Heart Of The Matter - A Winifred Burkle Mystery by Starlet2367
Summary: Nancy Drew and Stephanie Plum walk into a bar....
Spoilers: Billy, Season Three.
Notes: A Stranger Things Secret Valentine for Marcy, who requested a light, fluffy A/C story in which Fred helps get them together. Lucky Charms and Shiner Bocks to my critique group: Julie Fortune, Laurie Andrews, Ebonbird and Queen Mab. Thanks to my valentine, Michael, for getting me out of demon-trouble and for the tip that kept Angel in character.
I jerked awake, heart
thudding, sting of terror-sweat under my arms.
I ducked and rolled,
looking for the nearest hiding place. Then I heard a familiar voice.
"It was broken!
Geez, Angel, if we kept everything that was broken
around here, we'd
have to put `Angel Investigations and Junk Shop' on our cards."
I scanned the area
around me. Chair legs, back-issues of Cosmo, a
garbage can, a pair
of stilettos. That's when I realized I was crouched in the shadows under Cordy's desk.
I crawled out and
hauled myself into the chair, surreptitiously
wiping the drool off
my cheek. I glanced at my watch. It was just after seven in the evening. Must have been catnapping
again--another skill
I learned in Pylea, where it was never safe to sleep, unless
you liked waking up
to a search party's torches and a freshly activated head-exploding collar.
I clicked the mouse
and the latest online issue of Classical and Quantum
Gravity popped back up on screen. Maybe Angel and Cordy would take their tiff somewhere else and I could finish
reading the article
on canonical quantization of constrained theories on discrete
spacetime lattices.
"What were we
gonna do, Boy Wonder? Superglue it back together?"
Guess not. I angled
my head toward the noise just in time to see Cordy
round the corner and start toward the office. She was still dressed for training in blue yoga pants and a red tank top.
She'd
pulled her hair back
into a stubby ponytail and sweat plastered the
loose strands to her
temples.
Angel grabbed her
arm and yanked her around to face him. "That would
have been a good
place to start." His gray sweatshirt had a dark V
of sweat from collar
to breastbone. His eyes narrowed into angry slits.
She waved her hand
in front of his face. Swear to God, his nostrils
flared like a bull
that just got the red flag. Cordy didn't even flinch.
"Hello, the
handle was shattered. No glue, no matter how super, is
gonna hold a bunch
of splinters together."
Angel's teeth ground
so hard I thought his jaw was gonna crack. "It
was my favorite axe,
Cordelia! I can't believe you just—just--"
Before he could
finish, the front door opened, and I heard someone
step inside and call
out a hello.
Cordy and Angel
whipped around so fast they probably scared the
bejeebers out of
whoever stood there. I hopped up to do damage control and thanked God for the interruption. Otherwise,
Angel might have
put Cordy's newly-honed self-defense skills to the test.
I jack-rabbited
around them and the next thing I knew, I was shaking
hands with whatever
the male version of the damsel-in-distress is, a twenty-something guy named Jeremy who had the prettiest eyes
I'd seen since
I'd gazed dumbstruck into Grayson Wells' baby-browns way back
in fifth grade.
Pretty soon we were
all settled in Wesley's office.
"Tell us what
happened," Angel said. I could still hear wisps of
anger in his voice,
but he'd done a pretty good job of dialing it back.
Cordy, on the other
hand, hadn't been so successful. She perched on
the edge of Wesley's
desk, all rapidly-tapping toe and hot eyes. "Yes, Jeremy," she said, crossing her arms
and shooting Angel a nasty
look, "tell us."
"A monster ate
her."
Cordy's foot went
still. She put her hands on the edge of the desk
and leaned closer.
"Ate who?"
"M-my fiancé,
Katy."
Cordy's posture
softened. "I'm so sorry. Can you tell us what
happened?"
"It was
big…and blue," Jeremy said.
Angel leaned against
the doorjamb and crossed his arms, his "take
your time"
pose. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"
"It was two
nights ago," Jeremy said, sniffling into a handful of
Kleenex. The light
reflected off of Katy's engagement ring, a respectably-sized
solitaire, which Jeremy wore on his left pinky.
"The Derby had The Johnny Jump-Ups on the bill."
"Everyone knows
they're the best undiscovered swing band in town,"
Cordy said. She eyed
Angel. "Well, almost everyone."
"It's how we
met," Jeremy said, in a voice strangled with tears. "We
were in the same
dance class." He twisted her ring around on his finger and sucked in a trembling breath.
My eyes started to
sting in sympathy.
"Can you
remember anything else?" Angel asked.
"I was, uh,
supposed to meet her there but I was running late." He
put his head in his
hands. "If I'd been there five minutes earlier—"
Cordy slid of the
desk to kneel in front of him. "If this thing is as
big and scary as he
sounds, there probably wasn't anything you could have done." She laid her hand on his knee, a warm,
comforting gesture.
I blinked hard,
pushing back the tears. The first rule of private
investigation: don't
become emotionally involved with your client. I scanned
the room, looking for something else to pay attention to until I got my wavering emotions under control.
My gaze landed on
Wesley's tea set, gathering dust on top of the
bookshelf. Not
exactly what I needed to calm me down.
"By the time I
got there, it was nearly finished." Jeremy looked up
at Cordy, grief and
horror plain on his face. "He ripped out her heart, man." He jabbed his hand out and made a grabbing
motion. "Just
like that."
That's how it
happens, I thought. Just like that. One minute you're
in the library and
the next you're in a hell dimension. Or one day you're friends with a guy and the next he's chasing you down
the hall with
an axe.
When I thought about
that night I wavered between guilt, horror and a
shameful sort of
pride. It was like scarfing down a load of tacos and chasing them with Lucky Charms and a Shiner Bock. You never
knew what was
gonna come back up or when.
"What'd he do
with it?" Cordy asked. She moved back to her perch on
the desk.
Jeremy fiddled with
the ring, crumpled his Kleenex and pleated his
Dockers between his
fingers, obviously putting off answering as long as
he could. "He ate it," he finally whispered.
Cordy and I cringed,
but Angel just nodded. Probably not a big deal
for him since he'd
eaten his share of hearts. If I hadn't seen Angel's true face in Pylea, this might have disturbed me
more. As it was,
I figured he was just doing what vampires did, and besides, he
didn't eat hearts
anymore.
"Did you go to
the police?" Angel asked.
"Pfft,"
Cordy said, with a roll of her eyes. "Of course he didn't,
Angel. What would he
tell them? A monster ate my girlfriend?"
Jeremy's eyes
widened in shock.
I tensed. Angel's
stare hardened. There was a long beat of awkward
silence.
Cordy didn't even
flinch. She just smiled that patented Cordy-smile--
the one that dazzles
everyone in a half-mile radius. "Could we get you some water? A soda?" she asked.
Jeremy let out a
breath. "Um, a glass of water would be great."
Cordy nodded.
"Sure thing. Angel?" She flicked a glance at him and
gave him a smile of
much lower wattage.
He looked at her
like she was speaking Klingon.
"I'll get
it," I said, hopping up. This was the same soft spot that
earned me stray dogs
and crappy shifts at the library.
Angel shook it off.
"No, I got it," he said, exiting the office.
I followed on his
heels, closing the door behind me with a subtle
click.
"So," I said, bee-lining for the water cooler. "You really
think we can help
him?"
He beat me to it and
pulled a paper cup off the stack. "If Cordy
doesn't scare him
off."
"Oh, she
wouldn't do that. He really needs our help. Besides," I
said, as water hit
the cup with a splash. "You're just mad at her about the axe."
Angel cut me a
glance that was sharper than his fangs.
"I mean, not
that I'm prying," I babbled, "its just that you guys
were pretty loud
earlier and--" That got me another look so I tried again. "I know she can be tactless, Angel, but she
really knows how to
draw people out. I mean, look at me. She got me to go to Caritas.
Of course that was
when Gunn's old gang blew it up, but how could she know--"
Oops. That was my
higher brain functions taking a hike, wasn't it?
Angel stood up from
the cooler and stared at me until I was afraid
I'd turn to a pillar
of salt. Then his shoulders relaxed and he handed me the cup of water.
Whew. Crisis
averted.
I took the cup into
the office. Cordy smiled a thank-you and then
went back to her
conversation with Jeremy. Angel's absence seemed to calm her down and give her focus, for which I was grateful.
Maybe
keeping them apart
was the right idea. Less time to kill each other
and easier on my
ears.
Angel was tidying
the counter—his idea of cleaning—when I paced back
in. He'd sorted the
mail into two tight, little piles and had moved on to the magazines, straightening the corners and lining up
the
stacks.
He picked up right
where we left off. "Whatever Cordy's magical
people skills may
be, I still think we need more help."
I swallowed.
"Uh, okay." He stared at me until my mind-reading
ability kicked in.
"You mean Wes, don't you?"
Angel nodded.
My stomach clenched.
"And you want me to call him?" I squeaked like
Minnie Mouse on
helium, which was stupid because I'd already been to Wes's apartment once, the day after...well, the day after.
He turned around and
leaned on the counter. "You okay with that?"
I remembered Wes's
haggard face and downcast eyes. How he'd wept
against the door
when he thought I was gone. I swallowed, concentrating
on that better, softer Wes and tried to put his
horrible words and
hateful, stripping gaze out of my head. "Yeah, I think
I can handle that."
"Good."
And then he vanished, in that weird, no-sound way he has.
Better to get it
over with, I thought, reaching for the phone. I
stood there for a
minute, thumbing the power button on and off until I found the courage to dial.
It was a
gut-relaxing relief when he didn't answer.
I left a message,
then paged Gunn because I felt so guilty for being
relieved about Wes.
Finally I went back to my journal and did what my five years in Pylea trained me to do best: wait.
***
An hour later, Gunn
strolled into the lobby, hubcap axe in hand.
"Yo," he said by way of greeting. "What kind of evil nasty lurks
in our fair city?" His smile warmed me all the way to my toes. I
smiled back, a grin I was pretty sure showed every tooth in my head.
Cordy looked up from
the computer where she was researching demons
that were big and
blue. "Hey, Gunn. How's the head?"
He ran his hand over
his smooth dome. "Never better. Where's Wes `n
Angel?"
"Angel's
somewhere not here," Cordy said, scooting the chair back and
going for coffee.
"For which we can all be grateful. We're still waiting on Wes."
"Angel in a
mood?" Gunn asked.
I cleared my throat.
"Uh…."
Cordy plopped back
down into her chair. "When is he not?"
"So," I
said to Gunn. "How ya doin'?" I stuck my hands in my pockets
and rocked onto the
toes of my clogs.
He shrugged and
shifted the axe to his shoulder. "Can't complain.
You?"
I rocked back.
"Nope, can't complain."
Just as the silence
stretched too thin, Wes came through the door and
pulled it even
tighter. "Hello," he said, eyes on his shoes. He
bolted toward the
office and I heard the desk chair squeak as he sat down.
I knew a girl at
church once, who, when she got mad at you, wouldn't
talk to you till you
apologized. I thought that was bad. But Wes could have given her lessons. He raised
I'm-not-looking-at-you to new levels.
So we had Wes,
hogging the office, the only sign he was alive the
squeaking of his
chair or the rasp of a book being pulled from the shelves. Gunn lounged on one of the red couches out front
with a
compendium on his
lap, but every time I looked up he was on the same
page. In the corner,
Angel and Cordy argued in low tones. I couldn't tell if they were still bitching about the axe or if they'd
gone onto something
else.
Finally, Cordy broke
away from Angel and went into the office. She
shut the door behind
her and I could hear her and Wes talking. A few minutes later, they came out, and Wes said, looking at his
feet, "We don't
seem to be getting anywhere."
"Tell me
something I don't know," Gunn muttered.
Wes cleared his
throat and finally looked up, but he still didn't
look directly at me.
"We need to find everything we can on this demon." He ticked off a list on his fingers. "Known
points of attack,
number of victims, preferred method of killing, that sort of
thing. If you find
any other survivors, interview them, as well. I want as complete a picture of this thing as we can get by
tomorrow morning."
He nodded at Cordy.
"You and Gunn check out known attack sites." He
turned to Angel.
"You go underground. Maybe we'll get lucky and this thing
has a favorite watering hole."
"What about
me?" When Wes's gaze finally hit me it was a sharp, blue
crackle. I tugged my
baggy sweater tighter around me.
He squared his
shoulders like Davy Crockett at the Alamo. "We'll stay
here and
research."
Cordy marched to the
cabinet and pulled out some stakes and a crossbow.
Gunn hovered behind her, hubcap axe already in hand.
They left through
the back door, where Gunn's truck was parked. I
heard its engine
grab and growl then grow fainter as they turned out onto Wilshire. Angel shrugged into his coat, slipped a
broadsword into
its folds, and walked out the front door without saying goodbye.
That left me and
Wes. We each took a book and went to opposite ends
of the room.
***
About 11:30, I
jolted awake to a thudding heart and the distinct
impression that
something was wrong. When I got my wits about me, I saw Wes, hunched over the phone, talking quietly. He looked
tired and worried
and as he talked, he scribbled on the yellow notepad at his
elbow.
I stayed on my side
of the counter. It was the closest I'd been to
him since the night
I went to his apartment. I wasn't scared he was gonna hurt me—but I was worried about how he felt about me.
I didn't want
him to think he had to treat me any differently than he ever
had, so I decided to
act as normal as I could.
I brushed my hair
back to get rid of the sleep-rumpled effect and
tried to decipher
his upside-down hieroglyphics. "Albertson's," was all
I had time to make out before he hung up, and when I looked up, he was staring at me. His glasses didn't hide the anger, and
even
after he dropped his
eyes, I felt hot and itchy.
The phone hit the
counter with a clatter. "We have to go," he said,
grabbing his jacket
and shoving his wallet in his pocket.
I grabbed my jean
jacket off the coat rack. "Where?" I kept up with
him the best I
could, but he has long legs and he'd gotten a head start.
We hit the loading
dock off the back of the hotel where he'd parked
his bike. I took the
pink helmet, fastened it under my chin, and then got on behind him. We both froze for a second, but then he
revved the engine
and I had to hold onto his waist or fall off.
"Where are we
going?" I yelled, as we pulled onto Wilshire and
started weaving
through the sparse traffic.
"An Albertson's
store off of La Brea," he called back. "Cordy got
attacked by the
demon."
My body went cold.
"What? Where was Gunn?"
"Checking out
another lead."
My breath hitched as
the memories washed over me. In Pylea, before I
learned to take care
of myself, I got attacked a lot. Never raped, thank God, since Pylean anatomies were different than ours.
But
still, it's not the
sort of thing you forget. Especially not since
I'd just faced down
a deranged version of Wes, who could have done a lot worse than he did.
He hung a hard left
onto Crenshaw. The bike leaned into the turn and
I stopped talking
and held on, praying for Cordy the whole way. By the time we turned into the parking lot, I'd caught my breath
and was ready
to be the strong one again. I hopped off the bike and took off
my helmet.
Three cop cars nosed
up to the store, blue lights flashing. An
ambulance angled in
next to them. The few employees who worked the third shift huddled together in a tight little knot talking
to the
cops.
We ran toward the
front door. One of the cops broke away. "Excuse
me," he said,
waving us down. "The store is closed."
Wes stepped up.
"Our friend, Cordelia Chase, was attacked."
The cop reached for
his walkie-talkie just as Gunn ran out of the
store. "She's
out back," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "The EMTs are checking her out."
"Can we go see
her?" I asked, remembering what the after-effects of
an attack were like.
You were wired for sound; every system on overload.
The cop shook his
head. "I'm afraid you'll just be in the way. If
you'd like to wait
near the ambulance, they'll probably be bringing her
out shortly."
I nodded.
"Thanks."
We walked toward the
ambulance. The back doors were open. The stretcher
was there but the medical kits were gone. I peeked inside the cab; it was empty, too.
"What
happened?" Wes asked.
"Thing was
going for another chick, and Cordy got its attention,"
Gunn said.
Wes and Gunn went
into terse-delivery mode, a type of shorthand they
took on in
emergencies. I shoved my hands in my pockets and bounced on the toes of my shoes.
"She
okay?"
"Scared,"
Gunn said. "Banged up."
"The other
woman?"
"Ran off
screaming."
"Angel?"
"Phone's
off."
"Probably in
the sewers," I said. I glanced toward the empty store.
What in the heck was
taking them so long?
"Maybe,"
Gunn said.
"Did you find
out anything about the demon?" Wes asked.
I left them talking
and walked around the side of the building. It
went on for nearly a
block and behind it I could see the parking lot to the next strip mall. I couldn't tell if it led to the back
of the supermarket
or not, so I walked back to the ambulance. "I'm gonna
see if I can find
her."
Wes nodded.
"Good idea."
Gunn glanced over at
the cops. "You want me to divert their
attention? You'll
get there faster if you go through produce. She's out back by the loading dock."
"I'll stay
here, just in case." Wes said.
I snuck around the
ambulance and peeked over the hood at Gunn. He
stood next to the
cops, arms crossed over his chest, waiting while they finished talking to one of the employees.
I was about 10 feet
from the door, but the fluorescent lights obliterated
shadows. When I got the signal I'd have to go fast and quiet.
Just then, Gunn
caught the cops' attention. I slipped onto the
sidewalk, skimming
the few feet to the door. My foot hit the mat. Whoosh--the door opened. I stood in the vestibule next to the
rows of
shopping carts, heart pounding, sure the noise had alerted the
cops.
Nothing happened.
One more glance over my shoulder showed Gunn deep
in conversation. I
shot him a wave, and then made my way to produce.
A gray, metal
swinging door with an EXIT light over it hung between
two coolers. On the
other side I found myself in a half-lit warehouse. The refrigerated air was damp and smelled like raw
meat and
rotting lettuce. Crates, some stacked 20 feet high, lined up to
form aisles through
the room.
I let my instinct
guide me to a dark hall where the only light came
from another EXIT
sign over the back door. I hit the panic bar and wound up on a loading dock like the one at the hotel. The
long ramp sloped
to the driveway, and Cordy sat at the bottom of the ramp,
leaning against the
cinder block wall.
An EMT knelt over
her, his yellow kit open and supplies spread out on
the sticky concrete.
The other EMT stood talking to a guy, who I supposed was the night manager. The night manager wore
rumpled
khakis and a
bloodstained, white golf shirt with Albertson's inscribed on the breast.
"Cordy!"
She jumped. The
three guys looked up at me.
"Yeah, hey,
Fred."
She sounded loopy,
drunk. I skidded down the ramp and knelt next to
her. Cordy's eyes
were dilated, the side of her face covered with a bruise going green in the apricot-colored light from the
halogen
floods. She cradled
her right hand carefully against her body.
A pile of bloody
gauze filled a small garbage bag next to her. I
caught a glimpse of
what looked like claw marks on her chest just before the EMT bandaged them.
"How ya doin'?
She took a deep
breath. "Peachy."
The EMT patted the
last of the over-sized Band-Aids in place. They
started somewhere
under her tank top and ended at her collarbone.
"You need to keep them clean," the EMT said. He pulled
something from his
kit and looped it over her head. "Peroxide and Neosporin will be fine. Change the bandages once a day."
When he pulled
back, her right arm was in a sling.
He glanced up at me.
"Did she say your name was Fred?"
I nodded.
"You a
friend?"
I nodded again and
squeezed Cordy's hand.
"Cordelia's got
a mild concussion," he said, tying off the garbage
bag and setting it
next to the kit.
"Coulda been
worse, except for my hard head," she said, squeezing me
back.
The EMT grinned, a
white flash against his chocolate-colored skin.
"No comment. Anyway, Fred, she needs to have someone stay with her tonight. Can you do that?"
"You bet."
He handed me a sheet
of paper. "What To Do If You Have A
Concussion," it
said across the top in big, black letters.
I doubted any of us
needed reminding about how to take care of a bumped
head, so I folded it up and put it in the pocket of my jeans. "I'll make sure she's okay."
"Good." He
patted Cordy on the knee. "Take care of that hard head.
It was nice to meet
you."
"You too."
He picked up his
case and tapped his partner on the shoulder. "Ready?"
"Yeah, let's
head out."
We watched as the
EMTs disappeared up the ramp.
I stood and turned
to the night manager. "Can you tell me what
happened,
here?"
"She was
attacked," he said.
No shit, Sherlock. I
glanced down at his nametag. "Did you see it,
Carlos?"
He shoved his hands
in his pockets. "Big, blue. Lots of teeth.
Listen, I need to go
talk to the cops. Do you mind if I--"
"No, go ahead.
Thanks for staying with her," I said.
Carlos nodded.
"Sure thing." He started up the ramp, then stopped and
looked out at the
parking lot. "You think it's coming back?"
God, I hoped not.
"No. Not tonight."
He tucked his hands
in his pockets and stared down at his shoes, like
he was thinking.
"Even so," he said, looking up at us. "Maybe you
should come back up
front with me. I don't like the idea of you sitting out here alone."
"Sounds like a
good idea." I glanced at Cordy. "You ready to go?"
"Sure."
She put a hand on the concrete and started to leverage
herself up. Before
she could get to her feet, she swerved like a car on ice, and fell forward on her knees.
My hand shot out to
stop her nosedive. "Cordy!"
Carlos rushed back
down the ramp. "Whoa, there!" He crouched at her
side. "You
okay? Should I get the EMTs?"
"Wow," she
said, putting her hand on her forehead. "Head rush."
We
helped her settle back against the wall. She was looking a little
green around the
gills. "Maybe you should send Gunn around with the truck," I suggested to Carlos.
"Gunn?"
Carlos asked, watching Cordy with a worried frown.
"Charles Gunn,"
I said. "Tall, bald black man." I waved my hand in
the air to indicate
height. "Has on a navy sweatshirt and jeans."
He nodded, but
lingered, obviously torn.
"Go on,
Carlos," I said. "We'll be fine by ourselves for a few
minutes."
Finally he nodded.
"I'll send Gunn back." He took off for the door,
and his footsteps
grew softer and disappeared when the door slammed shut.
Cordy closed her
eyes and leaned her head against the wall. "Well,
that was fun."
She drew a shaky breath.
"You almost
took a header."
"I guess I got
hit harder than I realized."
I pulled up a piece
of parking lot next to her. The wall at my back
was hard and
scratchy even through the oversized sweatshirt.
"What
happened?"
She glanced out
toward the dumpster. "I was inside talking to Carlos
when I heard a girl
scream. We ran back here. She works here at the store and had just clocked out." She pointed toward the
small back parking
lot where a few older-make cars sat. "Going to her car, I
guess. By the time
we got outside, the demon had her by the throat. I ran for them and tried get him off of her."
She shook her head.
"Gotta get Angel to work with me on the hand-to-
hand stuff."
There was a pause while she seemed to collect her thoughts. "Anyway, that dude was *big*. And the minute I
got my hands on
him, he dropped the other girl. Took a swipe at me." Her fingers
traced the bruise on
her face. "Knocked me down." They moved to the
bandages on her
chest. "Clawed the heck out of me. Carlos found a crowbar in the warehouse and hit him with it till he ran
off."
We sat in silence
for a few minutes. I smelled dumpster juice and
blood, and realized
that they were the two most common odors in my life right now. "Do you ever wonder what happened to
perfume and clean
clothes?"
"You mean, who
stole our normal lives?" Trust Cordy to get it right
off the bat.
"Pretty
much."
Her laugh ended on a
groan. "Crap, that hurts."
"You sure you
don't wanna go to the hospital?"
She shook her head.
"Dennis will take care of me."
We're like an
Appalachian family. Only if we can't fix it ourselves
do we go to town for
the doctor.
She tilted her head
and looked toward the building. "You hear that?
I thought I heard
someone yelling."
I tensed and looked
around for Big Blue.
The back door burst
open and Angel flew through. "Cordy? Cordy!" He
ignored the ramp and
leapt off the dock, landing gracefully on the ground six feet below.
And then he was
there, right in front of her, and the way he looked
at her, my heart
just melted. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, even though I could have spontaneously combusted and he
wouldn't have noticed.
Angel's hands
fluttered around her bruised face, traced the bandage
on her chest.
"I'm gonna kill it," he said.
"I'm all
right," Cordy said, soothing him with her voice. She
covered his hand and
held it over her heart. "I'm not saying don't kill it." She smiled. "But, hey, just a couple of
scrapes and a sprained
wrist. No biggie."
I pulled the paper
from my pocket. "What about your concussion?"
Cordy rolled her
eyes. "Thanks a lot, Fred."
Angel swiped the
sheet and unfolded it. His lips compressed. "Why
didn't you say
something?" He shot me a look. "Is she all right?"
I shrugged.
Cordy huffed.
"I didn't want you to worry, that's why."
"I said I'd
help her," I said, trying to make up for my
blooper. "You
could drop us at her apartment. Dennis would watch out for us."
Angel shook his
head. "No way. Cordy, you're coming back to the
hotel where I can
keep an eye on you."
"But,
Angel--"
He scooped her into
his arms and stood.
Cordy sighed.
"Fine, but at least call Dennis and tell him not to
worry, okay?"
She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Angel glanced down
at me. "Come on," he said. "We're leaving."
I scrambled up and
followed like a puppy who'd peed on the floor,
three paces behind,
with my head down. We passed Carlos on the sidewalk out front, talking to the cops. Angel swooped by,
his coat flaring,
and gently slid Cordy onto the front seat of the Plymouth.
"Thanks again,
Carlos," I said, stopping long enough to hand him a
crumpled A.I. card.
"If you think of anything else, give us a call."
He nodded.
"Like I said, big and blue," he replied, looking down at
the card. "But
if it comes back, you'll be the first to know."
"The
second," said the cop, asserting his authority.
"Sure
thing," Carlos said.
***
Gunn and I followed
Wes's taillight down La Brea. The truck rumbled
over cracking
macadam and Power 106 hummed through the speakers. It was too quiet to make out the artist, but even if it'd been
going
full bore, I
wouldn't have been able to play name that tune. I'd lost
track of urban
music--heck, any music--back in Pylea and was just finding my way back into the hypnotic light of pop culture.
"We get a
description of this thing?"
The light at the
intersection turned yellow. Wes shot through and the
scream of the bike's
engine split the air. Gunn's truck wasn't nearly so nimble. He hit the brakes and it shuddered to a halt.
"Produce guy
heard the ruckus. He was in the warehouse unpacking pineapple or
something. Ran out
back and saw the demon pin the girl to the concrete."
A shiver walked up
my spine. I knew exactly what it felt like to have
something big and
deadly sitting on your chest. "What happened?"
"We'd gotten a
lead from one of the survivors. Said the demon had
attacked in that
area before. Figured it was worth checking out. Best I
can tell, Cordy heard her scream and ran back there to fight him off."
The light changed
and the truck bucked forward. "What about you?"
He shrugged. "I
was checking out a lead down the block." He cut his
eyes at me.
"You're thinking it, too."
"What?"
"That if I'd
been with her--"
"Not
true," I said, before he could finish. The words felt funny in
my mouth but I kept
on going. "Cordy knew the risks. And she's a good fighter--or
at least she's getting better."
The cab of the truck
went quiet while Gunn merged onto the I-10. "To
answer your
question, yeah. I think we got a better description.
'Course, anything is better than 'big' and 'blue'."
"You've got a
point." I leaned my head against the cracked vinyl
headrest and watched
the dark scrub scroll by.
***
The next thing I
knew, Gunn was poking me in the side. "Yo, Fred.
Wake up."
I blinked. "Oh.
Sorry." I pushed my hair out of my eyes. "Musta gone
to sleep." I
was still tired but felt a little better than I had earlier.
"Hated to wake
you up, but it's a little chilly to spend the night in
the truck. Plus, Big
Blue?"
"Right."
We were parked off of Wilshire on one of the residential
streets just around
the corner from the hotel. I hauled myself through the courtyard and into the lobby. All the lights were
on and it
took my eyes a minute to adjust.
Cordy lay on one of
the red couches, her injured arm propped up on a
pillow.
"Hey, Fred. You
look awful."
This from the woman
who looked like she just went nine rounds with
the champ.
"Just
tired," I said. I plopped down on the coffee table in front of
the couch and my
knees bumped the cushions.
Gunn leaned his axe
against the weapons cabinet. "Angel and Wes?"
"In the
office," Cordy said. She sounded as tired as I felt.
"Why aren't you
in bed?" I asked.
"I guess I
wasn't ready to leave all the fun."
The guys had
sequestered themselves in the office. We sat alone in
the silent lobby. I
arched a brow at her.
She made a face.
"Okay, so it was mostly because I was scared to go
to sleep."
I patted her hand.
"I know exactly what you mean. I haven't had a
decent night's sleep
in five years."
The line between her
eyebrows deepened. "Really? Fred, that's awful."
I shrugged. "I
wasn't looking for the sympathy vote. Just commiserating."
She yawned, a real jaw-breaker. "Hey, want me to help
you upstairs? Sit with you till you fall asleep?"
"That'd be
nice." She sat up slowly and I helped her to her feet.
"Which
room?" I asked as we navigated the stairs.
"Angel's."
Angel's room is his
sanctuary; I never go in without an invitation.
But Cordy just
walked right in and started shuffling through his closet. She came up with a white dress shirt I didn't even
know
Angel owned.
With one arm in the
sling, she was having a hard time getting undressed.
"You gonna need some help with that?"
"I hate feeling
helpless," she said, as she sat down on the edge of
the bed, the shirt
clutched in her left hand.
"I know what
you mean." We took the sling off and I helped her out of
her clothes and into
Angel's shirt. I had to cuff the sleeves four times before I found her wrists. "I'd rather have
friends than be helpless
by myself, though."
"Good
point." She smiled at me as she crawled into bed.
I sat with her until
she went to sleep and then stayed an extra few
minutes in case she
woke up afraid. Her breathing stayed regular, though, so I went back downstairs.
"You guys
figure anything out?"
"The
description given to us by Cordelia and the employees matches
that of a demon
called Lunae," Wes said. He sat at the desk, glasses perched on his nose, scanning one of the hundreds of dusty
books from our
library.
Angel crowded him on
one side and Gunn on the other. They'd wanted to
find the demon
before, but going after Cordy had upped the stakes. No pun intended, of course.
"That's good.
You narrowed it to the family. That'll help us
understand its
feeding and nesting patterns. Maybe we can even figure out a way to take it out." I sounded so professional I
couldn't help but
grin.
Gunn grinned back.
Angel leaned over Wes's shoulder and pointed at
something.
"This says the Lunae only attacks on full moons. We have about 6 days until then."
Wes blinked,
obviously disappointed. "Oh. Well. I thought we'd found
it." He took
off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
Gunn patted Wes's
shoulder. "It's okay, man. We'll keep looking."
"Why don't we
take a break?" I suggested. "It's nearly dawn."
Angel looked up like
he'd just realized I was there. "Where's Cordy?"
"She's asleep
in your room."
His mouth softened.
"Good."
I felt a tingle in
my belly and I couldn't stop looking at Angel's
mouth.
"Fred?"
It was Gunn.
I yanked myself out
of a warm little fantasy. "Yeah." My voice
squeaked.
"Can I get by
here?"
I scooted out of the
doorway, feeling like a fool. "Oh, sure. See you
tomorrow?"
Angel slipped out
behind him. The back door slammed behind Gunn. I didn't
hear Angel's footsteps but I assumed he went up to check on Cordy.
That left me and
Wes. He was flipping through the book, a worn look
on his face.
"You look
tired."
He shrugged.
"Maybe a little."
"You gonna
rest?"
Instead of
answering, he put his glasses back on and picked up
another book. I felt
guilty for so many things, not the least of which was putting Wes in an uncomfortable situation. So I
pulled a book
off the shelf and started turning pages.
The glasses hid his
eyes again, but I could feel him looking at me.
He didn't say
anything, though, and after a moment, the only sounds in the room were of our breathing and the shuffling hiss of
parchment pages
turning.
***
I felt like I did
that time I pulled an all-nighter before my Chem
313 exam.
"Coffee?"
My eyes were
sandpapered into my head. All I could do was nod.
Wes pressed a mug
into my hand.
It was so much
better than Cordy's brew that I drank half of it in
one swallow. The
caffeine hit my stomach and propped my eyelids open. "Thanks." I stretched. "What time is
it?"
Wes glanced at his
watch. "About 3:30."
I hauled myself out
of the chair and put Stephenson's Demon Dictionary
back onto the shelf. Next was Foucault's Compendium, but it was nearly as heavy as me, so I left it sitting there and
went for the
Complete List of Daemons, A-Zed.
The book flopped
open to the M's, and I turned pages, drank coffee,
and consulted my
notes. Yes, it was still big and blue. It was also nearly seven feet tall and, between Jeremy's report and the
location of
Cordy's claw marks, seemed to have a penchant for ripping the
hearts out of
women's chests.
"It's all about
hurting women," I murmured.
"I'm
sorry?" Wes glanced up from his book.
"The demon. It
only goes after women."
Our eyes locked. A
chill ran up my back.
Wes didn't say
anything. Instead he got up and hightailed it out of
the room and I heard
the bathroom door close down the hall.
I stared at the wall
listening to the water run. Then I gazed at the
book while waiting
for my mind to engage. The words blurred; my nose ran. I wiped my face with my sleeve and took a deep,
trembling breath.
Just as I turned
back to the A's, the toilet flushed and Wes came
out, hair damp at
the temples. He looked anything but refreshed.
"I don't think
we're going to find anything tonight." He shuffled to
the desk and leaned
on the edge, staring down at the books, papers, half-empty coffee cups and the small hurling axe he used as a
paperweight.
"We might want
to consider consulting with Lorne." He relieved the
coat rack of his
jacket. "I think I'll head home now and get some sleep. Thank you for your help."
I nodded and moved
my feet out of the way so he could get by. The
feeling that I'd
done something terrible washed over me. He hated me; I could tell. And if there was one thing in the world I
couldn't stand,
it was having someone not like me.
It was like being in
Pylea all over again. Feeling like the outsider.
Being attacked by people you should be able to trust. Not being able to take care of yourself.
A few minutes of
sitting in the eerie quiet of the office had me
feeling itchy. I
decided to head up to my bedroom and lie down. I did some of my best studying in bed—it was amazing what cat
naps
could do to keep
your brain refreshed.
Once I got my shoes
off and situated myself under the covers, I opened
the book and started at the beginning. I cruised through the A's, the B's and the C's, rearranged the pillows, and went on
to the D's.
Nothing, nothing and more nothing. The discouraged feeling I'd
had all evening grew
in direct proportion to my drooping eyelids. I decided to do one more letter then take it up again in the
morning.
I flipped
haphazardly through the Es, pretty much convinced we were
never gonna find
this thing—and there it was. Startled, I looked at my notes, looked at the book, and felt excitement start to
bubble in my
chest.
Not at all tired
now, I picked up the phone to call Wes. I immediately
dropped it back into the cradle. The last thing Wes wanted to do was to talk to me. Besides, he was probably
face-down in
the bed by now. Next I considered going to Angel, but hated to
risk waking Cordy
when she so desperately needed rest.
It would hardly hurt
to wait a few more hours and then we could all
approach it with a
fresh eye. Plus, this would give me more time to research so I could have a complete report.
A warm coal of
excitement started to burn in my stomach. I could
just see it now--the
entire crew, huddled around the desk as I ticked off physical characteristics, feeding grounds, ways to kill
the
beast.
I could prove to
them that I as useful for something besides building
Rube Goldberg
contraptions and being the Princess Leia of Angel Investigations. (Of course, I mean New Hope Leia, not Empire
Strikes
Back Leia, because
she totally kicked butt in that one.) And maybe
Wes would stop
looking at me like I was something he'd smushed on the bottom of his shoe.
I went back to the
book. Elcsüggedt, I sounded out. Hungarian for
"downhearted." I skimmed the description, "This demon, first
discovered in
Hungary in the 16th century, earned the name 'down- hearted' due to the fact that it eats the hearts of its
victims. It wasn't
until the 20th century, when one was captured and studied," I
wrinkled my nose and
tried not to think about what that meant, "that scientists
discovered that the Elcsüggedt has an energetic deficiency in
its heart chakra and must compensate by consuming the hearts of other beings."
I ran my finger down
the page, skimming physical characteristics, and
squinted at the
picture. The line drawing showed a monster, all right. He looked like Sasquatch on steroids. But what
interested me most
was this: "By nature, the Elcsüggedt is a peaceful demon,
cohabitating easily
with members of many different species (including humans). Only when the level of energy drops to a certain
point does it
attempt to feed, thus becoming violent."
Oh, that poor thing!
Here I'd been thinking he was some kind of
misogynist monster,
when he was really just hungry. I knew all about hungry.
But why focus on
young women? I kept reading and found the answer.
"Diet evolved over time to include only the hearts of young women experiencing the first stages of romantic love. It was
determined by
researchers that the powerful, refined energetic vibrations experienced by females in this state offered the
Elcsüggedt the best
nutritive value."
"Young women in
love?" I slapped my forehead. "Of *course*!" How
had we missed it?
Jeremy and Katy were newly engaged and he was obviously head over heels for her. I'd bet my Grandmama
Carter's mad money
that all the other victims were in new relationships, too.
But that left Cordy.
As far as I knew she wasn't in love with
anyone...except
maybe Angel. I laughed. No way she was in love with Angel. For one thing, they'd known each other too long. For
another, they
fought way too much. Sure, I could see him lusting after her,
but she treated him
like an annoying older brother. She'd probably just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
That meant that the
chances of it attacking her again were pretty
slim. And now that I
knew it wasn't evil, there was no way I was killing it. I suddenly remembered what Wes said about
consulting Lorne.
I stared at the
demon's picture, letting my mind connect the dots.
What if I went to
Lorne for a love spell? I could cast the spell on myself, and then use myself as bait.
My heart started
thumping. We could trap the Elcsüggedt, maybe even
heal it, and then
turn it loose. We'd be like that Crocodile Hunter guy!
The vision of the
crew smiling at me turned into them throwing me a
huge bash, complete
with "Fred solved the case!" banners and chocolate cake. Since it was my fantasy, I added the footnote
that, after
I captured and dispatched the Elcsüggedt, I slept soundly
through the night
for the first time in five years.
Hey, a girl could
dream, right? Maybe even literally.
***
I hid the book under
my bed, covering it with fast food wrappers and
old clothes. The
urge to clean must not have been handed down from my mom, who was a neat freak. I was perfectly content to live in
a pig sty;
always had been. Maybe that's why I was so comfortable in that
cave.
As I snuck past
Angel's bedroom, I tucked my ear to the wood to
listen for sounds of
life. All I could hear was the occasional drip of the faucet and somebody's light snores.
I thought about
taking the bus, but it'd be way faster to drive. The
problem was, the
only car here was Angel's. On the other hand, now that I knew what I was up against, time was of the essence. I
stared at
the second hand, ticking its way around the watch dial.
What the heck, I
decided. I'd already caused so much trouble, why not
cause a little more?
The keys to the
Plymouth lived in the top drawer of Cordy's desk and
I lifted them with a
trembling hand. I'd never stolen a car before, and though I didn't think this could qualify as grand theft
auto, I
decided I'd better
be safe than sorry, so I scrawled a note saying I
was going out to do
some research and stuck it to her computer screen.
The Plymouth's big
V-8 engine growled like a grizzly as I pulled into
nearly nonexistent
traffic. I couldn't remember the last time I drove. Los Angeles has extensive public transpo, and even
before I got
sucked into the portal, I took the bus or cabs.
I spread my fingers
wide, sat up tall in the seat. I felt like my
horse Jenny must
have when I turned her loose in the field.
I'd only been to
Caritas once, and the street it sits on is packed
with bars, liquor
stores, dry cleaners and restaurants. Most were closed for the night, though the lights from the gas station
on the
corner flared like a
Roman candle.
It was the backside
of night when I finally found a parking space and
knocked on Lorne's
door. I was beginning to think he didn't live there any more--until I heard the security door unlatch and
saw his
red eyes peer out.
"Fred?"
I nodded.
"Sorry to disturb you at such an ungodly hour. It's just--
Cordy got attacked
by a demon last night, and I--"
The door swung open
to show Lorne in a black satin robe and bunny
slippers. "Is
she okay?" He motioned me in then latched the door behind
us.
I followed him down
the hall. "Yeah. She's banged up. Angel's taking
care of her."
We emerged into the
bar, still busted up from our last trip. My feet
quit working and I
stumbled to a halt. "God, Lorne," I said, taking in
the damage. "I'm so sorry."
The bar, itself, was
still intact and he already stood behind it
mixing drinks. He
slid something down to me and I caught it on instinct. Bloody Mary. I'm more a beer or daiquiri girl,
myself.
"Breakfast of
champions," Lorne said, raising his glass to me.
I sipped and
grimaced. "Good stuff."
He knocked his back
in about three gulps and reached for mine. "I
know you're not
gonna drink that."
I hiked myself up
onto a singed barstool. "I need your help."
"Sorry. Karaoke
machine's broken." His mouth pulled down at the
corners. "I
think it got shot."
I dropped my eyes to
the napkin in front of me. "Yeah. That night
sucked." I'd
been singing Crazy, which seemed appropriate at the time.
Still did, actually, which was part of the reason I was here.
"I don't need to sing," I said, looking up at him. "I was
hoping you could put
me in touch with someone who does spells."
That got his
attention. "What kind of spells?"
"In this case,
a love spell."
He put his hand over
mine. "Those things always backfire, sweetie.
Besides, I don't
know why you think you need a love spell. Anyone who isn't falling in love with you in a heartbeat is a damn
fool."
"You're the
only Pylean I've ever met who didn't try to kill me," I
said, all choked up.
"That's why I
left. Just don't have that killer instinct." His gaze
traveled over the
burnt out room. "Well, except for those guys who torched my shop. I might kill them."
I laughed. "I
know what you mean."
We shared a moment.
He walked around the
bar and sat down next to me. "Why do you really
want a love
spell?"
"A demon. An
Elcsüggedt."
Lorne's
eyes widened. "I've heard of those. Don't they go after young
women--"
"Who are in
love." I nodded. "Yeah."
I'm not sure how it
was possible, but his eyes got wider. He looked
like a green Al
Jolsen. "And it attacked Cordy?" His cackle rang through the empty bar. "Hot damn, I thought it'd never
happen!"
I leaned forward.
"What? What did you think would never happen?"
"Cordy and
Angel." He cackled some more and slapped his thigh.
I squeaked.
"You're kidding, right? I mean, he's kinda got a crush
on her--"
"Oy vey, he's
way beyond crushed. That boy's got the big love and has
since he got back
this summer. Cordy, on the other hand, has been her loveably
clueless self. But if what you say is true--" Until now, I'd never actually seen someone rub their hands together with
glee.
"If that's the
case, then maybe I don't need the spell."
The smile flashed
away. "You thinking of using Cordy as bait?"
When he put it like
that.... "No, I was actually thinking of using me
as bait."
He leaned so far
back I had to grab his arm to keep him on the
barstool.
"Nope. Sorry. Shop's closed. No dice."
"Lorne-- Just
listen, okay? It's not a stupid plan--I promise."
"Sweetikins,
anything that uses you as bait is a stupid plan."
I shook my head.
"No, no. Listen. See, here's the deal. This thing
doesn't kill people
because it's evil. It does it because it has an energetic deficiency in its heart chakra."
He burst out
laughing. "Say again, swami?"
I pulled my
folded-up notes out of my jacket pocket and put them on
the bar in front of
him. He skimmed them, then looked at me. "So?"
"So if I can
lure it out, maybe I can cure it."
"Now you want
to be a demon social worker?"
"It doesn't
seem right to kill it just because it's trying to make up
for a deficit."
His eyebrow arched
and he got that funny look in his eye. "Hum
something."
"Why?"
"What you just
said-- Hum something."
The best I could
come up with was Row, Row, Row Your Boat. After
three bars, he held
up his hand. "Not bad, sweetie. I just have one question.
Who's trying to make up for a deficit?"
I swallowed hard.
Busted. "I just wanted to--" I sighed. I couldn't
look at him so I
stared at the bar, instead. I ran my fingers over a heart someone had carved in it with the letters "MK/KW
4eva."
"I'm tired of
not fitting in," I finally admitted. "Tired of everyone
overlooking me or
being mad at me. " My eyes welled with tears and I wiped
them on my sleeve. "And maybe if I'd been able to take care of myself
before, I wouldn't have gotten sucked through the portal."
He patted my arm
then leaned across the bar and grabbed a pen. The
napkin was damp from
the glass, so he wrote around the edges.
I slid the napkin
down the bar and turned it in a circle, reading as
I went. "Anita
Reddick, Melbourne Ave., Los Feliz."
He nodded. "Her
phone number's on there too. She only takes
referrals, so you'll
need to call in advance and tell her I sent you."
He reached across
the bar again and handed me another napkin. "Dry
your eyes," he
said. "You take on too much, Fred. Always have." He
patted my hand and
stood. "What happened to you in Pylea--with Wes-- those things weren't your fault." He led me up the
stairs and opened the
door. "But that's something no one can tell you, but you."
Sunlight pushed its
fingers into my eyes. "Thanks," I said, squinting
at him in the peach
and aqua light.
"Just be
careful." He waved and latched the door closed behind him.
I pointed the
Plymouth toward the hotel, too tired now to enjoy
anything but the
idea of going home. The cool, morning air reached in through the window and wrapped its hand around my neck. I
shivered and
notched up the heater. Then I thought of how crazy this idea was
and how likely I was
to get dead. But the alternative--living like half a person--well, that held even less appeal.
The car nosed into
its spot behind the hotel like Jenny coming back
to the barn. I
hopped out, locked the door, and found Angel standing on the dock, arms folded, a frown line between his eyes.
"You find
anything?"
I shook my head.
"I thought I'd talk to Lorne. He wasn't much help."
I handed him the car
keys as I slunk past. "I'm sorry about the car."
He glanced down at
the key ring. "I wasn't worried about the car."
My heart warmed.
"Really?"
For the first time
in ages, he smiled at me. "Yeah. Really." He
slung his arm across
my shoulders and guided me into the hotel.
"Cordy woke up hungry so I cooked breakfast. You want some?"
We ate at the big,
stainless table in the hotel kitchen. Despite the
huge room, I felt
cozy and warm as I shoveled in eggs and hash browns.
Angel topped off
Cordy's coffee, sipped some blood, and laughed at
something she said.
For the first time I saw it in his eyes--how much he loved her. And maybe it was the sun arching through the
little
windows near the
ceiling, but she nearly glowed.
As accepted as I
felt right then, I realized that there was no way I
could use her as
bait. She actually had something to lose. I, on the other hand, had everything to gain.
***
I snuck out to buy
the spell that afternoon before Wes and Gunn returned.
Cordy had gone home to check on Dennis. Angel was sleeping.
When I got back, the
hotel was still quiet. I took the ingredients
for the spell to my
room, went inside, and closed the door behind me. The
book still hid under the bed with the fast food wrappers, and I stuffed the bag under there with them.
Next was a shower, a
luxury I hadn't allowed myself until I felt like
things were moving
down the right path. One thing I loved about the hotel was its never-ending supply of hot water. I lathered,
rinsed
and repeated, then
just stood there, letting the hot spray pound my
head and shoulders.
By the time I got
out, I was pruney, but substantially more relaxed.
One pair of jeans
and a sweater later and I felt ready to face the world--or my little corner of it.
I went downstairs to
grab a sandwich and make sure the coast was
clear. On the way
back, I lifted a couple of books from the library.
I ate my PB and J
while I read the recipe for the spell. Basically
you just mixed a
couple of ingredients together, waved a rose quartz over
them, and uttered some fancy words. Then, over the course of a few days, you and your beloved fell in love.
Something
uncomfortable coiled in my belly and it wasn't the mango
preserves. Love had
always been something I revered and waited anxiously for, and it felt like cheating to bring it on with
a spell, even
if the spell was being done for a good purpose.
I set the recipe
aside and turned to the books I'd picked up. I hoped
they'd lead me to a
cure for the Elcsüggedt. It was like solving a proof in geometry, I thought, as I worked steadily to fit the
pieces together.
Start here, end there, and figure out all the steps in
between.
In a couple of hours
I had a pretty solid theorem. The Elcsüggedt's
heart chakra was
like a dry well back home. The only way to fill it was to hook it into a flowing stream.
As I turned pages
and slipped into the rhythm of research, I must
have lost track of
time. A door slammed downstairs and I jumped and looked at my watch. Seven o'clock already?
I went over my notes
again. It looked like all I'd need to do was
perform an energetic
bypass on the thing's heart. The question was-- how?
Someone thumped up
the stairs--most likely Cordy, since I never heard
Angel's footsteps
anywhere. The hotel was filling up for the evening, and I knew we'd be researching and tracking the Elcsüggedt
down. I
felt sure I was
close to figuring out the theory. The question was
whether I was close
enough that I should perform the spell.
Then I heard Cordy
laugh and remembered the claw marks on her chest;
the engagement ring
Jeremy wore on his pinkie after Katy's death. There was no way I was risking the loss of another life.
I drew the
ingredients for the spell out from under the bed. Now or
never, I thought,
reading over the recipe one last time.
I cast the circle
and lit the candles. The powders drifted into the
marble mortar. While
I chanted, I poured the glass vial of rose-and- honey nectar onto the powders. With the other hand I waved
the
crystal.
A pink mist rose and
formed a cloud over the circle, growing denser
as I chanted. I read
the words carefully, hoping I was pronouncing it all
correctly, and got to the last sentence. The mist grew a pointed tip and aimed itself at my heart. I took a deep breath, spoke
the last
word...and my bedroom door opened.
"Hey, Fred, you
want some dinner?"
I watched in a
mouth-open daze as the mist trembled, shifted, and
turned its point
toward Cordy. Before I could break the circle, it flew at her like a demented bird and shot straight into her
chest.
She stumbled back,
blinked, and shook her head like someone waking
from sleep.
"Wow," she said, rubbing her breastbone. "That was...what
was that?"
I leapt to my feet
and ran to her side. "Oh, my God. Are you okay? I
was-- It was--"
Oh, crap. How did I explain what was obviously a spell gone wrong?
Before I could
answer, Angel appeared at the end of the hall. Our
heads swiveled
toward him as he bee-lined toward Cordy.
Her smile lit the
universe. "Angel, hey," she said. When he got to
us, she twined her
arms around his neck and leaned into him.
Over her shoulder I
could see his look of surprise, then warmth, then
heat as he hugged
her back. A soft, pink glow engulfed them. Oh, crap. Crappity-crap-crap!
I watched,
horrified, as she drew his head to hers and planted a kiss
on his lips. Before
I knew it, she had him pinned to the wall. He moaned, long and deep, as she whispered something in his ear.
This was turning
into a live-action porn show and it was all my
fault.
"Uh,
guys?" I said, tapping Cordy on the shoulder.
"Go `way,"
she said, waving her hand. "We're busy."
Crap. I was gonna
have to call in the big guns. As I hauled butt
downstairs, I
remembered what Lorne had said about backfiring spells. He wasn't kidding. Why did they never give you the fine print
on these
things?
Wes sat in his
office, scouring another book. I stopped at the door,
red-faced, and
folded my hands behind my back. I felt like I did that time
I got caught smoking dope in the bathroom at school and had to go to the principal's office.
"Fred," he
said distractedly. "What's up?"
Like ripping off a
Band-Aid, I decided it was best to get it done
fast. "I found
the demon while I was researching this morning.
He glanced up,
obviously surprised. "Why didn't you say--"
I held up my hand.
"It's an Elcsüggedt. It eats the hearts of young
women in love."
The surprise faded
to comprehension. He slapped the desk. "Of
course!" A line
appeared between his eyebrows. "But why would it go
after Cordy?"
Somewhere upstairs,
Cordy cried out, obviously in the throes of passion.
I swallowed hard and looked toward the staircase.
"Fred?"
I don't think Wes
understood quite what he was hearing. "I went to a
lady in Los Feliz
and got a love spell. I was gonna cast it on myself, then lure the demon out and cure it."
Wes's mouth fell
open.
"While I was
casting the spell, Cordy came into the room and it went
into her. Then Angel
walked in and--"
She cried out again
and this time Wes got it. He flushed a dull red
and looked down at
his desk. "Oh, crap."
"Exactly."
We listened while
Cordy keened Angel's name.
"I don't think
it would have happened quite so fast if they weren't
already headed in
that direction," I said apologetically.
Wes threw the chair
back, grabbed a crossbow, and ran for the stairs.
"Angelus!" he yelled.
By the time we made
it to Angel's bedroom, Cordy's moans were hotter
and throatier. I
tried to be a professional but I was afraid to open the door and find Angelus getting her off just in time to rip
her
throat out. On the
other hand, I'd often wondered what Angel looked
like naked.
Wes leaned against
the wall, crossbow pointed up like a gunslinger at
a shootout.
"Angel? Angel!"
"Not now,
Wes," came the muffled response.
"Angel. You
have to stop what you're doing. You and Cordy are under
a spell."
Cordy cried out
again and the sound drowned out Wes's warning. He
caught my eye.
"We have to go in."
I swallowed hard.
"Let's do it."
He counted three off
on his fingers and opened the door. We crossed
the threshold and my
foot hit something soft. I looked down and found myself
tangled in Cordy's skirt.
A breadcrumb trail
of clothes led to the bed where Angel and Cordy
writhed, oblivious
to our presence. Angel's pants were unbuttoned and halfway unzipped. His shirt lay on the sheet like a black
shadow
under Cordy's lacy,
maroon bra.
The bedroom is
arranged so that the bed sits perpendicular to the
door, giving us a
great view of the action. They rolled once, twice, and Cordy came out on top. She straddled him, and we got an
eyeful of her
amazing breasts and maroon thong.
Wes and I watched
slack-jawed as Angel freed his hands and looped his
thumbs under the
slim edge of her panties. She shimmied against him like a lap dancer, flicking her hips back and forth to work
the
material down.
He moaned.
"Don't stop."
She arched against
him, and from throat to belly became one long,
aching line.
"God, you either," she rasped.
Angel tore one hand
free and fisted it in her hair. Even from this
angle and distance I
could see that his eyes were dark, feral, his mouth pulled back in a snarl. "You don't know--" he
said, and he yanked
her down. "How long--" He kissed her so hard I heard their
teeth click.
"Jeez," I
whispered. "They're better than the Red Shoe Diaries."
Wes jolted out of
his reverie. "Y-yes, um...er.... All right, then!"
He widened his
stance and pointed the crossbow at Angel. "Stop what you're
doing right now!"
Angel turned his
head toward the door. "What the hell?"
Cordy stared blankly
at us. She was flushed, panting, sweating--jeez,
they'd only been at
it ten minutes. How many orgasms could she have had?
"I'm
sorry," Wes said, trying hard not to look at Cordelia's
breasts. "You
must stop. You're under a love spell."
"What?"
Angel looked as befuddled as Cordy and more than a little
pissed.
I stepped forward.
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I was trying to
catch the demon
and--" I looked at my shoes.
"A love
spell?" I looked up just in time to see her pull his hand to
her heart.
"That's crazy. Angel and I don't need a spell to know we're in love."
Angel froze.
"Right,
Angel?" She kissed his fingers one by one, obviously still
lost in whatever
wonderland the spell had sent them to.
"Oh, my
God," Angel said. "We're under a--?" He shoved her off of him
and lurched to his
feet. "This is a *spell*?" A look of horror flashed across his face.
"I don't think
the spell could have taken her over if she wasn't
falling in love with
you, Angel," I said, looking to Wes for reassurance,
trying to make this awful situation better.
"It's
true," Wes said. "The feelings would already have to be there--"
He thrust out his
hand to ward us off.
"What's
wrong?" Cordy pouted up at him. She grabbed for his
hand. "Why
don't you come back to bed?"
He jerked away from
her. The war going on inside Angel played out on
his face. Shock,
fear, betrayal, anger, and a hurt so raw it lanced my heart. Then he turned his back on us and wrapped his arms
around
his waist. "Get
out. All of you."
Cordy sat up as
comprehension slowly dawned. "Angel?"
He flinched.
"Get out, Cordelia. Now."
Wes collected
Cordelia, carefully wrapping the sheet around her. Then
he picked up her
clothes and guided her to the door. "Come on," he said
quietly.
The door closed
behind us with a final click. Cordy looked over her
shoulder. Her eyes
were wide huge and dark. "We nearly--" She paled. "Angel and I almost--"
Wes patted her bare
shoulder awkwardly. "Why don't you get dressed.
We'll talk about
this after you've had a minute to collect yourself."
***
Half an hour later,
we all crowded into Wes's office. Angel sat alone
in the shadowed
corner. Cordy curled into a chair across the room, as far away from him as she could get. She hadn't looked at
Angel since she
came in, but the look she shot me should have cut me in half.
Wes had updated Gunn
on the situation before Angel came down, and
Gunn had obviously
decided to go the "discretion is the better part of valor" route. Instead of focusing on the spell, he
was staring at the
stun gun in his hand. "Let me get this straight," he said to
me. "You were
gonna lure the demon out and cure it--" he waved the stun
gun in the air, "with *this*?"
I swallowed hard.
"Yeah," I said, and my voice felt sticky and weak.
He shook his head
and looked at Wes. "That work?"
Wes folded his
hands. "The premise seems to be correct," he
said. "The
problem is that a stun gun doesn't offer enough volts to fill
the demon's heart for any longer than the gun discharges."
"I say we kill
it," Angel said.
Cordy glanced up at
him, flushed, then looked back down at her hands.
"Cordy, you
have a vote?" Wes asked.
She shrugged.
I didn't want to go
against Angel, but that soft spot in my heart
wouldn't let me stay
quiet. "Can't we figure out some other way? It's
not evil—it's just trying to make up for something it's missing." I looked at each of them, sure that they'd
understand that feeling.
Even after what happened today, they were still Champions—
and isn't a Champion
just an outcast with cooler weapons?
Wes stood and put
his hands on the desk. "I think Angel is right.
Unfortunately, we
don't have time to do any more research. The thing is hungry and it's likely to kill again." He tapped the
desk with his
fingertips. "We have no idea where it will strike next, so I
suggest we go to the
known points of attack to begin tracking it from there."
"I'll check out
the grocery store," Angel said, pushing to his feet.
Gunn cut him a
glance. "Why don't I go with you?" he asked.
"Gunn, you go
with Cordy. She's still under the spell, and she'll
need your
protection." Wes turned to Angel, leveling his eyes at him. "You too, Angel."
"Impossible,"
Angel said, tight-lipped.
"The Elcsüggedt
will go wherever Cordelia is. We'll need you there."
Angel stared at him
with cold eyes. Wes, to his credit, didn't back
down. If anything,
he stood taller, straighter, like the Wes I first met in Pylea. The silence stretched and I started to get
restless. Finally,
Angel nodded, breaking the tension.
"How about we
start here at the hotel and work our way out to the
known hot
spots," Wes continued, as if the stare-down hadn't happened.
"Gunn's team, you take the area around Albertson's. Fred, come
with me. We'll go check out The Derby, where Katy was attacked."
We suited up and
prepared for action. Angel stayed well away from
Cordy, who looked
bruised around the edges. She'd taken off her sling, but she carried her injured hand close to her body.
The
bandages peeked out
the gauzy ruffle of her collar, in pale relief
next to her skin.
"Should Cordy
be doing this?" I whispered to Wes as they collected
their weapons.
"We don't have
a choice," he said.
Wes and I pulled
together a gym bag full of weapons in strained
silence. I slung the
bag over my shoulder just as the back door slammed behind Gunn, Angel and Cordy. We went out the front
door and I
straddled the bike behind Wes. We hauled down Wilshire, hung a
left on Vermont, and
turned onto Los Feliz Boulevard.
The Derby had just
opened its doors and we made our way up the stairs
where the bouncer
sat, collecting cover fees. "Ten bucks each," he said.
Wes popped him a
twenty before I could even get my cash out of my
pocket.
"I can get
it," I said.
He shook his head
and led me into the domed front room. It was too
early for the band,
but they were serving drinks at the bar, and the patrons—dressed for the swing dancing later on—drank
Cosmos, Martinis and
expensive beers.
We wandered through
the bar, checked the bathrooms, and showed the
bartender the
picture of the Elcsüggedt. After she finished laughing and
told us to lay off the crack, we went back down to the parking lot.
"Guess he's not
coming back here tonight," I said. I stuck my hands
in the pockets of my
jeans and rocked back and forth on my clogs.
A valet climbed into
a black SUV and nosed it through the driveway.
Out of curiosity we
followed it around to the back parking lot. Dumpsters, an almost-full lot, another valet smoking a joint.
Your normal
behind-the-bar visual.
"What
next?" I asked.
"I guess we
check in with the others and—"
The burglar alarm
wailed. Someone in the Derby screamed. We looked at
each other and took
off for the stairs.
Sure enough, the
Elcsüggedt stood on the stage, holding a young woman
by the front of her
shirt and drooling on her. A fire escape door bobbed open behind it, on the opposite side of the building
from
where we'd been
standing.
The bartender
scrabbled for the phone and an instant later, Wes's
rang. He didn't
bother to answer—just waved at her as we plowed by.
"Hey!" I
yelled at the demon. "Drop her!"
The Elcsüggedt
turned his big, furry head, and let out a roar that
had people backed up
10-deep in the doorway. The guy next to me blubbered and a wet stain appeared on his thigh. Luckily I'd
had the
pee scared out of me
enough in Pylea to have built up a resistance.
Wes pulled the
crossbow and lit a bolt. "Get down!" Everyone stared
at him like he was
speaking Swahili. "On the floor!" he yelled. They fell
like bowling pins and Wes took aim and fired.
The ball of flame
shot through the air and caught the Elcsüggedt in
the shoulder. It
shook its victim like a rag doll. She screamed and fainted, going limp in his paws.
Wes shot another
bolt that hit the Elcsüggedt in the leg. It spun
wildly and dropped
the girl. I rounded the bar, hopscotching the bodies on the floor, and grabbed her by the feet. Her
petticoats flared
out as I dragged her across the stage. I left her in a pile of
pink and white lace
and went back to grab the bartender by the arm. She yelped.
"Call
nine-one-one!"
She stared at me,
blank-eyed with terror.
I slapped her.
"Get with it!" I shouted, trying not to be distracted
by the fact that Wes
was running out of bolts. "Pick up the phone and dial nine-one-one. Tell them there's a hostage
situation."
I left her dialing
the cops and went back to help Wes. Unfortunately,
the flood of people
going for the exits blocked my path.
At my hip, my cell
phone buzzed. I ignored it and did the only thing
I could: I tried to
get people to their feet and away from the demon. Should have taken Traffic Cop 101, I thought, as I shoved
people out the
door and directed them to the fire escapes.
Sirens started to
wail outside, which only added to the screaming,
the deafening klaxon
of the burglar alarm, and the roaring of the demon. The smell of burning fur hit the air, and when I
looked back, I
saw that the Elcsüggedt, hair completely burned off its right arm,
was running
full-speed toward Wes.
My phone buzzed me
again and I yanked it free. Cordy's number flashed
on screen. I flipped
the mouthpiece down. "HELP! We're at the Derby!"
"We'll be right
there!"
I dodged the crowd
and ran for Wes, who was being pummeled by the
Elcsüggedt. I
kicked and screamed and lunged for the sword handle sticking out of the gym bag. I really, really didn't want to
kill
this thing, but
since I'd pretty much gotten us into this mess, I
figured it was my
responsibility to clean it up.
Wes struggled and I
caught a flash of his blue eyes as I raised the
sword.
"Fred!"
I stopped on the
downswing, just in time to see Cordy rush through
the door. The Elcsüggedt's
blows slowed and then stopped as he caught her scent. She gave him a little wave and disappeared. The
thing
rolled up on his
hind legs and chased her like a cat after a catnip
ball.
I dropped the sword.
"Wes, are you okay?" I pulled him up and
brushed him off. His
glasses were cracked and hung off of one ear; blood dripped down his cheek, and his jacket was ripped.
He grabbed the bag,
stuffed the sword in it and made for the door.
"Come on! We've got to find Cordy!"