Ice Cold in LA
By Josafeena
Rating: R, for bad language, violence, and adult situations
Category: Crossover Angel/Blade the Movie
Spoilers: To Shanshu in LA and Blade the Movie
Disclaimers: Angel, Lindsey, Cordy, Wesley et al belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Greenwalt Corporation, 20th Century Fox, WB, anyone else? Deacon Frost et al belong to New Line Cinema, Amen Ra Films, Stan Lee, Avi Arad and a bunch of other people. In other words they're not mine and I accept no responsibility for their actions.
Author's note: I love the idea of Deacon Frost in the Angel universe, he's just as delicious as Lindsey and the two of them in one fic is heaven. I jumped on the bandwagon as soon as someone suggested it, so this is the impetuously rushed product.
Feedback: Loved and adored and always replied to.
He liked the sparkling vista, tall skyscrapers, with twinkling lights and a clear night sky. Not unlike a New York horizon but LA was such a different city. The pure blooded had little jurisdiction over the bustling metropolis. They felt it lacked the old-world charm of the east coast. LA was a city custom made for entrepreneurs such as Deacon Frost. Here he had no worries of stepping on any Pure Blood's stiff toes. This was a city that welcomed him and his underground industry with open arms.
"Wolfram and Hart are very happy to meet your needs, Mister Frost. This is a full service law firm who aim to make your business in Los Angeles as uncomplicated as possible."
The senior partners had met with him the day before to greet him after his arrival in LA. He immediately took a liking to the coven of powerful men who ran the nefarious law firm. These people thought little of his activities but highly of his extreme wealth. They had represented many turned vampires like him, but he ranked particularly high in their books for his unusual biology. He was a rare breed of vampire that was insusceptible to crosses, holy water, and wooden stakes. Instead, they were killed only by silver, sunlight and beheading. Some time ago Deacon had employed a team of scientists to combat the problem of sunlight. They produced a potent sunscreen that withstood sunlight for a short time. Maybe not the cure he'd been looking for but certainly a useful discovery.
Tonight he had opened his doors to the vampires of LA in the hope of finding some helpful volunteer to work for him. It was always a good idea to hire local goons who knew the area and its inhabitants well. He had been somewhat surprised at the appearance of a few demons, but variety wasn't a bad idea either. The apartment he bought was the penthouse in a tall building of offices, many of which he had also bought as a base of operations. Floor to ceiling windows with thick steel shutters for the daytime, and palatial furnishings were spread around the spacious new pad. He sat near the window, with a clear view of the entrance, watching his guests mix. It amused his greatly to observe young fresh faced starlets being competed for by the vampires, but now these young nymphs outnumbered the bloodsuckers three to one. Hushed words travelled on the evening breeze, asking if there was a studio executive here, if this expensive lair belonged to a rich media magnate or film producer, either one a fine target for the many money-grabbing girls who filled the room.
Deacon Frost was using his time to discuss contracts with some new lackeys. This was the common traditional breed of vampire he'd ignored for years. They thronged to him and the aura of power that surrounded him. Eager to please and easy to govern, they accepted what he told them and committed themselves to his cause. This must be what the old master vampires felt like, he thought to himself with a smirk.
A new body appeared in the doorway. Young, boyish looks, with long brown hair that hung over his eyes, this suit-clad stranger stood scanning the room with an air of business-like efficiency. Frost stood, brushing the new lackeys out of his ways. With unnatural speed he glided up beside the newest guest and simply stared.
The suited-man jumped when he met Deacon's icy gaze.
"Lost?" Deacon asked, admiring the tensed brown neck.
"I'm looking for a Mister Frost." The young man asked nervously.
Deacon smiled predatorily as the stranger struggled to compose himself. "What can I do for you?"
The young man stretched out his hand. "Lindsey McDonald."
Deacon ignored it and gazed around the room nonchalantly.
"I work for Wolfram and Hart, I'll be representing you personally." The young man persisted and finally caught the vampire's attention.
Deacon turned to face him again, eying him up and down. "Come with me." He strolled away from the revellers, down a wide corridor. He held the door open to his study while he waited for the lawyer to follow. Lindsey McDonald was not as nervous as he'd seemed. He followed Deacon, walking confidently among the lounging vamps that littered Frost's living room. Deacon found himself grinning inwardly; this lawyer had dealt with vampires before.
Deacon walked around his large black marble desk and sat in the leather armchair. Lindsey didn't hesitate to sit opposite him.
"Having a Wolfram and Hart lawyer seems to be quite a necessity in this town." Deacon began. "I suppose that mean I can't kill you."
Lindsey didn't speak at first, choosing a diplomatic silence instead, but reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. "My office and cell phone number, so you can reach me at any time."
Deacon looked at the cards, committing the numbers to memory.
"If there's anything I can do for you, don't hesitate to call me." Lindsey told his new client.
Watching the young man's polished act was almost amusing enough but Deacon noticed the way one hand remained unmoving on his lap. It was fake, he realised. "How did you lose your hand?" He asked, hoping it was a fascinating tale.
The lawyer's mouth tightened into as grim line. "It was cut off."
"By who?" Deacon couldn't resist, the turbulent emotions in McDonald's face were too appealing.
"A vampire." Lindsey looked up at Frost with hate-filled eyes. "One who's troubled the firm for a long time. One we were hoping you might be able to deal with." He opened his briefcase and placed a file on the desk.
"What's in it for me?" Deacon flicked through the file, examining the grainy photos.
"You kill him and you'll own this town." Lindsey was standing now, staring intently at Frost.
Deacon grinned evilly at the confident lawyer. He liked the sound of that deal.
2
"That's the fifth vampire attack this week!" Wesley's worried face greeted Angel as he walked out of the dark alley. Wesley took the blood-dripping axe from Angel's hand and tossed it in the backseat while his employer rested.
"They're getting organised. Four on one just isn't fair." The vampire sighed, sinking into the passenger seat of his black convertible.
Wesley started the engine and drove to the main street. He almost went in the direction of the office, but then remembered that the office as such wasn't there anymore. For the past few weeks Angel Investigations had been working out of Cordelia's apartment, a cramped but homely substitute.
"I wonder how Cordelia is." Angel mused aloud. Cordelia had insisted on investigating an underground club, one of many that had opened in recent weeks and attracted a lot of underworld attention. Angel had wanted her to wait until Angel and Wesley could go with her but she was adamant, insisting that that she could look after herself. The only compromise they could reach was that Gunn would go with her.
"I'm sure she's fine." Wesley was trying to sound confident.
Angel gave him a sideways glance and noticed the way his lips were pursed together. He was as worried for her as Angel was.
* * *
Deacon Frost walked through the throbbing crowd. The Californians had certainly taken a liking to his style of entertainment. A warehouse, complete with bare wall, crates and high windows was serving as a dance club. Strobe lighting and searchlights flashed about the room, pulsating with the primal beat of electronic drums. Without any effort on his part he'd managed to recreate one of his favourite New York haunts, the Meat Locker. Of course there wasn't going to be any shower of pig's blood tonight, and the victims of his patron's thirst weren't going to be gathered in the freezer for disposal later.
Models, actors, dancers, hookers and all the beauties of Hollywood were weaving their bodies to the hypnotic noise the DJ produced. A few faces caught Deacon's eye. A pretty young girl with haunting eyes reminded him of Mercury. She was travelling Europe until 'he grew tired of the LA thing'. He missed his platinum blonde companion. Mercury was always fun to share food with; she could spot a sweet-blooded human at twenty feet. He continued to think of his partner in crime as he wandered among the humans, until he spotted a familiar face.
She was dancing with a young black man, laughing and smiling at him like he was an old friend. The young man was smiling back at her, but his eyes darted wearily around the room, not in the usual possessive manner, but more guarded and defensive. The girl was lovelier than her pictures had portrayed her to be. Her long brown hair hung down her bare bronzed back, her curvaceous figure swaying to the fast pounding beat. Deacon admired the beautiful specimen for a moment. He moved gracefully behind her and stroked a cold finger down her neckline. In a second she spun around, but he was already moving onwards into the crowd. Now wasn't the time to show himself to her, he had an impatient lawyer to see.
* * *
Lindsey was waiting in the small office situated on the roof of the warehouse club. He had been waiting an hour for Deacon to arrive but wasn't the least bit surprised that the vampire was taking his time. In the past few weeks Lindsey had been working with Deacon Frost he'd come to realise that this killer took things easy. He was a calm, calculating, patient vampire, who felt no need to rush, or let little things bother him. Lindsey wished for his client's demeanour. He had always been quick-tempered and impatient. He worked hard and furious to get where he was and now that he had the position he wanted, he didn't know how to slow down.
The underground clubs were a hobby for Frost. His real wealth, Lindsey discovered, came from restaurants, blood banks, clinics, research facilities and various other companies aimed at vampires. There were a few prime locations Deacon had bought to start legitimate clubs, and now he was interested in elbowing his way into the demon prostitution racket. He was a more skilled industrialist than any Lindsey knew of.
The industrialist made his entrance into the office surrounded by the black-clad muscle men he'd selected from his growing army of followers. That was another thing. Once news had spread that Deacon Frost was moving in, vampires and demons alike had queued outside his door, offering their services to him. His fame as a young upstart, rebelling against the ways of the revered pure bloods, had caused quite a stir amongst the west coast vampires. These were the vampires who flocked to this state in search of the spirit of sinful youth that permeated from the town where stars were born.
Frost represented these characteristics like few immortals could. The aged vampires who claimed authority and leadership were out of touch with the world, whereas Frost had tapped into all that was modern and fresh. Where the elders forced traditions and rituals, Frost forced nothing but enjoyment. Enjoyment of what they were and what they could do. He preached a sermon of superiority with the conviction no wrinkle-faced, sewer-dweller could command.
"So, Lindsey. What's up tonight?" Deacon sprawled himself on a large black leather couch. His ice blue eyes fixed on the lawyer.
"I brought the real estate deeds for you to sign." He spread the sheet out on the glass table and held a pen out to the vampire.
Deacon swaggered over and put his spiky signature everywhere Lindsey indicated. As the pages were gathered together Lindsey dismissed the discomfort he felt whenever the vampire's eyes fell upon him. In their weeks as lawyer and client Lindsey had experienced Deacon's hungry gaze almost every day. Those cold eyes travelled up and down his body, lingering on pulse points. It seemed only a matter of time before the vampire got hungry enough to break their contract. His new position at Wolfram and Hart allowed Lindsey some incredible benefits, but after the debacle with Angel in the mausoleum, he realised he was just as expendable as ever. There was, no doubt, a line of young lawyers ready to take his place should anything happen to him.
"The senior partners are curious about your progress with the soul-possessing vampire." He wanted to sound as undemanding as possible. In reality the senior partners were eager for Frost to make his move, but they didn't want to scare their client off by being too pushy.
"I saw his girl downstairs." The vampire told him with a wicked grin.
"The seer? Here?" He imagined the stunning Cordelia Chase dancing among the crowd, a siren amidst the masses.
"She had a friend, a tall black guy who looked like he knew the score."
Lindsey considered that remark. "There's guy by the name of Gunn, who helps them out from time to time. That must have been him."
"They were checking the place out. I guess I should be flattered."
Lindsey wasn't so sure.
"She's a good-looking woman, Lindsey. You should have told me sooner." Deacon moved to the window to stare out at the crowd. "Now I have the motivation I've been looking for."
Lindsey gulped. The vampire had taken an interest in Cordelia. It was enough to make Lindsey sick with fear for her.
* * *
"So, how was it?" Wesley asked almost as soon as Cordelia walked in the door.
"It was cool." She replied, heading for the kitchen.
"There weren't any vampires?" Angel frowned at Wesley.
"Oh no, the place was crawling with them." She returned from the kitchen with a glass of water. "But it was also a very cool club." She sat down at the dining table where Wesley and Angel were doing research. "Whoever owns that place is definitely in the bloodsucking market."
"Then it's possible that the vampires are being organised by someone." Wesley looked at Angel.
Cordelia sighed. "Is this gonna be like the Master, or the Mayor again? Cos I am just sick and tired of these boss types with their evil world domination schemes an' all."
Angel shook his head with a rueful smile then turned to Wesley. "I think it's a possibility we're going to have to consider."
3
Frost was sitting at his large glass dining room table. He had completely covered the surface with photos. Cordelia Chase's magnificent visage stared up at him in every shot. He had to admire the talent of the photographer he'd hired. Every aspect of this beautiful girl was captured and frozen for his personal pleasure. The only problem was that some of them featured her co-workers; the wiry Brit and 'Tall, Dark and Broody'.
A vampire with a soul was not exactly an enigma to him. Deacon wasn't controlled by a demon. As the science geeks had told him, his vampirism was more of a blood mutation than any kind of mystical possession. Therefore Deacon possessed a soul. What made Angel so unusual was his desire to help the helpless, to ignore his natural inclination for killing, and fight against his own kind. It annoyed Deacon to see vampires ignore the power they'd been given. Abiding by man's laws was something he'd always hated about the Pure Bloods. They were genetically superior to human, and according to Darwinian theory, they should be the ones in charge, yet they preferred to skulk in the shadows, using their wealth to keep the peace.
It took idealists like Deacon to force change on the stone-faced elders, but they looked down on him because he wasn't born a vampire like they were. That was part of their problem - they didn't know the humans because they'd never been like them - whereas Deacon had been human once and realised what mindless, frail creatures they were.
The lawyers were helpful allies to have, so he was willing to do them the favour of killing Angel. Already, the soulful vamp had killed a large portion of Frost's employees. While it was no great loss, it bothered Frost all the same. Tonight, when Angel went hunting they would finally meet. Deacon wasn't sure if he wanted to kill the vampire just yet. The sadist in him wanted to toy with Angel, make him fear for his pitiful life, but sometimes that was too much effort. It was only fun if you had someone to share it with. Yet again he found himself wishing Mercury had joined him, or even that numbskull Quinn. On a whim he walked over to the phone and dialled a number.
"What?" Came the abrupt answer.
"How's New York? Still standing?" Frost asked.
"Deak! My man, long time an' all!" Quinn replied excitedly. "What's the City of Angel like?"
"Not too shabby. I gotta say I'm getting to like this city." He faced the window admiring the cityscape by night.
"No way! The Big Apple just ain't the same without you, man!"
"I hope you're looking after my clubs."
"They're still standing. Oh yeah, Mercury called. She's in Istanbul. Asked for you."
Deacon was silent. At least she hadn't forgotten him. "Quinn, my friend, I must love you and leave you. I've got business to attend to."
"Oh yeah? Business of the lovin' kind, or business of the money kind?"
"Actually, it's business of the killing kind."
"Excellent. Smell ya later, Deak."
He ended the call and walked into his bedroom, thinking about what to wear. Black was probably appropriate for a funeral.
* * *
Angel stalked through the crowd. He had returned to the warehouse nightclub Cordelia had visited. He had the semblance of a plan but needed a quivering victim to help him out. It surprised him to find this amount of vampires in this club. Never in his expanded lifetime had he witnessed such a multitude of the undead crammed together in one room. There had to be someone behind it.
He spotted a thin, pale, wide-eyed youth leaning against the wall. He was watching hungrily as someone next to him flirted with a pretty blonde. His skin was a shade too pale, his eyes a shade too hungry. Angel could tell what was going on. This was a newly turned vampire, too young and fearful to compete with the slightly bigger and possibly older vampire next to him. Angel walked up to him and put a firm hand on the boy's bony shoulder.
"You interested in a piece of meat, my friend?" He asked.
The young vampire looked up at him with large brown eyes. "Sure."
Angel inclined his head to the door and led him outside.
Once outside, Angel walked him away from the well-lit doorway to a darker end of the alley. He had no intention of letting the bouncers interfere.
"You in the meat trade?" The young man asked, a slight quiver in his voice betraying his low age.
"Not really." Angel took him off guard and slammed him against a brick wall.
"What the . . . ?!" The young vampire struggled to break free.
"I'm looking for some information." Angel told him tightening his grip on the vampire's shoulders. "If you're helpful I might be persuaded to let you go. If not, well, I'll leave that up to your imagination."
"What do you wanna know?"
"You go to that club often?"
"That's what you want to know?!" Angel rammed him into the wall again. "Okay, okay. I go there every week."
"You ever seen the owner?"
"I don't . . .I don't think so . . .I mean I'm sure he's there, but . . ."
"Has he got a name?"
"Sure, everyone knows . . . wait a minute you're that vampire with a soul . . you . ."
Angel grabbed the youth's head and smashed it against the bricks. "Answer the question!"
"Frost, his name's Frost!" The vampire cried.
"Where can I find him?"
"I dunno, his office?"
"Which is where?"
"I don't know!"
Angel grew tired of this pathetic act. The young vamp was probably completely out of the loop. He let go of him and took a step back.
The vampire eyed him fearfully. He started to back away.
"Oh, one more thing," Angel gestured the vampire back.
"What?"
"This." Angel punched a stake right into the vampire's heart. The dust exploded in Angel's face. As he wiped it off, the sound of clapping caught his attention. He whirled around and found a man standing no more than fifteen feet away.
"That was impressive." The young man smiled, revealing a set of sharpened canine teeth. "Very smooth. Do they teach you comebacks like that in Good Guy College or something?"
Angel took a moment to examine the vampire. He'd never seen one reveal his fang but not the demonic face. The young man's skin was white, almost albino white. Tousled strands of brown hair hung over ice cold blue eyes. He wore a dark grey shirt under an immaculate black suit. The man before him could easily be mistaken for a vampiric version of Lindsey McDonald.
"Who are you?"
"Frost, Deacon Frost." He held out a hand.
Angel stared at it, noting the glassy claws. He walked slowly around the vampire, eyeing him up and down. "You're new in town." He stated.
"Yes, and already I've made a name for myself." Frost joked.
"Well, you've certainly caught my attention." Angel fingered the axe he had fixed to his back.
"And you've caught the attention of some pretty pissed lawyers, I might add." Deacon paced in front of Angel, the sly grin pasted to his face.
"You seem little too ambitious to be another one of Wolfram and Hart's assassins."
"On one hand I'd agree, I prefer to be self-employed. On the other hand, killing you might make life a lot easier for me. You know, hired goons are annoying enough without you coming along and killing them."
Angel cracked a smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, we're they *your* evil cronies?" Angel shook his head in mock pity. "What a shame."
Deacon paused where he stood and blew out a deep sigh. "Screw the banter, let's fight." He hurled himself at Angel, knocking the taller man to the ground.
Angel rolled around, struggling to get his attacker off him. He'd been surprised by the vampire's speed. This was going to be an even, if not perfectly matched battle. He lifted his legs and kicked Deacon in the gut, pushing him over Angel's head. They were both quick to get on their feet. Angel grabbed his axe under his long black coat, twirling it in his hands with a graceful flourish. Frost gritted his teeth, snarling like a wild animal. He suddenly jumped, flipping in the air and landed behind Angel. He grabbed a long metal rod from the ground and prepared for the assault.
Angel lunged the axe at Frost, who held the metal rod in both hands, pushing Angel backwards. Angel backed off to take another swing, but in that second Deacon swiped his weapon across Angel's midriff.
The pain caused Angel's blood to boil and his features distorted.
Deacon chuckled, a large grin revealing the fangs again. "So, there is a little demon in you after all! Man you guys are ugly!" He struck the rod against Angel's axe, then again from the other side. On the third hit the metal connected with Angel's hands, sending the axe flying out of his grasp. They both raced to pick it up, but Deacon was there first.
He grabbed the axe and mimicked Angel's dramatic figure-of-eight swings. Angel backed away. He quickly rifled through his coat pocket until his fingers met the glass vial he'd been looking for. Pulling the cork off with his teeth, he pitched the content directly onto Deacon's face.
Frost spluttered momentarily, and wiped the liquid from his face. "Is that holy water?" He demanded incredulously. "That was fucking stupid!" He swung the axe at his adversary.
Angel was so shocked he barely dodged the swing, but stumbled backwards just in time.
The completely unharmed Deacon Frost took another swipe at Angel, grunting noisily. He was getting closer and closer to the taller vampire every time.
Panic was about to set in as Angel felt the air being displaced by the heaving swings of the axe in his direction. He fumbled with the mini crossbow on his wrist. Within seconds a thin wooden arrow sailed through the air right into Deacon's heart.
Frost was holding the axe above his head when the arrow hit him. The weapon fell to waist level. His feet staggered trying to get his ground. He laughed quietly to himself as he looked up at Angel's bewildered face. "Fuck, that kinda stings!" He pulled the arrow out of his heart with a wince.
Angel's mouth dropped open and he felt ready to collapse.
"So that's what it feels like. I won't be doing that again in a hurry." He laughed to Angel as though they were sharing a joke. "Now, where were we?"
Angel backed further away from the vampire who was getting ready for another attack. His feet met a metal trashcan. He quickly hoisted it above his head and flung it at Deacon.
Frost tried to hit the can out of his way with the metal axe. When he looked up again all he saw was Angel retreating figure.
Angel hated himself for running, but his aching body told him he was better off living to fight another day. He could here Frost's amused voice calling after him. "Run all you like, Angel-face, I'm still gonna kill you! It's only a matter of time!"
4
"Why didn't you kill him?" Lindsey shouted impatiently into the bedroom. He was tired of waiting for Deacon to finish whatever he was doing in there. He'd been summoned to Frost's apartment that evening only to be made wait outside for an hour. The sound of muffled laughter reached his ears. It was obviously a huge joke to the vampire. Unfortunately, it was Lindsey who had to answer to the senior partners when they found out that morning that Angel wasn't dead yet.
The bedroom door opened and Deacon Frost strolled out, grinning like a cat. "I didn't kill him because I didn't want to." He purred, gliding right by Lindsey to the kitchen.
Lindsey stared after him in disbelief. "But you promised the senior partners you would!"
"And I will, Lindsey. All in good time, my boy, all in good time." Deacon poured a glass of orange juice and carried it over to the doorway. "Speaking of good times…."
A lithe bronzed woman stood in the doorway, yawning. She wore a long, black, silk robe, tied haphazardly at the waist, but revealing the curves of her voluptuous breasts. She smiled wanly at Lindsey as she took the juice.
"This is Aria." Deacon stood behind her, his hand on her hip. "She's very happy to meet your need and show you what 'full service' really means."
Lindsey rolled his eyes and looked away. "If this is what you called me up here for…"
"He's so tense," Aria's hand reached up to Lindsey's broad shoulder, stroking the silky suit material. "I know what would relax you." Her hand suddenly travelled down his back and around to the front. He gasped when she took hold if his flaccid penis, and quickly pulled away from her.
Deacon was chuckling quietly to himself.
She grinned playfully at him, her brown eyes washing all over him. "Oh my!" Her nimble finger took a firm hold of his fake hand. "Look, Frost. It's plastic." She held it up, awkwardly dragging Lindsey's arm up with it.
Deacon nodded, acting interested, but his blue eyes met Lindsey's.
She examined the prosthetic hand like a new toy. "Does it have any feeling?"
"No." Lindsey's voice croaked. It unnerved him to have the appendage examined so thoroughly.
"So you can't feel this?" She pulled the plastic hand under the silk robe and held it up to her plumb breast.
"No." Lindsey whispered nervously. He looked up at Deacon, who was grinning happily at him from his place at the doorway.
"Or this?" She suddenly pushed the prosthesis under her dressing gown to her wet opening.
Lindsey pulled away forcibly, sneering in disgust. Deacon's loud burst of laughter chilled him to the core. Aria, smiled wickedly at his embarrassment.
"Aria, Honey, why don't you get Lindsey a drink?" Deacon stroked her long brown hair
The woman nodded and moved soundlessly to the bar.
"You like?" The vampire asked his disturbed lawyer. "I'm thinking of turning her." He whispered.
Lindsey's mouth dropped open. He blinked at the vampire.
"Come on, Old McDonald! Lighten up!" Deacon slapped him on the back. Then turned to smile warmly at Aria. "Maybe you're right, she'd probably get annoying after a decade."
Aria opened her mouth to protest, but was cut short as Deacon lunged for her throat. The glass dropped from her hand, smashing into tiny pieces.
Lindsey watched in horror, as Frost tore savagely at the whore's windpipe. Blood flowed down her chest, soaking her, and leaving a bright red puddle on the marble floor.
Deacon gave a feral growl and dropped the lifeless body to the ground. He wiped the blood from his mouth, leaving a scarlet trail across his cheek.
Lindsey edged backwards, fearing he was next.
"Don't worry, boy. I'm not coming for you, yet." Deacon strolled away form the body and picked up a towel to clean his face. "I've been thinking about Angel." He announced calmly. "I want to get him really mad. Killing Cordelia Chase would probably do that, wouldn't it?"
Lindsey dragged his eyes away from the dead woman, but couldn't look at the vampire. "K-kill C-Cordelia?" He stuttered.
"Sure, or maybe turn her. You think she'd make a good vampire?"
Lindsey swallowed over the growing lump in his throat. He couldn't find words, so he shook his head and shrugged.
Deacon laughed and put his arm around Lindsey's shoulder. "Or maybe I should just turn you?"
Lindsey froze. Every inch of his body stiffened.
Deacon roared with laughter. "Gotcha! As if I'd turn a square like you!"
Lindsey sighed with relief. He broke away from Frost's embrace and picked up his briefcase. "I . . .I have things to do at the office." With that he moved to the door and left as fast as he could.
* * *
"Sit still!" Cordelia commanded. She carefully placed the gauze over the long horizontal wound bisecting Angel's midriff.
"Cordy, this really isn't necessary. I heal very fast." Angel protested, squirming like an obstinate child.
"I'm not going to have you bleeding all my apartment, Angel!"
"Okay." He relented under her fierce gaze.
"So, you mean to say that both holy water and a stake through the heart had no effect?" Wesley looked up from his books, narrowing his eyes at Angel.
"Wes, I stood there and watched him rip the stake right out of his heart! So yeah, it had absolutely no effect." Angel moved away from Cordelia, gesturing angrily with his hands. He still couldn't believe what had happened, what he had witnessed.
"This vampire didn't happen to be wearing a little ring of Amara, did he?" Cordelia asked.
"No, I didn't notice any charms or magic jewellery. And anyway, I destroyed the Gem of Amara, months ago." Angel sighed and leaned against the wall.
Wesley took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Angel, I'll be the first to admit it, but I am completely stumped. I can't understand this at all. Are you sure it was a vampire?"
Angel considered the possibility of the strange creature not being a vampire. Suddenly he heard the sound of coughing and hacking coming from outside the apartment. He marched over to the door, much to Cordelia and Wesley's surprise. Swinging the front door wide open he found the hunched form of a man being sick.
Angel recognised the man's familiar scent within seconds. He grabbed the suited figure by the scruff of the neck and hauled him inside, pushing him up against a wall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Lindsey wiped his mouth and looked wide-eyed at the angry vampire.
Angel saw at once how fearful the pale lawyer was, but pushed any pity aside. "Wolfram and Hart's canteen not up to safety codes?" He laughed, still holding Lindsey up against the wall.
"I wanted to warn you." Lindsey gulped. His eyes travelled to Cordelia, who stood behind Angel, her arms crossed in front of her. "He's coming after you." He croaked.
Angel frowned and tilted his head to one side. "Who?"
"Deacon Frost, the vampire you fought last night." Lindsey gave Angel a withered look.
Angel let go of Lindsey but would let him move away. "He's your client, isn't he?"
Lindsey nodded. "Yes. The senior partners thought my personal interest in having you killed would make him easier to deal with." He glared at Angel.
Angel shook his head. "This is a trap." He walked away from Lindsey.
"No, it's not!" Lindsey objected.
"Then why are you here? To help us, like you helped us before?!" Angel was ready to punch the slimy lawyer in the face.
Lindsey swallowed and looked around. When he spoke it was in hushed tones. "I just watched that monster kill a girl right in front of me. And while I want you dead," He told Angel lifting his plastic hand. "I don't want to see Cordelia turned or slaughtered because of me."
"He doesn't sound so different from the rest of Wolfram and Hart's clients." Wesley scoffed.
"He *is* different!" Lindsey insisted. "He wants to create an army of vampires loyal to him. He wants vampires to rule the world, to enslave humanity. It not in mine or Wolfram and Hart's best interest to be enslaved by vampires!" He glared heatedly at Angel.
Angel found himself frowning. He could see the anger Lindsey felt towards him for chopping off his hand, but wanting to save Cordelia was a bizarre twist.
"Strange that it didn't bother you before to have me driven insane with painful visions?" Cordelia interjected irately.
Lindsey looked at the floor. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "Look, I want to be here as much as you want to see me, but there is one fucked up vampire out there who's got his eye on Cordelia. If you don't want my help, I'm sure you're just fine without it." Lindsey was about to head for the door.
"So, he is a vampire?" Angel thought out loud.
"Of course he is!" Lindsey turned back, staring at his enemy incredulously.
"Then why didn't a stake work?" Wesley asked.
"He's a different kind of vampire," Lindsey bit his lip, considering his words carefully. "The usual stuff – crosses, holy water, wooden stakes – they won't work on him."
"How is that possible?" Wesley looked unusually bewildered.
"Don't ask me to explain it, but it's like . . . It's nothing like Angel, where there's magic and demon possession involved. Frost has a kind of . . . mutation. It's genetic."
Angel's eyebrows were raised. The idea of scientifically explainable vampires was a little hard to believe. "How do I kill him then?"
"As far as I know, silver and garlic give him an 'extreme allergic reaction'." Lindsey told them.
"Where can I find him?" Angel demanded.
Lindsey checked his watch. "Right now, he's probably at his office in the warehouse club. You can get in through the fire exit on the roof."
Angel looked at Wesley. "You get the garlic and the silver, then meet me outside the warehouse." He turned to Cordy. "Keep an eye on him."
Grabbing his long black duster, Angel hurried out the door after Wesley. He paused to give Lindsey a suspicious glance before he slammed the door after him.
* * *
"Could I get a glass of water?" Lindsey asked once he'd been left alone with Cordelia. The horrible taste of his last meal was still in his mouth.
Cordelia returned in minutes, handing him the drink. "I though evil lawyer types were above food poisoning?" She teased.
He grimaced. "I've never seen anyone being sucked dry before." He closed his eyes trying to push the images out of his mind.
"Even when you were Russell Winter's errand boy?" She sniped.
He looked up at her with a frown. "No, he was discreet."
He took a seat at her dining-room table. Drumming his fingers nervously on the surface.
"You know, you can't keep changing sides when it suits you." She told him.
"I'm not! I've very happy with the side I chose," He could feel his anger rising again. "Is it so strange for me not to want you dead?!"
"Yes!" She was standing over him imposingly.
"Well, maybe I should just let you get killed!" He stood meeting her fiery gaze.
"Like you care anyway!" She yelled.
"Fine, that's it!" He pushed past her to the door. "I'm sick of trying to convince you people I'm not evil! I'm just a lawyer!"
"Exactly!" She shouted.
He rolled his eyes and reached to open the door.
"Old McDonald! How nice to find you here." Deacon's fist connected with Lindsey's face, hurling his out of the way.
A group of large men burst in through the doorway. Lindsey pulled himself off the floor and ran to protect Cordelia.
"Let go of me!" She screamed as the cronies took hold of her.
"Lind-sey!" Deacon singsong voice accompanied the cold hand that gripped the back of Lindsey's throat, pulling him away.
Lindsey struggled against Frost's iron grip, watching in horror as a screaming Cordelia was bound and gagged.
"Telling them all about me really wasn't such a good idea, Lindsey. I'm going to have to punish you now!" Deacon held Lindsey at arms length, clutching his wrists. Lindsey yelled when his left wrist was pulled to Deacon mouth, and then yelled louder still when the fangs stabbed into his skin. A cold agony shot up his arm, but Lindsey was frozen. He could hear his heart thumping rapidly in his ear as the blood flowed into the vampire's mouth.
Deacon lifted his head and roared. He bared his bloody fangs at Lindsey, letting go off the lawyer's arms.
Lindsey stumbled backwards, his feet failing him. His back hit a wall and he began to slump to the floor. He could only gasp and squeak as a struggling, crying Cordelia was carried away.
Deacon stood overhead, wiping Lindsey's blood form his face with the cuff of his shirt. "I was wrong about you Lindsey. You taste pretty good." The vampire laughed.
Lindsey glared up at him, but couldn't catch his breath enough to form words. He pulled the bloody wrist to his chest with a painful wince.
Deacon bent down to pat Lindsey on the cheek. "Do something for me, will ya? Let Angel know I'm ready whenever he is."
Lindsey gritted his teeth, snarling angrily at Frost.
The vampire smirked, getting up and walking towards the door. "You think she'll be as juicy as she looks?"
Lindsey closed his eyes, knocking his head back against the wall. When he opened them again the empty room was swimming. He tried to cradle the bloody wrist in the crook of his elbow, hoping the suit material would stop him from bleeding to death.
5
"Lindsey!" Angel yelled as he stormed through the door to Cordelia's apartment. Frost hadn't been at the office, and Angel was under the distinct impression that Lindsey was to blame. The strong smell of blood hit him full force on his entrance. Wesley was first to notice the pale body slumped against the wall.
Wesley dropped to his knee and quickly felt for a pulse. There was blood all over the young man's shirt. Angel grabbed a towel from the kitchen.
Lindsey opened his eyes and jumped when he saw who was huddled beside him. He tried to speak but his dry mouth could only croak.
Angel wrapped the towel tightly around the bloody wrist. So tight he noticed Lindsey cringe and make a small whimpering noise. If he could feel that pain then there was a chance he'd make it.
"Cordelia." Lindsey finally whispered.
Angel froze. He hadn't even had time to realise she wasn't there.
"It was Frost." Lindsey choked, but pushed on, desperate to explain what had happened. "He took her.
"Angel, we have to get him to a hospital." Wesley implored him.
"Where would he take her?" Angel demanded.
Lindsey's dilated pupils swam around in his head. He was barely conscious. "His apartment, I think." Suddenly Lindsey's clumsy plastic hand pushed up against Angel's chest, a cold reminder of their troubled relationship. "You have to use silver, or garlic, or sunlight . . . or beheading. Nothing else will work!"
"I know. It's okay, Lindsey, we'll get you to a hospital now." Angel stood and went to the phone to call an ambulance. Frost was going to pay for taking Cordelia. If he harmed even a hair on her body, he would suffer for it, and Angel had first hand experience of the tortures of hell itself to draw from.
* * *
Tobacco smoke filled the air around her. A cold hand stroked her bare arm. Cordelia opened her heavy eyelids, hazily taking in her surroundings. She was lying on a black leather couch; the ceiling above her was white with delicate plaster ornamentations around the boarders. Turning her head to one side, she froze when her eyes met his. He was ghostly white, with the lightest blues eyes she had ever seen. They gleamed with a devilish intent she was very familiar with in her line of work.
"So nice to finally have you conscious, Miss Chase." The husky voice purred, so close to her she could feel his icy breath.
"What do you want with me?" She tried so hard not to sound afraid, but the proximity of the vampire was sending chills down her spine. Her eyes wandered to the three other vampires standing at a distance from their boss. These vampires wore the familiar demonic faces Deacon Frost lacked.
The cold hand was at her face now, tracing the line of her jaw, with a softness she didn't expect from a killer. "I thought we could spend some quality time together. Get to know each other."
"You're a monster, that's all I need to know." She said through gritted teeth. Sitting up, she inched as far away from him as she could get.
He clucked his tongue. "I'm a lot less of a monster than your boss. He has a whole demon inside of him!" Deacon chuckled. "Ugly fucker too."
"Angel's no monster. He doesn't kill innocent people!" She hissed, outraged that the vampire could compare himself to Angel.
He sat across from her and took a drag from his cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke into the air above him.
In the silence she took the opportunity to study her kidnapper. He was handsome - she couldn't deny it. Yet another good-looking evil person to add to her ever-growing list. His pale face was mired with stubble around his colourless lips. A small scar ran through one of his eyebrows, a mark perhaps, from his life as human, that wouldn't heal.
"Cordelia is such a lovely name. Shakespearian name always are. Cordelia, Ophelia, Portia, Desdemona, Miranda, Viola . . . they just roll off the tongue."
Cordy stared at the vampire, unimpressed by his knowledge of the playwright. She'd heard it all before. Guys thought that just because her name was from a play, that she actually cared if they knew that kind of stuff.
"Cordelia, she's from 'King Lear', right?" He continued, oblivious to her glares. "The favourite daughter. Were you Daddy's favourite daughter too?" He asked in a tone dripping with saccharine.
She pursed her lips and stared at the ceiling. "Just offer me eternal life, will ya? Get on with it already!"
He raised his eyebrow at her snappy remark. "You want to do this as much as I do?" His tongue flicking on his fang.
"No! I just want you to ask so I can throw it back in your face. You know the drill." She rolled her eyes.
He laughed, stubbing out his cigarette. "You think you can stop me?" He got up and stood over her. His hand grabbed her chin roughly.
"Angel's coming, you know!" Her voice quivered, her eyes watched his fingernails grow into sharp white claws.
"Oh, I'm counting on it, sweet cakes." He bent down, his face inches from hers. The distinct blue eyes, watching her slightly quivering lips. "I'm looking forward to kicking his ass again."
His cold lips clamped onto hers, sucking the air from her mouth. One hand keeping a firm grip on the back of her head, the other still stroking her jaw. He drew away suddenly as the door to his apartment exploded in a blast of splintered wood.
Angel stood in the shattered doorway, a fog of smoke surrounding him. "Frost!" He growled.
6
Frost was up in a flash, his eyes never leaving Angel. "Get her inside." He ordered the three vampires, inclining his head to Cordelia.
Angel was forced to watch the lackeys grab Cordelia and pull her into the next room. If it weren't for Frost standing in his way, he'd have sliced their heads off for even touching his friend.
"Took you a while to find us, or was it just that Lindsey wasn't as forthcoming as you wanted." Deacon grabbed a sword from the marble mantelpiece. "How is Old McDonald, by the way?"
"He's fine, I guess you couldn't stomach very much of him, could you?" Angel teased; he took out his own sword and gave it a swing.
"I just wanted to leave enough of him to tell you I had your girl. I'll finish him off when I'm done with you." Deacon grinned.
"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep." With that Angel lunged at the other vampire.
Frost blocked, meeting Angel's forceful lunge with equal strength. A wicked snarl escaped his lips as he thrust the heavy blade towards Angel's stomach.
Angel backed off, giving himself room to take another swing. They continued back and forth, moving faster all the time, each trying to catch the other off-guard. Everytime Angel thought he had pushed Frost into a corner the other vampire would push him backwards, or kick out at him.
Angel was thrown backwards onto a glass table. It shattered beneath him, with a loud crash of glass. The shards sliced his black overcoat, cutting into his back. Deacon was coming at him, the point of his sword aimed directly at Angel's heart. Angel rolled back, getting his footing and grasped his sword tightly. He pushed Deacon back, then gave him a round-house kick in the face.
The other vampire was quick to recover, shaking his head, and growling like an angry wild animal. "I'm really gonna miss kicking your ass when your gone." Deacon snarled, twirling his sword in his hands.
"Lies make baby Jesus cry." Angel shook his head with a sardonic smirk, then pounced, clashing his sword with Deacon's.
They thrust and parried like a pair of seasoned sword-fighters, until Deacon grew tired of the pattern and high-kicked Angel's sword out of his hand.
Angel stumbled backwards, tripping over some remnants of the furniture they had demolished. He found himself backed into a wall.
Deacon chuckled, raising his blade over his shoulder to take the final swipe. "I hope you're prepared for oblivion, Angel."
"Thanks, but I'm not ready to leave just yet." Angel quickly pulled a can out of his coat pocket and threw it down by his feet. A cloud of smoke emerged from the can.
Deacon began to gasp and choke. He threw his sword form his hand as he scratched at his throat.
Angel got to his feet, kicking the canister closer to Frost. "Nice, huh?" He gave a large grin. "A little garlic vapour, does wonders for the skin, or so I'm told."
Deacon coughed and hacked as the smoke burnt into his lungs. His clawed hands scrambled inside his jacket. He pulled out a wooden cross and held it out before him.
Angel hesitated, unable to look at the crucifix. He spotted his sword inches from Deacon's feet. "Seems we have a bit of stand-off here." He clenched his fists at his side.
Deacon's azure eyes glared fierily at Angel from behind the sleeve he had pulled up to cover his nose and mouth.
"I'm gonna offer you a deal, Frost." Angel lowered his voice to its most menacing level. "You can turn around and walk out of here alive, but I don't want to see you in my town ever again."
Deacon narrowed his furious eyes at Angel, he was still choking, his chest rising up and down at a panicked rate. His feet began to move backwards to the door, unwilling to turn away from his adversary. He batted the thick smoke away from his reddened face. With one final scowl, Deacon Frost stepped through the entrance Angel had blasted through the doors, and ran down the hallway.
Once Angel was sure the other vampire was gone, he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulder drooping. He reached behind to touch the many cuts on his back where the broken glass had pierced his skin. He ached all over from the pummelling Frost had given him. He picked up his sword, rubbing off some dust.
The bedroom door creaked open. "You done out there, boss?" A hesitant crony stuck his head out.
Angel gave a small groan then swiped his sword, effectively beheading the vampire. He kicked down the bedroom door, to find two other vamps standing over the bed, where Cordelia was bound and gagged.
The vampires took one look at the bloodied, beaten and highly annoyed-looking Angel, then raced for the window.
Angel went to chase after them, but turned back to Cordelia.
He fumbled with the ropes that held her, his fingers stiff and sore.
Once free, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
He thought he heard her sniffle and whimper quietly into his shoulder. "It's okay Cordy, I'm here, you're all right now." He rubbed her back up and down trying to comfort her. "Angel killed the nasty vampires."
She pulled back, running a hand through her hair. Her big brown eyes looking into his. "You killed Frost?"
Angel frowned. "Em, well . . . that is to say . . ."
"Angel!" She put her hand on her hip.
"He was really strong!" Angel protested. "He was kicking my ass, Cordy!"
"But you let him go?!" She got up straightening her skirt, but not giving up the opportunity to give Angel a demanding stare.
Angel got up, looking down at his scuffed boots. "Yeah." He muttered.
"I don't believe you!" She walked out of the bedroom. "You're going to let a maniac like that run around town?"
"He won't be coming back." Angel led her through the wrecked doorway. "Or he'll have to answer to me." Angel said in a low intimidating tone. He ignored Cordelia's sniggering as they headed for the elevator.
7 Epilogue
A shiny black BMW sped down the highway towards LAX. Deacon Frost sat behind the wheel, fuming silently. His pale skin had recovered quickly from the exposure to garlic, but he still felt a burn in his lungs with every breath. He couldn't believe Angel had driven him out of town. That pathetic excuse for a vampire had actually threatened him and won. Deacon picked up his cellphone and hit the speed dial.
"Hello." The familiar accent sent a shiver of arousal through him.
"You're back." He stated simply.
"I brought a friend." He could hear her evil smile.
"I'm coming home. You were right, LA isn't my kinda town." He admitted with a frustrated sigh.
"I can't wait." Mercury purred. "Our old friend Blade is in town again."
Deacon smiled to himself, she knew exactly how to cheer him up. "Great. I'll see you soon."
"I'll be waiting." Her voice was seductively low, before she disconnected the call.
Frost stepped on the accelerator, eager to get the airport and be out of this godforsaken city as soon as possible.
* * *
Lindsey woke in a white room, lying in a soft bed. He looked around and saw Wesley sitting beside him, flicking through a magazine. "Where am I?" He croaked.
Wesley jumped. "You're in a hospital. You had to have a blood transfusion. As usual, the doctors are calling it mild anaemia."
Lindsey examined his bandaged wrist, the memory of Deacon Frost sucking on it, returning in an instant. "Cordelia?" He asked.
"She's fine." Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Angel took care of Frost."
"That's good to hear, isn't it, Lindsey!" Holland stood in the doorway, a bright smile on his face. He walked into the room and placed a bunch of flowers at Lindsey's bedside. "Would you excuse us, please?" He asked Wesley.
Wesley hesitated, looking to Lindsey.
Lindsey nodded, trying not to look as serious as he did.
Once Wesley had left, Holland closed the door and sat in the vacant chair. "How are you feeling, son?"
Lindsey cringed at the patronising tone Holland had taken. "I'm fine." He stated, sitting up in bed.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Our association with Mister Frost has been terribly unfortunate. Thankfully Angel had dealt with him amply. Ironic really, since it was supposed to be the other way round." Holland chuckled to himself.
"Yes, sir." Lindsey replied nervously.
"Although we're not too happy with you for going to Angel in your hour of need . . . again." Holland's tone turned colder.
"I'm sorry, I know this reflects badly on my loyalty to Wolfram and Hart, but I can assure you I had the firm's best interests at heart . . ." Lindsey scrambled for words of apology.
"It's all right, Lindsey. We're willing to forget this nonsense if you are."
Lindsey nodded quickly. "I am, sir. I just want to move on."
"Excellent." Holland stood, putting his hands in his pockets. "Well, I'll let you get some rest now, so you'll be in top form when you get back to work."
"Yes, sir." Lindsey watched his boss leave, the relief washing over him in waves. He lay back in bed with a sigh. Through the curtains he could see the sun shining over the rooftops of the city. With a frown, he turned away from the heat of the sunlight. He rubbed the bandage on his wrist. Wanting to see exactly how bad the damage was, he unwound the gauze. Two large puckered puncture wounds stared back at him. It occurred to him that he was suddenly very thirsty.
A nurse entered to check his charts. "Can I get you anything, sir?" She asked sweetly.
"Could I get something to drink?" He asked. "And could you close the curtains, the sun's a little bright."
She did as he asked, pulling the light drapes across the window. "If it's a migraine, I can get you some medication." She offered.
"Sure." He replied, but for some reason he didn't think that was going to make any difference. Maybe Frost's love-bite was more than it seemed.
The End