Paint over the factory windows blocked out the light. Built back in the 30’s, the old brick building had closed down in 1970. Originally designed to manufacture its new invention, the Flexible Straw Corporation had moved to California after the Great Depression. A variety of other inventions by its founder were also created there, but the dangers of Sunnydale and business opportunities in larger cities forced the shutdown of the plant.
Newer facilities had been built nearby closer to the railroad and the shipyards. The old factory remained abandoned for the most part. Over the years it served as a sleeping place for vagrants and a den for some of Sunnydale’s unsavory types. It was sizable compared to the crypt at Kingman’s Bluff, but not as easy to defend against invasion.
Nicolau Cibran strode into the central chamber with unhurried grace. He paused just inside the door to remove his hat and gloves, tossing them and his car keys onto the surface of a pile of packing boxes. The stylish cashmere/wool blend overcoat he wore was handed to Anton who greeted his master with a respectful nod.
There was no need for them to speak of what Nicolau would find there. A telephone call to the apartment had informed him that Isobel had a present for him. He had sent her out on a hunt last night. Business had taken him back to see Kalesh, the demon priestess of Amolon. Her displeasure at the loss of the Pure One was evident, but Nicolau’s natural charm convinced her to give him the time he desired to capture Cordelia Chase.
“Leave her to me,” Nicolau’s soft words and platitudes had easily won the priestess over. She agreed to his wishes. There was time to let him have his way. As long as the Pure One was captured alive, no harm would be done to their plans.
Kalesh was using the human gang leader, Mike ‘The Undertaker’ Mooney, and his rowdy band of bikers to gather the items needed for the next stage of the prophecy. He was not privy to the details of her meeting with the representative of Wolfram & Hart. The priestess seemed equally taken with lawyer Jake Devries. Somehow that just left a bad taste in his mouth.
It would please him to put that human in his place, but Nicolau was no fool. The man was merely a representative to his superiors. Where there was one there were many. When his cell phone rang and the news came that Isobel requested his presence at a factory on the west end of town, Nicolau knew they were one step closer to attaining what he wanted.
Anton sported two black eyes and a broken nose. Smudges of blood not his own had marked his cheeks. Yet his minion wore a smug smile as he led his master toward the back wall. From across the room, Nicolau heard the rattling of chains, saw Isobel deliver a roundhouse kick that delivered too hard a blow knocking her captive out, momentarily grinning upon hearing, “Wake up, I am not yet finished.” Isobel always did enjoy interrogation games.
Two minions held the ends of a thickly linked chain. They too were marred with dark bruises and an array of wounds from their battle. The chain was attached to the iron manacles around their captive’s wrists. White skin was streaked red with blood. Deep marks from fangs and fingernails crisscrossed the vampire’s bare flesh.
It was impossible to tell if this was Spike just by looking. Unconscious, his body had slumped down to his knees, upper body held up by the pressure of the chains. His head hung down at an angle that prevented Nicolau from seeing his face. If this was Drusilla’s childe and lover, this was indeed worthy of his attention.
“Isobel,” the soft sound of her name on her master’s lips was enough to pull her attention to him. She turned to him, golden eyes bright in her true face, lips stained red with blood. Crimson drops were scattered across her clothes, her skin flushed from recent feeding and the excitement of making her captive scream in pain.
She was in his arms in an instant of seeing him. Their mouths met passionately tasting each other and sharing traces of blood from her victim. The blood of a vampire was different than that of the humans from which it fed. It tasted of death, eternity and power, and this one was no minion.
Ending the kiss, Nicolau pulled back noting that Isobel had also sustained minor injuries during the earlier fight. Most were already healing, but a long scrape dug a deep path across her left cheek marring her beauty even if only temporarily.
Throat thickening with rage, he bared his fangs in a sneer. Demanding truth, “Who did this?” His fingers trailed along the edge of the wound.
Glancing toward her captive, Isobel took a moment to answer. “Drusilla.”
He sensed no other vampires here. “She escaped.” It was not a question. The fact angered him, for it was Drusilla he hoped to find here. There were questions he had for the dark-haired vampiress that had nothing to do with Cordelia Chase. The Pure One was for Kalesh. Though it did not appear that she had been captured either.
“Yes,” Isobel’s face morphed into her softer human features making her appear to be a wounded innocent. Though he knew well what the transformation was intended to do, Nicolau was not fooled by it. Still, he let her get away with her pretty pout.
“And what of Cordelia Chase?”
There was only one trace of her left behind, Isobel explained. Some blood-stained clothes were found in an adjacent room. “She was not here when we arrived. The others searched, but found nothing.”
Nicolau presumed that was the reason for her little inquisition. Considering the now unconscious state of the vampire hanging limply from the chains, he wondered what news Isobel had discovered.
It was Anton who spoke up for Isobel. “All is not lost, master.”
“That bastard hasn’t told me anything,” Isobel pushed herself out of Nicolau’s arms to storm over to her tortured captive. “Spike’s loyalty to Drusilla is difficult to break.”
Nicolau knew that much without having him tortured. “Do whatever it takes to find her—and the Pure One.”
“Anything?” Isobel raised a brow, her lips twitching in sudden amusement. Turning back to Spike who was starting to stir, she was already planning her next move.
When Nicolau asked Anton to clarify his comment, he told him that Drusilla revealed that a Miss Edith had taken tea with the Pure One. Perhaps the next step to finding Cordelia Chase would be to locate the elusive Miss Edith and force her to talk.
After listening to Anton’s theory, Nicolau threw back his head and laughed. He turned and walked over to the overturned table he had noted upon his arrival. Crouching down, he picked a small object off the floor. “This is Miss Edith,” Nicolau introduced his minion to the porcelain-faced doll.
“I—I did not realize,” Anton looked completely humiliated for suggesting that a doll held the answers to his master’s current problems.
“This prim and proper miss has been through a lot today,” Nicolau propped the doll on his palm and primped her brown curls into place. “She should not be left in such a place as this, Anton. Take her to the apartment. We will watch over Miss Edith until her mistress comes for her.”
Confused, Anton took the doll from Nicolau’s outstretched hand. Staring down at the goggle-eyed doll he wondered what power a child’s toy could hold over someone who could make his powerful master feel such fear.
