Go TeamC/A
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Chapter Eleven
Angel gazed in awe at the young woman cradled in his arms. His fingers tenderly stroked and twirled at Cordelia’s dark hair. His seer had not only been willing, but eager to accept his soul’s torturous burdens. She had been willingly to do anything to ease his inner pain. Angel was amazed at the vast capacity of love and caring of Cordelia’s heart. Actually, it shouldn’t surprise him. Underneath Cordelia's wonderful tactlessness and exterior self-centeredness was a devoted, wonderful and compassionate young woman. Angel felt pity for the idiots that hadn’t the patience or desire to get to know the real Cordelia, all of her, not just the superficial façade that she showed most of the world.
Because, if a soul was lucky enough to gain entry into her expansive heart, whether that soul was deserving or not they would be guaranteed immense loyalty and love. Cordelia had wanted, needed to heal him, he had felt it along with the cleansing energy flowing through her delicate hands. Angel wasn’t at all sure how he came to be worthy of her loyalty and compassion, but he would be eternally grateful for her kindness. But, regardless of her need or his gratitude, he would never let her bear his burdens. The guilt and distress of his soul was his cross to bear, his alone. Angel gingerly tucked the strain of Cordelia’s hair behind her ear and got up.***
Cordelia stirred in the big bed, trying to stretch out her cramped body. She blinked her large brown eyes trying to clear the fog in her head.
“Cordelia?”
She started at the sound of Angel’s voice. “Angel?” She stared blankly at the vampire. Her eye’s widened as the events of the last 24 hours came crashing down around her. “Angel?’ she whispered, her hands reaching towards the vampire. “I can….”
“No, Cordelia.” Angel stood up.
“But, Angel it works. I can ease your pain,” she cried, getting off the bed. “Please, let me. You’re in so much pain. I never knew…. please,” she pleaded, moving towards Angel. “My gift isn’t evil, you know it.”
“NO,” Angel said sharply, stepping back from Cordelia’s hands.
Cordelia winced at his tone.
Angel sighed. He didn’t want to scare or hurt Cordelia, but he couldn’t allow her to do what she wanted. And he knew that the power Cordelia had received wasn't evil, it couldn’t be, the power was comprised of all the gentleness and care of Cordelia’s heart. “Yes, Cordy, I don’t think it's evil, but you can’t heal my soul…”
“Yes, I can,” she argued.
Angel took a deep unneeded breath. “Maybe….yes," he acknowledged. "But you won’t. I won’t subject you to my pain.”
“Angel, it’s only temporary.”
“Temporary? Cordy, you have been unconscious and sleeping for the last twelve hours.”
“Twelve hours?” Cordelia had no idea that she had been out of it so long. No wonder she felt foggy and stiff, she hadn’t had that much sleep in ages, definitely not since the dreams started. “Wow, I guess I needed the sleep, huh,” she grimacing and shrugging her shoulders, the crick in her neck becoming more uncomfortable. “But, Angel, that has nothing to do with my new glowy gift,” she tried to convince Angel.
“No, Cordelia.” He sighed. “I won’t stop you from using the power to heal those you see in your visions, if,” he emphasized. “If we can be assured that it won’t cause any irrevocable harm to you. Wesley and Gunn have already gone to the University to find out more information about the necklace. But until then you won’t use the power and never will you use it on me.” He said finally unequivocally.
Cordelia sighed again grimacing as her muscles tightened and twinged. Angel wasn’t going to back down, she knew it. “When will they get back?”
“Soon.” Or at least he hoped so. They needed answers. “Cordy, come here,” he motioned.
Cordelia scrunched up her face in hesitation, but moved closer. Angel reached out and held on to her shoulders, turning her away from him. His fingers gently but firmly molded and pressed at Cordelia’s shoulders. Cordelia leaned into Angel’s touch. The tension and stiffness in her shoulders and upper back slowly melted. Cordelia closed her eyes as she began to loose herself in the sensations. Her eyes shot open as she realized it was Angel that was inciting the tingling and butterflies growing in her belly. In shock, she pulled away.
Angel’s hands remained extended as Cordelia jumped away from his touch. He suddenly felt a surprising sense of isolation and distress at her absence. The vampire stepped back and lowered his arms, trying to rid himself of the feeling.
“Um, shower…hot shower,” Cordelia stuttered. “A shower is what I need. Yep, loosen these stiff muscles, ease the tension, yep, shower…but, no clean clothes,” she narrowed her eyes at the vampire. “All my spare clothes somehow disappeared,” Cordelia glared. Cordelia had stopped bringing clothes to change in after she had found out about Angel's 'gift' of her clothes to Anne's shelter. She had considered it a fitting punishment for him to have to drive her home each time she needed to change after a particularly messy 'helpless' mission. And over the last few months, she had 'needed' to change a lot.
Angel winced at the overt rebuke at his supposed donation of Cordelia’s clothes. “Cordy, I’m sorry…” he started.
“Oh,” she huffed. She wasn’t mad anymore about the clothes fiasco, but she couldn’t stay in her old clothes. Anyway, after seeing her 'one of kind' designer shirt on the girl at the shelter, Cordelia decided that it was a good thing that there was only one of that particular shirt and that she no longer had it. The shirt really had looked great on the mannequin in the store, but on a 'live' person walking and talking, ewww. Maybe it was time to start bringing a spare set of clothes back to the hotel, Cordelia was pretty sure that Angel wouldn't have the nerve to try something so stupid, not again. “Angel, I have to go home and get more stuff.”
“No, you don’t. I told Wesley and Gunn to go by your apartment and have Dennis pack a bag for you. You can change in to these,” he said going to his dresser, grabbing a t-shirt and sweats.
“Fine, whatever,” Cordelia said, yanking at the clothes. The tingling in her belly had been quickly replaced by exasperation. The vampire was just being way to bossy.
Chapter Twelve
Wesley and Gunn waited impatiently in the back of the auditorium for Dr. RedBear to finish his lecture.
“Man, I wish that Indian doctor would hurry, I hate waiting,” complained Gunn.
“Actually, Dr. Red Bear’s lecture is quite interesting and he seems to be very knowledgeable,” offered Wesley.
“Well, he better be. We need some answers about that new nifty healing ability of Cordy’s and quick. I don’t know how long our girl will put up with Angel’s dictator-like orders.”
Wesley nodded in agreement. Cordelia had already been getting more and more frustrated over Angel leaving her out of the fighting part of the missions, if he continued to disallow her to use her new gift there would be hell to pay. And inevitability Cordelia’s anger at Angel and his stubborn response would affect them all. Maybe, if Angel would just admit that he cared more for his seer than just as a friend, then maybe, just maybe Cordelia would be more forgiving towards Angel's autocratic behavior.
“Come on, I think the lecture is over,” Wesley commented out loud as the Professor left the podium. Wesley and Gunn dodged the flow of students as they headed towards the stage.
“Dr. Red Bear, please,” called Wesley once they entered the hallway after the Professor. The man stopped and turned. Both Gunn and Wesley paused as the Professor faced them.
“Yes?” The dark tall man asked. The professor’s light bronze colored skin, strong angular features and thick black hair tied in a long ponytail identified the man as undeniably Native American. Both Wesley and Gunn were tall men, but the Professor was taller with a broader muscular built and surprisingly the doctor wasn’t much older than Gunn
“Dr. Red Bear?”
“Yes,” the Professor repeated.
“Yes, well, I am Wesley Wyndham- Price and this is Charles Gunn. If you have a moment, we have some questions regarding Shamanism and certain totems and talisman of Shamanism. The head of your department indicated that your were the leading expert in such matters at the University.”
“Really, that’s gratifying,” the handsome man looked at his watch. “My next lecture is not for another two hours, so I guess I have at least a moment.” Dr. Red Bear smiled, showing an impressive set of white teeth. “My office is this way,” he motioned for the two men to follow him.
Chapter Thirteen
“So, what is it you want to know?” Dr. Red Bear gathered the books and papers from the chairs in his small office and gestured for Wesley and Gunn to sit.
“Um, yes, well. I know that a Shaman is a mystical healer. But, my question is - to what extent do they have mystical healing capabilities- for example can they heal with a touch?”
“Heal with a touch,” Dr. Red Bear studied the former watcher. “Do I know you?” the professor asked Wesley.
“No”
“Oh, you seem familiar.” The doctor contemplated the lines of hardwood floors before he spoke again. “The Shamans have long been revered not only in Native American cultures, but others as well. Their unique abilities have enabled them to utilize their talents to help those that wish to believe - find inner peace, to find their own spiritually, their pathways through this world and to heal their illnesses. But, I've never heard of an actual Shaman having the ability to heal with a touch. That sounds like a myth or legend.”
“Well, have you heard of such myth or legend?” asked Wesley.
“Why do you ask? Has some charlatan been claiming to have been endowed with such skill?”
Wesley wavered a moment with the truth and decided against it. “Yes. Gunn and I are associates for a Private Investigator’s firm- Angel Investigations,” Wesley handed the doctor a card. “We have a young woman client, well actually the girl’s very wealthy father, anyway the young woman has been approached by a self-proclaimed Shaman. He has offered her a necklace that he says will enable her to heal with a touch, he claims that she has the aptitude. The young girl, while being intelligent is susceptible to such talk. Her father was concerned as the old gentlemen has been asking for money, a very large amount, for the necklace.”
Gunn leaned back in awe at the story Wesley was weaving.
“He's a fraud,” stated Dr. Red Bear.
“Yes, obviously. But, she won’t be convinced by her father’s logic. So, he has retained our firm to compile evidence that the old man is a fraud. We had thought some information or assurance from a leading expert, as yourself would help convince her of the fraudulent nature of this man’s claims. It seems that the necklace that he has presented is indeed comprised of certain stones and metals that have healing abilities attributed to them. The young girl knows this, so she believes.”
“What stones?” the man asked.
“Turquoise and rose quartz,” Wesley said after a moment of hesitation.
Dr. Red Bear nodded. “Those stones do have certain medicinal properties. And necklaces and bracelets are used to concentrate such properties for Shamans. But those stones have to be cleansed in individualistic spiritual ceremony. The beaded bracelets that you can buy at any store by the dozen, while very pretty are nothing more than costume jewelry for the swarms of buyers that are suckered in by the ‘new age’ trends. Just like your young client, I imagine.”
“Yes, most undoubtedly, but if you have possibly heard of or know of someone that has heard of a myth regarding ‘healing with a touch’ than maybe we could convince her that it’s all just a legend with no meaning.” Wesley said persistently.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t know of such myth. But, I can say that Shamans while have amazing gifts, do not possess such ability. That would be a miracle or magic. Sorry, I couldn’t be more of an assistance.” His tone suddenly ending the interview.***
“So?” Gunn asked once they were back in his truck.
“I think Dr. Red Bear has been less than candid,” commented Wesley. “The question is why?”
“Yeah,” Gunn agreed resignedly. “The vamp isn’t going to be happy.”
“No, I foresee a late night visitation, definitely threatening, possibly a violent one in the young doctor’s immediate future,” acknowledged Wesley.***
Dr. Red Bear sat silent as the two men left the office. He remained still for several moments contemplating the wall. With sudden grace, he pulled open his lower desk drawer and pulled out a hidden file. He gazed in solemn reverence at the photograph of the turquoise and rose quartz necklace. He slowly pushed the photo aside and picked up a grainy surveillance picture of the interior of the Museum that once housed the Necklace. Dr. Red Bear studied the blurry frame and the tall, bespectacled man shown with in it. He glanced again at the business card that Wesley had given to him. He picked up the phone.
Chapter Fourteen
“I would’ve come to you, father.” Dr. RedBear motioned respectfully for the older Indian to sit.
The Head Shaman from the Hopi tribe leaned heavily on his walking stick and shook his head. His body creaked as he slowly sat. “You indicated on the phone that the Necklace may still be here in LA, so I came.” The vigor of his voice contrasted sharply with the fragility of his frame.
“That I’m not sure of, but the man who came here today was the same man in the museum the night the Necklace was stolen.” Dr. RedBear pushed the photograph of Wesley towards the older Indian. “He identified himself as a private investigator and asked about the necklace. He said that a fake Shaman was trying to sell it to his client.”
“A ‘fake’ Shaman. You don’t believe him?”
“I believe that Wyndham- Price knows where the necklace is and what it can do. Whether there is a ‘fake’ shaman or client, I don’t know.”
“The white man can not know,” the old shaman pushed aside Wesley’s picture. “The Necklace’s powers are only known to the descendants of the ‘Wise One’. Even our myths and legends are silent as to the ‘Wise One’ and his charm. How would he know, how would any other Shaman, fake or otherwise know?”
“Father, a secret is not a secret when it is shared and experienced. The stories of the ‘Wise One’ and his necklace may not have been transcribed. But his powers were known- the stories of his miraculous healing of our people were passed down from parent to child for countless generations. The necklace has been lost from us for centuries, and while its absence may have dimmed the memories of those stories, the memories do exist. It was only a matter of time once the necklace was rediscovered that someone would remember the old tales that their father’s fathers had passed down of the healing light and the necklace that housed it’s power. I’d just hoped that we would’ve been able to retrieve the necklace before then. But that night in the museum,” the younger Indian shook his head. “I still don’t understand all that happened. We didn’t even have a chance to enter the museum.” John and a few other trusted members of the tribe had been appointed to the honor and risk of breaking into the Museum to retrieve the necklace.
“Son, the power of the necklace can’t fall into the wrong hands, it can’t not be corrupted.”
“I know father.”
“Could you tell, was he,” the ancient man motioned back at the photograph. “Was he a disciple of,” the old man paused, “of Bathym?” he asked choking on the name.
“I don’t know, but I would guess no,” the young man shrugged. The bespectacled man just didn’t have the sense of one of the demon’s followers. And the man’s presence in the museum hadn’t seem concentrated on the Native American exhibit, but on other irrelevant areas of the museums. But John couldn’t be sure. Bathym was an ancient powerful evil spirit with followers in both the human and demon dimension. It was possible that Wyndham-Price could be a follower but the Native Indian expert didn’t think so.
But, whatever happened that night was not a typical museum robbery and Wyndham-Price had been a part of it. The necklace had disappeared again that confusing night and even more perplexing there was little to no press on the break in. Neither the museum nor the police ever acknowledged that the necklace or anything else had been stolen. It had taken a great deal of money passed to a greedy guard for John to get anyone to admit that the Necklace was missing and to get the surveillance photographs.
“But, you don’t know,” challenged his father.
“No,” John admitted. His father was right to be suspicious, the happenings of that night could not be explained and those things that could not be readily explained had a tendency to be of the spiritual world. And the possibility that Bathym or his followers were responsible for the loss of the necklace was a danger that couldn’t be ignored.
“Then you must find out. Go to this address.” The old man’s wrinkled finger pointed to the Angel Investigation’s card. “You must find out and you must find the necklace.” The old shaman commanded. “If the white man is truly an innocent, but somehow has become involved with the necklace then there is a risk that he will come to the attention of Bathym and the necklace as well as he may be in jeopardy.”
“I will father.”
“John, the necklace belongs to us, to our tribe.” The old man said, his voice trembling with passion. “Bathym’s power continues to grow, his evil touches our people, it effects my dreams. I’m a loosing my clarity of vision; my spirit guides are weakening. We must have the necklace.”
John looked concernedly as his father. His father’s once powerful physique had shriveled, becoming nothing more than wrinkled flesh hanging on a gaunt frame. The Shaman’s mind and voice were the only thing of strength left in the old man. Every since the elder Shaman had found out about the reappearance of the necklace, the older man had thought of nothing else. The excitement of being so close to returning the charm and using it to combat the evil of Bathym had occupied his father’s every waking and dreaming hour. When the old Shaman had learned that the necklace had disappeared once again, he had forgone food for weeks at a time, subjecting his increasingly frail body to near starvation and large doses of peyote in attempt to reach the ‘Wise One’ in the spiritual plane.
His failure to do so, the mental energy he expelled in trying to prevent Bathym from learning the knowledge of his dreams and the physical rigors to his old body as a result of those vision quests and taken a tremendous toll on the older man's health. John was fearful that another failure to return the necklace to the Hopi tribe would result in the death of his father, and Bathym’s final victory over his people. The young Indian knew that his father would willingly die for the Necklace, but if his father was to leave this plane, John wanted it to have meaning. John had to retrieve the Necklace both for the good of his tribe and for life of his father.
For his father was the head Shaman of their tribe The Necklace had belonged to the Hopi’s since the beginning of their history. The very first Shaman, known to his descendents as ‘The Wise One’ had created the piece of jewelry as a charm to repudiate the evil of Bathym. The demon was as old as time and was intimate with the Hopi’s ways using their own knowledge and belief in the spirituality of herbs and precious stones against them to shroud their minds and souls in darkness. The necklace had been created with all the love and compassion the Wise One had felt for his people, he had effused each precocious metal and stone with his great mystical powers and healing gifts.
With the necklace, the Wise One had been able to eradicate the evil that been inflicted on his people’s souls and repair the damage that it had caused. Along with such power the Necklace also enabled the Wise One to cure the physical ailments of the tribe. But as with all great gifts, the necklace carried a heavy price. To enact the cures of his people the Wise One had to endure and experience all of their pain and the torment of the souls he healed. And while, the ancient Shaman’s power was immense and his compassion seemingly endless, his body was not immune to the physical and emotional trauma he accepted willingly from and for his people. It was not long before the burden of the tribe’s pains overcame the strength of his spirit.
It was told, that the Hopi had again become afraid that Bathym’s evil couldn’t be forestalled without the Wise One’s protection and gift. But when the ancient Shaman left the physical world, he passed his sacred duty along with the necklace to his son, the new Shaman of the tribe and Bathym was again prevented from regaining a permanent hold over the Hopi people. And the Wise One’s son continued to use the necklace as his father had- to comfort and to protect his people. And when the strength and power left the Shaman’s body, the necklace and it’s purpose was passed on. The passage of the charm from Shaman to succeeding healer continued for generations, until one year the Necklace and its possessor mysteriously vanished.
However, the Shaman had left a son and his line continued through the years. The subsequent Shamans had tried to locate the necklace by means of spiritual journeys through the dream plane, but each of their attempts had been blocked by the interference of the demon Bathym, whose strength had been growing stronger in the absence of the necklace and its power.
John’s father was a Shaman from that line and when the old Indian died, the title of head Shaman would fall to John. And as with every head Shaman from the time of the disappearance the old Indian’s life’s purpose was not only to maintain his people’s spiritual and physical well being, but to find the necklace.
Chapter Fifteen
Angel met Gunn and Wesley has they entered the hotel. “Well?”
“Nothing of substance.” Wesley shook his head.
“Yeah, but the Indian Doc was hiding something,” added Gunn.
“Who was hiding what?” Cordelia came bounding down the stairs wearing Angel’s T-shirt and sweats. “Hey, where are my clothes?” She went up to Wesley and Gunn.
“Here,” Wesley gestured to the bag beside him.
She grabbed at the item, sitting down on the floor and opening the bag. Cordelia wasn’t at all sure she trusted the men to have packed the right stuff. She rummaged through the neatly folded clothes and nodded in satisfaction. Dennis must have done the packing; everything she liked and needed was there.
“Wesley?” Angel urged Wesley to continue.
“Yes, well, I believe Gunn is correct, Dr. Red Bear did seem to be concealing something.”
“Red Bear? Gees, more animals.”
“Cordelia, the doctor is Native American, ‘Red Bear’ is his name,” lectured Wesley. Cordelia sighed and rolled her eyes at Wesley’s patronizing tone.
“So, what did the ‘Native American Doctor’ say?” Cordelia emphasized, rolling her eyes again. Wesley was forever confusing her humor with ignorance.
“Only that there was no such healing ability in truth or legend.”
“Well, that is a lie, duh,” she exclaimed pointing to the necklace around her neck.
“Well, yes or he really doesn’t know,” Wesley said hesitantly.
“You don’t believe that,” commented Angel.
“No. Dr. Red Bear is an expert on Shamanism and the Native American culture. It seems incredulous that he wouldn’t have at least heard of the necklace,” indicated Wesley. “He knows something, I just don’t what,” admitted Wesley.
“Well, I’ll find out. I’ll pay a visit to the doctor this evening,” vowed Angel firmly. If the doctor had any information that could shed light on the necklace and it’s connection to his seer, the vampire would discover it. He wouldn’t allow Cordelia to use its power until he knew that it wasn’t dangerous to her. And if that meant using some of his more persuasive traits to get the doctor to be more talkative than so be it.
Wesley eyes met Gunn’s. The young black man nodded at Wesley’s silent ‘I told you so’.
Cordelia glanced back and forth between the men, sensing their concern about the Necklace. “Angel, I’m sure that whatever the doctor is hiding is not bad stuff. I told you the Necklace is good, you know it,” Cordelia said in frustration. Why won’t Angel just accept it, she thought.
“Cordelia,” Angel sighed. He had hoped that Cordelia had understood and accepted why he wouldn’t allow her to use the power.
“Oh, Angel, I do understand,” she responded to his tone. “I just think you are being overly paranoid and way too bossy, that’s all,” she griped. “I’m going to change,” she shook her head and carried her suitcase up the stairs.
Chapter Sixteen
Dr. Red Bear sat in his car, staring questioningly at the Hyperion hotel. It wasn’t at all what he expected a Detective Agency to look like. But this was the address on the business card. The doctor had contemplated waiting until dark and breaking in to search for the necklace. But John didn’t know for sure if the necklace was even in the hotel. And well, the aborted break-in attempt at the museum aside, John wasn’t really inclined to commit burglary. No, he thought, he could learn more by trying to gain Wesley Wyndam- Price’s trust to find out if there was actually a client and where the necklace was located.***
Angel glanced away from Wesley’s narrative on what had transpired between the investigators and the Professor. Angel stared at the doorway as Dr. Red Bear walked into the lobby.
Wesley broke off his recital of the day’s events. “Dr. Red Bear,” he gawked.
“Mr. Wyndam-Price, Mr. Gunn,” the Professor nodded to the two stupefied slacked jawed men. He turned to Angel. John narrowed his eyes in consternation at the dark man’s intense scrutiny. “You are….”
“Um, Dr. Red Bear, this is Angel. Angel this is Dr. Red Bear, the expert we went to see at the University,” Wesley introduced.
“Angel? The Angel of Angel Investigations?” the Professor asked.
The vampire merely nodded.
“Yoa, Doc, why are you here? Have you found something or remembered something?” interjected Gunn.
“Maybe,” the bronzed young man answered. “I was thinking about your questions after you left and I got curious, so I reread some of the older renditions of Native American legends. I may have found a relevant myth.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I unearthed a fable involving an ancient necklace. The story was incomplete, but it suggested that the necklace had miraculous healing abilities.”
“Did the story explain the origins of the necklace and its purpose? Did it describe the piece of jewelry? Was it comprised of turquoise and rose quartz?” Wesley fired the questions at the Professor.
“The story did not mention a description or the necklace’s origins. Just that it was the ultimate healing tool.”
“Was there any indication that it was a instrument of good or evil?” interrupted Angel. “Did it say what the effects of it’s power had on its possessor? Did it?” He asked urgently.
“Again, no. As I said, the story was incomplete. But traditionally the power to heal is considered a good one, not one of evil. But, why are you so concerned, the story is obviously just a parable? That is why you came to me, right? To prove to your susceptible client that the old shaman’s tales were false?”
“Well, yes, of course,” stuttered Wesley. “But, you really haven’t added any new information. Did you bring the book, I think it would beneficial if I had a chance to study it.”
Dr. Red Bear shrugged. “ No. I left it in the office. I thought perhaps I maybe able to speak to your client.”
“Why? You didn’t seem to be all that interested before,” Gunn asked suspiciously.
“Like I said, I thought about what you said after you left. And the fact that someone is out there using a ‘Native American” legend to deceive someone that wants to believe in the attributes of Shamanism irritates me. Shamanism is a real. And to dismiss its truths by basing some sort of con game on its tenets is unconscionable. So, if you’re still willing I would like to talk to the young lady and expose the fake Shaman.”
Angel’s scrutiny of the young doctor was diverted as he sensed Cordelia about to descend the stairs. He quickly moved up the stairs to intercept his seer. Angel wasn’t sure about the Professors sincerity. Angel had nothing specific to point at to confirm his uneasiness. But where Cordelia’s safety was concerned he would take no chances.
Angel stopped Cordelia on the steps out of view from the downstairs occupants. He placed his hand gently over her mouth, as she was about to speak. Her brown eyes widened in both questions and indignation at the vampire’s actions.
“Just listen,” he whispered, pulling the resisting girl back up the stairs.
“Angel, what is going on and let me go,” she griped as soon as he released her mouth, keeping her voice low at the vampire’s insistence.
“The ‘expert’ is downstairs. He wants to meet our client.”
“What client?’ she whispered. Cordelia hadn’t been downstairs when Wesley had explained the lie he had told to the Professor.
Angel quickly told Cordelia the details of Wesley’s ruse. “I don’t want to him to see the necklace,” he added, glancing at the ornament resting around Cordelia’s neck. The scooped neckline of Cordelia’s blouse completely exposed the piece of jewelry. “I don’t trust him,” he stated. Angel couldn’t help but notice how the gold, silver and copper contrasted with the smooth creaminess of her skin. He stood momentarily memorized by the sight.
“Oh, Angel, this could be good,” she whispered urgently. “Who would have thought Wesley would have the sense to create such a tale. Who knows maybe the book guy as what it takes to become a detective? Wow, Sam Wesley Spade.”
“Cordelia,” shushed Angel.
“Angel,” she said pulling away from the vampire. “Wesley set up the story, now we have to just go with it. I personally think that it’s not needed. I know that the necklace is good, but if it will satisfy your overly suspicious grr instincts, then I say I become the dimwitted client and find out what he knows.” Cordelia eyes beamed with excitement.
“No, you stay up here,” Angel ordered.
“Bah,” she said loudly, her voice carrying down to the lobby. “I don’t believe you. I don’t care what you and Daddy say the Necklace’s power is real. Your stupid ‘expert’ won’t convince me otherwise,” she yelled, her eyes daring Angel to do anything but go along with her.
Angel stood shock still, amazement and anger warred with in the vampire. He glared at his seer’s self-satisfied smirk. Angel couldn’t decide whether he should drag his brazenly impetuous seer up into his room and lock the door or hug her in pride at just another example of her inherent courage and impulsiveness. Both traits that he had long ago began to appreciate and love in Cordelia. Hold on, love? He didn’t love Cordelia. He appreciated her and cared about her that went without saying, but not love. Angel couldn’t love her that wouldn’t be right. She was his seer, his friend, a young beautiful innocent, someone who meant more to him than his own life, but he didn’t love her. But, while he couldn’t love her, he did need her and value her tremendously, though sometimes he didn’t know why, he thought, as Cordelia scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at him in smug glee.
Cordelia had taken Angel’s indecision on a course of action as supplication to her wishes. She bounded down the stairs quickly, just in case she was wrong.
Angel shook his head and followed. He would play along up and until the situation became dangerous to Cordelia, if that occurred then he would lock her up in the bedroom and take charge.
Chapter Seventeen
Wesley and Gunn looked at each in confusion as they heard Cordelia’s loud comments.
“Your young client?” Dr. Red Bear asked.
Wesley shrugged lamely.
Dr. Red Bear waited expectantly watching the foot of the stairs.
Angel almost bumped into Cordelia as she stopped suddenly. Angel heard her sharp intake of breath. “Wow,” she whispered.
“Cordelia?” the vampire questioned, looking for what had grabbed at Cordelia’s attention. His brows drew together in puzzlement as he saw that it was the Professor that had captured her fascination.
“Geez, why didn’t any one tell me that the Indian Dr. Animal guy was gorgeous, wow..” she said again. Angel’s confused expression was replaced with a frown. Gorgeous, Cordelia thought that the Doctor was gorgeous? Angel studied the Professor. Angel guessed the Indian was good looking, but what did that have to do with anything? And why did it bother him that Cordelia thought the young man was attractive.
Cordelia stared at the young Professor. He really was gorgeous, she thought. Every female cell in her body, screamed out in appreciation of the young man’s tall muscular build and his strong classical features. The Indian oozed virility and masculinity. Cordelia hadn’t reacted this way to a man’s physical appearance in geez, she didn’t know in how long. Definitely not since she first saw Angel in the Bronze all those years ago. Cordelia had thought Angel was the hottest, sexiest guy she had ever seen back then.
That was of course before she found out he was a grr guy and enthralled with Buffy. Once she had discovered those relevant tidbits Cordelia had managed to block out any feeling of attraction that she had had regarding the vampire. Objectively she still considered Angel good looking, after all he was. But, the whole blood drinking and not breathing aspect of being a dead guy was not really big a turn on.
But, this man, was definitely a live, breathing example of male beauty. He was almost as sexy as Angel was. Whoa, Cordelia stopped her thoughts. Where did that come from? She could have sworn that she had crushed all those thoughts of Angel a long time ago. When had she begun to think of him as being sexy again? Cordelia turned and studied the frowning vampire as if for the first time.
Yep, her friend was sexy all blood drinking, non-breathing, broody, annoying, strong, good, caring parts of him. Her stomach danced and nerves sung at the acknowledgement of her long suppressed awareness. Oh dear, she thought; now she would have to squelch that realization all over again. It wouldn’t do for her to get all tingling every time she was in the presence of her best friend, no good at all. Cordelia shook her head and concentrated on the handsome Professor.
“So, you are supposed to convince me that this necklace is fake. Hi, I am Cordelia.” She walked up to the professor, shooting him her best Cordelia smile.
Wesley and Gunn’s eyes widened, they both shot questioning looks at Angel. Angel just scowled more and shrugged.
Dr. Red Bear gazed at the young girl and the necklace gleaming around her neck. The professor had not thought that it would be this easy to find the necklace. But there it was right in front of him resting around the neck of a very pretty young woman.
“Umm, Hello.” The young man resisted the urge to grab the necklace and run.
“Well, start convincing, but let me tell you. It is going to be rather difficult. Daddy has been trying for just ages. You know I think it would be a whole lot cheaper for him just to let me buy this,” she pointed again to the necklace. “They are charging him an arm and leg,” Cordelia gestured to Angel, Wesley and Gunn. “Like they could convince me of anything, ummph,” she huffed.
“The Shaman told you that this necklace has healing properties?” John forced his eyes away from the necklace to meet Cordelia’s smiling brown ones. John gulped. The young woman wasn’t just pretty she was beautiful.
“Yep, and it does. The stone, the metals, all of it.” She nodded.
“He gave you the necklace with out payment?” John asked, trying to concentrate on anything rather than the necklace and the girl’s large brown eyes. Actually, they weren’t just brown, he thought as he saw tiny specks of gold shining through the darkness of her irises giving her eye’s a deep warm glow.
Cordelia gave a wide smile. “Oh, I paid him some money. Just not the whole amount. You see that’s when Daddy found out. It seems, I can only take so much out of my trust account without the bank-notifying Daddy,” she pouted. “I guess, I took too much,” she said smiling again. “Boy, he was mad. Anyway,” she shrugged. “The Shaman said that if I wore it the stones would become attuned with my body’s natural elements and I’d be able to utilize its power. He said, he would come back for the rest of the money in a couple of days, after I’m satisfied that it works. And I am satisfied that it works.” Cordelia couldn’t help but shoot a purposeful look at Angel.
“Um, why do you think that,” John asked, finally able to focus on the subject and not the girl or the sight of the necklace.
“I just do,” she smiled. “Now, why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t. By the way, I told you my name, what’s yours.” She looked expectantly at the young man.
“Um, sorry, John, John Red Bear.” He stuttered. The light- hearted babble of the young girl was making him unbalanced.
“It’s not just John, though is it, it’s Doctor, uh. An all scholarly one, gee, I always thought Professors were all old and stogy,” Cordelia smiled. “But, you’re not, are you John,” Cordelia smiled happily.
Wesley and Gunn looked worriedly at Angel. The vampire had been watching Cordelia’s performance intently. He hadn’t moved or said a word, but both Gunn and Wesley could sense the growing tension in Angel’s stance.
“Um, Wes, man, you better do something, I think I see smoke puffing from the vamp’s ears,” he whispered.
Angel glared at the young black young. Gunn’s words hadn’t been low enough to escape the vampire’s sensitive hearing. He wasn’t angry at the attention Cordelia was giving the young doctor; he was just worried about the Professor’s real motivation for being here.
Cordelia was oblivious to the quiet exchange of her friends. She lightly pulled at John’s hand and moved him towards the couch. “Come on, let’s sit and you can tell me all about why I shouldn’t believe the old man.”
John followed unresistingly, sitting next to the lovely young girl. John suddenly felt like he was fifteen again, all legs and arms, with too large of features and feeling awkward around the opposite sex. He couldn’t understand it. He hadn’t felt that way around woman, since well, since he was fifteen. It wasn’t until the summer of his sixteenth year that his body caught up with the rest of him. Then the girls no longer laughed at him, but giggled in flirtatious appreciation of his looks. Since that time, he had never felt shy or bumbling around females of any age.
But, this girl with her wide smile and frank warm stare was making him nervous. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, he saw pretty co-eds daily in his classes and they never effected him, not in this way. It was her eyes, he thought. His father had always told him that a person’s true spirit could be seen through the eyes. And what he saw in this young woman’s eyes took his breath away. John saw pain within her eyes. This young woman had experience tragedy, but that pain could not dim the joy and compassion with in her.
What he saw was a spirit that would never give up and never stop caring. There was no part of her that was evil; she was a true innocent. He had to get the necklace away from her anyway he could, even if that meant ripping it off her neck and running, because, if Bathym found her, her spirit would be broken and her innocence destroyed.
John glanced at the other occupants in the room. The path from the couch to the exit was clear. He could make it. He was very fast. John smiled at Cordelia. “Can you please take the necklace off, I would like to examine it,” he asked preparing himself to take the necklace and run.
Almost instantly, Angel appeared next to the seated Professor. He placed a strong hand on the larger man’s shoulder, preventing the doctor from moving or reaching for out for the necklace. The vampire had sensed the Indian's preparation for flight. “No,” both he and Cordelia said at the same time.
Cordelia scrunched her face at Angel. “Angel,” she grumbled, her expression telling the vampire that she could handle the question and to stay out of it, completely unaware of John's hidden intention to take the necklace and run.
John stared up into Angel’s cold dark eyes. Those eyes, the young Indian couldn’t read, if there was a soul in those eyes it was hidden in the black fathomless orbs of the man’s eyes. John studied the pale dark man, Angel had moved with a sudden speed and grace, his grip was hard and strong. John wasn’t used to submitting to another man’s power. Since, he was sixteen he had always been the faster, stronger boy and that hadn’t change since he had become an adult and had learned better to utilize his physical strength and abilities. He tried to move his shoulder away, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Angel,” Cordelia called again in exasperation. Cordelia didn’t know why the vampire was being getting all ‘grry’, but if he so much as let out a little growl, she would lay into him something terrible.
She smiled apologetically at John. “You will have to forgive him, just because Daddy is paying Angel a lot of money, he thinks of the necklace as being his. But it’s not is it Angel, it’s mine the wise one gave it to me,” she emphasized. “Not to you, to me. Now let go of John’s shoulder you are messing up his nice expensive suit.” She glared at the vampire.
John didn’t know what surprised him more Cordelia’s nonchalant use of the First Shaman’s title or that Angel had immediately let go of John’s shoulder. For one brief instance, John had been able to read Angel’s eyes. The young Indian cringed at the anger evident in the other’s eyes. The rage was directed towards the young woman. Cordelia unflinching met his fierce gaze. “That’s better,” she commented. “Are you all right?” she asked John sweetly. “He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he? Sometimes, I think Angel forgets that he is not some sort of supernatural superhero, but just an ordinary human private eye.”
“Cordelia, Cordy,” both Wesley and Gunn jumped in attempting to say anything or do anything to diffuse the tension in the lobby.
“Shut up,” Cordelia glared. “This is obviously not the place for us to talk. Come on, John. Let’s go and get some lunch. Yes, let’s go find a nice outdoor café, with plenty of UV-filled bright sunny rays.” She tugged at the Professor to get up.
“Cordelia,” Angel warned.
Both Cordelia and John stopped at the growl the emitted from Angel’s throat. John had stopped in surprise and some trepidation. Cordelia, though, had stopped in anger and irritation. Cordelia left John’s side a marched over to Angel.
“Angel, I’m going. There is nothing you can do it about it…”
“Cordelia,” Wesley begged. He wasn’t sure when he had ever seen Angel so enraged. “Cordelia, please….”
“Be quiet.” She ordered without breaking eye contact with the vampire. “Angel, like I was saying, there is nothing you can do about it, except tie me up and lock me upstairs. But you won’t do that because that wouldn’t be polite. What would Dr. Red Bear think, after all he is here at your request to find out the information that you need, not me,” she said succinctly.
“He’s going to do it,” Gunn whispered to Wesley. “The vamp is going to tie Cordy up,” the young black man paused. “Do we try to talk him out of it or do we let him,” he questioned.
“Sh,” Wesley ordered.
“Angel,” Cordelia whined, her anger vanishing at the vampire’s fierce glare. “Come one, it’s not like I’ll be alone. I know that as soon as I walk out that door, you will send the dynamic duo to follow me. I’ll be all right. I promise.”
“You can’t promise me things that you can’t control.” Angel whispered harshly, his hands reaching up to cup her face.
“Angel, you can’t hold my hand when I go out into the street, you know it. Now be good. I’ll be back soon,” she promised, her hands embracing his gently.
John was even now even more confused. Angel’s eyes still reflected his original passionate fury, but the Indian had also seen love and concern in that same passion. Angel did have a soul, but as far as John could interpret it was a very conflicted one. John wasn’t at all sure that an innocent such as Cordelia was safe in such a strife-ridden soul’s hands. It may be necessary for him to save Cordelia not only from the potential danger of Bathym but from Angel as well.***
“Wesley, Gunn- go,” Angel ordered as Cordelia and Dr. Red Bear left the hotel.
“Right,” Gunn said and went to go get his keys. Wesley went to follow.
“Wesley,” Angel called after his friend.
“Yes.” Wesley was relieved to see that most of the anger had left Angel, now he was just concerned.
Angel beckoned the former watcher closer.
“Yes, what is it, Angel?” Wesley stared in amazement as Angel’s expression became befuddled. That was the last thing he expected after the earlier tension filled hour. “Speak up, Angel. I don’t want to loose Cordelia. I’m sure you don’t want us to either,” Wesley emphasized.
“Of course, I don’t. Keep Cordelia in your sight’s at all times.”
“Yes, well, that will be a little difficult if you don’t tell me what’s on your mind, so we can go.” Wesley prodded.
Angel nodded but refused to look at his friend, but stared at Gunn getting his stuff together to go. “ Do you think he is good-looking?” Angel finally asked.
“Who, Gunn?” Wesley squeaked.
“What? No, the ‘expert’” Angel spit out. “Cordelia said he was gorgeous.”
“Oh,” Wesley said in relief. He hadn’t been at all comfortable with dissecting Gunn’s attractiveness. “Um, I don’t know, I guess he was handsome, if you like the type.”
“The type?”
“Yes, you know, tall, dark, handsome, well-built, intelligent, successful, etc. You know that type.”
“Oh, so you do think Cordelia is attracted to him,” the vampire said dejectedly.
Oh lord, Wesley thought, first they had to put up with Angel’s whining about whether Cordelia was still mad at him. Then they had to put up with his over-protectiveness and the ranting and pouting that it caused in Cordelia, now they were going to have to put up him Angel’s sudden insecurity about his attractiveness to his seer.
“Angel, don’t worry. I’m sure that Cordelia thinks you are much better looking than Dr. Red Bear.” Wesley reassured the vampire.
“What? What do I care if Cordelia thinks I’m good-looking? I’m just worried that she will let the fact the he is ‘gorgeous’ effect her judgment as to her own safety that’s all. And what are you still doing here? Go after them. And call me if anything, I mean anything happens.” Angel ordered, turning away from his friend.
“Right, of course.” Wesley sighed and went to join Gunn at the door.
“So, what was that about,” asked Gunn.
“Don’t ask, just don’t ask.” Wesley shook his head and headed out the door.