| Title: Queen of the Night Author: Starlett Chapter 11 "Girlfriend, you been brewin' that stinky tea again," Gunn said. He strolled down the lobby stairs and leaned his hubcap axe against a chair. Cordy glanced up from the computer, pulled her mouth into a smile she didn't feel. "Yeah, it smells pretty rank, doesn't it?" Wes came wandering out of the office, an open book under his nose. "Ah, Cordy, I think I found that demon we were looking for," he said. He glanced up, saw Gunn standing by the hotel's reception desk. "Gunn, hello. I didn't hear you come in." "Just about to head home after a hard night of vampire slayin,'. What's up with y'all?" "Research, research and more research," Cordy said, too brightly. "Oh, and did I say, research?" Gunn's upper lip curled, but the careful way he watched Cordelia told her she wasn't faking him out. "Sounds dee-lightful," he replied. "Me, I'm lucky. Y'all gotta find it. All I gotta do is track it down and kill it." He looked around the room. "Where are the others?" "Lorne's been over at the club trying to decide whether he's gonna clean it up again or sell it. Fred's taking the first shift with Connor. Angel's downstairs doing God knows what." Cordy picked up a large mug of brownish-red brew. She took a gulp, grimaced. "Gag, that stuff is *awful*." Wes wrinkled his nose. "If it tastes anything like it smells, I can well imagine." "At least it's helping the headaches," Cordy said, trying for an optimistic outlook. Must have worked because Wes nodded, his eyes hopeful. "Yes, that is good news," he replied. The silence stretched, one beat, two. Wes and Gunn watched her, waiting for her to speak. She rubbed her temple. "Hey, listen, I need a break. You guys want anything from the bakery?" Wes looked concerned. "I'll be glad to take you." Cordelia set the mug down with a smack. "Or, uh, I could just stay here and research," Wes fumbled. "A carrot-raisin muffin and an espresso. That would be wonderful, thank you." Gunn worked up a sneer. "Carrot-raisin? That's for girly-men. Get me a couple of them chocolate chip muffins and the biggest coffee they got. And don't let 'em skimp, neither. None of that room-for-cream crap," he said, darting looks at Cordelia as she gathered up her purse. He walked around the desk, making a big show of peering over Wes's shoulder. "So, what evil nasty we lookin' at today?" "Oh, this? It's a...." Their voices faded as Cordy walked out the front doors and onto the sidewalk. She slapped on her sunglasses. At the curb was Angel's car, top still down from the night before. She hopped in, started it up, and pulled out into traffic. Somebody, either Angel or Wes, had left it on KCSN. Classical music poured out the speakers, dark and moody. She reached down to change the station then stopped, as she realized the music suited her disposition just fine. It had been nearly two weeks since her meeting with Martin Zhou. The medicine dialed down the headaches from migraine to splitting. But the visions came almost every day. Every one left her shaken to the bone, stomach roiling with queasy terror, sweaty hair plastered to clammy skin. Because any one of them could be the last. The music swelled and receded, the wind whipped past her face, and she maneuvered the car deftly through traffic. She knew she was gambling. One vision, one jerk of the wheel, one time through a red light, and she, or someone else would pay for it. They all knew it, and still, they let her go. Because the alternative was unthinkable. Hole up in her apartment or move into the hotel. Make the team keep watch 24/7. Just in case. And after that? All those people in her head. Nonstop. Again. She wouldn't survive it this time. That was her future. You didn't have to be a Seer to know it. "Hey, guys, I'm back," Cordy called. Her mood wasn't any better, but at least now they all had something to eat. When all else failed, go for food. Wes looked up from his book. "Oh, wonderful. I was wondering where you'd got to," he said, taking a bag from her hands. "I stopped off and got Angel's breakfast, too. Wasn't sure when I'd get back out," she said. "Gunn!" she yelled. "Breakfast!" "Cordelia, must you do that?" Wes asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. She shrugged irritatedly. "He's gotta be close. I have his muffins," she set the remaining bag on the desk. Sure enough, Gunn loped into the reception area. "Finally," he said. "I thought you were gonna be gone all day." "Nah," she said sarcastically. "Just half of it. I had to stop by the butcher shop." "Oh," said Gunn, ignoring the sarcasm in favor of a muffin, which he stuffed in his mouth. "Gah, ah luf dese." "Gunn, must you..." "...speak with your mouth full?" Cordy mimicked, her tone sharp. "God, Wes, who cast you as Mommy Dearest?" "Well, someone has to be," he said, priggishly. Cordy's black cloud threatened to burst. "I'll be back," she said tightly, picking up Angel's blood and stomping upstairs. One good thing about vampires. They kept their rooms dark and quiet. Maybe she'd just hang out up here, where the doom-and-gloom atmosphere matched her pissy mood. And where she wouldn't risk killing Wes or Gunn. She knocked on the door, hoping Angel wasn't still awake. There was no answer, so she tiptoed in. The living room was dark, and the French doors to Angel's bedroom door were partially closed. Thank God. She was setting the container of blood in the mini-fridge when the phone rang. She ignored it, hoping someone downstairs would get it. But the ringing didn't stop. "Dammit, Wes. Can't you pick up the phone for once?" she whispered, hurrying across the room to pick it up before it woke Angel. "Angel Investigations," she hissed. "Miss Chase?" a man's voice asked. Cordy's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Uh, yeah?" "This is Martin Zhou, how are you?" The tension that had coiled mercilessly in her chest for the last two weeks snapped like an overstretched rubber band, leaving her feeling limp and about as useful. She collapsed into the nearest chair. "Um, hi. I'm fine, thanks, how are you?" There was a rustle behind her, and she turned. Angel stepped out of the bedroom and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Who is it?" he asked. "It's Mr. Zhou," Cordelia rasped. Angel came and stood beside her, his hastily pulled on pants still unbuttoned and his chest bare. "Oh, good, you're both there," Mr. Zhou said. Cordy nervously jerked one of the roses from the vase on the end table. "Yes, Angel just came in," she replied, not at all comforted by the chill of his presence beside her. She pulled a petal off the rose and dropped it onto the tabletop. Another followed. "Good, good. Well, I'm sure you are wondering about my decision," he said. Cordelia began tapping the flower restlessly. "Getting straight to the point. I like that," she tried to joke, which was difficult to do, considering the situation. Angel leaned over her, his body brushing hers as he took the rose and set it aside. She could smell smoke and sweat on him, as if he hadn't showered before he went to bed. Mr. Zhou laughed. "I thought you might. The answer is yes, Cordelia. With several stipulations." "Oh, my God," she said on a shuddering breath. Relief flooded her system. She glanced up and Angel was watching her intently. She nodded. A smile bloomed over his face. "As I said," Mr. Zhou continued, pulling her focus back to the conversation, "there are several stipulations. The first is cost." Cordy blanched, feeling the tension spiral again. She reached for the rose, but Angel's cool hand covered hers before she could touch it. "Cost?" It hadn't occurred to her that there would be a charge for the service, though of course, that was stupid. Why wouldn't there be? "Of course," she said, as calmly as she could, feeling Angel's skin warm as it picked up her body heat. "How much?" They barely had the money to pay the bills now. Mr. Zhou named a figure. Cordy gasped, stunned. "What?" Angel whispered, squatting beside her. A line appeared between his eyebrows. Cordelia motioned for a pen and paper. Angel opened the end table drawer. "Here." She took them from him and hastily wrote down the figure. Angel looked at it for a moment then nodded his head. She gaped, even as Mr. Zhou continued. "The next thing is that you must agree to spend six weeks at my retreat in the mountains. There will be no physical contact with family or friends, and phone calls only to give information about the visions." "Six *weeks*?" Cordy asked. "No contact?" "It's not nearly enough time, but I understand that you cannot be pulled away from your family for longer than that." "A month-and-a-half," Cordy repeated, letting her head flop against the back of the chair. "And you must agree, for the period that you are in my care, to forego all alcohol and drugs, and to eat only what I prescribe." "Well, God, what are you going to prescribe?" Cordy asked, remembering the jar in the apothecary. Mr. Zhou laughed. "Mostly just rice and vegetables, and some herbs. We must cleanse your system." "Cleanse my system," she repeated numbly, staring off into space. "I'm sure it's a bit out of the ordinary, my dear. Not what you were expecting. Would you like some time to discuss it?" "Yes, I think we...." she said dazedly. Angel took the phone from her and sat down on the couch. "Hey! We weren't done," Cordy said. Angel ignored her. "Mr. Zhou? It's Angel. I'll take care of the financial end of things. The rest is up to Cordelia." "You'll...but..." Cordy spluttered. "Angel," she hissed. "You don't have that kind of money." Angel, still involved in the conversation with Zhou, picked up the pen and wrote something on the pad. He turned it to Cordelia. "Yes, I do," it said in his elegant scrawl. "No, you don't," Cordelia muttered, poking her fingertips into her temples and rubbing in tight circles. Angel stopped talking and handed the phone back to her. She glared at him, despite the fact that her head was still reeling. "Mr. Zhou, I need to talk to Angel about this." Angel looked back at her, his face drawn and tired, but more at peace than it had been since their trip to Sunnydale. Oh, sure, it was easy for him to be all peaceful. He had $250,000 stashed away in some...some *vampire* account. An account he'd never told her about. She knew he didn't tell her everything, but still. A quarter of a million dollars? "I understand. I will give you this number. It belongs to a neighbor, who can contact me when necessary. If you do decide to accept my invitation, we will make arrangements for your trip when we speak next." "Thank you, Mr. Zhou," Cordy said between clenched teeth as she wrote down the number he gave her. She didn't recognize the area code, she realized through the red haze. She'd have to look it up on the map. After she peeled several long strips off of Angel's hide. "I'll be in touch with you very soon." She disconnected furiously and slapped the phone onto the table. "What are you *thinking*?" she gritted, standing up so she could lean into Angel's space. They were almost nose-to-nose, and if she weren't spoiling for a fight she would have noticed that the peace had drained away, leaving behind a serious lack of tether. Angel scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed himself to his feet. "Look, Cordy, this has been a long two weeks, and on top of it I had a crappy night. I don't want to fight about this. The money's there. Just take it, okay?" "No, it is *not* okay! I've seen your bank statements. I know how much money you have, and it's not anywhere near what Mr. Zhou requested." Angel winced, watching as she paced to the other side of the room. "You can't do this!" She banged a hand on top of the small fridge with an echoing metal clang. "You can't...just..." she took three quick steps, waved a hand in the air. "You can't just offer me a quarter of a million like it's nothing!" Her voice escalated until it bounced off the low ceiling. Angel grabbed Cordy by the arms, his face inches from hers. "Cordelia," he said, his voice as cool and firm as his fingers. Good, she thought. She'd pissed him off. The jerk. "I have the money. Just take it." He let go of her and walked toward the bedroom. Her flesh tingled where his fingers had clamped. "That's more than I can make in ten years working for you. Besides, I don't want to take your money!" Which was total BS, and they both knew it. But dammit, he had God knew how much blood money in some hidden account somewhere...and...and that wasn't even the point. The point was, if he gave it to her, she'd have to go. Away from him and Connor and everyone else for longer than she'd ever been separated from them. And she didn't know if she would make it back alive. Angel changed directions suddenly, and was standing in front of Cordelia before she realized he'd even moved. She gasped, slamming her open hand against his bare chest. "Don't *do* that!" "Cordelia," Angel rasped, leaning into her hand menacingly. "I was the heir to my father's estate. How much do you think it's grown in 250 years?" His face was a stone mask, his eyes dark and cold as obsidian. Oh, she'd gotten him, all right. Really, really gotten him. The only other time she'd heard that tone was when he'd said, "Don't make me move you." "Angel, you died before your father did," she said, knowing he could hear her rabbiting heart and trembling voice. "You're so *naive*" he said, throwing his hands in the air and backing away from her, as if he had suddenly realized what he was doing. "And really, it's none of your business how I spend my money. You need this. And I need you." He turned, glared at her. "It's a fair arrangement." "Well, but...but...if you do have that much money, it should go to Connor." "Connor has plenty of money. You don't need to worry about him." "Then why didn't you use that money when we started Angel Investigations?" She was having trouble letting it go. "Because, Cordelia, starting this company was never about money," he said primly. Oh, she bet he loved that. Angel loved being a martyr more than almost anything. "Excuse me, but there were months we practically *starved*," she retorted. Angel nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, looking impatient. "Yes, there were. But we didn't, so I don't see what the problem is." "Why now?" she wailed, finally reaching the end of her rope. Her anger was rapidly dissipating, leaving behind an upset stomach and the dawning realization that she'd just taken out two weeks of frustration on him. Angel stalked over to her and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her roughly. "Because it's family money, Cordelia. And you're family." His eyes were black, his face clenched. "Are we done here?" Angel asked, his voice low, even. She nodded, silenced, finally, by shame. "Good." He let her go and she slumped into the chair. "All I want to do is get some sleep. Call Zhou from upstairs. And thanks for the breakfast," he said, glancing at the fridge. "You're welcome," Cordy whispered, picking up the number and clenching it in her hand. Angel shut the door behind him and the suite was silent and dark again. Title: Queen of the Night Author: Starlett Chapter 12 "Do you have everything you need?" Fred asked. Cordy nodded. "Yeah. I guess." She'd packed and repacked six times already. Last night, she found herself staring listlessly at the black dress she'd pulled out the closet, wondering if she should take it, too. After all, it was the perfect thing to be buried in. And with the visions the way they'd been lately.... How did you pack for eternity? She shifted Connor in her arms. He blinked up at her, his still-blue eyes as wise as an old man's. Six weeks--maybe forever--without him. She pressed her lips to his silky forehead. "Sweet baby. Don't grow up too fast." Gunn picked up Cordelia's suitcase and they started down the hall. "C'mon, Barbie," he said gently. He put his hand in the small of her back. "Angel's downstairs waiting." She glanced at him. "Thanks." Fred grabbed her overnight bag and her purse, and followed them into the hall. "Bye, Dennis!" Cordy said. The wind ruffled her hair, and then the apartment door closed slowly. "Thanks for everything," she whispered. Wes opened the stairwell door and stepped into the hall. "Ready?" Usually his habit of taking the stairs for health drove her nuts. But today, as she looked up at his familiar face, she realized that little habits like that were what made Wes who he was. And they only made her love him more. "This is freaking me out." He patted her shoulder. "I know, my dear. It must be a little intimidating." "What, going off to spend six weeks in the wilderness with Bruce Lee's grandfather?" Fred and Gunn crowded in around them, loaded with Cordy's bags. Wes chuckled. "Maybe you'll learn some kung fu," he said, punching the elevator button. "I can kick your butt already," she said, in an attempt a humor. "What would be the point?" Gunn snickered. "What?" he said at the dark look Wes gave him. "You know it's true." The elevator dinged. "True, but I can out-scream you, any day," Wes said. He ushered them all in ahead of him. Fred hit the button for the ground floor and they started their descent. "Don't know if I'd be admitting that in public," Cordy said, pressing her cheek to Connor's. "What do you think, baby? You think Uncle Wes should be proclaiming to the world that he screams like a girl?" The baby drooled on her shoulder in response. "He might scream like a girl," Fred said. "But he's heck on wheels with that flame thrower. Those things aren't a picnic to operate, you know." Wes smiled at her over Cordy's head. "Thanks, Fred. Everybody's got to have something they're good at." The doors opened and they walked through the courtyard and into the parking lot. "Ah, here's the car," he remarked, popping the trunk so Gunn could stow the suitcase. "Give me her other bag," he said to Fred. Cordy walked to the passenger's side and looked in the open door. Lorne sat in the seat talking to Angel in a low voice. "There she is, now," he said, turning his brilliant smile her way. "And look who she's got with her." He reached out and chucked Connor's chin. "Mon petit prince." He slid out of the car. "Hand him over. Uncle Lorne hasn't given him his RDA of Motown yet." Cordy hugged Connor to her, then nuzzled his neck, breathing his scent deeply. "Take care of your daddy," she whispered. "He needs you more than you know." She looked up at Lorne with tears in her eyes and handed him the baby. Lorne took Connor then hugged Cordy. The baby was pressed between them and it gave her another second to run her hand over his tiny hands and perfect feet. Another moment to press her fingers to his beating heart and commit his bones to memory. "I love you," she whispered. She pulled back. "We love you too, babe," Lorne said. He blinked against the sunset's rays. "Now, get out of here. You're making my mascara run." Cordy hugged Fred. "Bye. You guys have a good Christmas," she said. "We won't open gifts till you get back," Fred replied with a watery smile. "Yeah, dollface, six weeks ain't forever. Heck, that's barely a blink in the cosmic calendar," Gunn said encouragingly. His body was hard and warm, and she pressed her nose into his sweatshirt. "Keep them safe," she said. "Always do," he promised. Cordy settled into the seat, and clicked her seatbelt in place. Wes closed the door behind her with a quiet "thunk," his hands resting in the space left by the open window. "Hey, Angel," Cordy said, glancing at the shadow behind the wheel. "Hey. Ready?" he asked, his voice soft. Cordy nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be." Wes patted the car door. "You two be careful." Cordy looked over at him and smiled. "Thanks, Wes. Take lots of pictures. I don't want to miss anything." Wes grinned and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just what we need. Another excuse to photograph that baby." Cordy beamed at him. "We're worse than grandparents." "That's because we're parents." Angel cleared his throat. Wes leaned in and hugged Cordy. "Bye," he whispered, kissing her on the temple. "Bye," she said. Wes stepped away from the car. "See you soon." Cordy nodded and Angel started the car and pulled into traffic. "According to the directions, we take the 10 toward San Bernadino. You do have the directions, Cordelia?" Cordy pulled a sheet from her purse and waved it at him. "Right here." |