Paths Reconverging - Prologue
The concourse of Heathrow airport was crowded with people as Wesley hurried his way out of arrivals, his passport still clenched firmly in one hand, the other wrapped around the bundle of blankets tucked securely under his arm. He stopped to catch his breath, his heart thumping in his chest as he glanced nervously from side to side. Customs had been a close call, the two sets of forged papers he’d managed to procure before leaving the States weren’t exactly top quality, and Wesley had been afraid even to breath as the official pored over them, squinting through her glasses at the grainy photographs. But she had let them through, and now at least the worst was over –
A heavy set man in a loud Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts pushed past Wesley, jolting him roughly in the shoulder. The man turned back briefly to mumble an ill-natured apology before setting his face into a scowl and heading towards the exits, obviously not happy to be returning from sun-drenched California to the outskirts of rain-swept London. The bundle in Wesley’s arms began to stir, brown eyes opening then shutting tightly again against the harsh electric lights, mouth opening to emit a thin, wailing cry.
“Shush, Connor,” Wesley jiggled the baby up and down gently on his hip. “Don’t cry, we’re nearly home now. Only a little further to go. You’ll be safe here.”
The infant’s cries were beginning be noticed by the passers-by. Wesley re-shouldered the bag containing his hastily packed, meagre luggage then set off moving again, weaving his way through the throngs of holiday-makers and business people all trying to get in and out of the country. The last thing he wanted to do was attract attention. He’d brought Connor all this way across the Atlantic precisely for that reason – to hide him. To escape Holtz and Wolfram and Hart and the dozens of other demons, vampires or petty criminals who thought they could get a good price selling a child of two vampires. But more important than all of them, Wesley sighed to himself – the real explanation for why he was here in England, rather than barricaded in the hotel he had come to think of as a second home, Angel angrily guarding the entrance – was the prophecy weighing heavily on his mind right now.
The father will kill the son. There was only one interpretation of that, one thing it could mean, and he couldn’t allow it to happen. He couldn’t let Angel kill Connor. He felt bad about essentially kidnapping the child, not only committing a crime, but betraying his friend in the process, but there was nothing else to be done. All the signs had passed, the prophecy was coming true, and a child’s life was at stake. A special child, one that was perhaps even destined to save the world. Wesley straightened his back, adjusting his hold on Connor and gratefully realising that the baby had stopped crying. No, he had definitely made the right choice, now all he had to do was explain it to Angel.
He spied a bank of payphones to his left, reaching in his pocket to replace the passport and pull out a handful of coins instead. He was not looking forward to this conversation. Angel was such a difficult person to know sometimes. One always had to be one his guard around the vampire, always aware of how dangerous Angel was, of the strength of his demon and the tenuous nature of his control over it. And yet there were so many human qualities to Angel that it was easy to forget his darker side. He could be so gentle, so kind and tender, and so easily hurt. But, Wesley realised with a pang, he was doing this for the greater good. Soul or no, Angel could not be trusted with the safety of his son, and Wesley would rather risk losing the vampire’s friendship than sacrificing Connor’s life.
He started to feed pound coins into the phone’s slot, clamping the receiver between his chin and his shoulder as he dialled the familiar number. He counted ten…fifteen rings, until a breathless voice finally picked up on the other end.
“Angel Investigations, we help the hope– ”
“Cordelia,” he interrupted in an urgent, whispered tone.
“WESLEY!” she shrieked in response. “Where the Hell are you?”
“Everything’s fine,” he began to reassure her, until he heard a violent growl on the other end of the line demanding to speak to him.
“What do you think you’re playing at?” Angel’s voice sounded low and dangerous in his ear.
“I’m sorry,” he began in reply. “It was never my wish to deceive you like this, but let me reassure you that – ”
“Where’s my son?”
“He’s with me. He’s perfectly safe – I’ve taken every precaution…”
“Where. Is. My. SON?” Angel’s roar sounded so loudly down the phone that Wesley jumped in shock, glancing furtively around, convinced that someone walking by must have overheard. The baby began to cry again and Wesley, flustered, started to stutter down the phone.
“I-I brought h-him to England. Please-please, just trust me for now. I’ll bring him back when it’s safe.”
“Trust you?” the vampire repeated the words in disgust. “You really expect me to do that after this?”
A noise from behind Wesley startled him, and he turned momentarily distracted. One of the security alarms was going off, and guards and police were rushing down the corridors in search of the disturbance. Two officers in body armour, carrying rifles, ran in through the main entrance and Wesley made a split second decision to get out of there while he still could.
“I’m sorry,” he offered one last apology before hanging up the phone. Gathering together all his things, he turned away from the phones and made his way out of the airport.
As he reached the rank of taxis he could hear the sound of sirens approaching in the distance. Anxiously he jumped into the nearest black cab, ignoring the driver’s inquiries as to what was going on inside and barking out the order to be taken to Euston station. The cab pulled away from the kerb, and Wesley laid Connor down next to him, sinking gratefully back into the seat himself.
Everything was going to be okay from now on. It was just a train and another cab ride to the Bed and Breakfast where he was staying the night. He and Connor would hide out in the countryside for a couple of weeks until some of the excitement about the baby blew over and he could find some way around the prophecy. Angel was angry now, but he’d calm down later, when he realised that Wesley only had Connor’s best interests at heart.
Removing his glasses to rub his eyes, Wesley suddenly realised just what a long day it had been. Up all night packing and making arrangements, followed by a ten-hour plane journey across thousands of miles. No wonder Connor was back to sleeping, well…like a baby. Yawning widely, he decided it would do no harm to let tiredness overtake him, and allow the gentle movement of the taxi to lull him into half an hour’s sleep before arriving at the station.
A while later he was jolted awake by the sound of voices. Big Ben chimed ten and the Radio 4 news headlines filled the cab. Something about a man being caught trying to smuggle guns and weaponry into Heathrow Airport. Wesley’s eyes jerked open and he fumbled for his glasses. Apparently, the suspect had somehow mysteriously managed to escape custody, wounding several people in the process, but police wanted to interview a single man with a baby in connection with the incident. Wesley swallowed thickly, feeling a little ill. Obviously he hadn’t come quite as alone to England as he’d hoped.
“Excuse me,” he called out to the driver. “Could you turn around please? I’ve changed my mind about where I want to go.”
“Are you sure, guv?” the cabbie replied. “Because we’re nearly there.”
Wesley looked out the window, peering through the streaks of rain that obscured the glass, and seeing only darkness. “Are you sure?” he asked uncertainly. “This doesn’t look much like Euston to me. In fact it doesn’t even look like London. Shouldn’t we be in town by now?”
The driver remained silent, causing fear to rise in Wesley’s throat as he began to make out trees and hedges in the inky blackness on either side of the road. They were out in the middle of nowhere somewhere; definitely not a place Wesley wanted to be.
“Stop the cab,” he demanded. “I want to get out, now!”
“Alright,” came the smooth reply and the vehicle pulled gently to a halt at the edge of the road.
Pulling Connor into his arms he reached for the door handle, grabbing hold to pull it open just as the door was yanked out of his reach. He shrank back as two long legs, clad in a tight smart skirt, silk stockings and stiletto heels manoeuvred their way into the back seat.
“Why, Mr Wyndham-Pryce,” Lilah Morgan sat down opposite and smiled at him with blood red lips. “Fancy meeting you here. I hope you don’t mind if we share a cab….after all we are going to the same place.”