| Title: Queen of the Night Author: Starlett Chapter 33 Jean-Pierre opened the door next to the garage with a flourish. The steps were dark, and he started down. She cleared her throat, and Jean-Pierre looked up curiously. "Oh, of course. You need light," he said, reaching out to flip a switch. The stairs, open except for a wooden rail on one side, were flooded with a harsh yellow glow. Cordy followed him down and through a narrow, low-ceilinged hall with stone walls. It smelled damp and musty. They turned a corner and the room opened up into a cavelike space, lined with shelves. Bottles rested on their sides, their glossy surfaces matted with dust. She shivered. I'm alone in a cellar with a vampire, she thought, who is older than Angel and has no soul. And has me cornered against the wall. He'd moved so quickly that her back was pressed against a row of shelves before she realized what had happened. The wood was raw against her skin, scraping her shoulders where the top left them bare. She opened her mouth to scream, only to find it covered by the vamp's large palm. She gasped, her knees going liquid with terror. "So, you're connected to the souled one," he said, his voice a hiss. "I should have known. You have his scent about you." He nuzzled her throat delicately. Cordy whimpered. "I have a message for Angelus," he said, sliding his free hand up her body and caressing the ends of her hair. Her heart pounded and she knew he could hear it. And, dammit, that pissed her off. She scrabbled for a weapon in the shelf behind her. Her fingers hit something long and cool. A bottle. In one quick movement, she grabbed it by the neck and swung it, thrilled when it connected with the side of his face. His head snapped viciously to one side and Cordy ducked out from under his arm and ran down the hall. "Oh, good," she heard him say. She clattered up the stairs, her heels catching on the rough wood. She stumbled, fell, and felt his hands grab her ankles. He yanked, and she flew through the air, landing with a bone-jarring thud against the floor. She ate dirt. Furious, dazed, she struggled against him, unable to find a handhold. "You're an awful lot of fun," he said, locking his hand on the back of her neck. "Angelus always did like spunky women." "Get off of me," she shrieked. "Mr. Zhou! Help!" There was no response, no rushing of feet. In fact, upstairs was eerily quiet. Oh, God, what was going on? "Oh, Martin trusts me," Jean-Pierre drawled. "He knows I would never hurt you." He straddled her hips and twisted her wrists behind her. She shimmied back and forth trying to unseat him. "Now, we can do this the hard way, or the *hard* way," he said, thrusting himself against her butt. She stopped struggling. "You tell Angelus...." The door at the top of the stairs opened. "Why don't you tell him, yourself?" "Angel?" Cordy said, looking up into the glare. "Ah, Angelus. Quelle surprise," Jean-Pierre drawled. His weight disappeared off of Cordy's back and she struggled to her knees. He grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet, pulling her in front of him like a shield. She cried out in pain as his fingers twisted cruelly against her scalp. Angel walked slowly down the staircase, one arm clamped around Savannah's throat, the other hand holding a lethal stake to her heart. She spit like a wet cat. "Jean-Pierre," Angel said, eyes glinting with fury. "I'd say it's been too long, but that would be a lie." "Yes, and one must always tell the truth, mustn't one?" Jean-Pierre responded. The arm around Cordy's throat tightened, nearly cutting off her air. She choked and clawed, but it was like trying to grip sand-smoothed stone. "Let her go," Angel said, poking the stake into Savannah's chest. She flinched, her face twisting in fury. Jean-Pierre sniffed Cordy's throat, laughing cruelly as she struggled against him. "Shall we see who can draw the fastest?" he asked, vamping out and pressing his lips to Cordy's jugular. "No!" Angel yelled, loosening his grip. Savannah jerked free and knocked the stake to the ground. She leapt down the stairs in one graceful step, with Angel on her heels. Jean-Pierre pulled Cordy deeper into the cellar. "Come get her," he said with a mocking laugh. Cordy heard a thud, then Savannah shrieked. Jean-Pierre's arm loosened at the sound, giving Cordy the chance to twist free. "Let go!" she rasped, dodging Jean-Pierre's lunge and running for the door. She ran right into Angel, her momentum sending them tumbling. He twisted, taking the fall, and she landed on him in a heap. "You okay?" he asked. She shoved herself off of him. "Just get me the hell out of here," she spat. Savannah laughed and walked nonchalantly across the room, brushing dirt from her pants. Her eyes glittered, diamond points of pleasure. "Looks like trouble in paradise," she said merrily. "But, then, tractable women were never your style, were they, Angelus?" Cordy reached into the shelves, drew out another bottle and rolled to her feet, just as Angel stood next to her. She pressed her back against his and they circled, waiting for the vamps to get within striking range. "I seem to remember the one you courted for over a month in Vienna that year. A sweet thing, she wasn't. But I'll bet she was hot in the sack," she laughed. Cordy snarled. "Would you just shut *up* already?" She brandished the bottle, only slightly comforted when she heard the snick of a knife blade being locked into place behind her. "Oh, but why, when it's so much fun. And it was fun, wasn't it, Angelus?" Jean-Pierre asked, getting into the groove. "We ruled Vienna that year. Your Darla and my Savannah were the belles of the ball. Of course, that all changed when you sold us to Holtz." She felt Angel flinch, but when he spoke, his voice was as cool and mocking as theirs. "Oh, you know me. Always looking out for myself." Jean-Pierre struck, quick as a snake, his reach longer than Cordy had given him credit for. Angel swerved, twisting her awkwardly into the shelf, then danced away. She side-stepped, regaining her balance, only to come face-to-face with Savannah's stake. "Won't do you much good," Cordy said, glancing down. "Only works on vamps." She swung the bottle, but Savannah danced aside. "Not if I shove it in your gut, all that soft flesh. Run you right through," Savannah said. She rocked forward, forcing Cordy back. But in doing so, it opened a clear path to the door. If she could just make it upstairs.... Behind her, she heard a real fight break out between the men. Someone grunted, there was the crack of bone against bone, and the shattering of glass. A hail of green shards rained down, and when Savannah looked to see what had caused it, Cordy ran. She clattered down the hall, cursing the high heels and the tight pants, and grabbed a bottle on the way. If she made it out of this alive, she was going to drink every drop. The stairs flew beneath her feet and she stumbled, nearly falling. She grabbed the doorknob, turning it desperately, but her hands were slicked with sweat. Behind her, the fight raged, moving closer and closer to the stairs. She wiped her hands frantically on her shirt then grabbed the doorknob again. This time it turned. She crashed into the island, waiting for the vamps to explode out the hallway behind her. Knives on the counter, not good. But wooden spoons were. She set the bottle down with a clatter, grabbed a handful of spoons out of the utensil crock, and turned just as Savannah came screaming up the stairs. Angel and Jean-Pierre roared out behind her, Angel's coat flapping like a cape. "Where's Zhou?" she asked, brandishing a spoon at Savannah. "I locked 'em all in the bathroom," Angel said, dodging Jean-Pierre's fist. "Oh, that's great," Cordy said snidely. "You're so good at locking people in." "Yeah, well," he said, delivering a smooth roundhouse kick to the other man's gut. "At least all the vamps are out here this time." From down the hall she could hear raised voices. She thought about letting them out, then realized it would only be more meat for the vamps. Which they would be, anyway, if she and Angel didn't dust them first. "Come and get me," she said to Savannah, running down the hall and into the dining room. The vamp followed, laughing wildly. "Cordy, no!" Angel and Jean-Pierre continued fighting in the kitchen, the Frenchman never allowing Angel to break away and go after Cordy. They slowly worked their way down the hall and into the dining room. Tables tumbled. Chairs broke. Food flew. Angel grabbed the Ming Dynasty horse off the mantel and crashed it over Jean-Pierre's head. He went down howling. "Cordelia!" It was Mr. Zhou. She glanced down the hall and almost got punched while she wasn't looking. "Crap," she said, grabbing a chair and swinging it, hard. It crashed into Savannah's side, knocking her through the doors someone had left open in their haste, and out onto the deck. Cordy ran down the hall to the bathroom. "Mr. Zhou! I'm here!" she said breathlessly. "Let us out, Cordelia," he said. "Can't. Too dangerous," she panted, looking over her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me they were your friends." "I didn't want to believe it would come to this." "What? Come to what?" she asked desperately. "They're testing us." "The vamps?" "No, the Powers. It's a test, to see how well you've learned. It's customary." "You knew this was gonna happen?" Cordy asked furiously. "I just summoned the test, as I always do. I did not believe they would pit my old friends against my new ones." His voice broke. "It seems they are testing me, as well." "I have to go," Cordy said. "Open the door, Cordelia," Mr. Zhou commanded. "I'll make sure these people get home safely." Cordy hesitated, and because she desperately needed to talk with him, she unlocked the door. The crowd filed out, disappearing into the living room to watch the fight. She faced her teacher. "He betrayed me," she said, combing her hair out of her eyes. "You both did. It's all I can think about." Mr. Zhou nodded. In the living room, the crowd gasped and muttered. Cordy glanced over her shoulder, unable to see anything. "In order for the link to work at its fullest capacity, you must forgive him. Both of you must learn to live with his past, in order to make your future." "Right. He risked my life and the lives of my family," she spat. "He was a brutal, ruthless murderer for generations. I read the books. I got the t-shirt." "Angel and Angelus. They are two sides of the same coin. To live with one is to live with the other. Cordelia, it's the same with everyone. Shadow and light, they exist in us all. Even you." Outside, someone howled in pain. Cordy couldn't tell who it was, but the sound raised the hair on the back of her neck. "You have to decide, is the risk worth it? Is loving someone worth the risk?" "Do you think so?" She looked into his ancient, black gaze and read there only acceptance and understanding. "Would I be in here, while my friends are fighting to the death, otherwise?" Cordy closed her eyes. She saw Angel firing her; threatening her; lying to her. Pounding Darla into the mattress. Breaking Jenny Calendar's neck. The pictures from the books she'd read flashed against her eyelids like a movie reel: bodies strewn carelessly--or laid out with breathtaking care. Blood spattered, throats ripped, and all of it done with an unholy glee. By an evil that would never cease to exist. Then she remembered what it was like to have a vision when he wasn't there to catch her. She saw his face, young and hopeful, when she opened the boxes of clothes he bought for her. Felt his arms settle around her as he sobbed in grief after Buffy died. Saw him watching her as she fed Connor, his heart in his eyes. Felt herself slipping into a world of pain greater than he'd ever dreamed of creating. "Oh, my God," she said, realization dawning. "The link," Mr. Zhou called. "Don't forget the link!" She ran through the dining room and onto the porch. Outside, the vamps fought viciously on the cleared path. But Savannah and Jean-Pierre were backing Angel into the woods, where he could easily lose his footing. God, she needed to be out there. Now. She grabbed a bottle of Perrier, unscrewing the top as she leapt off the deck. Yanking her cross off, she dropped it into the bottle, trying desperately not to trip or to slosh the water out. Her heels sank into the wet path, but she didn't have time to stop and rip them off. By the time she made it to the fight, Angel was on his back, and Jean-Pierre and Savannah were pounding him against the dirty snow. "Lost your weapons, didn't you boy?" Jean-Pierre gloated. "Hey!" Cordy cried. Both vamps turned. "Oooh, Angel, call off your kitten," Savannah smirked. She plugged the bottle with her thumb and shook it, building the fizzy water's pressure to an explosive level. With her free hand, she yanked Savannah's shirt. "Thirsty?" she asked, aiming the bottle and pulling her thumb away. The water geysered, shooting spray across Savannah's face and chest. She cried out in surprise, then in agony, as the water scorched her fair skin, turning it a mottled, blistered red. Cordy shook the bottle again and aimed it at Jean-Pierre. "Get off of him," she said. He looked at the bottle, then at Cordy, and got to his feet. Angel rolled, coughing, and sat up, his coat caked with mud. Cordy went to him, keeping a watch on Jean-Pierre and the writhing Savannah. Her blood was pumping so hard she barely registered the cold. "Angel," she said, careful not to get him wet. "Come on. Get up." "Get out of here, Cordy. This is old business. Not your fight." She grabbed his upper arm and pulled him to his feet. Jean-Pierre lunged and Cordy shook the bottle and squirted the rest of the water menacingly in his direction. He danced aside, hissing when it hit his arm. "You're wrong," she said gently, tossing the bottle aside. "It's *our* fight. Now, let's finish it." She turned to face the vamps, keeping Angel behind her. She reached back and grabbed his hand. "The Lord is my shepherd," she said, her voice clear and firm. "I shall not want." "Cordelia, we don't have time for..." Angel's voice died away as the link flared open, shooting a spear of heat down Cordy's arm. She chanted the verse, building the heat and power of the link, feeling it throb through her, lighting her up from the inside out. Angel held her hand tightly as he followed her lead. She advanced at her own pace, working Jean-Pierre and Savannah down a line of her making. Savannah stumbled back, a look of pure hatred on her face. "I'll kill you for that," she said, all traces of humanity wiped away. Jean-Pierre mouth was a taut line, his eyes flat, silver discs. "And when she's finished with you, I will rip you into bite-sized chunks and feed you to my dogs," he intoned. Cordy ignored them, paying attention, instead, to the words flowing through her. "He restores my soul!" she said, dropping Angel's hand and moving into the first position of the tai chi form. Again, Angel seemed to understand, as he assumed his own fighting stance. They moved in tandem, like dancers. Angel's routine was a study in masculine power: fierce punches; roundhouse kicks; thrust and parry, retreat and advance. Cordy was like breath or water, flowing gracefully through her form. Grasping Sparrow's Tail blocked Savannah's kick and sent her rolling across the yard. Touching Heaven, Touching Earth took care of the high punch thrown by Jean-Pierre. As her lips formed the words of the psalm, the power flowed like a downhill river, gaining speed and force. The vamps were panting now, their eyes glazed and their bodies laboring. Angel fought as he always did, with seemingly endless energy, hopping up each time he fell, and meeting blow for blow. Then Savannah pulled a knife. Why she hadn't drawn it earlier, Cordy couldn't say. All she knew was, one minute she was dancing with the devil, and the next the devil was dancing with her. The blade flew expertly, sharp and swift and fueled by a dangerous cocktail of anger, pain and pride. She finished the psalm and started again, hoping it would put them over the top. She muttered the words, slipping in and out of the nighttime shadows. "Prayers never were a match for steel," Savannah said, and she sent the knife arcing toward Cordy's throat. Cordy turned, but not fast enough, and the blade sliced, leaving a long trail of fire from shoulder to throat. The copper scent of blood hit the cold air like an angry fist and all three vamps stopped, mid-fight, and turned toward her. Savannah laughed, high on the blood and the adrenaline. She lunged, taking Cordy down in a rolling tackle. They landed hard against a tree trunk, and Cordy felt the bark tear her clothes and skin. She twisted, avoiding the knife, and found her hands full of snow and twigs. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil," she whispered. She kicked, catching Savannah's arm, and sending the knife flying into the snow. Savannah rolled after it and Cordy went the opposite direction. She closed her eyes. "A stake. I need a stake," she said, letting the link be her guide. Her fingers landed on a sturdy branch, half-hidden by the snow. "You're mine," Savannah said. Cordy looked up at her, silhouetted in the moonlight, and smiled. "Not tonight," she said, holding the improvised stake and kicking Savannah's legs out from under her. She fell with a grunt, and Cordy felt her weight, the press of her breasts, and then nothing. Savannah screamed and exploded into dust. Title: Queen of the Night Author: Starlett Chapter 34 Cordy coughed and spat, rolling to her feet. In the shadows at the edge of the woods she could see Angel and Jean-Pierre still going at it. She picked up Savannah's knife and ran. "Too bad about your girlfriend," she taunted. Jean-Pierre whirled, leaving himself unprotected. Angel crashed his fist into the man's jaw and watched as he tumbled to the ground. He came up howling. "No fuss, no muss," Cordy said, wiping dust off her wet clothes. "I'm moving into Slayer territory here." She winked at Jean-Pierre, who rushed her, just as she'd intended. As he made his move, she flipped the knife to Angel. "Wooden handle," she said, as Jean-Pierre took her down in a flying tackle. God, he was heavy, she thought, seeing stars as she crashed into the path. "You killed her? You killed Savannah?" Jean-Pierre said, wrapping his hands around her throat. "Yeah," she gritted, bucking her hips. She couldn't resist one last dig. "Pretty easy, too, considering she was an Elder, and all." Her eyes widened as she saw the point of the knife appear through his chest, then jerk upward. Angel twisted it, burying the wooden handle to the hilt. Jean-Pierre screamed, a long, shrill, death-cry, and exploded. Dust rained down on Cordy and she choked, rolling to her side, retching. "Cordy," Angel said, falling next to her. She pushed him away, getting to her knees. "Just need to catch my breath," she said, panting and shaking her head. Adrenaline fueled her as she staggered to her feet. "If I never do that again, it will be too soon." She stumbled toward the house. "Hey," Angel said, appearing in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Stop for a minute. We're done." "We're done?" Cordy asked, looking around dazedly. "Oh, God." She leaned over, putting her hands on her knees. As her heart slowed, she began to feel the pain, not just from the cuts and bruises. But from the betrayal. "Hey," Angel said, squatting in front of her. "It's all right. You're okay. Cordy, you were amazing," he said, his voice full of awe. "Don't, Angel. Just...don't," she said, standing. She looked into his face, haloed by what was left of the moonlight, and saw Angelus. "You killed them," she said. "I...what?" "Thousands of people. But mostly women. You liked the women, didn't you?" He looked at her, his confusion and hurt a mirror of her own. "Cordy, please." "I saw them all, Angel. Every book the Watchers published on you, and let me just say, you're one of their favorite subjects." "Oh, God," he whispered. "And to make it worse, you slept with her," she said, her voice sad and broken. "What?" he asked, from down on his knees. "Darla. You screwed Darla." She pushed her hair out of her eyes with a trembling hand. "Yes," he admitted fiercely. "Yes I did. Just like I committed all those other sins I can never atone for." She waved the old sins away. "That was then. This is now," she growled. "You risked our lives! Because *you* felt empty." He looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "So it's true. It wasn't just a dream." He shook his head. "No, it was a nightmare." "Don't play for my sympathy," she said harshly. He looked at her, then. "I wasn't. It was true. It was pure despair." "But you didn't know that, Angel. It might have.... You might have.... And he would have come after me. First." He swallowed. "Yeah." She crossed her arms over her breasts, suddenly aware of the cold on her exposed skin. "You don't live in a vacuum, Angel. What you do affects all of us now. Especially me." "I know," he whispered. "I know. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." She ran her hand through his spiky hair. "Angel, I couldn't have linked with you that way if I hadn't already forgiven you," she said. "Just promise me something." "Anything," he said. "If you find yourself in that dark place again, call me. I have a flashlight." He laughed and let her help him to his feet. "Let's get you inside," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She stumbled against the adrenaline crash. "Oh, God," she said, sagging against him. He picked her up, cradling her against his chest. "I hurt all over," she whispered. "And it's *freezing* out here." "Bath first, then bandages." Cordy nodded. "I have to tell Mr. Zhou. They were his friends." Her voice broke as she realized the magnitude of what had just happened. Angel's footsteps echoed on the porch, then the door opened. "Is she all right?" Mr. Zhou asked quietly. "Angel likes to play the romantic lead," Cordy replied. The old man looked at her, his eyes sad and soft. "They died honorably." Cordy nodded. "Very much so." "That is all one can ask for." He stood silently with his eyes closed for a moment. "Angel," he finally said, "take her to her room. I'll run a bath and you can see that she takes it." Angel nodded and followed him down the hall. Cordy's head lolled against his shoulder. "You okay?" she asked quietly. "Not too bad, considering," he said, easing her down on the bed. He settled her against the pillows, then sat at her feet and slid off her sandals. Her toes felt like blocks of ice. "You fought in these things?" he asked, a look of amazement on his face. "The shoes weren't as bad as the pants," she said, slapping her hand against her thigh. The snakeskin crackled. He laughed, then bent over to inspect the cut on her shoulder. "That looks pretty bad," he said, fingering the edges gently. Cordy flinched. "I've seen worse on you. Once I get a bath, it'll look a ton better." Mr. Zhou came into the room. "Okay," he said, nodding to Angel. "You gonna be all right undressing on your own?" "I think so," Cordy replied. She hauled herself off the bed and padded to the bathroom, starting to shiver as the chill caught up with her. "Why don't you let Martin clean you up?" she asked before closing the door behind her. She pulled the top off, dismayed at the way it had been ripped during the fight. Not wanting see the bruises yet, she turned away from the mirror and unzipped her pants. They slithered down her legs, leaving her bare, except for her panties, which also joined the pile. The bath was steamy and filled with some sort of fragrant oil. It felt like fire against her feet, and she stood, panting, as she adjusted to the temperature. Finally, she was able to sit, then rest against the back of the tub. She moaned as she slid under, gasping when the hot water hit the scrapes, and hissing when it covered her shoulder. Her eyes closed and she floated, letting her mind turn off and the heat chase away the bone-deep chill. |