. She was careful to keep a few feet between them. Strangely uncomfortable with the silence, he was moved to break it.
“I think you busted his jaw,” he said awkwardly.
Cordelia’s back stiffened at the sound of his voice. Reaching the car she didn’t open the door but instead turned to face him. From her tight expression he could see it coming and was helpless to deflect her.
“Not that I’m not grateful, but do you want to explain to me how you came to be there?” Before he could open his mouth she held up a hand. “And before you say it, I don’t believe in coincidence. Spill, Angel”
