Chapter Two : Being Watched and Coffee

Standing in line for coffee, she grimaced slightly and needlessly adjusted the cuffs of the crisp, cherry red oxford she wore. The hilt of the celtic knot worked short sword was settled on her left hip. Every eye was going from her face, down to the sword in its plain black sheath, and then back up to her face. Stupid Visible Weapons Law. She raked her right hand through her dark curls, tousling them to fall around her shoulders, but had to agree with Pierson, he was right - it did make her a target.

She hated it. Her reaction, the one ingrained by her teacher, was to cover the hilt somehow, even though she had tucked her shirt into the black slacks deliberately. She sighed again, and glared at the person that was apparently dithering over whether or not to get a raspberry danish or not. She tapped her blunt nailed fingers idly against the hilt of the sword, a gentle motion that was habit, and typically disguised by the fact the sword was in a coat, and the hand was in a pocket.

"Buddy, hurry up before she decides to get really annoyed. She does have a sword after all." A wit farther back in the line called up to the blonde man that appeared to be in his mid thirties and was wearing a dark gray business suit and a white collared shirt. The undecided party turned sharply, ready to snarl something at the wit, and then paled as he realized the woman standing behind him in line was standing with her weight resting on her left leg, right hip cocked and one hand idly tracing the pomel of the sword as she waited. His brown eyes widened in shock, after sweeping over her pressed shirt and neat slacks clad frame and then locking on the sword. She kept her expression neutral even as an amused grin twitched just under the surface and lit her dark eyes. She had forgotten about that part of the reaction. It had been a few centuries since she'd openly worn a blade.

"Angelique! Be nice to the poor guy. What can I get you?" Becca, her typical barista asked, her short red hair spiked with gel, and her blue eyes as friendly as ever, not even seeming to notice the old accessory strapped prominently to her left hip.

"Give me a cherry bear claw, and an extra tall, triple shot, mocha truffle with whip."

"All right. Eight ten please. And I like the sword. Pretty, is that your usual Celtic stuff? Like your necklace?" Becca asked as she slipped the bear claw onto a folded square of wax paper, and turned away to quickly made the drink

Angelique picked up the bear claw, laying a ten on the counter, then self consciously brought her left hand up to touch the twist of silver wire that formed outline of a raven, wings formed of twisting never-ending loops of silver, spread to fly, nestled in the hollow of her throat.

"Yeah, it is. But I've had the sword longer."

"Well, I always knew you had a thing for Ravens. Leons-Raven, after all." Becca said as she turned back around and handed Angelique her drink. Angelique glanced down as she reached out with her free left hand for the drink. Her eyes locked onto the woman's bare right wrist as she saw the black circle with the stylized W bisecting it.

"Not wearing your bracelet today, Becca? Too bad. See ya tomorrow, Watcher. Keep the change." Angelique said, the tip of her dark head respectful as she stepped away from the counter and headed for the door. She clearly heard the swift intake of breath from the female Watcher and barista behind her. Her lips curved into a slightly ironic smile. She had spotted the tattoo almost three months ago, when she first got into town.

Angelique knew that Becca was not her Watcher. She'd had a man named Jeffry Richland following her for the past several years. She had realized what he was after the third time she had noticed him in a crowd after she had altered her typical pattern by going out to a bar on a Thursday night. She had even bought her Watcher a drink. She smiled slightly at that memory as she stepped through the door, taking a sip of her coffee. She glanced across the street and took another drink to cover her smile, she recognized another familiar, young face.

The Paulsen family had been Watching her off and on for the past forty years. First the grandfather, Micheal, then the father James, and unless she missed her guess, the newest man leaning against a wall reading a comic book was the middle boy, Samuel. She checked the street for cars and then jogged across, taking quick bites of the bear claw and alternating with sips of coffee.

"Hey Rick! Hand me a copy of the Daily-Standard? Need to check my portfolio." Angelique said as she balanced the paper wrapped bear claw on top of her coffee and dug out the cash to pay for a copy of the daily paper. She took the paper and tucked it under her arm to finish off her bear claw. Licking her fingers clean, she flipped open the paper to Section C and then folded the paper down so that she could see exactly the stocks she was looking for.

"So, why do you still buy a paper from me? Everyone else checks these things at night, on the news." Rick asked as he re-arranged his stock, silvered hair curling out from under his Baltimore Oriels cap.

"Well, I do buy the paper for more than just the stocks. I like the comics, and the daily horoscope. Occasionally the classifieds." She responded, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. One of her stocks was down for the fifth consecutive day.

"Bad stock?" Rick asked, blue eyes twinkling as he tugged on his cap.

"One of them qualifies. I'll make sure to get rid of it before the market closes today. You have a good one, Rick. I'll-" She stopped and slowly turned, she felt the Presence of another Immortal near by. She scanned up and down the street, slowly setting the cup of coffee behind her on the stand, along with the paper as she placed her right hand on the sword hilt in a cross grip. Her shoulders relaxed from their rigid almost military posture as she recognized the man walking towards her, hands held out at his sides. She took two steps forward, hand lifting off the hilt and greeted him with a hug.

When he released her, she took both his hands and kissed the backs of them solemnly, a show of respect. She smiled slightly when he kissed her palms. They hadn't publicly greeted each other in that fashion in centuries.

"Its good to see you, Maxwell." Angelique said quietly as she stepped back a pace or two and then gave her back to the other Immortal as she picked up her coffee and paper. She was well within his draw radius, and could pull her own blade before he could twist free the claymore from its sheath, which was designed to open sideways as well as a normal draw.

"And you, my Angel." He responded, brushing a lock of her dark hair over her shoulders. She looked into his blue eyes and frowned slightly, head tipping to the right as she studied him. He had at least four inches over her own five foot six, sandy blond hair, cropped short, and wore a claymore, sheathed across his back. And his eyes were gaping holes of grief in an otherwise calm face. Her stomach dropped and the sip of coffee she had just taken turned to ash on her tongue.

"I wasn't expecting you. I've been the only Immortal here for a few months." Angelique said with a shrug, forcing herself to mask her unease.

"I have been searching for you." He said, slipping easily into Latin.

"And why have you, my teacher?" She asked quietly, sliding into the language she had learned from him. Her right hand calmly fell to her hilt again, yet she stayed where she was. This man was a friend, had been a lover, and had also been her second teacher.

"To hold you to your oath, my Angel. Gwen is gone, and I've hunted down her killer. What more is there for me here?"

Angelique paled and swayed for a moment, the knife sharp slap of overwhelming grief attempting to dig itself into her heart and twist. She forced her lungs to work and choked back the howl of denial. Gwenna, her Gwen, her student, her friend of two hundred years, pulled from a poor house in London gone.

Angelique slipped back into English, "She was my best friend and now you want me to send you to her?" Her hand spasmodically clenched down on the sword hilt. She continued with a ragged inhale, "You want me to hold you both? Damn it, Max. I never wanted this. Not you, not her. God above, I wanted you both here for longer. Tell me who at least. I want to know which nightmares I will be replaying for the next decade or two."

"Some wretch by the name of William of Kent. About three centuries younger than Salisbury. And you promised me if ever I was tired -"

Angelique just nodded and closed her eyes. She knew exactly how old Mathew of Salisbury was and what he was up to. She and he had politely crossed paths about a decade before while he was working for the FBI and she had been working in a coffee shop near the Bureau.

"When would you like to meet me at the Arena then, my teacher?"

"My affairs are in order, my Angel. I only came looking for you to ask."

"We are with in three blocks of the Arena now. Tronby Park is between here and there. Its Holy Ground. A Druidic circle meets there every alternate Thursday. Or there's the Unitarian Church, White Dove, if we go over a block more to our east. If you want to speak to a pastor, I know I'd like to before hand."

"Trust you to know where every scrap of holy ground is. And I'd like that. Let your Watcher know and I'll let mine, meet at the Church then?"

"As you will." Angelique said before he stepped back, turned and walked towards a late model brown sedan. Angelique stepped away from Rick, who was simply staring in shock. She turned to her Watcher with a sad smile as the remainder of her coffee landed in the trash next to the news stand.

"So, Samuel I'm betting you got all of that?"

"Wha-" The young man spluttered, comic book slipping from his fingers as he stared at her in shock. The look that flickered over his face was classic busted.

"I attended two thirds of your baseball games when you were in middle school, high school, and in college. I did that to make certain your father got to attend them. I paid for his hotel suite when you guys won the State Championship in high school. You are the third generation of your family to Watch me. Your family has a code of honor that I liked a hell of a lot more than that lout Richland. He broke in one night and I almost skewered the ass when I got home." The sardonic smile that graced her face at that memory made the youngest Paulsen choke on a laugh.

"I have the feeling I just cleared something up for you. I'm headed to White Dove, and then to the Arena. Call it in, or whatever you need to do. I need to call Macleod." Angelique said before she turned away and pulled out her cell phone.

As she walked towards her car she punched in a number she had memorized over a year ago.

"Macleod and Nash Antiquities, Duncan speaking. How may I help you today?"

"Duncan. Its Angelique Du Orleans. Maximus of Londinium just called in my oath. I figured he's probably already set up a notification with you about this. So I figured I'd give you a call."

"Angelique, I'm sorry. Yes. He called me yesterday and told me he was calling in the favor. I gave him your city. Sorry about Gwen. Have somebody call me please after? I'd like to know -"

"I will Duncan. Don't worry about that. Talk to you later. Watch your head." Angelique slipped into the car, and then tossed her phone next to her sword and swore. She wanted, no needed, a few minutes to grieve. She didn't have that luxury though. Not with what was coming, so she pushed it out of her mind, the way Alex and Max had both taught her.

Her next call was to work, telling them she would be in at least an hour later than usual, and that she would explain everything then. She then put the car in drive and headed for the church.