| Title: Queen of the Night Author: Starlett Chapter 31 Cordy climbed into bed. Her back ached from the hours she'd spent helping Zhou prepare tomorrow night's meal. Who knew it was so much work to cook, she thought. No wonder people just popped a frozen dinner into the microwave. Her head swirled with details. They'd prepared the appetizers and stored them in the large, industrial refrigerator for reheating tomorrow. She'd restocked the bar and stacked crates of Perrier. The freezer was loaded with bags of ice. Tomorrow they'd cook the main course and put together the desserts. All of that in addition to cleaning the house, hauling out the china, and putting up the decorations. It hadn't left her much time to think about Angel. Which was actually a good thing, because otherwise she would have slipped into full brood mode. Sometimes she ached with need for him, and others she wanted to run as far away as she could. The thought of seeing him nearly undid her, the dark thrill and the horror combining into something so powerful she was shaken every time his face flashed before her eyes. She breathed deeply, trying to relax herself enough to get to sleep. She was so tired, so twisted up inside, like one big knot.... I must be dreaming, she thought, as she found herself in front of the Wolfram & Hart headquarters. She blinked in confusion as the elevator dinged. Why else would I be here? When the doors slid open she got on. There was only one button. "Home Office," it said. She pushed it. And then the vision hit, jerking her in her sleep. Flash: Angel standing just inside his bedroom door, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. His face was like the desert, empty and desolate. Flash: A ring, falling from his hand like bait. Darla, skittering forward to grab it. Flash: Angel slamming her against a wall, his hands and mouth moving over hers in a grotesque parody of gentleness. Even as Darla laughed, Cordy could see that Angel's eyes were black, frozen orbs. Flash: Angel throwing Darla through the French doors in his bedroom. They flew open in a rain of glass and she fell to the floor, fear written across her face. God, Cordy thought, what would it take to scare *Darla*? Flash: The two of them on Angel's bed, a writhing, twisting mass. "No," Cordy moaned. What she saw wasn't love or tenderness or even desire. It was fear, desperation, and domination. "Don't," she whimpered, but it was too late. He shuddered as he came, his face pulled taut with release. There was another flash as Angel jerked awake, threw himself out of the bed and fell onto the terrace, screaming. The vision folded in on itself like a collapsing star and Cordy jerked awake, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached for the phone, desperate to warn him, and rammed her hand against the bed's carved rail. She sat up frantically. Where was the phone? She leapt out of bed. Have to find Angel, she thought, ignoring the way her sweaty fingers slipped as she pulled on her running shoes. Then she stopped as the memory of all those other sweaty, headache-filled nights slammed into her full force. The nights when the visions came and she couldn't call him. Because he was off chasing Darla. "Oh, my God." Her muscles went rigid and a feeling of dread settled in her gut. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips. He didn't, he wouldn't.... But he had. She came awake fully, then. She hadn't seen the future, but the past. She had just witnessed the reason for Angel's epiphany. Anger welled up, thick and hot. How could he? Not only had he risked their lives and his own, he'd lied about it to her face. That *bastard*. He turned his back on his friends and then got off on tormenting them. He locked a room full of people in with two psychotic vamps and walked away. He screwed his sire then acted like it had never happened. She'd forgiven him for leaving her. He'd made up for that, with the clothes, and the tenderness, and the constancy he'd shown her since he came back. And then there had been Connor, her sweet little baby, who filled her life with light and joy. And now she knew what had made him. How eager his father had been to gamble so recklessly with their lives. Cordy grabbed her jacket, ran out the door and disappeared onto the snow-packed path, rage fueling her steps until she was sprinting. She didn't come back until the sun was painting the dawn sky. Title: Queen of the Night Author: Starlett Chapter 32 "I think that does it," she said, stepping back to inspect. A long silk runner covered the middle of the table, leaving the edges bare for china plates and chopstick rests. The runner, red silk on one side and yellow on the other, glowed in the light from the dimmed torchieres. Cordy ignored the sense of unease that had been growing in her since she'd awakened. The dream had only added fuel to the fire, the images of Angel and Darla unnerving her on a level so deep it nearly rattled her bones. On top of the horror and disgust she already felt, all the doubts, the fear, and the anger that had surfaced during Angel's betrayal bubbled to the surface. She was surprised she hadn't snapped Mr. Zhou's head off. "It's lovely," he said, bringing out the first plates of appetizers and arranging them on the living room tables. He looked around the room approvingly. "Ready?" he asked, his stare more penetrating than usual. The doorbell rang. "Cordelia, would you mind?" Zhou called retreating to the kitchen. She skimmed to the door, her spiky sandals clicking distinctly on the stone. She adjusted the low waist of the silver snakeskin pants and smoothed the spaghetti straps of the form-fitting black top. She plastered a fake smile on her face, as far from a party mood as she could get. "Cordelia," Sally said, stepping in and bending down to press her cheek against Cordy's. The cold air blasted in, heralding more snow. "Hey, Sally, Ben, how are you?" Cordy asked, injecting a note of warmth into her voice. Ben's blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "Fair to middlin'," he said in his soft Texas drawl. "Glad to hear it," Cordy said, her smile warming. "Give me your coats and go on in. Mix yourself a drink." By the time the doorbell stopped ringing, there were eight people in the room, all clustered around the appetizers, and Cordelia let herself relax a bit. She went to the kitchen to find Mr. Zhou. "Someone was asking for a martini," she said. Mr. Zhou looked up from the bar where he was arranging food on a tray. "I'll see to it," he said. His eyes narrowed. "Are you all right, my dear?" Cordy shrugged. "I've felt strange all day. Maybe it's the party." "Ah, of course," Mr. Zhou said with a slight smile. "Just the party." He hefted the tray. "Would you mind bringing those bottles in?" he said, tilting his head toward several bottles of Perrier. The door swished behind her and she was met by the sounds of a party in full swing. Doesn't take these people long to get going, she thought, dropping the bottles on the rosewood sideboard. A movement from the woods caught her eye and she glanced up. A chill coursed over her skin. Two people stood at the edge of the trees, silhouetted by the sunset's fire. Even though she couldn't see their faces, there was something eerily familiar about them. "We have visitors," she said quietly. She turned to Mr. Zhou and saw him looking out the window, his skin ashen. "Mr. Zhou? Are you all right?" He jolted and took a long, deep breath. When he turned to her, his face was composed. "Yes, of course," he said. He opened the door as the couple walked up the stairs. "Martin," the man said in a French-accented voice. He came forward, shook Zhou's hand. "Jean-Pierre," Zhou said, his voice quivering. "Cordelia," Zhou continued, clearing his throat. "Please come here. I would like to introduce you." Cordy walked over, her eyes narrowed. "Hello," she said warily. Mr. Zhou smiled. "Cordelia, I would like you to meet two, long-time family friends, Jean-Pierre and Savannah." Jean-Pierre extended a long, pale hand. "Cordelia," he said, bowing low. "I'm charmed." He turned her wrist and before she realized what was happening, pressed his mouth against the throbbing pulse, breathing deeply, as if he were defining her by scent. Cordy's senses went on high alert as she came into contact with his cold skin. When she looked up, Savannah was watching her with hungry eyes. Cordelia snatched her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest. "I knew this was a dinner party. I didn't realize we were the ones on the menu." The vamps laughed, a low hiss. "No, no, it's not like that at all," Mr. Zhou said quickly. "Yes, Martin invited us." Jean-Pierre turned to Mr. Zhou. "We got your invitation. Or, rather, it got us," he continued cryptically. A look of resignation crossed Mr. Zhou's face. "I rarely use that mode of communication. I'm surprised you recognized it." "Yes, it did take me a moment," Jean-Pierre replied, his accent sliding over the syllables. He shrugged, a Gallic move that fit his dark good looks. "So, you've known each other a long time?" Cordy asked Mr. Zhou, remembering what he'd said earlier. He smiled fondly, if a little sadly. "Our families have been united for centuries. Actually, now that they're here, you might like to speak with them." Cordy arched an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?" "I think you'll find you have someone in common." Jean-Pierre ran a hand over Savannah's short cap of chestnut hair. Her green eyes gleamed and she leaned into the stroke like a hungry cat. "Really?" she asked. "Who?" "Cordelia can explain it. You might want to start by telling them what brought you here," Mr. Zhou said to Cordy. "Can I get you anything?" he asked the vamps. "I have some superior brandy, Jean-Pierre." "Oh, that would be lovely," he responded. "And a Bloody Mary for Savannah." "It's such a clich?, isn't it?" she said with a smile. "But I do like them so. Now, tell us all about what brought you here." Cordy looked at them warily, distinctly uncomfortable with their thinly disguised veil of dark power. It was like being too close to a cobra: seductive and terrifying. "I'm a Seer," she said. "I came to learn to regulate the visions." "Ah," Savannah nodded. "I've met a few Seers." She glanced at Jean-Pierre and licked her lips. "I enjoyed them immensely." Cordy backed up a step. "Yes, well. I have no idea why Mr. Zhou thinks we might have something in common." Jean-Pierre shook his head. "Not what, who," he said. Realization dawned. "Oh, no," Cordy said. "Not Angel." "Angel?" Savannah asked, her voice rising sharply. "Angelus?" She narrowed her eyes. "You know Angelus, and yet you live?" Cordy blanched. "He's my warrior." There was a long beat of silence. Then Savannah threw back her head and howled with laughter. The room went silent and everyone looked at her. "How fitting, how lovely," she said, wiping her eyes with her fingertips. She looked at Jean-Pierre, whose pale face had gone smooth as a death mask. "Ah, my darling, it's revenge at its sweetest. The Scourge of Europe tied forever to a human girl. Doomed to help the hopeless." Mr. Zhou interrupted with drinks. "I see you are getting acquainted," he said. "Cordelia, maybe you would like to take them into the sitting room? It is more conducive to private conversation." He walked away, calling a greeting to another guest. "That sounds perfect," Savannah said, with a smile. Her teeth glimmered white as bone. Cordelia flinched. "I think I'll, uh, just go..." she said, taking a step back. She came up against a something hard. "Uh...." She looked over her shoulder and into Jean-Pierre's gray-green eyes. He smiled, a seductive tilt of his lush lips. "You are lovely," he said. "I can hear your heart pounding like a little bird's." He smiled over her head at Savannah, who slipped her arm through Cordy's and pulled her down the hall. The sun leaked brilliant red over the sky, bleeding out the last light of day. "Such a beautiful night," Savannah said, sitting gracefully on the leather sofa and pulling a pack of Marlboros from her pocket. She lit one, offered it to Cordelia. "No, thanks," Cordy said, wrinkling her nose. She sat gingerly on the edge of the big reading chair. "Smart girl. These things will kill you," she laughed and crossed one leather-clad leg over the other. "Those pants are beautiful," she said. "Do you mind if I ask where you got them?" Cordelia looked down at the silver snakeskin. "Second-hand store in L.A." shesaid, brushing her hand over the crackly material. "They're a little difficult to move in, but they look amazing." She shrugged, trying to ignore the prickle at the back of her neck. "The price we pay for beauty." She tilted her glass and sipped. As she loweredit, she smiled and the blood left red trails on her lips and teeth. Jean-Pierre stepped behind Savannah and laid his hand on her shoulder, though his eyes were gazing hotly at Cordy. "It's well worth it." Cordy shuddered and the prickle turned to a sweaty itch. Savannah placed her pale fingers over his and looked up at him, her eyes glowing. "You have delicious taste, my dear," she purred, following the direction of his gaze. "I know." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her. Cordy cleared her throat. The kiss didn't break; instead it went on for several humming seconds. Finally, Jean-Pierre stood, let go of Savannah's hand, and leaned against the couch. "You must pardon us. We are giddy as children," he said, sipping his brandy. The snifter sat comfortably in his hand. Long and lean, he was the picture of timeless, masculine elegance. "Yes, it's our anniversary," Savannah said. "Two-hundred-eighteen years ago tonight, we met for the first time." "Congratulations," Cordy said, with only the slightest trace of irony. She shifted in her seat and glanced over her shoulder toward the rest of the party. They all sounded so safe in there, away from the vamps. "Thank you," Savannah beamed. "I never thought I could be this happy." Cordy turned back to them with a polite smile. "Well, except with that Russian, but I took care of him," Jean-Pierre murmured around his glass. "That you did, my dear. In one, big bite, no less." She shivered delicately, trailed a fingertip around the rim of her glass and then sucked the red beads into her mouth. "I was never the same after that." "No, you were mine," Jean-Pierre said, his voice like molten gold. "So," said Cordelia, desperate to change the subject. "You know Angel." Jean-Pierre's eyes narrowed at the mention of his name. Savannah simply nodded and took a deep drag, exhaling smoke in a delicate plume. "Oh, my yes. We've known him for ages." "Far too long," Jean-Pierre murmured, sniffing the caramel-colored liquid and swirling it in his glass. "Where was it was met him, darling? Prague? No, Vienna." "Vienna," Savannah breathed. "Around 1790? Yes, I think that was it. We'd only been together a few years, Jean-Pierre and I, and we were still in our honeymoon phase." She ran a hand through her beautifully tousled hair and smiled. "Not that we've ever really gotten out of it," she continued. "But, yes, Vienna. Such a beautiful place. And Angelus, oh, he was a killing machine," she said, her eyes growing soft with memories. "That was when he marked his victims with the cross," she said, making the sign in the air over her cheek. "He made killing into such an art. I've never seen anything so beautiful as that night at the palace." She shifted in her chair and looked back at Jean-Pierre. "Do you remember that, my love? All those lovely ladies, all that beautiful fabric, ruined." Her game face flickered on at the memory, eyes glowing yellow, like a feral cat's. And in that second, Cordelia recognized her. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "Oh, I remember it well," he said tightly. "I especially remember him going after you." He made a visible effort to relax his grip on the delicate glass. Savannah smiled, sucked in smoke, and blew out another stream. "Yes, he did try to woo me. A still-beating heart, such an extravagant gift," she said, laughing merrily. "But I resisted." "Of course," Cordelia choked out. That dream hadn't been about Angel facing his past, it had been about her. This whole thing had been about her from the beginning. The test wasn't whether they could fight together, but whether she could fight alone. Oh, God. The Elders. She was facing the Elders. Alone. Savannah laughed, pulling her attention back to the conversation. "Dear me. Here I am, talking in front of you as I would any other consort. I forget that your Angel is nearly human now," she sneered. Something seemed to occur to her. "He does exercise his blood rights, doesn't he?" she asked, leaning forward in the chair, a look of sensual urgency on her face. "Blood rights? You mean, do I let him drink me?" Her head spun crazily. "No," she whispered. "He would never...." Savannah's cruel laugh rang out across the room. "Oh, Angelus," she said. "How far you've fallen." She stared up at the ceiling for a moment, a look of triumph on her face. "Sometimes we really do get what we deserve," she said, her accent growing stronger with emotion. Cordy looked from Savannah to Jean-Pierre, who was staring at her with barely restrained dislike. She rubbed her hands over her arms. "He was Darla's mate," Jean-Pierre said, breaking the silence. "Yes," Cordy said, looking down at her hands. Angel's face, pulled taut with pleasure, flashed before her eyes. "Then why are you linked with him?" Savannah asked, shooting a smoldering glance at Jean-Pierre. "The Darla I knew wasn't very good at sharing." She took a drag off her cigarette and blew smoke in Cordy's direction. Behind her, Jean-Pierre snorted into his brandy snifter. Cordy glanced warily from one to the other. "He killed her," she said quietly. Savannah recoiled. "He killed his *Sire*?" "Yes. But she was brought back to life. By a law firm." Cordy sighed. "It's a long story." And no torture in the world was painful enough to reveal Connor's existence to these predators. The vampires stared until Cordelia began to squirm. "So, where do you guys live?" she asked, hoping to break the tension. "We have a large home in the Low Country," Jean-Pierre replied. "It's been in Savannah's family for generations. Miles of swamp and shacks. Lovely people there, taste like saltwater," he said dreamily. Savannah laughed. "Homesick, darling?" she asked, taking another drag. "We like the Low Country, where people recognize us for what we are. Nowadays, you become a vampire, and simply hop up one evening hungry for blood instead of hamburger." She rolled her eyes. "In our home, respect for history is in the blood. Literally." Savannah leaned back on her chair, crossed an ankle loosely over her knee in a pose that should have looked masculine. Instead it made her hips seem boneless, opening her body in a way that was outrageously sensual. It was both frightening and frankly sexual. Jean-Pierre touched her shoulder and Savannah glanced up at him. Their gaze met and held, looking like they wanted to rip each others' clothes off. Cordy cleared her throat uncomfortably and the vamps' attention snapped back to her with an eerie predatory glance. "Oh, it sounds as if we're getting called in to dinner," Savannah said, glancing down the hall. Cordy hadn't heard anything, but then, she was human. "I'm so enjoying our little chat," Savannah continued, patting Cordy's knee companionably. "We'll just have to continue it later." She stubbed the cigarette out in a crystal ash tray, then stood. "I'll just see if Martin needs any help," she said, disappearing into the living room. Cordy, left alone with Jean-Pierre, stood as well. "Dinner?" she asked, hoping she could finally put some distance between them. Mr. Zhou would know what to do. She would just explain everything to him and.... Jean-Pierre put an arm around her. It felt like marble that had set outside all night. "Cordelia, how long will you be here?" he asked, leading her down the hall and toward the kitchen. "I'm leaving at the end of the week," she said tightly. "Oh, too bad. I was so hoping to see Angel," he said with a feral twist of his lips. "Cordelia," Mr. Zhou called as they walked into the room. "Would you mind going down to the wine cellar and bringing up that case of champagne? It needs to start chilling." "Can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked, as casually as she could. "Can we do it later? I'm very busy," he replied. His hands flew as he arranged food on a platter. "Yes, can't you see the man needs help, not distractions?" Jean-Pierre asked silkily. "Let's go down to retrieve what he has asked for, shall we?" Cordy shook her head. "No way." "It's all right, Cordelia," Mr. Zhou said, glancing up with a smile. "Take Jean-Pierre. You'll need help carrying it," he said, disappearing into the dining room with Savannah on his heels. Cordy looked into Jean-Pierre's glinting eyes and her heart rolled uneasily in her chest. In the dining room someone laughed and the sound jerked her out of her reverie. There were a dozen people out there, any of whom would hear her scream if she needed help. She wasn't going to forget who he was, like she had with Darla. She was simply going to go downstairs and help him carry up a case of champagne. Then she was going to put as much distance between them as possible. "Lead the way," she finally said. |