Somnambulist
Part One
A woman ran through the night, terrified. The moonlight shone brightly, reflected in the puddles she splashed through, as she fled deeper into the city; seeking safety. She screamed as a man stepped out in front of her, forcing her to a stop. He grabbed her and her eyes went wide in fright. There was a sudden flash of silver as the man extended a metal claw and cut the woman's face. As a trail of blood trickled down her cheek, he yanked her head to one side and bit down hard on her neck, gorging himself on her life force. The wail of sirens was heard in the distance and Angel looked up from his victim's neck, blood dripping down his fangs.
In his apartment, Angel woke up with a start, sweating profusely. Realising he was still at home, he slumped back down into his bed and began to brood on his dream.
Cop Kate was having a bad night. It was the early hours of the morning and she wanted to go home but there had been a call out, another murder. She examined the body: a woman, dumped in a puddle under a bridge; a horrible, lonely place to die. Her blood had been drained, just like the last two. The detective rolled the body gently so she could get a better view of the woman's face. There it was. A Christian cross carved into her left cheek. 'Detective Lockley? Is it the same guy?' one of her men asked. 'It's the same guy' she confirmed. 'Third victim… this guy's just getting started.'
Doyle arrived early at the office that morning and went straight downstairs to find Angel. 'Angel, man, you around?' he called as he reached the bottom step, a groan from the direction of the bedroom told the half demon that he had managed to arrive at work before his boss was even up yet. The vampire appeared through the door wearing nothing but his black boxers and red, silk robe. 'What is it?' he asked, rubbing his face with one hand. His hair, normally so perfectly coiffed, stood out in all directions. 'What do you want?'
'Are you OK, man? you looked wrecked!' For a ridiculously handsome man, the vampire managed to look terrible, with dark rings under his eyes and a pastier than usual pallor to his skin.
'I'm just not sleeping well at the moment, that's all' Angel mumbled, rubbing his face again as he spoke 'Did you want something?'
'Yeah, well, I've been ringing round my contacts like you asked.'
'And?'
'Nothin', so far, man. Johnny Red, Kizzie, Manny the Pig, all comin' up zero.'
'That's it?'
Doyle took a deep breath. Angel, it seemed, was unusually tetchy when he was missing out on sleep. 'They all keep givin' me the same name, Angel. Seems like only one man might have the contacts to keep tabs on The Scourge and not end up dead. Guy named McNamara. But I don't want to talk to him on account of him being bad news.'
'Doyle, we need to find that beacon and destroy it, do what you have to do.'
'I owe the guy money…' Doyle admitted, a little shamefaced about the fact.
'Doyle!'
'OK, OK', he held his hands up in surrender, 'I'll see what I can do.'
Angel turned on his heel and went back into his bedroom. The noise of a dead weight hitting a mattress made it sound suspiciously like the vampire had gone straight back to bed. Doyle left him to it and went back upstairs to see if Cordy had arrived yet.
'I believe in Los Angeles. It's the city of dreams, a mystical oasis built from a desert. But even Sunny blonde L.A has its dark trashy roots. And you've learned that the hard way haven't you. You've gone to the police, but they can't help you. And now you've come to us, you're last resort... '
Doyle stood in the doorway of the two offices, his arms folded across his chest and his shoulder resting on the door frame. An amused, appreciative smile was playing on his face as he watched Cordelia give the hard sell to an empty chair. 'Cordelia, what are you doin'?'
Cordelia straightened up from the threatening, looming position she had adopted to intimidate the desk chair. She hadn't noticed she wasn't alone any more and she was flustered and embarrassed to be caught out interrogating thin air by Doyle.
'I'm just, y'know … practising.'
'Practisin'?'
'My questioning technique … for if we ever get any clients.'
Doyle found himself smiling again. He might not be having much luck asking her out, but having someone as unpredictable as Cordelia in his life certainly made everything seem rosier. 'Well I can't help much with the threats and such … but if you want my advice…'
'Ha!'
'You gotta play to your strengths when you're interviewing a client.'
'My strengths… right' mused Cordelia 'what are my strengths?'
Doyle sat down in the empty chair that she had so recently been grilling and put both his feet up on the desk. She threw his shoes a filthy look, but he left them where they were, if she actually minded she would say so. She didn't like to keep her thoughts to herself. 'The thing of it is, Darlin' you're a very pretty girl, and I'm not sayin' that to flatter y'.'
'So why are you saying it?' she asked tightly, like she might have hopes this was going somewhere, but then maybe that was just Doyle's hopes projecting.
'When people see a pretty, young thing like you then their gonna expect sympathy, face like yours it seems natural.' Cordelia snorted derisively. 'Well, they don't know you like I know you, Princess, but people see you and they see someone they think they can open up to, tell their problems to, like.' She looked at him expectantly, waiting to see where he was headed with this. He drew a deep breath and continued. 'D'ya remember last week when you helped me draw that sculpture thingy from my vision?' she nodded. 'Well you were able to get me to remember all those details that I couldn't think of for myself, just by listening, and encouraging and a few questions here and there, no threats and intimidation necessary.' He stretched his arms out expansively to make his point 'and in the end it saved the day that little sketch of ours, without it I'd be eyeless Joe the visionless wonder. You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar, darlin'. I just don't think the Dirty Harriet routine is really you.'
'So you think I should pretend to be nice, and I'll get more info out of the clients?' she asked. He swung his legs back down to the floor, so he could lean towards her. She seemed to hold her breath as he moved into closer proximity. 'Ah, I don't think you really need to pretend, Cordelia.' he smiled at her. She smiled back, biting her lip, her eyes cast down a little as she tried to hide how much his last words had pleased her.
Then Wesley walked through the front door.
'Hello All,' The British man announced to the room, oblivious to any moment he might have interrupted. 'I was just passing by and thought we could compare battle notes from our respective fronts.'
Doyle leaned back in his chair, moving further away from Cordelia. She too shifted in her seat to gain more distance from him, but she didn't seem happy about it. 'Well, what do you have to report?' she asked, sounding a little snippy.
'Everything … seems … quiet.'
'Uhuh' she said, rolling her eyes at Doyle who grinned back at her. 'Well thanks for stopping by, that's so much help.'
'Well what about your end of the good fight? Any demons? Any visions?' Wesley raked his eyes over Doyle at that point.
'Nope, no head splitting migraines this week, thanks for asking.' The half demon replied. 'Did you want anything else, Wesley?'
'Well, I brought your post in.'
'Thanks' Cordelia reached out and grabbed it and started sorting through.
'Yes, well I'll keep myself available then, the situation can only escalate. You know we made quite an effective team last week taking on that empath creature. Doyle's cryptic visions, Cordelia's research, Angel's brawn, my highly developed powers of deduction rounding out…'
'This isn't our mail.' Cordelia interrupted. 'See, this belongs to the dentist's office across the hall.' she handed the mail back to Wesley, who began to apologise profusely before trailing off and going quiet as he looked at the bundle in his hand.
'Everything OK, there bud?' Doyle asked
'Yeah, you stopped yammering for like two seconds, what's up?'
'Nothing … I'll get this back to the dentist's office.' And Wesley beat a hasty retreat from the office. Doyle and Cordelia looked at each other and shrugged, relaxing into a companionable silence that was shattered when Angel came up in the elevator and slammed the gateway loudly.
'Was someone here?' he asked.
'No' said Cordelia, 'Well, only Wesley … he left.'
Angel walked over to the coffee pot and started to pour himself a cup. Cordelia spoke again 'Hey, Angel? Remember that license plate from the runaway case?'
'I remember I asked you to run it.'
'No can do, the DMV is totally stalker phobic, I thought maybe you could get cop lady to run it.'
'Kate' Angel held out his hand for the license plate number. He still didn't look any better than he had down stairs, though he had put some clothes on now, at least.
'Hey Angel, are you OK?' Cordelia asked. 'You look half dead.' Angel glared at her. 'Which for someone who's totally dead is ... kinda neat.' she finished, looking to Doyle for back up.
'She's not wrong, man, you're not usually…' he gestured round his own eyes 'with the eye bags.'
'You look less than fresh.' Cordelia added helpfully.
'I told you I'm not sleeping.' Angel said 'I'll take this to Kate.' he made to walk through the front door.
'Angel!' both his employees cried in unison, and a moment later Angel reeled back into the office, smoking slightly, having been hit full on with day light.
'I'll take the sewers.' He announced and stalked back to the elevator, slamming the gate once more.
'Is it me, or is he weird?' asked Cordelia
'He's weird' confirmed Doyle, looking concerned.
Out in the communal hallway, Wesley lurked, having been listening in to the conversation team Angel were having. He wore a very troubled expression on his handsome face...
