71: The Quinn Residence, 21 Quincy Street, Eastside, Sunnydale
“You have the right to remain silent” the police officer tallied off her Miranda rights as Faith held her wrists out to be handcuffed. “Anything you say can…”
The words faded into a thunder of whitewashed noise as Faith’s vision clouded. All she could see and hear was a replay of the events leading up to her arrest by the Sunnydale P.D. It was all a blur.
Out of nowhere, the demon broke into the house. They fought. She pulled out her knife, the one Wilkins had given her to put an end to the ring leader of the Bingo parlor debacle. He had wanted her to kill Beverly Quinn because she continued to embarrass him at every turn, even daring to organize a picket line in front of City Hall.
Now she was dead. Cor’s grandma was dead.
She looked down at Bev’s corpse, congealed blood spread thickly across the floor around her. Sunnydale’s CSIs were standing by ready to pull her prints from the dagger and try to make sense of what happened here tonight.
Faith laughed, momentarily distracting the officer’s required spiel. She was not the one to kill Bev. The demon had taken the knife from her hand and Bev had just gotten in the way. A tragic accident, but one that was not exactly easy to explain considering that the mayor was indirectly involved. Not to mention the now missing demon.
In the end, Faith supposed, it did not matter that Bev’s death was the mayor’s idea or that the demon had actually done the killing.
“It’s my fault,” Faith looked toward Giles and the others. They were standing in a huddle where the police had told them to await questioning. Buffy and her two sidekicks were dumbstruck, standing there with looks of horror as she was cuffed.
For the first time, Faith noticed they were not alone. Some starch-necked guy in a blue suit and wearing a bow tie was standing with them. He stepped forward to caution her, “Faith, perhaps you should withhold further comments until you are provided with some appropriate council.”
“Do I know you?”
His identity came to her even as he started his introductions. “Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, your new—,” aware of the police officer listening, he balked at saying anything more.
“It’s time,” the officer cut in during the overly long pause in conversation. “We’ve got to take you downtown to book you.”
Faith gave Wesley a wry smile. “Guess I’ll have to take a rain check.”
She ignored the gaping-jawed, wide-eyed stares of her so-called friends. It was not their opinions she was concerned about. Giles, on the other hand, was a different matter. His expression was solemn, concerned and they both knew there was far more at risk than her facing life imprisonment.
Just as they got to the door, Faith jerked back on the cuffs before the police could haul her outside. Inwardly, she cringed at the disappointment Giles was trying to hide behind his supportive veneer. “Looks like I let you down after all.”
Scene 72
Kitten Poker Game, Willy’s Place, Central Sunnydale
“I’ll see your bet and raise you one tabby.” Spike reached into the burlap sack at his side. He pulled out a small orange and white fur-ball tossing the mewling kitten into the basket at the center of the table.
Clem glanced down at his cards and contemplated pulling out the ace hidden in one of his skin folds. The vampire actually had some poker skills, but he was still new to this game and Clem had not had a chance to pick up his tells. He was shifty eyed and cocky like any other vampire, but this one had a reputation.
Sticking to the game, Clem decided to hold off on his ace and play his hand. He wanted the Siamese he had lost in the first round and knew Spike was purposely holding it back just to piss him off. So, he decided to play it safe this time and try again with the next round. Adding another tabby to the mix, Clem called for a show of his hand.
The smirk on Spike’s face widened into a full grin as he flipped over his cards one by one: two queens and three nines. The Full House easily beat Clem’s hand and he was forced to grit his teeth when the vampire crowed his triumph, opening the squirming bag at his feet to stuff his winnings inside.
Spike’s true talent appeared to be gloating.
When the door silently swung open behind Spike to reveal a large, looming shadow, Clem held his tongue. There was no mistaking the newcomer’s identity and it was highly unlikely that he was here for a hand or two of kitten poker.
The poker game had already cost him and Clem considered that the fun was about to end. He picked up his snack bowl of candied beetles and tossed one into his mouth hoping that the crunching noise would drown out Spike’s gleeful cackling. It did not matter what the night had cost him because he had a ringside seat for what he hoped was Spike getting his ass kicked.
The look on Spike’s face when Angel hauled him out of his chair…priceless!
With his bowl full of beetles, Clem munched as he watched, flinching now and then until Angel managed to secure Spike facedown against the poker table. His arm was twisted up behind his back in a painful wristlock. He knew it had to hurt because Spike was gritting his teeth and growling, his golden eyes narrowed as he strained against it.
Angel was not exactly fooling around, either. He was vamped out and frankly as scary as Clem had ever seen him. Back when he got rid of the soul, he had been a cold bastard who would just as soon kill you for staring at him the wrong way, caring about nothing.
Seemingly, the soul changed things a lot, Clem noted with interest, continuing to watch as Angel leaned down to growl into Spike’s ear, “Tell me where to find Drusilla.”
“Why the hell would I tell you anything?” His growling increased as his arm was twisted back even further.
“Don’t play games with me. I’m in no mood for it,” Angel pushed Spike’s head back hard against the table.
One of them knocked over the woven basket in the center of the table. Clem’s horrified gasp followed as he realized the kittens were getting away. “Hey!” He started to point out that the pot of tabbies was now empty only to cringe when Angel turned his angry gaze on him.
One growl was all it took for Clem to settle back into his chair clutching his bowl of beetles to his chest.
“Oy! Get off you prat,” Spike tried to find the leverage to escape, but was pushed down again. “Dru’s at home having a little Girl’s Night, playing dress up with Miss Edith.”
“She was at Cordelia’s house.”
The name sparked Clem’s memory. The pretty human girl Angel had brought to the bar that night. That was what the vampire had called her: Cordelia. Clem had been sitting in his usual spot at the end of the bar, and had quite enjoyed watching their bar fight with those gravlock demons. Every now and then Willy’s place managed to have some actual entertainment.
In retrospect, Angel had been quite possessive of his little friend. It did not sound like he was pleased that his childe was visiting her house. Even Spike sounded surprised by the news.
“What’s she doing going there?”
“You don’t know?” Angel demanded the truth. “Dru told me about her vision.”
Spike made a grab for something to smash over the other vampire’s head only to have it knocked out of his hand. After another short growl, “All I know is that she was planning a bloody tea party. How the devil am I supposed to know she was inviting your pet?”
With a grunt of frustration, Angel stepped back and instantly hauled Spike to his feet, muscles rippling with fury. There was no trace of coldness now. Gripping his collar with both hands, he gave Spike one hard shake as if to get his attention. Anger thickened his voice, “Tell me where to find them,” and the underlying threat was all too clear.
Clem saw desperation amidst the anger and those riveting ochre eyes hinted at a trace of fear. He doubted Spike noticed being so close to those killer fangs.
The blond vampire looked angry rather than intimidated. Still, he coughed up the truth. “We moved.”
Angel did not seem pleased about the answer. His grip tightened on the leather jacket’s collar. “I already know that.”
“If you think I’m just going to tell you, you’ve got it wrong, mate,” Spike pushed at his chest and looked relieved when Angel released him to stand on his own. He had enough brains not to move, though.
Angel apparently understood, but it took Clem another moment for it to click to it as Spike added, “I’m not letting you get anywhere near Dru when you’re in such a black mood. She’s done nothing but yammer on about your hot little bint since we saw first her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angel demanded stepping forward to use his height to his advantage. He made Spike look rather scrawny, Clem stifled a laugh at the idea. “Dru told me about her vision. That Cordelia’s blood would spill before this was over. Blood and death will follow.”
Spike snapped back, “Since when do I know anything about the bleedin’ visions?”
“Stop stalling,” warned Angel curling his fists at his sides. “If you’re not going to tell me where to find Dru on my own, you’re going to take me there.”
Clem could tell that Spike was not happy about the idea. Finally, he agreed, “Fine.”
“Let’s go.”
Spike started to follow Angel out the door toward the main section of the bar, but paused, obviously remembering that he had left his winnings behind. He bent down to pick up the burlap sack on the floor and Clem’s jowls trembled against the urge to laugh aloud at the look on his face. The sack was completely empty.
“What the—?” Outraged, Spike threw the sack on the table, leaning forward to stare into Clem’s eyes. “Where’d they go?”
The kittens had all escaped out the open door and had no doubt been snatched up by the other bar patrons by now. Free snacks. “I-I tried to warn you,” Clem pointed out that it was Angel’s fault. “He came in when you had the sack open.”
Spike looked like he was about to lunge across the table anyway and Clem was highly relieved when Angel called out, “Now, Spike!”
With a final glare, Spike pushed away from the table and turned on his heel, his leather duster swirling behind him. Pointing toward Angel who had already moved beyond Clem’s sightline, Spike swaggered after him with a grumpy whine, “Sod it all. I was winning. You owe me seven kittens.”