Chapter 7
| A Simple Act of Faith
Chapter 7 |
|
“I was beginning to think I was never going to see you again.” Darla said when she saw Lindsey in the bar after she had last seen him two weeks ago.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“So have I. I talked things over with your old boss, Holland Manners. He says if you spread the guilt on Angel, he will do the spell for you, no matter what the outcome is with Angelus.”
Lindsey looked at her strangely. It was not like Holland to offer something so extensive for free. “What’s the catch?”
Darla smiled. “He wants you to work at the Wolfram and Hart offices in New York.”
“That’s it?”
“No, he wants a contract and everything. He wants Wolfram and Hart to own your soul, silly thing like that.”
“She would never forgive me if I did that.”
“She is dead. You do this, she lives. You guys can work out the details afterwards. I really don’t care. I only care about my Angelus.”
Lindsey did not respond. He was supposed to be the one that Angelus killed. Nothing should matter, but bringing her back.
“We should meet somewhere a little more personal,” Darla explained. “To talk about the details.”
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
Darla put her hands around his neck. She got very close to his lips. “If you didn’t want to do it, you would not be here.”
Lindsey did not respond.
“Wolfram and Hart own a warehouse on 21 Hollywood Blvd. Columbia Packing Plant. Do you know it?”
“I know it very well, Angelus tried to hang me off that building.”
“Good. Meet us there this Friday at 9pm.”
Lindsey did not say anything or nod, but
Darla knew he had agreed.
Gunn was very surprised at what happened on Friday night. He was practicing defense with his buddies when out of no where, Doyle burst in carrying weapons.
Gunn’s friends who did not know who Doyle was burst out laughing.
“Shut up,” Gunn said, sternly with anger rising in his voice. “Doyle, what the fuck is going on?”
“I’ve had a vision, kid. You’re in danger.”
Gunn looked around at his friends. They started laughing again. Gunn wanted to kill Doyle for embarrassing him.
“Ain’t no way vampires can get in here.”
“I know,” Doyle replied. “But I got a vision, clear as day. You. Fighting for your life.”
“I can take care of myself,” Gunn said, defensively. He liked Doyle, but could not believe the decision that Doyle made to work with Angel.
“Just warning you kid.”
“What you see? What kind of demon?”
“Um—well, I just saw you fight for your life—that’s it.”
“Great—so much for the help. Thank you. I’ll call you if I need you or that killer’s help.”
“Oh,” Doyle said, a little defensive. “Lad, I haven’t seen you for a while. How have you been doing?”
“Look,” Gunn said. “We’re training right now, so I got no time for tea and chat. Goodbye, Doyle.”
Doyle nodded. He understood. He quickly
walked out.
“Well?” Angel asked, when Doyle got back to the car.
“He’s not in any danger, at least not now” Doyle explained. “And he’s bloody pissed at you and pissed at me by association.”
“He’s in danger otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten the vision.”
“Look,” Doyle replied. “Gunn’s a pretty smart and clever guy. He can take care of himself.”
Angel sighed. “But I want to help him,” he paused. “I need to help him.”
“So do I, but some people aren’t going to be so open. Don’t push your help if he don’t want it.”
“Faith seemed more opened-- at least the most of the three of them.”
Doyle smiled. “She’s a smart girl. But Lindsey, Gunn-- They’re smart people too, but their loss was very hard. Not that I’m saying Faith wasn’t— but Faith’s a survivor.”
“I came here to make amends,” Angel complained. “But the people I hurt don’t want my help.”
“So what do you want to do about Gunn?”
“I guess we can follow him,” he said. “And help him when he runs into trouble. I wish I had someone who could tell me if I’m doing the right thing.”
“Well, there is someone.”
Angel’s eyes widened.
“Who?”
“Someone who you have to sing a little tune for.”
Angel made a funny face. “There has
to be something else.”
Wolfram and Hart had never bothered fixing the glass. Darla wasn’t there yet. Lindsey walked over to the broken glass. He ran his hand over a chard. Some blood appeared, but it did not bother him.
He remembered when he was last here. He remembered hanging off the roof. The rope around his neck getting tighter. He thought this would be it. He was dead. Had he died here, Cordelia would have been unhappy, but she would have gotten over it eventually. She would have grown up, gone to school, gotten married, had children, gotten a life. Maybe she would show his photo to her grandkids with a slight tear in her eye--
“Hello, Lindsey-dear,” said Darla’s shrilled voice in the darkness. She moved close to him. When she saw that his hand was bleeding, she took it.
“You cut yourself?”
Lindsey nodded.
“Mind if I?”
Lindsey shook his head. Darla took a little taste. “Good,” she said, putting his hand down. “You don’t feel anything?”
Lindsey shook his head again.
“Well, don’t worry. I’ve already fed. I didn’t tell you in the bar, but I really hate your haircut.”
“It was inconvenient. And you weren’t the only one who hated it.”
“You need to keep up that clean cut image, son,” said a voice from the darkness. Lindsey saw a darkened figure. A moment later he came forward. It was Holland. He smiled when he saw Lindsey.
“Hello, Lindsey,” Holland said. “You aren’t looking well, son. You should have someone look at that hand.”
“Shut up,” Lindsey replied, with no anger in his voice. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Always straight to business,” Holland smiled. “That’s why I hired you in the first place.”
“Whatever,” Lindsey retorted.
“The joke’s over son,” Holland said, never losing his calm demeanor. “Your soul for hers.”
“You have proof you can do it?”
Holland laughed. “Darla and Angelus came back from hell—“
“This is different. Cordelia isn’t in hell. You deal only with the forces of darkness.”
“Lindsey, haven’t I taught you anything? Why do you think in these terms of good and evil. It's about power. There is no separation. Good killed your wife to spare a killer.”
Lindsey did not respond. He agreed with Holland even though he knew Holland was only pushing his buttons.
“What do you want of me?”
“You do everything Darla says,” Holland said.
“What if I fail?”
“That’s why for this deal to work. Besides your cooperation to give us back Angelus, we want your soul. You know how much money, time and power it will take to bring her back into this world?”
“Quite a lot, I guess,” Lindsey said, remembering how much it took to bring Angelus back from hell.
“I don’t expect Angelus, I also want you,” Holland said.
“Why am I so important?” Lindsey said. “You could have easily killed me.”
“Killing you is easy, Lindsey. Bringing you back to our way of thinking, it’s worth almost as much as Angelus.”
Lindsey nodded, but he did not understand. It did not matter. He would do anything, get himself killed, sell his soul just to give Cordelia another chance.
“Let’s shake on it,” Holland said, putting his hand out.
Lindsey did not want to shake Holland’s hand, but he knew that Holland did many of his deals on a handshake. When Lindsey had first joined the firm, he had a written contract that would that had legal binding in court, but it was giving Holland the handshake that had sealed the deal. It had sealed the deal that Lindsey’s very soul belonged to Wolfram and Hart.
Lindsey sighed. He remembered back when Cordelia and he were packing up his apartment. Holland had come to see him to offer him the job in New York. At the time he remembered how disappointed his friends would be if he took it. They would be disappointed now. Cordelia would be too, but eventually that disappointment would fade when he was gone from their lives. Faith would not live long enough to be disappointed.
Lindsey put his hand out and Holland shook
it.