At first, Faith thought the shrill sound was her head trying to explode. It took a long minute to realize Dru was laughing. The sound echoed in the large stone chamber, going on and on. Barely restraining the urge to clap her hands over her ears, Faith watched Willow smile at her. The black eyes were soulless. So was the smile.
"Now, do I look like a Red to you?" Two hands came up, held away from Willow's body in a mocking gesture. "Red is that other witch. The one with the scruples and the irritating friends."
Even the words sounded wrong. Faith couldn't place what was wrong. It was clearly Willow. Yet, something…every time Willow spoke or moved, Faith's Slayer senses screamed. "So, what the hell happened to you? Home perm gone wrong?" Faith was feeling her way. She'd heard about this, about Willow's fall from grace. She'd never met the embodiment of the evil, however. She had to remember she was playing on the dark side. Faith couldn't fall apart at the change in Willow. The Dark Slayer would have been attracted to the blatant power the new Willow possessed.
Before Willow answered, Angel stepped in. An arm wrapped around Willow, pulling her possessively close. "Hands off, Faithy." Faith jerked. That voice…Her eyes shot to Angel's and Angelus stared back at her.
Phoebe noticed two new cars in front of the Manor when she pulled into the drive. Reinforcements? Too tired and sated to be on full alert, she opened the door and stepped into the foyer. Voices drifted out of the kitchen. Of course. Piper rarely used the living room if the kitchen sufficed.
Inside the sunny room, Phoebe waved a tentative hello to the three newcomers. Two young women and a scruffy looking man. "Looks like the Elders really are going to let us get to work. You all friends of Faith?"
The man cleared his throat, glancing warningly at one of the brunettes. "Yes," he answered in a warm British accent. "I'm Wesley Windham-Price. I was Faith's Watcher, many years ago. We both work for Angel, now, in LA."
"You were her Watcher?" Phoebe shook his hand, confused. "You aren't any more?" She really needed to get Faith talking about her past. The brief highlight of all the bad stuff left out the other details.
Her question netted a pained smile. "Perhaps we could do the question and answers another time? Faith and I…well, our past is complicated."
"No, it wasn't, Wes." The younger brunette looked at him impatiently. "It's not complicated at all. You were a British wuss and Faith was all Going Evil Girl. Can we get down to business? I'm a little freaked no one can tell me where Willow is."
"Yes, we aren't very happy with that, either." Piper stood with crossed arms, watching the byplay. "We're still adjusting to all the lack of information from our hired research experts."
This was getting them nowhere. Sighing, Phoebe realized the lingering peace from her time with Faith had faded. "Look, guys, pull back on the Alpha thing. I've got some details from Faith. Let's concentrate on that."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
"Good idea," a soft drawl commented. "I'm Fred." The brunette next to Wesley smiled shyly. "I work with Faith, too. What did she tell you?"
A pair of piercing blue eyes stared at Phoebe. "Yes, what did Faith have to say?"
Gritting her teeth, Phoebe ignored the challenge. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't get your name."
"Dawn. Dawn Summers." The words were offered grudgingly. What was this girl's problem?
The name suddenly connected with a memory – Willow complaining that someone named Dawnie would be upset about not making it to San Francisco. "You're Willow's girlfriend?" she guessed. At Dawn's nod, Phoebe closed her eyes, rubbing her forehead. That explained at least some of the aggression. "I'm sorry you both got sucked into this, but we aren't the ones you should be bitching at. Yell at them," Phoebe stated, waving at the ceiling. "The Elders or the PtB. The ones upstairs pulling our strings. Right now, we have to concentrate on getting our sister back and making sure your girlfriend and mine come back healthy and whole."
More silence filled the kitchen.
"Right. Sorry. My bad." Dawn slumped, running a hand through her shoulder length hair. "You said you had something on the vamp army?"
"Not much. Maybe it will head in the right direction, though." Phoebe relayed what Faith had told her before leaving for her meeting.
Wesley straightened in his chair. "I recall something. About the number of the soldiers in the unit." Stroking his chin, he paused. "However, I can't quite seem to remember what was so unique about a force that size. Piper," he said, turning to her, "do you still have the volumes Willow had shipped here?"
"Up in the attic, yeah." Piper's arms dropped from their crossed position. "Did you want me to-"
Wesley was already striding for the door. "Is it up the stairs?" Everyone scrambled after him.
"At the top, where attics usually are." Phoebe smirked at the bite in Piper's voice. Wesley was running now. That meant an increased pace for the rest of the gang. They arrived in the attic panting, spreading out to find seating while Wesley rooted through the pile of books on the floor.
With a pleased shout, he pulled one book from the others. "Here. I remember it was in here." Bringing his prize to the low coffee table in front of the packed couch, he opened the yellowed pages. Once he located the proper page, he began reading, "The Spartan Army at times contained three hundred hippeis, or knights. These elite soldiers acted as the Royal Guard should the king venture out on campaign with the troops."
"Royal Guard?" Fred looked at Phoebe. "Did Faith mention that? And, from our earlier research, the Turned Phalanx didn't contain a single member of the Royal Family. Who would they be guarding?"
"Unless you've changed a lot in the last few weeks," Faith managed to get out with only a tiny quiver in her voice, "you aren't on Red's team."
A flash of fangs answered her. "Teams? Who needs them. I have something better. Power." He looked over at Cole, and Faith took a second to wipe her hands on her tunic. "Now that Old Home Week is over, can we get down to business? The Senior Partners didn't send us up here to meet with the help."
A cold smile turned Cole's lips. "Of course. There's just a little matter of your loyalties." His solid black eyes touched Faith and she shivered. "All of you, the old friendships…I need to be convinced you are working for me and not another power."
Willow gave a dramatic sigh. "I told you he wasn't going to just give you a hug and a glass of blood." Waving her hand, she barked a single word. Small lightening bolts crackled in the air in front of her, and the black hair floated out from her head. Faith's skin tingled at the raw energy in the room. It invaded her, filling mind and soul, calling to the part of her she tried so hard to cage. Just before she screamed in bottled rage, the room quieted. Willow casually tossed a battered black book at Cole. "Happy birthday or whatever."
His eyebrows rose slightly as he caressed the leather cover. "The Grimoire?" Excitement edged the words. "Where did you find it? It got…lost a while back."
"Lost? You don't lose a book under a mountain. Someone put it there." Willow shrugged. "I just moved a few rocks, that's all." She smirked. "Maybe you'll find it useful."
Tension coiled in Faith. Grimoire? What the hell was that? From the reactions, nothing good.
"Nice touch, lover." In disbelief, Faith watched Angel kiss Willow. No nice peck on the cheek, either. There was tongue. And breathy moaning sound effects. He pulled away, wiping some slobber off Willow's lips. "Now my little demonstration won't be nearly as exciting." He walked up to Cole, forehead ridges obvious even in the low lighting. Scuffling and cursing sounded from the doorway.
Two of Pausanias' men dragged a man into the room. The guards tossed the middle aged, pudgy figure at Angelus contemptuously.
"I knew you'd want me to prove I wasn't just Angel in disguise. You know, a do-gooder here to make sure you don't gain too much power, tip the scale between Good and Evil." The whole time he talked, he held his victim by the back of the neck. "Well, here's your proof." Faith flinched at the wet squishing sound his fangs made as they penetrated the man's neck.
Phoebe stared across the room at Piper. "Well, does it have to be a vampire or a Spartan?"
Wesley looked confused. "I assume so; we are talking about a member of the Spartan nobility."
"Normally." Phoebe suddenly felt tired. Tired and trapped. Everything always came back to one decision. One moment of stupidity. "What if they were guarding some other important person? A demon, maybe?"
Her attempts to skirt the truth didn't get very far. Dawn leaned forward. "You know who it is, don't you?" she more demanded than asked.
"I think so." Responding to a sudden urge to run, Phoebe paced the attic with rapid strides. "A demon…half-demon, named Balthazor. He's the current Source of All Evil. The bigger question is: why does he need a three hundred vamp guard?"