Chapter 40
The Softer Side of Seers
Cordelia Chase lifts the glass to her lips and takes a tentative sip, and two immaculately groomed eyebrows shoot for the roof.
"Why the surprise?" I say, leaning on the bar.
"Like you have to ask." She says, her eyelashes fluttering shut as she takes a fuller mouthful. A hum emanates as she swallows then a satisfied sigh. "If you are ever in L.A. I know a demon karaoke bar that desperately needs you."
"Demons sing Karaoke?" Sandra says from her perch on the counter beside us.
"Mmm hmm" Cordelia says, biting her olive off the stick. "It's… an experience. Honestly, I don't know what's worse, the ones who want to eat you or the ones who think they have the range for 'I Will Always Love You.' And on that bum note, I have glimpsed hell. Angel sang 'Mandy'."
"Fangy Manilow? Eee gads."
"So demons are real too?" This from Sandy, who offers Cordelia her bag of chips. To my suprise, Cordelia thanks her and takes some.
"Yeah. But, full disclosure... I am part demon."
"That answers so many questions." I say, and she fixes me a withering look.
"It only happened a few months ago, Harris."
"Harris?" Sandy says suspiciously. Her cute little ski ramp nose is readying itself to bury itself firmly in my business.
"Uh, my mother remarried." I fix Cordelia a careful look. "It's back to Hart now. I am Lexi Hart."
"I took on an aspect of a demon when, well…" her face falls. "Look nevermind, suffice to say we are real, not all of us are monsters."
"So is this Angel like…" Sandy says.
"An actual Angel?" Cordelia offers. " Well, that depends on your point of view I suppose. But he is less wings and a halo, more fangs and hair gel."
"Angel is a vampire." I say through tight lips.
"But a good one. Mostly." Cordelia says. "He got cursed with a soul. Which means he is the one and only member of Blood Drinkers Anonymous. You don't want to be around when he falls off that wagon, lemme tell you."
"This is too much to take in." Sandy says, hopping down off the bar. "If you need me I will be in the ladies, sitting in a nice safe stall and trying not to freak out." Cordelia watches her go, and to amazement no sneer of contempt or savage comment follows. As Sandy disappears into the sparse crowd, Cordelia's eyes wander around The Bronze. The crowd all seem happy enough, the pool table is busy and everyone is chatting and laughing. The band is some unknowns from out of town, cutting their teeth on a group of barely interested students.
"Some things never change." She says, then she lets out a small sigh before she turns that attention back my way. I get another appraising look. I shift awkwardly under her scrutiny.
"So this aspect of a demon. Does this mean you can read my thoughts?" I say.
"Nope. Which is a shame, I am curious to know what goes on up there, now that the 24/7 porno channel has been cancelled. The aspect? I am a seer. I get these images from The Powers That Be in full technicolor pain-o-vision. Hence my trip. You got a starring role in my last few magic migraines. Speaking of which, if I have a seizure you know how to roll me into the recovery position, right?"
"That bad?" I say, placing the cocktail down in front of her.
"All the tylenol in the world? Not a scratch. You have no idea."
"I am sorry. That must be terrible." I say. Cordelia pauses, the glass to her lips, and gives me a strange look. She shakes her head and one corner of her mouth curls up into a smile.
"Look at you." She grins.
"Why are you here Cordy? Not that I don't mind the help, god knows I need every bit I can get, but... it's just last we spoke we were not okay. And rightly so. I was the dumb asshole that broke your heart."
She shrugs and fishes something out of her purse. A business card is slid across the counter.
"Angel investigations?" I read aloud. "We help the helpless." Touche.
"Here's what I know. Faith woke up from a coma. Buffy got herself into a coma. You got whammo'ed into a girl, in serious need of a facial and a brow wax, I might add, and poor Oz is somewhere being experimented on by some creepy assed surgeon types, but I haven't figured out where yet."
"And Faith? Any idea where Faith is? Anything at all."
"A long way away from me, hopefully."
"Cordelia, please."
Cordelia draws back, eying me like an open book. I am not entirely convinced she can't read minds.
"Ohhh, seriously? Faith? Dude, what is it with you and Slayers?" She sighs. "Look, I am sorry but I don't know jack about Faith. I am just the messenger. I see what they send. I am like a spiritual fax machine."
"This is so weird. You're a half demon detective, Willow is a werewolf and..."
"Wait, what?" She said, the glass goes down again, hard.
"You didn't oracle of deli up that memo?"
"No. And it's Delphi, dumbass." She says. "So that boyfriend stealing little witch is a werewolf now?"
"Her boyfriend stealing days are over. Remember Anya?"
"Anya Emerson? As in 'careful what you wish for and don't you just hate men'and… oh my god..." She pauses, eyes wide. "Willow's gone lesbo?"
"Cordy. A heads up? Just so you don't park your foot in your mouth? You and Oz are the last of the straight Scoobies. Buffy's girlfriend Tara is a witch. Best tread carefully."
She waves her hand.
"Oh, please. I knew all about Buffy. Her and Faith? You needed a battle axe to cut that sexual tension." She checks her watch "speaking of which..."
Cordelia reaches down to her suitcase and in plain view pulls out a long handled, double bitted axe with exquisite celtic inlay of shimmering silver. She stands, brandishing the weapon.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Hostly, most of the time it feels kinda exactly like that. Catch." The axe is thrown at me, end over end and boom! It rings out as my hand effortlessly plucks it from the air. Cordy scrambles aside just as the double doors erupt to reveal six silhouettes. A scream goes up as one of them drops the bloodied body of the doorman to the ground. A jock steps forward to fight and is immediately cut down with a savage punch to the neck.
I freeze, and for a moment it feels like I am watching it all on a tv set, a thick barrier of glass between me and the carnage. But then a fleeing girl is seized by one of the vampires and her scream shakes me into action. I hop the bar and bury the axe into the nearest vampires skull so deeply their surprised yellow eyes pop backwards into their sockets. Not enough to kill, but enough to down them, and enough to set up the kick that sends the next one flying back into the third.
My axe is wedged too deeply into the hissing skull, so instead I stomp hard on the handle, forcing the blade downwards. The axe slips easily out of the crumbling, shrieking ash.
And oh! Oh! That sound makes my body sing like never before! Deep, resonating pleasure, vibrating through my limbs, pooling heat into my groin. I shudder, and feel the world slide around me, time becoming fluid again, slower, wider. More room to think.
I see the kick the cadre's only female vamp is setting up before she even finishes the spin. She moves with all the smooth confidence of a seasoned martial artists, and, yunno, props, it would have been an elegant attack… if some total bitch hadn't replaced the head it was aimed at with the head of an axe.
The vampire's boot splits in two and her leg shatters and peels back like bamboo, And I feel her cold blood spattering my chest and neck. To my surprise, instead of disgusted, something inside me purrs and somersaults, baying for more.
I want her head. I want it now. I raise my axe high and- a punch like a sledgehammer lands in my ribs, so hard and the air rushes out of my lungs. I slam butt first into the pool table, as students scatter to make way. The vampire is upon me a moment later, all black denim and bad breath. It is a tug of war with the axe handle; I want it to swing, he wants it to crush my throat. And damn it… yep… can't breathe.
His twisted face grins as he presses down, and I feel him part my legs to get even closer, even more leverage.
Think. What would Buffy do?
I wrap my legs around the vamp, and twist, staggering him slightly. Buffy would have made that work. Okay, air seriously becoming an issue.
"I don't care what the boss says, I'm gonna peel your face off and wear it as a trophy."
"Hrrkk, skkrt, mnaf." I manage.
"What you say?" He chuckles. I release the axe handle completely, and agony shoots through me as the wood presses deep into my throat and the taste of blood explodes across my tastebuds.
But now? I have two free hands, which I stretch wide and clap them together over his ears. The vampire recoils, screaming, and I am up onto my feet an instant later.
"I said… oh, never mind." I take his head and the hands clutching it with a long sweep of the axe. They are dust before they hit the ground.
The four remaining vampires have circled around me, grinning fangs and wicked yellow eyes flash in the rocking pool table lamp. I swallow back the blood and try not to show how much it god damn hurts. Because it god damn hurts a lot.
My heart is thumping at my ribs at an alarming rate and I feel if I don't move my muscles will rip their way out of my skin. It's coming harder and louder than before, that sensation, that pure, carnal rage within me. I feel my lips peel back into a snarl, and for a moment there is no pain, there is just the need.
I growl and launch myself into the remaining vampires. Time hammers along like my blows, a blur of silver and fury, of ash and agony, of blood rage.
And I get the head. I get them all.
I let fly a victorious roar as I sink the axe into the final vampires gut. He falls forward, and from down on one knee he blinks up at me in disbelief. He watches his own execution. And there I am, standing amid the blood and ash of my enemies.
More. That thing inside me calls. More.
And to my horror, it gets its wish. All about me, I see them, weaving behind the terrified onlookers, in the dark corners of the room, hovering outside the door. God there must be eight more at least.
"Not a Slayer." Comes a voice from the gantry, mocking my own. My blood freezes at the English accent. "I knew it was a load of bollocks."
I turn and look up. Spike leans casually over the railing, his handsome, chiselled face illuminated in the sickly blue light.
"Well, Lexi Hart, How did you like my warm up act?"
"Meh. Ran a little long. I had to make some cuts." I say, my voice hoarse, I can feel a painful wet click of my trachea as I talk.
"Well then, let's not keep the audience waiting and skip to the main act?"
With a billow of his duster, he drops down and lands before me. He glares at me with sparkling yellow eyes, head lowered and I watch in horror as his cocky little grin peels back into a row of razor fangs.
