PART: 9/12
Spike liked to write by
candlelight. He liked to write with a
fountain pen and a proper nib. He even,
truth be told, liked to write in the quiet.
He sat in a new room, without the telly or CD blaring and wrote. He wrote of kings and great armies, of
sweeping battle plains that were in fact his body and heart. He wrote of the passion of conquest, the
pain of defeat and the security of reconciliation. He knew he was being watched.
His vampire senses hadn’t been dulled by two years of the chip. “That’s right,” He thought, “Just a little
closer…”
Fred didn’t see him move,
she felt it, like the whisper of the wind.
He had her by the wrist. Not
tight enough to set off the chip but she wasn’t getting loose. “What are you doing?” He asked, softly.
She looked at him, wide eyed
like a frightened rabbit, “I…I …just experimenting, testing somethin’. You got to run trials. Tests like.
Else how can you ever find the truth?”
Spike tightened his grip;
“It’s polite to seek a bloke’s consent before experimenting on him.”
“Oh yeah.” She was eager to agree with him, “I’m
sorry…I just…but you’re right, where are my manners? May I please test this?”
Much as Spike truly hated
human science, he was curious. Fred
hadn’t been seen all weekend. Angel
said it wasn’t unusual. She’d been
through some kind of trauma that had left her slightly unhinged, and she liked
to hide herself away. The others seemed
to ignore her, but Spike knew from a hundred years of experience when to ignore
the insane and when to take notice.
“What is that?” He asked, releasing her from his grasp.
“It’s a odouraometer.”
“You want to explain that to
a chap first born in 1858?”
“It detects and measures
chemical particulates in the air, er…smells, it smells. Only it doesn’t, not this, but other things
smell and it picks them up…the smells.”
“The year 1858 not 18:58
this evening! And I don’t smell!!”
The comment was said with
enough vampiric venom to have most humans scurrying to apologise but not
Fred. She laughed, just a little too
loud and said, “Yes you do.”
He snarled but she didn’t
seem to notice. “May I?” She asked raising the machine. “See I got it all wrong. I thought ‘cos the chip was giving out
electrical signals, that that’s what it was picking up. I can be so thick sometimes.”
“Thick? Right.”
He took off his glasses and placed them on top of his papers.
“But then I got to thinking
what makes creatures different from one another and well it’s their
chemistry. It can’t be their physics
‘cos them laws are constant and people aren’t.
So, I made this to pick up chemical changes and I found something. Humans give off a chemical signal.”
“Like pheromones?”
“Yeah, sort of and no. More like species indicators or
fingerprints.”
He looked puzzled for a
moment and then more than a little peeved.
“So the chip picks up the smelly fingerprints and wham bloody great
migraine. Clever little fuckers,
scientists. Present company excepted.”
Fred looked down and Spike
realised he’d offended her, “Oh I didn’t mean you weren’t clever.” He said by way of an apology.
She started to tinker again
with her creation. It reminded the
vampire more than ever, of Dru and her tarot cards. “Gonna tell my future with that thing?” He asked.
“You wanna know if I can
remove the chip in your brain?” He
nodded. “Well – I could. Oh, but Angel wouldn’t like it.”
“Who gives a fuck about that
twat?” Spike barked. He didn’t want his chance of losing the chip
ruined by over zealous loyalty.
Again, instead of getting jumpy
at the savagery of the remark, she smiled and skipped right up to him. Their eyes met and locked for an instant,
his full of desperation and the need for answers, hers bright and full of
mischief. “It’s not time,” She said in
her Texan drawl. He found the accent
sensual, “You’re not ready, not cooked.”
Yes, she was VERY like his Dru and just like with Drusilla there was a
time to get angry and a time to try subtly.
“What do you mean,
pet?” He asked. He nearly reached out and stroked her hair
but ran his hand through his own instead.
He was astounded when she
touched him. Fred stroked his cheek
with the backs of her fingers, like a mother or a big sister might. It was re assuring, “We will work it out, I will work it out,
get it out.”
“You can really do
that?” He didn’t pull away. He put his cool palm over the back of her
warm hand and suddenly the whole room seemed very hot. The candles guttered and all he could hear
was her heartbeat.
“If you’re a good boy.” She was so close now that her nipples grazed
his chest, “Already sowing seeds. You sow poppies in your garden.”
“Very like his Dru.” He thought again. A moment hung between them.
Did he want to kiss her? It
probably wasn’t wise, but when had that stopped him. He bent his head and…
“Spike? Fred?
What are you doing?” Asked Angel
from the door. The light from the
corridor meant that he could only see their silhouettes but it looked
suspiciously like he’d interrupted a clinch.
He didn’t like the waves of emotion that suddenly swept over him. “Downstairs now.” He snapped and left before he said something they’d all regret.
Spike looked at Fred and
shrugged. They both headed for the
door, pondering on what had just taken place.
“Is it ‘the’ Anthony and Cleopatra or ‘an’ Anthony and Cleopatra?” Wesley asked. He thought he might as well keep his mind active, as the case
seemed to be going nowhere.
“An Anthony and Cleopatra,”
Spike answered from the courtyard where he’d gone for a smoke. An uneasy truce hung in the air since his
bout with Angel. If only these humans
knew what had happened in the past between the two vampires, they would know
Angel was in no danger. Spike was part
of his guilt. To feel absolved you had
to be with the innocent. They were more
likely to encourage the feeling of euphoria than he was. He snorted, put out the fag end with the toe
of his boot and sauntered inside.
Gunn and Wesley were deep in
conversation. “But they were
murdered.” Insisted the younger man.
“Not necessarily. People do die of other things.”
“What about the open
window. You said everything in the
riddle was significant. How about we
just set light to his toes ‘til he tells us.”
The last part was directed at Spike.
“Whether we like it or not
he is part of this case, Gunn.” Said
Wesley.
Spike frowned, “That’s right
just talk about me like I’m not here.”
“Oh don’t worry we
will!” Said Gunn cheerfully. “And maybe one time you’ll take the hint
and not be. I don’t know about you Wes,
but I could live with one bloodsucker less round here.”
Spike seethed inside. He wondered if it was worth a brain fry just
to call Gunn out. The answer was
probably not. So, he kept control of
his demon and lit another cigarette instead.
He was getting good at this self-control lark.
Hal frantically dialled
Lindsey on her cel phone, “I can’t catch them!” She sobbed. “The city is
killing them Lindsey! I need your help.”
“What do you want me to
do? And be quick. Cel phone calls are easy to tap.” He knew he shouldn’t help but he was in too
deep as usual. She explained about the
Dexes and asked him to drive around the Projects to see if he could find the
other one. “I’ve got the number of a
supernatural investigator. They
apparently help the helpless and I think at this moment I qualify.”
“DON’T!” Lindsey shouted, recognising the strap line
instantly, but she’d already rung off.
He knew he’d have to move
fast. He had two choices, head her off
at AI or find the Dex and save Angel the trouble. He really didn’t want to talk to the vampire under any
circumstances and the further he distanced himself from this the better. It would be easier to explain why he had the
escaped Dex, than why he’d entered the Hyperion he decided. “If I’m questioned, I knew nothing about her
visit.” He thought. After all Halley never said the name of the
investigators. He grabbed his car keys
and jumped into his pick-up. “Yeah like
that excuse ever held up in court?” He
sighed.
Back in a darkened office at
Wolfram and Hart, Lilah Morgan replaced the receiver and smiled. Nathan had been right to tell her to keep an
eye and ear on the couple, “Thank-you Lindsey for another poor choice of
girlfriend.” She said out loud. She had two choices, she could go out and
find Lindsey with the Dex or she could go to the Hyperion and maybe catch them
both with the enemy. That was too
delicious a chance to pass up, so she picked up her purse and headed for the
door.
Halley entered the lobby of
the hotel cautiously through a boarded door.
Someone or something had broken it recently as there was still shards of
glass on the floor. Inside, the
wallpaper was peeling in one corner and the place smelt of damp. There was a curious collection of people in
the foyer. She looked from one to
another, trying to ascertain whom she should talk to about her crisis.
“Can we help you?” Said a young woman with dark hair and good
make-up.
“I have a problem. I…umm….
Do you have anyone who could catch a demon? I mean is that your field of expertise?”
“Why you want to catch
it?” Asked the young black man in the
corner, “Killing’s just as good and cheaper.”
“Oh no! I don’t want it killed! It’s a kind of…pet. Yes, that’s it. It’s a pet that got loose but I can hardly ask the local pound
now can I?” She smiled sweetly.
“Is it dangerous?” Asked a tall Englishman.
“No! I mean yes.
I don’t know. Not to me. But I don’t want it getting hurt or anyone
else.” If she was trying to sound like
a scatty airhead, she was jolly well succeeding she thought. Hopefully it would spur these people into
action.
“Have you tried to catch it
yourself?” Asked the dark haired girl.
“Well of course I have! My boyfriend is out looking right now! Look if you can’t help me just say so and
I’ll be on my way.”
A tall, dark haired man came
down the stairs with his nose in a book.
“We’ll help, just give Wesley a description of the demon.” He spoke with authority and everyone else
seemed to defer to him, without him even having to make eye contact.
As the woman described the
demon, Wesley began to get cold shivers along his spine. It sounded suspiciously like the very thing
they’d been chasing for almost a week.
The demon that Spike had hit and had given him so much pain. Why would anyone want that thing as a pet?
“When we find it where
should we bring it to?” Halley gave
them the address.
“Lindsey, that’s my
boyfriend, will be there.” She said.
Angel eyed her
carefully. “Lindsey McDonald? Lawyer?”
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“When you’re in the business
you get to know a lot of people.
Thank-you Ms…?”
“Doctor – Dr.
Dillinger. Please hurry.” And with that, she scurried out only too
aware that she’d given away far too much information.
“These people are
investigators!” She chided herself once
she was standing on the pavement and it began to sink in exactly what she’d
done. Wolfram and Hart were going to
hunt her down. Whatever happened with
the Dex, she was going to have to leave town – tonight.
Back inside the hotel, the
foyer had come to life. It was the
first break in the case they’d had.
Angel and Gunn went to the weapons cupboard to select the things they
would need for the hunt. Spike watched
from the shadows, but was still the quickest across the room when they heard
Cordy’s soft groan. She fell to the
floor narrowly missing the edge of the reception desk and began to convulse
with the strength of the vision. “This
can’t be doing her any good!” He
thought.
“What did you see
‘Delia?” Asked Angel.
It took Cordy a while to
recover enough to answer, “Her and the ‘not dangerous to me’ line? Only if being swallowed by the Blob is
considered safe these days! Angel, I
think she…. Can you make a demon? I mean not ‘out of a squeezy bottle and
scotch tape’ make, but I definitely got the impression that this is a designer
demon. I have to say - not going to
make it from the cat walk this season.”
“Scientists!” Spike spat, “She said she was a doctor. You never asked of what. Call yourself a detective?!”
“Stop trying to tell me my
job, Spike!” Angel grabbed his errant
childe by the front of the tee.
“Oh that’s what I like to
see…tension in the ranks. You’re losing
your touch Angel, assaulting clients like that isn’t the way to gain
custom.” It was Lilah Morgan, standing at
the top of the small flight of stairs that lead from the front door.
Angel let Spike go and
squared up to the latest arrival. “Can
I help you?”
“Going to take a daytime
stroll? Then you can’t help me. But I think I can help you – stay away from
Halley Dillinger. That little…difficulty
is ours. We will solve it, so you
needn’t worry your pretty, undead head about it. Understand?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m telling you some people don’t need your
help. Even if they ask for it. Oh and if she should call - tell me. And in case you didn’t notice, now I’m
threatening you.”
Spike eyed the newcomer with
wry interest, “What’s her beef?” He
said, whispering low to Cordelia.
“If that’s Brit-speak for
career, then lawyer. Same firm as those
reptiles in the bar.”
“It isn’t but thank-you. She’s a twenty four carat gold bitch isn’t
she?” He observed.
“Yeah,” Cordy agreed,
“Someone dropped a house on her sister and stole her shoes.”
“Either that or there’s a
particularly foul painting in the attic!”
He grinned. A theory was beginning
to buzz around his head. He watched
Fred frantically taking readings with her smelly machine. What he needed was a field trial. “Shit!
Now I’m thinking like a scientist!”
He grumbled mentally.
Spike smiled his most impish
smile and sniffed the air. He took a
couple of steps towards Lilah, “Your little toy getting these pheromones,
Twinkle?”
Fred shook her head and
tapped the dial on her gadget. “Oh
that’s a shame cos they smell that sweet.
Fancy ‘im don’t cha, Ducks?”
“I have no idea what you’re
talking about!”
Spike sauntered up the steps
and inhaled deeply, “No?” Quick as
lightening his right arm girdled the lawyer’s waist. He could smell the fear but the chip didn’t fire. He slipped his left hand noticeably lower
than her waist and, at the same time, ran his cool tongue up the side of her
neck. Still nothing. Letting his fangs descend, just for a
second, he grazed her throat.
She shot away from him as
though he’d actually bitten her, “You’re a vampire!” She exclaimed.
“And when you want some of
that cool, undead meat – you just gimme a call, Sweetness. I guarantee you’ll forget all about your
little crush on Peaches over there.” He
jerked his head in Angel’s direction.
Lilah looked at Angel. “I suggest you keep your minions in check.” She snarled, turned on her heal and left.
Angel was livid. First Fred and now, of all people Lilah
Morgan! William the Bloody pest just
couldn’t resist acting out like a dysfunctional teenager. If Angel’s anger wasn’t bad enough, envy
began to rise up in the older vampire.
“Wil’ was mine!” He thought and
he didn’t just mean in the wake of Friday night. He’d marked the boy, groomed him only to have him run away and
another vampire finally claim the prize.
“That was just about the
stupidest thing you’ve ever done and I can list some doodys!” Snapped Angel out loud.
“Jealous?”
That was the wrong
reply. Angel was seething. His features morphed and he roared in a way
none of the others had ever heard him do before. His fist was a blur as he knocked Spike clean across the room.
Spike was no sooner down
than he was up. Using his legs like
springs, he came right back at his Sire in full game mode but telegraphed the
punch, giving Angel time to catch the fist.
Spike pulled Angel’s head down by the hair with his free hand and
flicked up with his elbow at the same time.
He connected with Angel’s nose and a satisfying crack told him he had
broken it.
Taking hold of Spike by his
shirt, Angel lifted him bodily and threw him across the room. He took a step to go after him and ran into
Cordelia’s outstretched arm.
Spike got up, turned to
strike and found himself on the opposite side of her. “When you children have quite finished,” Her growl was more
menacing than anything the two master vampires could produce. “You want to play fight’n’dust? Do it on your own time, we have a case to
finish.”
“Well, I just got you
another hint, Clouseau.” Said Spike, glaring at Angel from the other side of
Cordy’s outstretched arms, “She should
have a bruise on ‘er arris the size of Lincolnshire, I pinched it that
hard. And guess what…” He tapped his
temple, “…no pain.”