Title: Night Moves
Author: CydneStorm
Posted: 1/2/2006
Email
Rating: N-17
Category: Full of Angst. A little Blood and Gore. A lot of Sexual Tension and Situations
Content: C/A
Summary: A Darkness Within fic. A blending and twisting of ‘Hero’ and ‘Somnambulist’ with Wesley arriving shortly after Angel’s old friend Penn begins to play.
Spoilers: Season 1
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: DW/TIO. anyone else please ask first
Notes:
Thanks/Dedication:Written for Darkness Within.
Feedback:Yes please
Part 1
“We’ll get a case.” Except for a furrowed brow, Angel’s expression was almost blank as he peered at the door. “Things always work out; you know that.”
Less than surprised to find Cordelia in his bathroom when he returned, Angel looked around the small apartment. His usual confusion setting in when he didn’t find the expected selection of rented movies. That’s how it had happened last month. Cordelia had shown up at his door, videos in hand, eyes lost in hopes of not spending the night alone with painful memories.
It had been exactly two months since they’d lost Doyle and Cordelia had received his special gift. So Angel had assumed Cordelia would be waiting, videos laid out for him to pick their first movie; but maybe he’d assumed wrong. For the past couple of weeks she had complained practically non-stop about their lack of paying clients, suggesting that The Powers might cut her some slack if he was busy working on a case.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the acting business it’s that you can’t wait for opportunity to come to you.” Cordelia yelled back from her side of the door. “So get your butt out there and find us a paying client. One of us has rent due.”
“We have to pay rent on the office too.” He countered, not sure why it sounded like an acceptable comeback in his head.
“Yea but office rent gives you a place to live. What about me?”
“If things get too tight…” The thought drifted to memories of another time Cordelia had lived with him. It had not worked well for either of them. Cordelia’s lack of respect for others’ personal space the least of his uncomfortable difficulties with their brief arrangement.
Angel caught the scent of her perfume, its taste lingering in his throat. Odd, he mused; Cordelia normally saved the expensive fragrance for the occasional date. Dates she rarely bothered with anymore.
His bathroom door opened, the view greeting him not the expected sweats and t-shirt. Her hair was swept up in a loose bunch of curls leaving soft shoulders and a flawless neck exposed. Dark eyes were drawn to full lips enhanced by deep crimson gloss before traveling down her body. The black dress clung to curving peaks and valleys while two narrow straps pretended to hold it in place. Barely more than a slip, Angel mentally noted as he continued the slow trail of slender legs until stopping at black, shiny pumps.
“I thought we were watching movies tonight.”
“You maybe; but I intend to steal into the night with an incredibly handsome, and wealthy prince.”
“You have a date?” He voice blew a gravelly rasp. His throat unusually dry, it tightened against his attempts to swallow.
“Makes your life seem a tad drab, doesn’t it?”
“Cordelia, money can’t buy happiness.”
“Says the man that doesn’t have any.”
Biting hard into her tongue, she pushed back the surge of guilt as hurt washed over Angel’s face. Cordelia didn’t want to hurt him, and she didn’t want to leave him; but she had fled her past in search of a better life, and was determined this wasn’t it.
In his desperation to preserve the visions, Doyle had made a mistake. Cordelia Chase wasn’t meant to be vision girl, and she certainly wasn’t Buffy Summers. She didn’t intend to fight evil and love a vampire. Once she was gone The Powers would send a new seer. Angel didn’t need her, he only needed a source for the visions.
Relieved to hear the faint knock on the outer door, Cordelia released an audible sigh. “If I’m not here in the morning, start without me.” She murmured before scurrying up the stairs, refusing to notice the heavy boots grazing the back of her heels.
“You look amazing.” The young man offered too eagerly.
Cordelia flashed a brilliant smile, ignoring his over executed adulation. “Do I?” She innocently feigned her surprise, and glancing back at Angel offered a quick, “let’s go.”
“What’s your hurry Cordelia? You didn’t even introduce me to your friend.” Angel interjected, halting their swift departure.
“Fine! Angel…Pierce. Pierce…Angel. Happy now? Goodnight.” Cordelia grabbed her date’s arm, literally tugging him toward the door.
“You work, Pierce?” Angel casually enquired, hiking his thigh up to rest on the edge of Cordelia’s desk.
“I trade, futures and options market.” His smug expression evidence of his assumed superiority.
“Hard to find a good restaurant on short notice, reservations I hope.”
“Le Petite Renard.” Pierce answered almost mechanically, leaning down to whisper at Cordelia’s ear. “Is this your employer or brother?”
“Le Petite Renard, nice place. I hear the duck is a bit dry.” Angel droned, and setting aside plans to correct any misconception of his and Cordelia’s relationship, quickly committed the location to memory. “Cordelia, how late will you be?”
“Let me see.” She feigned contemplation, brightly polished nails tapping against her chin. “Oh, I know; don’t wait up.”
Again Cordelia snatched her date’s arm, and ignoring his protests sprinted to the door as fast as her four inch heels would cooperate.
Angel stood alone in the quiet office. He had planned to spend the evening with Cordelia, sharing their grief over a fallen friend. He couldn’t remember ever doing that. Willingly sharing his brooding time with anyone, and actually looking forward to it.
***
He tossed the book onto his desk. Reading and solitude just wasn’t doing it for him tonight. Perhaps tonight required something more acroamatic. A little Aristotle would fulfill that order, but Angel doubted he commanded that level of patient at the moment. Maybe a Greek tragedy was what his night needed. His life felt pretty much like a tragedy.
Angel smelled Cordelia before he heard the clickety-clack of her heels. The expensive fragrance, her unique scent, but it was the fresh aroma of salty moisture that caught his attention.
Cordelia was wrapped inside Angel’s arms instantly. She was safe, and if a few minutes of honesty could be managed, it was where she wanted to be. Her body fit perfectly inside his; pressed against the contours of his chest, soft and hard melted into a seamless union.
She could stay here forever, wrapped inside the haven of Angel’s body; but then her fate would be sealed. Cordelia Chase would fight evil and love a vampire. The choice was too easy, too simple. Proof it had to be the wrong choice.
“Men are spineless pigs!” She hissed, pushing Angel away.
Her hair fell from the gold clamp, flowing down her back; her dress was dirty and torn. Pierce would die, but first, Angel needed details then he could decide how long the young man’s death would last.
“Cordelia, what happened? Did he hurt you?”
“What happened! What does it look like? I was attacked by one of your relatives...and my handsome prince ran off, screaming like a girl.”
Little had changed, her attacker would die after a sufficient amount of suffering. However, Cordelia’s trauma held one small morsel of good. It proved Angel’s point. She need him just as much as he needed her.
“Looks and money don’t guarantee a man can protect you.”
“Well excuse me for forgetting to ask if he had a spine. Silly me, I thought it was enough that he could keep me in little blue boxes for the rest of my life.”
“Blue boxes?”
Cordelia slumped into a chair, her hands sliding up and down the length of her legs.
“Tiffany’s. God, keep up! I listened to that wimp gab all through dinner about pigs and beans, and fractions...and things spreading.”
Angel needed a distraction. Cordelia was talking about things spreading. He needed to concentrate on her needs, which would keep wandering thoughts off his needs.
“So if Mr. Money Bag bailed, how did you escape the vampire?”
“Took him out with my ever fashionable and multi-tasking Louis Vuittons.” Cordelia lifted her leg out and up, pointing the unsuspecting weapon in Angel’s face. “They’re left over from my days of financial status. Back then six hundred and eighty dollars was a steal.”
Eyes turning dark, they faded into the shadows. From his new vantage point it was safe for wandering eyes to roll up the length of presented flesh, from the deadly tip of her four inch stiletto to the even deadlier juncture of her thighs. His jaw clinched, his misbehaving groin twitching under the burden of self control.
Her leg quivered against the pull of gravity, and control momentarily in place, Angel wrapped his fingers around her ankle guiding the warm limb back to the floor.
“I’ve seen enough.”
Angel had come to LA to avoid these situations, but this wasn’t avoiding. This was making avoidance harder to endure. Only when the face remained a stranger after the clothes went back on would the few people that mattered remain safe. Lust would be sated in a dingy back room with bodies skilled but uncaring, or not at all.
“Come on. I’ll drop you off on the way.”
“On the way to what?”
“I have something to take care of.”
“Can’t I go?” Cordelia asked, innocently unaware of the forbidden thoughts concentrated on her.
“No.” His voice was gruff. Even if he could explain, Cordelia wouldn’t like the explanation. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“Oh, gonna be messy huh?”
“With any luck.”
***
Her night had been a disaster. Pierce being a boring and spineless jellyfish only a small piece of the disaster overwhelming Cordelia’s life. Suddenly rich and handsome weren’t enough; she needed brave and interesting; and God forbid, substance. This was Angel and Doyle’s fault, and they weren’t getting away with it.
A new rule was in place; one she refused to break even for Angel. Cordelia had braved that uncharted path with Xander Harris, and would rather die than tackle another fixer-upper. Angel wasn’t a total loss, he did have hidden depths; but he loved Buffy. At least he did, and whether that was still true or not didn’t matter. A fixer-upper with a broken heart was too much to take on, even for Cordelia Chase.
She needed a good night’s sleep. Too many serious thoughts made a girl…well too serious. Tomorrow, when the sun was shining, everything would fall into place. And just as likely, Cordelia mused, the IRS would give back her inheritance.
***
His night had gone from bad to worse. First Cordelia had ditched him for a loser simply because he had money and status. Then she had run into his arms long enough to arouse those pesky yearnings that were getting harder to suppress.
Even his secret place had been a disappointment. The one that didn’t mind appeasing the needs of a vampire with a soul. And if the bodies of strangers lost their appeal, where did that leave him? With pent-up frustrations and hungry for more than warm, fresh blood, that’s where.
Angel’s immediate problem was far worse than his fading attraction to a brothel. Cordelia would be returning in a few hours, oblivious to what might be waiting for her if he didn’t get a handle on his emotions.
Sleep was out of the question. Sleep led to dreams, and lately dreams led him to the joys of killing. Even if it was only his subconscious, Angel couldn’t risk getting comfortable with the familiarity of his bloody past. The sun would be up soon, and control was always easier in the light of day. Yea right, Angel mused, and the Gypsies will tell me my soul is mine free and clear.
To say things had been tense the past week would be an understatement. Cordelia and Angel were being civil, and Cordelia hated forced politeness. Better to just say what’s on your mind and hurt feelings be damned. Civil was not how she and Angel worked. She talked, Angel ignored, they bickered then took care of each other. Their system worked for them...until lately.
The one bright spot in her dismal world? Kate Lockley had come by this morning with colorful snapshots of dead people. The work of LA’s newest serial killer. And Angel being, well Angel, had rushed to help the blonde detective slash damsel in distress.
Like all bright spots did, Cordelia’s had a downside; and being a lucky girl, hers had two. Angel had gruffly announced, in front of Kate no less, her job was answering phones and filing not working cases.
Being left behind wasn’t Cordelia’s quandary. That small development could easily become personalized alone time. No, her wrath was directed at Angel’s easy acceptance that they wouldn’t be paid for their services.
Concentration on her paperwork didn’t take long since she didn’t have any. More time for me, Cordelia reasoned, her eyes traveling to the open doorway of Angel’s office for the umpteenth time. Kate’s file was in there. The one with notes and obviously grotesque pictures Angel refused to let her see.
Angel didn’t lock them away and he knew her to be snoop; so it stood to reason he expected her to sneak a peak behind his back.
Bracing herself for a horror show, the pictures were almost a let down. Not at all what she had expected. The victims hadn’t been mutilated; so why was Angel so insistent that she not see the them? All the victims were young, and female. The oldest looking to be in her mid twenties at best.
However that wasn’t the common factor that drew Cordelia’s undivided attention. Each victim’s cheek had been slashed. Two carefully placed cuts intersecting in the middle to form a perfect cross.
Ewe, creepy.
Cordelia shivered then considered she may be looking at the pictures from the wrong angle. Maybe it was an X instead of a cross. Maybe the psycho wasn’t flamboyant after all, he was just crossing them off his list.
“Whatcha doin,” husked over her hunched shoulder and was quickly met with a blood-curdling scream.
Lost in her exploration, Cordelia had failed to catch the squeak of their door’s rusty hinges.
“Damn it Angel! You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Unless you have a good reason to be sneaking around my office, it’s not your heart that’s about to feel my anger.”
Huh? Was Angel threatening her, and with what?
“You’re the detective, you figure it out. Gees Angel, what’s with you?”
“You’re my problem Cordelia. You don’t listen.”
“Well whoop-de-do. I never listen. What’s the big deal about this time? The pictures weren’t even all that gross.”
Cordelia was walking, walking and talking her way to the door. Whatever was going on, Angel was a loose cannon and she didn’t intend to be standing in the line of fire when he went off.
Somewhere between her spluttered admission and foolish dash, her wrist became trapped inside a large hand. This assumption was based on the two fists pressed against her back; the small one was obviously hers which meant the larger one wasn’t.
“You need to learn there’s consequences to not doing what you’re told.”
His breath was hot, and his voice carried the hint of a threat. This wasn’t her Angel. Cordelia wasn’t surprised she had irritated Angel. That was an everyday occurrence for them, but Angel had never touched her in anger…until now.
“Is there a problem here?”
If not for the fists still digging into her back, the familiar voice might have held more promise. But regardless of her current situation, Cordelia could feel relief meshing with the nervous tingles fluttering up her spine.
Loosening his grip, the hand holding her wrist fanned out before returning to the small of her back. It was a small concession on Angel’s part, hardly the encouragement Cordelia was hoping for.
The detective’s arrival was an invasion of privacy. One that Angel wasn’t prepared to forgive. A distant voice, quiet but crystal clear whispered its deadly notion. Kate would be pretty with a small but permanent decoration on her left cheek.
“What do you want Kate?”
Attention still narrowed on Cordelia, the force of his words blew down her exposed cheek. The voice was the same, angry and menacing. Why Kate Lockley had returned didn’t matter. Her intrusion offered an opportunity to escape, and Cordelia wasn’t about to pass it up.
“I need to go.”
Kate’s advantage in strained situations was that she never strayed from detective mode. Being a cop was her life and she was adept in trusting her instinct. This scene was simple even for a rookie; Angel was angry and Cordelia was scared. The particulars weren’t important. Kate needed to encourage a peaceful separation then get on with solving her case.
“If you need to go Miss Chase, I suggest you get going.” Trained calm firmly in place, Kate offered a practiced smile. Too much and it wasn’t believable, but too little would reveal hidden tension. “I need to go over new evidence with Angel. It’s classified, so if you don’t mind.”
That was her cue. Now she needed Angel to agree. “Angel, I should leave so you and Kate can talk.”
Cordelia held her breath waiting for Angel to respond. It was simple really, yes or no, not much room for anything in between.
A hand still pressed against her back, the other slipped into her hair, his fingers working through the silk strands.
“Go home,” he whispered. Her hair caught in a gentle grasp, her face tilted up meeting parted lips that grazed across cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
Relieved that Angel's hands fell free when she stepped away, Cordelia seized her opportunity and dashed from the office, barely slowing down to grab her purse.
The large glass pane rattled as the door slammed shut behind Cordelia’s swift exit. Kate’s signal to find out exactly what she had interrupted.
“I know we haven’t known each other long, but that was strange; even for you.”
“You’re right Kate; we don’t know each other; and my relationship with Cordelia is none of your business.”
Maybe not the response Kate hoped for, but it was one she expected. The accused rarely gave up information willingly, and right now Angel’s behavior was suspicious. He might have an office and a sign on the door, but he was a detective without a license and as far as Kate could tell, without a past.
“I wasn’t aware you had a relationship with your secretary.”
“Like you said, you don’t know Cordelia and me.”
Neither of them had time to volley empty threats. Angel might be mysterious, but Kate had to admit, it seemed to help her with bizarre cases.
“There’s another body. I thought you might want to work the crime scene with me.”
The detective had made a healthy decision. His life with Cordelia was private, and he wasn’t going to let Kate or those women who kept showing up in his dreams intrude. Angel needed to know if he recognized the latest victim, because soon he had to decide where the dreams ended and reality began.
Part 2
The Council had kept a close watch on the wayward vampire. Consistent reports of relative calm suddenly contradicted by crimes too eerily familiar to be dismissed, Wesley had been dispatched to assess the situation. Punishment he supposed, for failing his assignment in Sunnydale.
He cautiously maneuvered the hallway, eyes darting from side to side and concentration narrowed on his destination. One arm lay across his chest half disappearing beneath his coat, hidden fingers tensely gripping the small crossbow inside.
Glancing at the sign, Wesley briefly contemplated the oddity of a vampire operating a business. Though The Council had been aware of the half-demon Frances Doyle and his premonitions, it didn’t explain the purpose of establishing a detective agency. With an unsteady hand he turned the doorknob, anticipating a disgruntled greeting and woefully unprepared for worse.
The outer area was suspiciously empty, with only a single overhead light shining down on the ominous space. Surveying the dimly lit room, his sight landed on an inner office draped in total darkness. Most likely Angel’s, he surmised, mentally noting the closed door was likely locked.
Not that he expected Angel to be out and about in the middle of the afternoon, but his most recent report had confirmed Cordelia still worked with the vampire. Long, narrow fingers absently stroked his chin as the name rolled through his thoughts. The two barely noticed one another in Sunnydale. What catastrophe led Cordelia Chase to joining up with Angel? It was only one of the many questions needing answers before Wesley could determine how best to proceed.
***
Cordelia flinched when the unexpected knock intruded on her pretense of reading. Angel being her first assumption, proving she’d spent the last hour pondering her friend’s erratic behavior instead of enjoying Contessa Annabella’s latest tryst.
Though her options were limited, she did have a few. There was no point in pretending she wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out vampires have a knack for sniffing out the truth. Saving precious time, Cordelia jumped to her best option, determination fueled with obstinance. Even Angel would have to agree; when a secretary is maltreated by her boss, she gets the next day off with pay.
“Who is it-and I’m recuperating so go away.”
Cringing as she waited for the resounding no that was certain to blow through her door, Cordelia was already plotting a nastier comeback. Her stinging retort falling silent as a familiar but surprising voice filtered through instead.
“It’s Wesley, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.”
“Wesley!” Cordelia flung the door open. Delight and relief rushing into overstressed nerve endings, she threw her arms around him.
“Oh my, wasn’t expecting…but pleasant none the less.”
“Wesley, what are you doing here? Don’t just stand there, come in.” Sweeping her arm past her side, Cordelia ushered her guest inside.
Though as beautiful as he remembered, Cordelia looked different. Her face freshly scrubbed, and dressed in faded jeans and a sweatshirt, she looked younger but at the same time, older and wiser.
“Thank you. I’m in LA on business and thought I’d look you up.”
“You knew I was here?”
“Ah yes.” Wesley faltered, chastising his easily addled concentration. Only a minute in the young woman’s company and already he’d fumbled. “You mentioned it just before our rousing confrontation with the mayor.”
“Oh it doesn’t matter.” She practically squealed throwing her hands into the air before guiding Wesley to the sofa. “Tell me everything. Where have you been? What have you been doing? Want something to drink; tea maybe?”
“Cordelia.”
“What?”
“Breathe.”
***
“Emily Stiles, age twenty-two according to her driver’s license.” The officer informed, handing the wallet to Detective Lockley.
“Thanks Mitch, we’ll take it from here. Just make sure the perimeter is secure. This is the freshest crime scene we’ve had so far and I don’t want any evidence walking off on the bottom of someone’s shoe.”
“Sure thing. The coroner’s office is waiting to bag her so let us know when you’re finished here.”
A small flashlight perched in her hand, Kate walked the outer bounds methodically working her way into the killer’s center stage. Objective pinpointed and personal feelings safely guarded behind the protection of her LA detective shield, she was at home in the gruesome arena.
“You seem to have a flair for spying idiosyncrasies of the dead. So feel free to speak up whenever you’re ready.”
The length of the alley was marked off with bright yellow tape. A lone streetlight shining down making the space almost iridescent, Angel squinted against the stark contrast of light and dark. Turning away, he pushed back the inviting allure of life and death.
“I’m not spying anything you’d be interested in.”
***
“I don’t care how many notes you have on all the horrible things Angel did. He’s good now, and he’s my friend.”
Eyes lingering over the collection of files scattered across her coffee table, Cordelia contemplated the foolishness of her denial. To deny Angel scared her yesterday would be a lie. Lying to Wesley was one thing, but lying to herself was just stupid.
“Cordelia, I hope I’m wrong.” Wesley’s voice was soft, and it reminded her of the way someone spoke at a funeral. As though they were worried they might disturb the dead. “But I’m afraid the evidence is rather condemning. In the late 1700’s it was Angelus’ custom to sign his victims by carving a Christian cross into their left cheek. He wanted people to know it was his work.”
She and Angel had been taking care of each other for a while now and the one truth Cordelia couldn’t deny was that Angel always kept her safe. Something was going on with her vampire, which meant it was her turn to protect him. Cordelia picked up the folder containing pictures that matched Kate’s and flipping it closed, reached the circumstantial evidence to Wesley.
“You have to leave now.”
“But Cordelia, the evidence-”
“You can’t come in here and accuse Angel like this. You don’t know him…not like I do.”
***
Angel’s trek through the sewer was slow and aimless, every detail of the crime scene replaying inside his head. He had recognized the young woman, remembered her fear and the feel of life draining from her body. The only detail escaping his memory was actually killing her. That one missing piece could offer fleeting hope, or threaten the one person he never wanted to hurt. If he was stalking innocents again, his soul was losing control over the demon.
Coming up the back entrance from the sewer, it had taken only seconds longer for the male scent to reach him. Angel sprinted up the stairs, his flight silent as heavy boots seemed to float over the steps. On the upper level, the intruder’s scent still hung thick in the air.
Pulling the surrounding air deep into his lungs, he blocked out the lingering sweet redolence. Relieved to find her fragrance too faint for Cordelia to have been in the office, Angel concentrated on the masculine aroma. It was tinged with fear and familiar, but not a scent he could readily recall. The fact that its origin was human offering little comfort.
***
To say he was disappointed in his visit with Cordelia was an understatement. In hind sight, Wesley realized he had been too eager. Wanting to warn her of the likely dangers she faced with Angel, he had only made her more determined to believe the vampire’s innocence. It was obvious Angel and Cordelia had grown close; closer than any surveillance reports could describe.
Fortunately, his meeting with Detective Lockley had been more fruitful. Immersed in her case, she had readily accepted his guise as British police. Convincing her of his interest in helping with the case had been only slightly more difficult.
Again, his hand gripped the doorknob to Angel Investigations. Setting aside any ill-conceived hopes, Wesley prepared for the probability that, like Cordelia, Angel would not be receptive to his assistance. Twisting the tarnished handle, he stepped inside.
Freezing mid-pace, Angel’s head jerked toward the outer office. Thoughts of Cordelia and making amends for his latest blunder shifted to the masculine scent invading his domain a second time. His large frame barreled through the doorway, senses immediately relaxing as the identity of his intruder was revealed.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Angel leaned against the wall taking in the pompous watcher. “Wesley.”
“I imagine you didn’t expect to see me again.”
Angel marveled at how his past seemed to constantly intrude on his new life. Maybe he should have traveled further than LA, but with a past as old as his it was bound to catch up with him no matter how far he ran. And now that Cordelia was firmly imbedded in any future plans, running simply wasn’t an option.
“Honestly Wesley, I haven’t given it much thought.”
Clutching his briefcase against his chest, Wesley stepped further inside. His attention ever mindful of sudden moves as he approached the nearest chair. “May I?”
A quiet nod answered his request, fear only partially appeased by his host’s lack of movement. Deciding it was the only reassurance he was likely to receive, Wesley took it, settling into the chair and plopping his briefcase onto the desk.
“I’m here on council business.” Straight to the issue at hand, no point in procrastinating. It was only one of his father’s multitude of decrees.
“There’s no slayer here, and I don’t do business with The Council.”
Perhaps Angel’s father had a similar aphorism, Wesley promptly hypothesized. He tossed a folder onto the desk, the momentum ensuring its contents would slide across the surface. “Perhaps theses are reason enough to bend that rule.”
If Angel was caught off guard, his glacial countenance failed to affirm it. Stoic features remained indifferent at best, with only a hint of callous shadowing his face.
“So the council has you working police cases. You must have been a bad boy Wes; or do just prefer leftovers?”
Wesley cleared his throat, the audible croak displaying more distress than he’d intended. He wouldn’t allow past failures to undermine his mission. Tugging on his collar, he offered his final invitation to disclose or deny any knowledge of the murders. Confirming Angel’s guilt was imperative before moving to the second phase of his assignment. Before facing Cordelia with blood on his hands, he had to be certain an innocent man wasn’t executed. Even if the man in question was a vampire.
“It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together. Then you’ll have no choice but disclose your past.”
The Watcher had managed to gain Angel’s attention, albeit to a small degree. He would prefer to keep Kate in the dark and avoid the usual reaction to his secret life, but her discovery would be little more than inconvenient.
“You’re grasping at straws. Whether Kate Lockley knows I’m a vampire or not doesn’t matter to me.”
“I wasn’t referring to Detective Lockley. Although, her knowledge of your circumstances would interfere with other private involvements you may have.”
If Wesley was unsure whether he’d hit a nerve, the menacing form hovering over him alleviated his uncertainty. Nervous perspiration doting his forehead, he gulped as the glacial façade melted away, the threat of death taking its place.
Angel could hear the man’s heart thump behind his chest. His nostrils flaring, his demon reveled in the scent of fear and sweat.
“I’m only going to say this once. Cordelia is none of your business. Go anywhere near her and I’ll kill you.”
Wesley eased from the chair, his back painfully rigid. Collecting the few scattered pieces, he concentrated on stilling his shaky hands.
“For what it’s worth Angel, I didn’t come to LA with hopes of proving your guilt. On the contrary, I’m not convinced you’re responsible for these murders.”
“Get out.”
Any window of opportunity to invite Angel’s trust was clearly shut tight, and forcing his assistance would only distance him further from his goal. Walking toward the exit, his step faltered until turning at the last second.
“If Cordelia is as important to you as it appears let me help you before it’s too late.” The low growl emanated throughout the small space. It’s underlying threat sufficient proof any further attempts were useless. “I’ll be in touch.”
The demon wanted vengeance, but the soul that had lately waned into the background of his desires warned against another mistake. Cordelia was his priority, and Angel couldn’t afford the distraction of a puffed up watcher. He had to get to her, prove she was safe before Wesley could convince her she wasn’t.
***
Sinking into the steamy warmth layered with bubbles, Cordelia cursed as the heavy-fisted whack invaded her retreat. She wasn’t ready to face this conversation. Her peek into Angel’s past and his erratic behavior only two reasons confrontations would be easier in the light of day.
Putting aside her quest for a normal life wasn’t just an easy choice; it was the only choice. Angel needed her and she wouldn’t abandon him, but she had to remember her plans were temporarily on hold, not cancelled. Fame and wealth were her goal, not fighting evil. She would wear that aspiration like an insignia, reminding her who she was. Cordelia Chase would not fall in love with a vampire.
Although Angel’s visit was anticipated, it wasn’t even close to what she needed right now. Half her body immersed in the soothing soak, Cordelia wondered if her stubborn vampire might give up and go away.
Another hard whack threatened to splinter wood and Cordelia reluctantly accepted the inevitable. When Angel was ready to talk, he had a knack for getting people to listen. Grabbing her thickest robe, she maneuvered through the dimly lit apartment, feigned surprise to his visit already taking form.
Cordelia could feel Angel on the other side, almost like sensing an invisible presence. His breaths were deep and labored, blowing against her door. A vampire needing to breathe was never a good sign.
“Cordelia, if you don’t open the door I’ll break the lock.”
Sliding the latch, she opened the door just enough to peek around. “What do you want Angel? It’s a little late for a visit.”
Her skin was slick from her bath, and the aroma of apple blossoms filled his senses. Angel closed his eyes, letting the sweet, tangy fragrance waft over his tongue. “It’s not that late.”
Angel had her there. Most of her new friends were out enjoying life at nine o’clock, not hiding under a tubful of bubbles.
“No, it’s not that late.” Cordelia tugged on the lapels of her robe. “But I’m not really dressed for company.”
The exposed flesh under her chin disappeared behind fluffy chenille, skin promising to be soft and willing under his rough hands and taste like forbidden fruit. “Let me in Cordelia.”
A gentle push and the door gave a little more, allowing a harder fragrance to mingle with the sweet blend. This one capable of riling passion into rage. The Watcher had been warned, but like most foolish men, failed to appreciate the repercussions of disobedience.
“You’re not alone.”
It wasn’t really a question, but his clinched jaw and eyes dark as black ice, Angel expected an answer.
“No.”
His hands fisted, pale skin fading whiter under the tight clinch. Cordelia’s breath hitched, her muscles tensing under hands that hadn’t even touched her.
“You’re here.”
Angel had gotten used to Cordelia’s straightforward approach. Games weren’t her style and her sudden evasion only stoked the fire that threatened to burn them both.
The room whished by, her back pressed against the door assuring her Angel intended it to stay closed.
“Who was here?”
Denial ready to spit from her lips, she stopped when a raised brow warned against lying. “You’re the expert sniffer, you figure it out.”
“Don’t play me little girl. You won’t like the rules.”
“Ru... Lil… I’m not playing anything Angel. You’re the one playing guess who’s a psycho.”
“So innocent; aren’t you? Stop teasing me Cordelia.”
His voice brook no room for argument. It was obvious this conversation would go as Angel intended or else their disrupted lesson on consequences would resume. Acting coy wouldn’t help her, which left Cordelia with giving into fear.
“I’m not.” Panic was mounting with every press of Angel’s body, flutters of unswayable arousal only adding to her discomfort.
“What did he tell you?”
Angel already knew about Wesley and Cordelia wondered just who was playing who. She was right; something was happening to Angel, but now wasn’t the time to bring up Wesley’s suspicions. For now, Angel needed to believe the visit wasn’t important, because in his current mood, he’d likely break the man’s neck.
“God, paranoid much? Wesley’s in LA on business and he stopped by for a visit. That’s all.” Cordelia pushed against the hard chest holding her prisoner, blowing a frustrated huff when it refused to budge.
“So he just stopped by to reminisce about old times?”
“Angel, I had a life before coming to LA. One that didn’t include you. Now get off!”
Cringing, Cordelia waited for the backlash certain to follow her stinging riposte. None seemingly forthcoming, she began to relax, unaware as a hand abandoned its hold on her waist.
Getting off had suddenly become a relative term for Angel. Somewhere along the way intentions of assuring Cordelia she was safe had shifted to demonstrating his role in her life.
Meaty fingers gripped her robe, jerking her closer to the unhappy glower hovering over her. “Don’t dismiss me like I’m one those pups nipping at your heels.”
Forced onto her toes, Cordelia tilted her face away from Angel’s piercing glare. She could feel his breath blow hot across her cheek, it’s heat skimming down her throat. Careful not to sound too insistent, Cordelia focused on extracting her body from the strong arms pinning her in place.
“Angel, don’t do this. You’re upset, and you need to take a step back and calm down.”
He could feel the frantic thrum of her heart, her breasts heaving against his chest as air pushed in and out. Sliding his hands around her back, he pressed her further into his body as his lips descended to brush against throat. The swipe of his tongue across tender flesh eliciting a moan, its vibration strummed into his mouth.
Her arousal, chaste and sweet, drifted into the air mixing a spicy blend with anger and fear. Opening his mouth, Angel took in the air between them, the heady aroma intoxicating his senses.
“I’m not upset Cordelia. I’m tired of jerking off in the shower so you’ll be safe.”
Ridden on the crest of fear, a woman’s first trip to ecstasy could only end in regret. Making love with Angel promised carnal pleasures almost beyond Cordelia’s comprehension, but if the demon was taking control this wasn’t about love, it was about possession. As long as she was unsure of his heart’s true desires, hers was vulnerable to heartbreak.
“Did you kill those women?”
“No.”
There wasn’t the slightest hesitation in his whispered denial, but eyes dark with passion could hide even the most wicked sin.
“If you’re lying, I won’t know. Please don’t let me believe a lie.”
“It’s not a lie. It can’t be.”
“Why?”
Peering into his eyes, Cordelia begged him to calm her fears, give her unblemished proof his past would not rule their future.
Angel’s heart clinched, his restless soul wrapping around and suffocating it. How could he attest certainty when riddled in doubt?
Wrapping Cordelia in his arms as tightly as he could without hurting her, his face nestled inside the curve of her neck, and he whispered his only unassailable truth.
“Because if I’m evil I can’t have you.”
Cordelia melted into his body. They may have their share of doubts, but balanced with hope and faith, they could define their own fate. Safely nestled inside Angel’s arms she could face any fear, except losing him. Angel was right. He couldn’t be evil, because that meant she couldn’t have him.
“You didn’t hurt those women. I know you didn’t.”
Prepared to prove Cordelia was his, Angel rested on the narrow edge of an irreparable mistake. He had underestimated her uncanny ability to look beyond his dark exterior. Cordelia’s intrinsic gift gave her insight into his soul even when it was lost to him.
“Go finish your bath, I’ll lock up.” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Confusion shadowed her face. Angel was leaving and Cordelia had only begun to understand the bigger picture.
“Go.”
Angel tilted his head, motioning toward her bedroom and Cordelia reluctantly conceded. Nodding as she pulled from his embrace.
***
“No, I haven’t completed my initial assessment. Quentin, I’ve barely been in LA for a day.”
Wesley’s attention drifted from the flatulent oration spilling from his phone to the sparse furnishings of his hotel room. As head of The Council, he doubted Quentin Travers made do with such humble accommodations.
“No, that isn’t necessary. Nigel is close by should I require backup.” His duties for The Council becoming almost perfunctory, he barely considered the disregard emanating from his tone. “Besides, too much activity would arouse suspicion; which would only serve to undermine our plan.”
“Of course the authorities believe this is the work of a serial killer.” Wesley tipped the glass of scotch, welcoming the slow burn that slid down his throat. “The detective heading this case doesn’t have a clue what she might be up against.”
Having managed to alienate Cordelia and piss off Angel, Detective Lockley was his only positive accomplishment thus far. Travers however, didn’t need to be privy to current failings.
“Quentin, it’s late. I plan to meet with Miss Chase again tomorrow and with any luck procure her assistance.”
“Why?” Pulling the phone away, he glared at the small apparatus as though by sheer will his bewilderment would travel across the ocean. “Because my first priority is Miss Chase’s safety.”
Wesley briefly considered an abrupt termination of his report, but with the looming threat of unwanted reinforcement he instead pretended to listen. Downing the rest of his scotch, he inserted appropriate grunts and ahems into the rare and brief stretches of silence.
***
Cordelia searched the bathroom for her oversized nightshirt as she patted the towel over wet skin. Tense muscles appeased, her body needed sleep and dressing pretty for bedtime was a detail she was willing to overlook. That is until the view of a half-dressed Angel caused Cordelia to regret her sleepy choice of sleepwear.
Boots lined up on the floor were perfectly perpendicular to the bed. His shirt and pants carefully draped over a chair so even the slightest wrinkle wouldn’t mar them. However, it was his noticeably bare chest that caught Cordelia’s attention.
“Angel?”
Stretched out on her bed, Angel rolled onto his side; fingers grasping the blanket’s edge and pulling the covers back.
“Come to bed Cordelia. You’re innocence is safe for now.”
Giles had once told them Angel was a master vampire, but still naive, she had misunderstood its meaning. It wasn’t his lifespan or his ability to kill, or even his strength. It was his power to possess his desires that made Angel master of his domain.
Angel was regal and commanding. With a simple gesture, he could promise an impenetrable sanctuary or a den of iniquity. Escape from either promise was hopeless and as she settled into his arms, Cordelia realized she was no longer searching for deliverance.
“We’ll get through this, Cordelia. I promise.”
“We can’t handle this alone, Angel. We need help.”
Cordelia didn’t need to look to know his brow furrowed in question. The immediate press against her back as his body curved more fully around her and fingers pressing into her stomach were proof.
“Wesley,” she whispered. Wesley will help us…if you’ll let him.”
“Do you trust Wesley?”
“Yes.”
“I trust you.”
Part 3
“You know, until the captain confirms your position with British police you’re technically a civilian.” The case file firmly wedged between her splayed palm and the conference table, Kate threw LA’s visiting detective a cautious glance.
“A mere formality I assure you Detective Lockley.” Wesley quickly assured, silently threatening to skewer Reggie if his cover wasn’t properly set up.
Having grown up the daughter of a beat cop, the British gentleman was more reserved than the men Kate was accustomed to. His slim, lanky form stretched up well over six feet, making her own stature seem demure in comparison. Looking into steel blue eyes, warm and kind, she wondered if her small social circle might have room to grow.
“Call me Kate,” blurted out before she had time to consider unprofessional behavior, and Kate flashed a small smile hoping to conceal her discomfort.
Had pressing obligations afforded him time to look sooner, Wesley would have realized the young woman was quite beautiful. Her features were slightly angular, but soft. High cheekbones and green eyes, large and inviting; they reminded a man of the little things that deserved appreciation.
“Alright...Kate.” Thin lips stretched into a boyish grin; and clearing his throat, Wesley gave his head a mental slap. “And please, call me Wesley.”
Kate slowly opened the folder and peering inside lifted the top photo. “Jessica Halpren was the first victim. Well as far as we know. Jenny Markem just started high school.” Her lower lip slightly pushed out, she blew a hard puff against the strands of hair falling into her face and slid the folder to Wesley. “Emily Stiles was found early last night. We’re still gathering background.”
Wesley’s attention remained fixed on the evidence in front of him; and not sensing a reaction, Kate continued, a creased brow displaying her confusion. “So far there haven’t been signs of sexual assault.”
“There won’t be. This isn’t about sexual domination, or even women for that matter.”
Wesley studied the photos more intently. Perhaps it was mere coincidence the victims had been female. Angelus’ history dictated gender was unimportant when selecting his prey. Only youth and innocence were crucial elements in his criteria.
“The tabloids are calling him The Pope. Why would this guy think he’s doing God’s work?” Taking a sip of coffee, her face twisted into a grimace. “Coffee?” Kate asked, heading off in search of a fresher pot.
On the contrary, this is about mocking God. “Ah yes, thank you. Coffee would be nice.”
***
“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m mad.” Cordelia spun around, her anger shooting through Angel with the charge of a lightning bolt. She might be prepared to rethink her plans of fame and fortune, but she refused to make decisions based on half-truths. “You’ve been dreaming about these killings and you didn’t tell me.”
Angel stopped in his tracks, the heat of Cordelia’s glare as enticing as it was warning. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“So you thought it’d be better for me to think you might be a homicidal monster?”
“No.” Angel defended for what felt like the hundredth time. Patience wearing thin, he briefly considered showing Cordelia a more pleasurable way to pass the time; but that would only lead to another debate over rash decisions. “I thought it was better not to give you a reason to think I was a homicidal monster.”
“Just so you know, it didn’t work.” Cordelia grabbed her purse, furiously digging inside for an evasive tube of lip-gloss. Her search not nearly the therapeutic distraction needed; she gave up, and instead, whacked the secret-keeping vampire with her small, over-priced bag. “I thought we already had this policy in the company handbook, but obviously I was wrong. So new rule, we don’t keep secrets.”
“You’re right.” Angel threw his arms up in feigned surrendered. “I’m sorry.”
His smile, Cordelia noticed, taunted just a little too much. Angel was an expert at concealing his emotions. It was irritatingly obvious, he wasn’t trying to hide his enjoyment of her anger.
Even more aggravated than before, Cordelia turned her attention to their only upstairs mirror and began a diligent scrutiny of her make-up. Concentration focused only on her, and with Angle’s lack of reflection, she never saw him coming. His arms slipped around her waist, hands pressing against her stomach and bringing her backside flush with his form.
“What are you doing?”
“Apologizing.”
"Look Angel, you need to understand I need a little normalcy in my personal life; at least once in a while. If you’re looking for a weird imitation of you know who, then look somewhere else. Because normal means when I’m pissed you don’t touch without permission. Besides, until we’ve figured out what’s going on with these dreams, we should keep touching to a minimum.” Twisting around inside the arms banded tightly around her, Cordelia jabbed a menacing finger into his chest. “And that includes you plastering me to the wall of your choice.”
Cordelia was probably right, Angel inwardly conceded, purposely ignoring her reference to his previous failed attempt of a relationship. Caution and slow would ensure that control remained in the forefront, but control was both an ally and an adversary. He had spent decades cultivating discipline into a fine-tuned art form. Cordelia had slept in his arms, innocent and unsuspecting, and control had protected her from the demon that wanted to ravish her. Discipline was always within Angel’s reach, and always under his command.
His head tilted down, cool lips brushing across her collarbone. “I think we should keep denial to a minimum. You like me grabbing you.”
“You’re impossible!” Cordelia snatched the second of lax in the steel bands holding her in place and pushed her way free. Heels clickety-clacking double time, she scurried across the floor, stopping only when the flimsy barrier of her desk stood between them. “Where’s my introverted vampire that broods in a dark corner every chance he gets?”
Angel leaned against the wall, seemingly content to allow Cordelia her coveted space. Dark brown eyes held a glint of playfulness, and the wicked smirk contradicted his hands slipping casually into his pockets. “You won’t be seeing him anymore.”
“I’m not sure what to make of that. And in a creepy sort of way, I’m not bothered by it either.” Her finger resumed its menacing poke, slicing through the air as it jabbed in Angel’s direction. “Still… keep your extroverted hands to yourself.”
Brown faded under a black hue, flecks of amber glinting through the dark clouds in his eyes. Angel had spent most of his souled existence in a chokehold. Cordelia’s safety didn’t require shackled restraints, which meant the demon no longer needed a watchdog.
“You’re virtue is still intact.”
“That’s because we slept when we slept together, as in no fondling.”
“Cordelia, there was fondling.”
It was a simple admission, matter-of-fact even, and held just enough tease to make Cordelia’s blood boil. “Excuse me?”
“Ahem. Am I interrupting?”
Cordelia whipped around, her glare landing on the source of interruption. Wesley’s eyes were stretched wide, a finger awkwardly tugging at his snug collar. Cordelia seethed, a heated breath sizzling through lips locked in two thin lines. How much had Wesley overheard? Does he know Angel fondled her in her sleep? Does he know she enjoyed it?
“Wesley! Angel, Wesley’s here!”
“I see that.” The Watcher had a knack for inconvenient timing. A habit Angel would have to help him break. Folding his arms across his chest, Angel nodded, and offered a slightly growled greeting. “Wesley.”
“Angel.” Approaching the same chair as his last visit, Wesley deposited his briefcase on the desk. “Cordelia, I must say, I was most pleased to receive your call.”
“You’re happy now, but lets see how you feel after Angel drops his bomb.” Her arms flailed out, panicky hands flapping at one man and then the other. Cordelia was embarrassed and her best recourse was pointing an accusing finger at someone else. “And it’s a big one too-bigger than anything else you might have heard.”
“Bomb?” Wesley gulped, raw nerves heedless of his efforts to appear calm. “Then I suggest we get down to business.”
“I’ve been having dreams.” Angel deadpanned, enjoying Wesley’s discomfort more than he should.
“Dreams?”
“The victims.” Angel paused when Cordelia cringed at the cold and barren delivery of his confession. Only moments ago she had insisted on total honesty. He could either protect Cordelia from his dark past or trust her with the truth. “I stalk them, toy with them, mark them while they’re still alive. And before they can die from their fear, I feed on them.”
Wesley cawed against the dry, hard lump blocking his air supply, determined to stop the squeamish reflex threatening to rise up. “Your knowledge of the victims may be more than just dreams. You could be committing these crimes while in some sort of hypnologic state.”
“That’s not possible!” Cordelia yelled in protest and marched across the room to stand by Angel’s side. Angel was quick to share because he wanted to scare Wesley, and she would deal with her homicidal-acting vampire later. Her anger would first be directed to their guest, because no one had the right to accuse her friend. “Tell him Angel.”
“I’m not sure that Wes is wrong.” Denying Cordelia the reassurance she deserved was harder than accepting he might be killing again, but nothing was worse than the fear piercing his soul. He could lose her.
Cordelia’s response was immediate, shock and anger over Angel’s easy acceptance of Wesley’s assumption compelling her to stand firm. “Then you get sure damn it! Because I am.”
***
The squad room was abuzz with activity. Emily Stiles, The Pope’s latest victim had a message carved into her back. According to the lab report, the coroner believed the woman had been alive when her tormenter penned his sadistic tribute.
“Hey!” Kate called out. “What’s this about unidentifiable DNA, and where’s the evidence sheet on the perp?”
“That’s all there is.” The lab technician answered back. “Just like the others, all the identifiable DNA collected belongs to the victim.”
“That’s not possible. Not this time. No one can be that careful.” Kate insisted, staring down the young man as he shifted from foot to foot. “Check again, and if you don’t find anything check again. Not even this guy can wipe clean a crime scene after this kind of brutality.”
Kate stared at the letters sliced into the girl’s flesh, unable to comprehend the depth of perverse depravity required for such an act. For You Father.
***
“So we’re agreed.” Wesley offered, gathering the scattered material and nitpicking over each piece until perfectly aligned at a right angle before sliding them back into his briefcase. “Until the culprit is identified, Angel will be chained to his bed from sundown to sunrise.”
“No, we’re not.” Angel’s dissent snarled across the metal surface, making its way up Wesley’s spine until his body recoiled from its slant against the desk.
Her face twisted into a scowl, Cordelia jerked her head toward Angel. Wesley had apologized for jumping to conclusions and had appropriately begged for her forgiveness. He didn’t deserve the growls that were rattling his nerves, unlike the intimidating vampire that deserved to be punished.
“Stop growling at the poor man,” flared from angry lips as her small fist smacked against Angel’s shoulder blade. “He’s only trying to help.” Cordelia leaned in until her lips whispered against Angel’s ear, the move causing her breasts to brush across his arm. “Keep it up and next time I’ll punch you where it’ll really hurt. Got it?” Cordelia finished as she straightened in her chair. Then turned to Wesley and flashed a comforting smile.
The brief intimacy might have been unintentional, but it was the first time she had touched him since Wesley’s arrival. Angel sucked the air into his lungs, revelling in the scent wafting between them. Cordelia wore anger like rare perfume. A sweet ambrosia that roused Angel’s passion, daring him to taste.
“Got it.” Angel answered, and leaning in, followed Cordelia’s retreat until his lips brushed against her neck. “Do it and I’ll make you kiss it better.”
Cordelia’s breath hitched, the loud gasp sounding into the room. Her back stiffened, each vertebrae snapping into a straight line and bringing her head up with a jerk. A dark, reddish hue spread across her cheeks, flowing down her throat until it disappeared behind her blouse. Ignoring Angel’s hulking presence as well as the warm flush of heat simmering through her body, trembling fingers fidgeted, pressing out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt.
“So Wesley, any other bright ideas.”
***
“You have to make it tight.”
“Thanks for the tip Wesley; but working for a vampire, I’ve learned more than how to make bad coffee.” Cordelia huffed, then yanked on her end of the chain and flashed a satisfied smirk.
“He’s right, Cordelia. You have to make sure I can’t get loose.”
“Oh goody, more bondage tips. Good grief, I feel like we’re getting ready for an M & M threesome. Thank God, I’ll be in charge.”
“M & M?” Wesley asked, his brow rumpled in confusion. “Like the chocolate?”
Angel squirmed within the confines of his chains. Now wasn’t the time for erotic fantasies, especially with Wesley in the room. However, the demon didn’t seem concerned about The Watcher watching. He was a vampire after all, and the object of his obsession was chaining him to the bed.
“She means S & M.”
It was a dry, raspy husk; and Angel’s eyes gleaming with what Wesley could only assume to be demon passion, he tactfully ignored the sensual but vulgar reference. “Ah, too bad. I was feeling a bit peckish.” Recalling Angelus’ bestial activities was sufficient reason to employ aversion, but envisioning Cordelia as a participant was enough to send him running back to boring council duties.
“Well if you’re hungry, you should have said something before we shackled the cook.” Her pursuit of fame, fortune and worshiping fans was quickly being replaced by less glamorous but more personal and important aspirations. Acceptance would be easier, Cordelia mused, if it came in smaller doses. “Come on, we’ll order Chinese.”
“What about me?”
“What! You’re hungry too? Why am I mommy all of a sudden?” Cordelia barked at the two men who were more or less useless at the moment. “Fine, I’ll warm some blood; but we’re not redoing those chains so you’ll have to suck it through a straw.”
The kink in her neck was tightening into a hard knot, and since proving Angel’s innocence required his hands to be tied, she wasn’t expecting a pampering massage anytime soon. Cordelia hoped they caught the sadistic serial killer before the police. That way she could make sure Angel gave him the punishment he deserved.
***
The scissors sliced into the newspaper with meticulous care and accuracy; every edge a perfect, straight line. He admired his latest work, basking in the fear he had infused throughout the city. Angelus had taught him well. The pleasure is in the hunt. Only then can one experience pure joy in the kill.
“It’s been a lifetime Angelus, but soon that will change.” Penn whispered as he taped the third newspaper clipping onto the wall.
It hung in perfect alignment with the first two, a space to the right lovingly prepared for the fourth. The letters scrawled across the dingy plaster, written in his own blood.
TBC...
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