Part 2 of "Mystery Date"
Suggested listening:
"Here With Me" by Dido
"Why Does It Always Rain On Me" by Travis
***
SATURDAY
***
Cordelia knew she was conscious when she realized that her head hurt, a dull throb beating at her temple. Forcing her eyelids open, she turned her head in an attempt to take in her surroundings. Big mistake. Her stomach lurched and the dim shapes in the room bled together like a speedboat's wake. She gasped and closed her eyes again.
"It's okay. It wears off pretty quick."
Cordelia opened her eyes, trying to locate the source of the voice. The room was canted at an odd angle. She realized that she was lying on the floor. Dragging herself to a sitting position, she squinted, wondering why it was so hard to see. She saw the single blue bulb in the socket. Blue, and about 25 watts from the look of things. Cordelia might have preferred total darkness.
As her vision adjusted to the gloom and the indigo mood lighting, she saw two other girls in the room. One, a small blond girl, huddled in a corner, knees drawn up to her chest, forehead resting on her knees. The other girl approached, taking small, shuffling steps. She was very pretty, with dark hair curving down to frame an oval face containing two large, dark eyes and a wide mouth. She crouched in front of Cordelia.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "I mean, not that any of us are okay in this mess, but I mean it's not like your brain feels like it's been knocked loose or anything, is it? The stuff they knocked you out with wears off pretty fast, like I said, but if you need to puke..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder. Cordelia noticed a door set into the wall. The girl turned back. "There's a bucket in there, but I'd be really sure that you gotta hurl before you use it, because we've both had to, you know."
"No, I don't know." Cordelia pressed a hand to her head. Then she knew what the girl meant. "You mean you..." She couldn't go on. The girl nodded. "Okay," Cordelia said, squeezing her eyes shut. "What is going on?"
"We were hoping you could tell us," the girl said. "Oh, my name's Casey Porter. I'm a sophomore." She pointed at the blond girl. "That's Janine."
"Cordelia Chase."
Casey nodded. "We know who you are. We knew the minute they dumped you in here. We couldn't believe it."
Cordelia held up a hand. "Who dumped me here? Where are we?"
Casey shrugged. "Don't know the answer to either question. Don't know where we are because we were out when they brought us here, just like you. Who they are, I don't know, but there are four of them and they wear masks when they bring us food and stuff."
Cordelia pointed her chin at Janine. "Why hasn't she said anything?"
Casey leaned in closer. "She's already been here for a couple of days. She said they got her on Wednesday night, so she's been here like sixty hours."
"What about you?"
"Thursday afternoon. Do you have any idea what's going on?"
Cordelia started to shake her head, then thought better of it. "No." She moved her legs and felt a tug. Looking down, she saw that a very short length of chain ran between her ankles, padlocked on each end. She was effectively hobbled. There was an ugly raw patch on her right knee, probably a by-product of hitting the asphalt.
Casey noticed her discovery. "Yeah, it's really a short leash. If you even try to walk normal, you'll fall on your face. You gotta take really short steps."
"Wait," Cordelia said. "What time is it? What day is it?"
"Just after seven a.m. Saturday morning." Casey Porter held up her left arm. A chunky diver's watch encircled her wrist. "Day and date function."
"That's great." Cordelia looked around at the empty room, the bare tile floor, the wallpaper peeling away in strips to reveal the raw concrete beneath, the film of dust over everything. "I've been here almost eight hours?"
Casey nodded. "About six, actually."
"What is happening?" Cordelia got to her feet, an awkward process while fettered. The sound of scraping and footsteps came from outside the door.
"Maybe we're about to find out," Casey said and then the door opened. A shaft of dust-choked sunlight suffused the room. Cordelia blinked, blinded even by this dirty radiance after the darkness and the blue bulb. Before her vision returned she was grabbed, her hands pulled together and fastened somehow. She heard Janine make her first sound, a mewling little sob. Hands bound, Cordelia was pushed down, landing on her butt as her back slammed into the wall. Eyes adjusted, she saw that her hands were held by an orange plastic zip-tie. She looked up.
Four figures stood over the girls. One wore a Freddie Krueger mask, one a latex old man head, and the third had one of those white Scream masks. The fourth wore a white hockey mask a la Michael Myers. He spoke for the group.
"We have assembled you three as sacrifice to lord Azrael. You will become his eternal handmaidens. Your blood will satisfy him and bring us power and honor." As he spoke his three followers shuffled their feet and elbowed each other.
The cliché value of the situation hit Cordelia like a Mike Tyson uppercut. She was still in her cheerleading uniform, being menaced by four guys dressed in black and wearing masks. It was so 1979.
Until Scream guy took out the knife. The blade was curved and fierce; the backstrap was serrated. The guard flared out into a set of wings and the pommel glinted gold. The way Scream handled the blade testified to some familiarity with the weapon. He stepped forward as Hockey Mask spoke.
"Now, Lord Azrael, we come before you. We your acolytes bring you three. Three who have not known the touch of man, three whose blood is chaste and pure." Scream guy bent over Casey, the blade glimmering in the soiled light.
Cordelia looked at Janine. The blond girl was rolled into a fetal ball, whimpering. Cordelia turned back. Casey Porter's eyes were wide and tears ran down her face. Scream hefted the knife as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back.
"Wait!" Cordelia shouted. "Is that an enchanted knife?"
"What?" Hockey Mask turned his head toward her.
"Shut the fuck up," grumbled Scream, the knife moving toward Casey's throat.
"Is it an enchanted knife?" Cordelia said, her words tumbling together. "Most of these things have to be done with an enchanted knife or a special kind of blade or something. If it's not, this whole thing could boomerang on you."
"Hold it." Hockey Mask grabbed Scream by the shoulder. The edge of the blade hovered a hair's breadth above the pulse in Casey's throat.
"Aw, come on," Scream groaned.
"She could be right."
"Yeah, and if you do it wrong, well, I don't want to be in your shoes when this guy Azrael starts kicking ass and taking names." Cordelia knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop.
Hockey Mask turned to Freddie Krueger. "You got the knife. Is it enchanted?"
Freddie shrugged. "Could be. Probably."
"I'm not filled with confidence." Hockey Mask turned his full attention to Freddie. "Is it or isn't it?"
Freddie hung his head. "Probably not."
Quiet menace thrummed in Hockey Mask's voice. "Where did you get the knife?"
Freddie turned his head, looking around the room, looking anywhere but at hockey-mask. "I, uh, I... I ordered it out of the Highlander catalog."
A moment of brittle silence was broken by Scream. "Shit," he said, dropping back on his haunches.
"Come on," Hockey Mask said. "Let's go get the right knife." He waited at the door as his followers trooped past. He stared at Cordelia. "Enjoy the quiet," he said and slammed the door, enveloping the room in darkness.
Cordelia's eyes were just beginning to adjust to the dimness when Casey's shaky voice said, "That was so boss."
"What?" Janine's first words were uttered in a jittery, high-pitched mode. "What was cool about that? They're still gonna kill us. She just delayed it, and probably pissed them off." A sob choked off any further words.
"Look, alive is better than dead." Cordelia twisted her hands, trying to find a way to loosen her bound wrists. "Dead is just dead. If we stay alive, someone will find us."
Casey wiggled into a sitting position. "Who will find us?"
Cordelia looked at her. "I'm sure the police are looking for you, and I have... I know someone who will be looking for us... I hope." She shook her head, tossing her hair out of her face. "Besides, we can make our own plan. Maybe I'm the only one who noticed, but these guys aren't exactly the graduate class at MIT."
Casey knee-walked over to her. "How did you think of that thing with the knife?"
"That?" Cordelia brought her wrists to her mouth, picking at the plastic with her teeth. "It's true. Most of those spells..." She glanced at the other girl, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "At least in the movies, most of those spells need some kind of juju weapon."
"And you convinced those guys?"
"I told you they weren't very smart." Cordelia got her feet under her and stood. A mental picture of how she must look flashed through her head. She was dirty, tied hand and foot, and wearing her cheerleading sweater and skirt. Xander's dream come true, she thought. She began to shuffle away.
"Where're you going?" Casey asked.
"Into the other room," Cordelia replied. "To try and find something to cut our hands loose."
***
Oz rolled over and opened his eyes. For a disorienting moment he didn't remember where he was. He sat up. Willow stood in front of the mirror, straightening her sweater.
"Hey," Oz said, "what's up?"
"Oh!" Willow jumped a little. "You startled me. I have to go somewhere."
Oz blinked a couple of times. "I don't think you're supposed to sneak out of your own house. I think that's my job."
Willow smiled. "I'm not sneaking out. I have somewhere to go."
"At..." Oz spotted a clock on the dresser "...eight-fifteen on a Saturday morning?"
Willow nodded. "Yeah." She crossed the room and kissed him on the forehead. "I'll be gone for a couple of hours. Giles wants a big meeting this afternoon, so why don't we get some breakfast when I get back?"
"Technically, it would be brunch," Oz pointed out.
"Okay then, brunch." Willow threw him a tiny wave on her way out the door. "See you later." She paused for a hearbeat, half-in half-out of the room. "See ya."
"Yeah," Oz said as the door closed.
***
"Cordelia?"
Cordelia looked at Casey Porter. "What?"
Casey's lower lip trembled. "I'm starving."
Cordelia shifted, trying to ease the strain on her back and hamstrings. "So what do you want me to do?"
Casey shrugged. The motion dislodged a tear that trickled down her cheek, cutting a path through the dirt and grime. The trail glowed bright white in the violet light.
Cordelia frowned. "That's going to do a lot of good."
"I'm sorry," Casey said, her voice shaky. "I'm really scared. I'm not brave like you."
"What?" Cordelia shot her a sharp look.
"You saved us this morning, and you've been trying to find a way out of here, and all I've been doing is, like, sitting here in the corner." Casey blinked, hard. "But I'm just so scared."
"Look." Cordelia scooted around to face the other girl. "I'm scared too. Really, I am. But you can't give in to it. You have to work the solution, not the problem."
"Huh?" Casey sounded puzzled, which was better than sad and scared.
"It's from Apollo 13." Cordelia nodded toward Janine, who was curled up in the corner, silent and still. "That's what you can't do." She stood, teetered on the edge of falling for a split-second, then recovered her balance and looked around the room, trying to see something in those bare concrete block walls.
"Cordelia?"
"Yeah." She didn't look away from the walls.
"Were you telling the truth? Is someone looking for us?"
Cordelia took a deep breath and looked at the other girl. "Yeah, they are." They are, she repeated to herself. I know they are. I think they are.
"So it's 'stay alive no matter what occurs. I will find you.'" Casey's attempt at a smile was dismal.
"I guess," Cordelia said, turning back to the wall. "At least the 'stay alive' part."
***
"You're late," Giles said as Buffy walked through his front door. The Slayer looked around the living room. Willow sat beside Oz, Lindsay and Faith were at the table and Xander was poking around in the refrigerator.
"Where's Cordelia?" Buffy asked.
"Not here." The fridge gave Xander's voice a weird resonance.
Buffy grunted as she sat down. "Bet you won't bust her for insufficient devotion to the cause."
Giles ignored Buffy's peevishness. "Ms. Maeda and I believe that the sudden confluence of vampires in Sunnydale is no coincidence."
"Huh?" Xander said, pulling his head out of the refrigerator.
"No accident we got two vampire posses in town," Oz said.
"Oh," Xander said.
"We know more about the Reverend, but our lack of knowledge regarding Mr. Trick is disturbing," Giles said.
"Okay then," Buffy said, "what do we know about him?"
Giles looked at Lindsay. She nodded. "We already knew that Trick is very young in vampire terms, yet he's quite well-known and seems to be very feared."
"Yeah," Xander said. "Ripping the guts out of a few hundred folks'll do that for your rep."
"Errrrr, wrong answer." Lindsay pointed at Xander. "His body count is nothing special, at least not the confirmed ones."
"So what's so spooky-ooky about him?" Willow asked.
Giles frowned. "I wish we knew. Unfortunately, our sources are not that good. All we've been able to glean is a general impression that if he is in the area, it must be bad news."
"So we really don't know squat," Xander said, peeling a banana he'd found.
"That is an eloquent man," Oz said.
"It would help if we had more information," Lindsay said, shrugging. "He's pretty damn secretive, which is rare for a vampire. Most of them go to great lengths to make sure that everyone knows what they've done."
"We could go see Willie. You know, break down his door and force him to talk." Willow bounced on the sofa. "That'd be a start."
"Hold on there, Duke," Xander said. "Since when do you break down doors?"
"Well, not me exactly, but..." Willow pointed at Buffy and Faith.
"Hey," Faith said, "I'm up for a little beat down."
"That's a very crude approach," Giles said.
"Yeah," Faith replied. "That's probably why I like it so much."
"Who's Willie?" Lindsay asked.
Giles turned his head toward her. "He runs a local establishment that caters to vampires and the like."
"I tell ya, everything that man says sounds so classy," Xander mumbled around a mouthful of banana.
Oz cleared his throat. "Why do you think Willie will know anything? I mean, these sound like two exceptional guys. Isn't that outside Willie's usual clientele?"
Lindsay looked at Giles. "He has a point."
"It's okay." Everyone looked at Buffy as she stood. "Faith, you take Xander and talk to Willie. I think I might know a guy who can help."
"Buffyyyyyyy." Willow's voice rose to a whining pitch.
Giles stared at his hands as he rubbed them together. "Am I right in assuming you're talking about Angel?"
"He's the only vampire ex-boyfriend I've got."
"That's good," Xander said. "I was wondering if you might have a couple more hidden under the bed."
"What makes you think he will help you?" Giles spoke in haste, as Buffy looked daggers at Xander.
She shrugged. "He won't like it, but I don't think he'll bite my head off." She looked around the room. "Okay, okay, bad joke."
***
"So, vampires and demons hang out in this place?" Faith looked rather skeptical as she examined the drab, faded brick exterior of Willie's bar.
Xander shrugged. "You expected them to gather at the Sunnydale Country Club?"
"Good point." Faith headed toward the door. "Follow my lead, okay?"
"Hey," Xander said, hurrying to catch up, "what's our plan?"
Faith grinned as she looked back at him. "I get really violent and you try to reason with me."
***
Buffy passed through the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table, a cup of something in front of her as she read a magazine. She placed the publication on the table as her daughter passed.
"What's wrong?" Joyce asked.
"Wrong? Who said anything's wrong?" Buffy said.
Joyce pursed her lips. "You did. It's a little thing called body language."
"Mom, it's not--"
"Not something I should worry about? Buffy, I know you're the Slayer, but you're also my daughter, and when something's bothering you, it's bothering me. So sit down and humor your poor old mom."
Buffy's feet dragged as she pulled out a chair and sat. "I really don't know how to begin."
"Would 'at the beginning' be too much of a cliché?"
"I'm not sure what the exact beginning is."
Joyce nodded. "Then how about giving me the most important fact?"
Buffy took a deep breath and blew it out. "Okay, but I want you to remember that this was your idea."
"Understood."
Buffy swallowed and looked at the table. "Angel is back."
Joyce picked up her cup and held it in both hands. "Back from where?"
"From hell. Where I sent him."
"All right, there's a good place to begin explaining. Hell?"
"It's not an expression, Mom. It's a real place, all the books call it hell, so I do too."
Joyce placed her cup back on the table and used both hands to straighten her magazine. "So you did have to...." Buffy nodded. "Why don't you tell me about that part? The part where you're responsible."
Buffy's hands rested on the table. As she spoke, she looked at them. "Angel figured out how to awaken the demon Acathla, which would suck the whole world into hell. The only way to stop him was to use the sword he'd pulled out of the demon to... basically, I ran him through and when the portal closed, he was on the wrong side."
Joyce shook her head. "I'll admit there's a lot going on here that I don't understand, but that seems like a pretty permanent situation."
"One would think."
"So, how did he get back?"
Buffy shook her head. "No idea. Less than no idea."
"Why is he back?"
A bitter, sardonic grin twitched at the Slayer's mouth. "See last answer."
Joyce got up and went to the sink. She rinsed her cup and put it in the drainer. "So... does he still want to destroy the world?"
Buffy shook her head, eyes still downcast. "No."
Joyce knelt beside her daughter and placed a hand on her arm. "And how do you know that?"
Buffy bit her lip. "Just before I... did it, he changed. Willow worked a spell that restored his soul, only it was too late."
"Oh, honey," Joyce said, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Buffy slid sideways and buried her face in her mother's shoulder, weeping.
The tears began to subside after a few minutes. Joyce stroked her only child's hair and thought about the unimaginable burden the girl bore. "Honey," she said, "what does Mr. Giles think about this?"
Buffy pulled away, drying her eyes with the heels of her hands. "He's not sure what's going on. He's not the happiest guy in town."
"Are you on your way to see Angel?" The words tore at Joyce's heart as she uttered them and when Buffy nodded she almost couldn't breathe.
"Yeah. I'm going to see if he knows anything about some new vampires in town."
"Buffy, I..." Joyce stopped. She took a deep breath and began again. "I don't really know what to say. Part of me wants to lock you in your room for the next ten years--"
"Part of me wouldn't mind that," Buffy said.
"-but I know that you have this calling." Joyce leaned over and kissed her daughter on the top of the head. "Please promise your worried mother that you'll be careful."
Buffy stood and hugged her mom. "That's one promise I'm glad to make."
***
"Please, perhaps if I knew what this was about?" Willie maintained an impressive degree of dignity for a man who was about to lose consciousness.
"Tell us what you know about either the Reverend or Mr. Trick, you bag of dirt." Faith tightened her grip on the snitch's throat and raised him another inch off the floor.
"Please," Willie gasped, "I think 'bag of dirt' is a bit much. I'm just a businessman trying to pursue his trade."
Xander said, "Hey, Faith, he's not going to be much good if he's unconscious or dead."
"Dead?" Willie wheezed. "When did 'dead' enter the picture?"
Faith's glare remained constant, but she lowered the wiry little bartender to the ground. Her grip on his throat loosened, but her hand stayed there. "Okay," she said, jerking a thumb in Xander's direction, "his soft heart bought you thirty seconds. Spill."
Willie held up his hands, a gesture halfway between supplication and self-defense. "Believe me, there's no percentage for me in holding out on you. But I don't know anything about those guys."
Faith's fist drew back. Xander stepped between her and the frightened snitch. He leaned in close enough to whisper in Willie's ear. "You know how scary Buffy can be?" he asked. Willie nodded, his eyes wide. "Well, she's just as strong, only without the nagging social conscience."
"Hey," the little man said, "trust me, I would tell you guys anything I knew, but I don't know nothing about these guys. All I can tell you is what I hear."
"That's a start," Xander said.
"Beats shooting craps with your molars," Faith said. She looked around, taking in the bar's strange crossbreeding of '50's diner with '30's speakeasy.
"Okay okay, I get it, I get it." Willie shrugged and straightened his shirt. "Jeez, why does everyone have to be so hostile?"
"Willie," Xander said, jerking his head toward Faith.
"Okay. Like I told you, I don't know nothing about those guys. None of their crews come in here, which is pretty strange if you know anything about vampires. Them being sociable and all."
"But you said you'd heard things..." Xander left the question open-ended.
"Yeah, guys come in here and shoot their mouth off." Willie lowered his voice. "I can tell you this, that Reverend guy scares a lot of these guys."
"Why?" Faith's question was short and sharp, like a fatal gunshot.
"They've heard of him. Plus a couple have crossed his path before. The general consensus seems to be that he's batshit-crazy and you're better off avoiding him."
"What about Mr. Trick?" Xander glanced over his shoulder at Faith, who was rolling one shoulder.
"About him, I got nothing solid. He has his own crew and they're very self-contained. Word is that he's even got a squad who go out and get food for the others. Very division-of-labor."
Faith stretched. "Willie, I'm getting bored."
The little man licked his lips as his eyes darted from side to side. "Okay, but listen, I will not vouch for this. It's pure rumor and I don't want any misunderstanding, okay?" Xander nodded. Willie licked his lips again and continued. "I hear guys talking at the bar--just talking, okay, that's all it is-who seem to think he's some sort of hot-shit freelancer."
"Freelancer?"
"Yeah, an independent contractor of some sort. A hired gun."
"He's an assassin?" Faith leaned into the question.
"Nah, nah. Nothing like that. I mean that he's a guy who'll do a job for a dollar, jobs that usually involve information or salvage of some sort."
"Salvage?" Xander frowned.
Willie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess he recovers things."
Xander looked at Faith, then back at the snitch. "Thanks Willie. By the way, you know what will happen if we find out you're lying."
"Please." Willie had recovered some of his bravado. "There's no reason to question my integrity."
"Glad to hear it." Faith leaned over and patted him on the cheek, just a bit harder than necessary. "Glad to hear it."
***
Buffy glanced up at the setting sun. It was later than she had intended. Of course, Angel was no threat to her, she was sure of that, but still... Shaking her head she pushed through the door and stood in the shadowy entrance.
"Angel?" she called, her voice rising. "Angel, are you here?"
The curtain covering the far doorway twitched and he appeared, clad in black, his hands loose at his sides. Buffy realized that his clothes hung on him in a different fashion. She noticed how the shirt draped from the shoulders and his jeans seemed to hang on the points of his hipbones. His cheekbones were even more pronounced and his jaw line sharper because of the hollowing of his cheeks.
"I didn't expect to see you," he said.
"It's not my happiest hour either," she said.
"You're pretty sure of yourself, coming here with the sun going down."
She hesitated, then spoke. "I meant to be here earlier."
A quick sneer flashed across his face. "Afraid that Angelus might show up?"
She shook her head. "No. I know you're not Angelus any more."
He smiled and it was ugly to see. "That's true. But what if I've become something much worse?" He transformed in an instant, his forehead protruding and corrugating, his eyes turning a malignant yellow.
Buffy took an involuntary step backward, then caught herself and clenched her fists. "We can stand here and try to be edgy and cutting if you want, but I'm here because we need your help."
"We?" Angel snarled, yellow eyes glowing. "The gang down at the malt shop?"
"Yes," Buffy said, "the gang down at the malt shop. Even Giles."
His vamp face vanished like summer lightning. He winced, a fleeting image of pain that lasted a fraction of a heartbeat, but Buffy saw it. He turned, inspecting the massive blocks of stone that formed the wall. "What sort of help are you talking about?"
"They must have been running a sale at Vampires-R-Us, because we have two new bad guys in town."
He looked back over his shoulder, not at her, but at a point on the floor about midway between them. "So if you know that, why do you need me?"
"We don't know anything about them. I thought you might share."
He turned and slid his hands into the pockets of his black jeans. "Share? What makes you think I have anything to share?" She said nothing; she just stared at him. He took his hands out of his pockets. "What do you want to know?"
"Whatever you got would make me just giddy."
He looked at her from under his eyebrows, that familiar look that still made her heart catch in her chest. "The Reverend is crazy, but he's easy to understand. He's straight ahead, burn it down to the ground destruction."
"Like... Spike." Buffy caught herself before she said "Like you."
Angel shook his head. "He lacks Spike's sense of humor. He's mean, he's scary, but he has no imagination. He's strictly 'see it, kill it'."
"You're sure about that?"
Angel's voice came from someplace deep within his psyche. "We've shared the same road once or twice."
"Okay." Buffy nodded and changed the subject. "What about Mr. Trick?"
Angel looked away to his right, then back at her. "I've heard of him."
Buffy waited. He said nothing. Finally, unable to contain her impatience any longer, she said, "Well, what did you hear?"
Angel's deep-set eyes were pools of blackness in the gathering gloom. "I know that he's the one you should be afraid of."
Buffy clenched her fists. "Why?" she asked, the irritation plain in her voice.
"Because of who fears him." The tiniest shiver entered his voice before he finished. He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. His hands trembled slightly just before he clamped them to his elbows. His eyes darted to the left, then returned to her.
Buffy stared at him until realization dawned on her. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She swallowed, licked her lips and tried again. "Can you tell me--"
"No, I can't really tell you anything else." Angel's words exploded out of him in a hot rush. "I couldn't give it my full attention." He was breathing hard, his nostrils flared. "I was otherwise occupied."
The last of the daylight bled away and dusk slipped into full dark. The Slayer asked one more question. "Do you know why they're afraid of him?"
Angel shrugged, a motion that Buffy saw as the simple shifting of a shadow. "They don't understand him and they hate and fear what they don't comprehend." His dark bulk pushed away from the wall. "Sorry to be so short, but I've got to go out. I think you can show yourself the door."
"Angel," she said as he turned away, "thank you." He hesitated in the doorway and she sensed rather than saw him turn his head. "I know this is hard for you," she continued. "I appreciate it." He stood there, a dark specter against the utter blackness of the doorway, and then he vanished into the house without a word.
Buffy turned and left the mansion. She paused in the drive and looked up the slope, toward the bushes where Xander had hidden months ago. "You can come out now, Willow," she said. "I'm safe."
The foliage rustled and a crestfallen Willow slid down the incline. "I thought I could hide better than that."
The Slayer put an arm around her friend's shoulder. "You hid pretty well."
"Then how did you know I was there?"
Buffy smiled and hugged her friend. "Because that would be the Willow way."
***
The phone rang as Buffy entered the back door. She picked it up. "Hello."
"Buffy, could you come to the library right away?"
She shifted the phone to her other hand. "Giles, I'm really not in the mood. I didn't find out anything that can't wait until tomorrow."
"This is completely different. I think we have something more pressing to worry about."
***
"Have you called the cops?" Buffy asked.
"Yes," Giles said. "They should be here any minute."
They stood in front of Cordelia's car. Buffy stared at the red vehicle, arms folded across her chest. She looked to her left. A gym bag lay on the asphalt; Cordelia's name was embroidered into the nylon. A set of car keys lay a few feet away. Buffy looked at her Watcher.
"Any ideas?" she asked.
Giles shook his head. "None whatsoever."
"We really don't need this."
"No," he sighed. "We do not."
***
SUNDAY
***
Willow tossed the legal pad onto the table. It landed with a smack and slid a few inches across the polished wood. "We know that Cordelia got off the pep bus Friday night, so we have a rough time frame."
Xander stared at the legal pad as though it might turn into a serpent. "So while we were having our meeting she was...?"
"Yes," Giles said. "I'm afraid so."
"Do we have anything else?" Oz asked.
Willow grimaced. "Not really. Although whoever snatched her must not have been Mensa material."
"What makes you say that?" Buffy asked, never taking her eyes off Xander.
Willow shrugged. "Leaving her car and gym bag here practically screams 'kidnapping'. Her keys were right there. How hard is it to think to hide the car?"
Oz said, "You have a previously unknown knack for this sort of thing."
"You know," Lindsay Maeda said, "it's conceivable that it's a simple kidnapping. Her family is pretty wealthy."
"I suppose that's possible," Giles conceded. "But the police will be investigating from that angle, and they are far better equipped to deal with such a situation." He looked around the table. "Do any of you really think it's a simple kidnapping and ransom?" There was no reply. "I thought not. That is why we will be concentrating on supernatural explanations."
"So where do we start?" Buffy asked.
Giles ran a hand over his hair, which was already standing straight up and did not benefit from this added attention. "I suppose that we should try to determine the purpose of the abduction."
"Excuse me?" the Slayer said.
"Why was she taken? Would the kidnappers have taken just anyone or were they specifically after Cordelia? Do they want to do her harm or is there some other reason for abducting her?" Giles tapped a pencil on the table. "It could make all the difference in the world."
Lindsay cocked her head to one side. "What about school connections? Social?"
Willow began flapping her hands like a bird trying to achieve lift off. Giles stared at her. "What?"
"Harmony." Willow looked at them. "Think about. This Friday's Homecoming. Maybe Harmony figures 'out of sight, out of mind' until the election."
Giles pursed his lips. "I hope it's something that juvenile."
Xander's jaw clenched. "I'll kill her."
Buffy grabbed his upper arm. "I know you're upset, but that would the hands down stupidest idea of the year."
Lindsay sighed. "Still, it's a legitimate connection."
Willow squared her shoulders. "I will be Harmony's shadow. If she's got Cordelia, I'll find out."
"We might check for cosmetologists or designers who've made deals with the underworld," Oz said. Willow nudged him with an elbow.
"What about the cheerleading squad?" Lindsay said.
"That's an excellent idea," Giles said. "I'll talk to the sponsor myself."
***
Cordelia had never been this hungry, not even that time in the eighth grade when she was afraid of getting fat. She curled in a corner of the room, forehead resting on her knees, and tried to remember the last thing she'd eaten. A Nestle Krunch, that was it, on the bus to the game. If she concentrated, she could almost recall the taste of that tidbit of chocolate and rice. She could feel the smooth texture of the chocolate and the crunchy bits on her tongue. She shook her head to banish the image. There was no use in obsessing over something that was gone.
Of course, hunger was only a part of their situation. They also had nothing to drink, and her throat was parched and sore. She had passed dirty and was racing toward real filth. Her cheerleading sweater was probably ruined and she had never been more aware of how short this skirt really was. Her legs were covered in grime and there was no denying that the three of them stank. No, they reeked, reeked of unwashed bodies, greasy hair and... well, she didn't even want to think about that bucket.
Janine lay on her side in the opposite corner of the room, curled into a fetal ball. Of course, that had been her position almost since the moment that Cordelia awakened, so it was hard to gauge her condition. Casey sat a few feet to Cordelia's right, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. One of her feet twitched. Probably a cramp. The short chains kept them from really exercising their legs. Cordelia had experienced several painful spasms in her hips.
"Cordelia?" Casey whispered.
"Don't whisper," Cordelia said. "We're not in a library." I wish I were in the library, she thought.
"My legs hurt."
"I know," Cordelia said. "I've had a couple of major butt-cramps myself."
Casey leaned forward and began massaging her thighs in a half-hearted way. "What's going to happen?"
"I don't know." Cordelia couldn't keep the anger from her voice. "What am I, the mastermind of this group?"
"Good job." Janine's voice managed to be both teary and accusatory. "You kept us from getting our throats cut yesterday so we can starve to death."
"They brought us food before," Casey said.
"That was before we screwed up their timetable." Janine's every word was edged with a thin crust of hysteria.
"We're not going to starve." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Okay, we're really hungry, but it takes like eight days to starve." She tried to swallow. "I'd worry more about water."
"Yeah," Casey said in a husky voice. "I read that it only takes like three days to die of thirst."
"Well, thank you, Miss Sunshine." Janine tucked her head back down.
"We're not going to die of thirst," Cordelia said, her words tearing at her throat. "These guys kidnapped us to sacrifice us."
"What if they just left us? Forgot about us?" Casey's eyes widened and her chin trembled.
Cordelia shook her head, which seemed to require every ounce of strength she had left. "Then we'll be okay. Someone will find us." Yes, she thought, they will find us. They are looking for me, maybe not with a song in their heart and a smile on their lips, but they are looking for me. Aren't they? When the Anointed One tried to raise the Master, Buffy came for me then, didn't she? Of course, Willow and Giles were there too, but still...
***
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked. Xander turned and looked at her. She winced. "You're right, absolutely stupid question. But you're being awfully quiet."
Xander shrugged. They were sitting on the west bleachers of the football field. The mid-afternoon light slanted across them, casting giant, elongated shadows across the track and the grass. Buffy noticed that the middle of the field was wearing through to bare dirt.
"It's my fault," he said, staring across the gridiron. He hunched over, his chin resting on his folded forearms.
"That's stupider than my question," she said. "How could this be your fault?"
"Cordelia asked me to go to the game." His voice was just above a whisper. "She asked me to ride the pep bus and I said no."
"Xander, that's--"
"If I had gone, I would have gotten off the bus with her. Both of us would have been going to the car. They wouldn't have attacked her."
"Maybe." Buffy rested her chin on her fist. "Or they might have killed you and taken her anyway. Ever think about that?"
He was quiet for a second, then said, "No."
They sat there in silence for a while longer, then Buffy said, "We'll find her. Everything will be all right."
Xander took a deep breath. "What makes you so sure?"
Buffy smiled at him as she got to her feet. "Because it's what I do. And I promised."
***
MONDAY
***
Willow shot a quick look around the corner and pulled back. Harmony and her lackeys were clustered around a locker. Maybe they were laughing over their criminal brilliance, but that didn't seem likely. Willow scowled. So far Harmony had been her regular self, which may have been a moral failing but certainly wasn't a criminal offense.
"How goes the stakeout?" Oz leaned against the wall beside her.
"I don't know. So far she hasn't done anything suspicious."
Oz nodded. "Just wanted to let you know that I have some stuff to do this afternoon. I'll see you tonight?"
Willow nodded. "Okay. I have some stuff to take care of myself. Do you want to meet back here at the library?"
"Sure. Six-thirty?"
"Sounds good." Willow glanced around the corner then turned back to Oz. "Gotta go. She's on the move."
***
The lock turned with a sound like certain doom. The door swung open and the dirty yellow-white light poured through again. Cordelia shaded her watering eyes. A dark figure, details indistinguishable against the light, stepped into the room. As the door closed and the room faded into its habitual murk she was able to make out detail. It was Old Man, only this time he wore a dark sweatshirt and jeans. The fingers of his right hand were hooked through the handles of three bottles of water, gallons to judge by their size. A flat cardboard box balanced on his left hand. He squatted, placing the water on the floor, then stood, holding the box in both hands.
"It's cold," he said, raising the box a little before putting it down by the water. He stepped back, his hand reaching for the door.
"Hey," Cordelia said, holding up her hands, "could you untie us?"
He stood there, thinking. "I wasn't told to cut your hands loose."
"Were you told not to?" Cordelia gestured at the other girls. "Look at us. Do you think we're going to overpower you? We just want to be able to eat."
"And maybe groom each other," Casey whispered.
Old Man hesitated. Cordelia pasted the most pitiful expression she could muster onto her face. He shook his head, then reached into his pocket. He rummaged for a few minutes before he found a pair of nail clippers. He crouched beside Cordelia.
"If you try anything, I'll have to tell him," he said.
Cordelia held out her hands. "Just cut this." As he reached for her hands, she noticed that his wrists were thin and delicate, almost like a girl's. The clippers were a little small, so he had to sort of gnaw through the plastic, but in a few seconds her hands were loose. She rubbed her wrists as he freed the hands of the other two prisoners.
He was reaching for the door again when Cordelia spoke. "Thank you."
He paused, unsure of his reaction, then said, "You're, uh, you're welcome."
She licked her lips. "Could you please... could you please empty that bucket? It's really disgusting."
"What?" he said, his back still to them. "Do I look like the maid?"
"Please," Cordelia said. He clenched his fists, then turned and stalked toward the other room. He emerged in a few seconds, struggling with the plastic five-gallon bucket. Both hands were wrapped around the handle. The door clicked behind him, followed by the turning of the lock. All three girls grabbed for the box and a bottle of water.
Cordelia wrenched the cap off and took a long, chugging drink. Water spilled down her chin. She swallowed, gasping, then looked at the box. It was a pizza, a cold cheese pizza with congealed grease sitting atop it like gelatinous icebergs. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Two pieces were already missing; Janine and Casey looked at her, smears of grease and tomato on their chins.
The door opened again and Old Man came in carrying the now-empty bucket. He barely glanced at them as he tossed it into the other room. He left without saying a word, which was just as well since the girls were far too busy choking down pizza to acknowledge him.
***
Giles looked up when he heard the library doors open. He was headed out of his office when the voice called out "Mr. Giles!" The owner of the voice was a graceful black woman who stood just inside the library doors. In addition to being taller than Giles, she also wore a black sweatshirt over fire-engine-red spandex leggings and snow-white basketball shoes.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I hope so," she said, extending a hand. "Matti Hollis." When he only looked confused, she added, "Girl's health and physical education. Also the cheerleading sponsor."
"Oh. Oh, yes," he said, covering his surprise and grasping her hand. "How may I be of assistance?"
Ms. Hollis put her hands on her hips. "Wondered if you might know where Cordelia Chase is."
"Excuse me?"
Ms. Hollis tapped one foot. "Cordelia wasn't at practice today. She doesn't miss practice. I can't get any answer at her home phone. I've seen her with that little group that hangs around here. I thought you might know if she was sick or something."
Giles shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't. She could have the flu."
Hollis nodded, thinking about this. "I suppose. If you hear anything, you'll let me know." It wasn't a question. She turned to go.
"Ms. Hollis." Giles took off his glasses and held them up, peering through the lenses at the light. "You seem very concerned about a student missing one day."
Matti Hollis shrugged. "Maybe, but Cordelia's very conscientious."
Giles blinked and lowered his glasses. "She is?"
"Oh yeah. She's the hardest worker I've got on the squad. She never takes a day off, never dogs it in drills, always wants to get better. She's a pleasure to work with."
"Oh." Giles replaced his glasses scratched his head. "Well, if I find out anything, I'll be in touch."
"Thanks Mr. Giles. See you at the game."
***
The bell over the door of the Magic Shoppe tinkled as Lindsay pushed open the door. The proprietor hurried out of the back room, wiping his hands on a towel.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I hope so," Lindsay said. "How's business been lately?"
He shrugged and smiled. It was a pleasant, inoffensive sort of smile that extended all the way to his receding hairline. "Actually, it's been pretty good. Tarot cards are doing very well right now."
"Uh-huh," Lindsay said. "Have you sold anything more... unusual?"
His smile vanished. "I run a legal shop," he said, raising his towel in front of him like a shield.
"I'm not with the police," Lindsay said. "I'm from the school..." Oh well, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound "...and there's a rumor going around that some students have been making threats. It's probably nothing, just kids blowing off steam, but you know how it is these days. We have to check out every little thing whether it's serious or not."
He nodded. "I know. Everyone is looking for somebody to blame."
She nodded her best 'I-hear-you' nod. "Honestly, this is pretty much CYA, but if you can think of anything you've sold that seems... out of the ordinary or a customer who caught your attention, I'd appreciate knowing about it."
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, mostly it's tarot cards and orbs; those are mainly for tourists. A lot of the high school kids come in, but they want mostly herbs and candles." He leaned forward. "You know, a little of the ol' black magic can really liven up a Friday night." She nodded, smiling. He smiled back. "That's really-- No, wait. I had one customer this morning, a kid who came in and wanted to buy a knife."
Lindsay frowned. "What's strange about that?"
He shrugged. "Well, to be honest, my selection of knives is pretty bad. You can get great looking knives by mail order now, and all the big discount stores have them in sporting goods. The ones I've got are mostly ceremonial and ornamental." He tugged at his earlobe. "He said he wanted it for his mom, but if his mom likes the one he picked, well, she's one scary lady."
"Why?" Lindsay asked, dreading the answer.
"It's a formal blade of sacrifice." He made a face. "He seemed to like that a lot."
***
Cordelia took a small sip of water, then made sure the cap was on securely. She looked at her fellow captives. Janine was in her customary position, curled into a ball in the corner. Janine was a lost cause. Cordelia turned to Casey.
"Hey," she said, "what are those things on your arm?"
"These?" Casey held up her right arm. "They're friendship bracelets. I make 'em out of string and give them to people."
"You've got a lot of them."
Casey shrugged. "I guess. I know a lot of people. I think I have good people skills, which is a plus because my grades aren't that great. Mostly C's. I get a B here and there. Got a D in French last year." Cordelia nodded and made appropriate noises of interest. Anything to keep the girl talking.
Casey looked at her. "So, nobody's looking for us, are they?"
Cordelia scowled. "Yes they are. The police are looking for you. You've been missing long enough for them to get involved."
"So who's looking for you?"
"Someone is looking for me."
"How do you know?"
Uncertainty stabbed at Cordelia's heart like a shard of glass as she said, "Because they promised."
***
"He described him as a guy in high school or maybe just graduated, nothing unusual or scary about. He said that if he passed him on the street he probably wouldn't recognize him. He remembered more about the knife." Lindsay shook her head.
"Maybe we could get the tape from the store's security camera," Willow said.
"No," Lindsay replied. "There are no security cameras at the Magic Shoppe."
Willow scowled. "Another perfectly good idea shot to hell."
Buffy drummed her fingers on the library counter. "So it's a dead end."
Lindsay said, "I thought about showing him an SHS yearbook, but I don't know if it would work."
"Keep it in mind," Giles said. "It might be a last resort."
Buffy looked at Xander. He sat at the round table, hands folded and head down. She turned back to Giles. "But right now we have nothing." The doors clicked as they were pushed open.
"I may have something," Oz said. They all turned toward him. He held up a book bound in black leather. "I was at the city library and I found this book."
"In a library? Impressive." Faith whistled.
Oz ignored her as he dropped the book to the table and flipped it open. "There's a page missing here."
Willow's nose wrinkled. "Not to be negative girl, but it's an old book. It's probably missing a lot of pages."
Oz stepped away from the table. "Yeah, but check it out." Willow and Xander crowded in.
"That is an awfully straight edge," Willow said. "Somebody cut this out."
"Yeah, and if you look close, it's very fresh." Oz pointed.
Giles looked at the volume, then snapped his fingers. "I think I have another edition of this book."
"What a surprise," Faith said as he hurried into his office. He returned seconds later with another tome, much older, the red cover faded and flocked with mildew.
"What page are you looking at?" he asked as he laid his book down on the table and opened it.
"Darned if I know," Xander said.
"Let me see it." Giles glanced at the black book, then began turning pages in his.
"What kind of book is this?" Buffy asked.
Giles did not look up from his work. "An encyclopedia of sorts. Contains a small amount of information about a great many demons, monsters, and other supernatural phenomena. Ah, here we go." He held one page between his thumb and forefinger.
"Do they sell these door to door?" Willow asked.
"Will." The tone of Xander's voice caused them all to turn and stare. "It's not the time for jokes."
"Sorry," Willow mumbled.
"Well, this is a bit of good luck." Giles leaned forward over the page, oblivious to the tension. "It seems that there is only one entry fully contained on this page."
"Well," Buffy said. "Who is it?"
"Oh," Giles said, blinking as though he'd just noticed he was not alone. "Azrael. The angel of death."
"Oh," Buffy said. "Is that all?"
"I believe I have something on him in the office," Giles said. The others stared at him as he went into the smaller room. When he came back he carried another book, this one much smaller than the first. He began to scan the text. "Yes, here we are," he said. "I believe this might be why that page would be of interest. Ms. Maeda, would you please read the encyclopedia entry regarding Azrael and tell me if it says anything about his relationship to humans."
Lindsay grabbed the red book and began to read. "Here it is," she said, stabbing a finger at the page. "Mentions that there have been cults of Azrael-followers for thousands of years and that there is a ritual for calling him."
"Yes," Giles said. "And I gather that I have that ritual here right in front of me." The scrape of chairs and the squeak of sneakers filled the room as they all crowded around him.
Giles studied the document for a moment, then blinked. "Oh, well," he said.
"What?" Buffy demanded. "What is it?"
"It, uh, it seems that the ritual requires a human sacrifice." He returned to the text. "Three, to be exact. Three, um..."
"Three what, Giles?" Willow asked.
"Three, uh..." Giles cleared his throat. "Three virgins."
"Oh." Buffy turned away. A general sound of throat-clearing permeated the air.
"So we got the wrong tree," Faith said.
"What do you mean?" Willow said.
Faith shrugged. "Hey, it says they have to be virgins. Don't tell me Cordelia's never ridden the baloney pony. I'm not buying it."
Xander pushed away from the table, turned and rushed from the room. Buffy shot a sharp glance at Faith, who responded with a 'who,me?' look. The Slayer sprinted across the library, following her friend.
She pushed through the doors and stopped. The slap of Xander's Vans on the tile echoed to her right. She was two-thirds of the way down the hall when she heard the crash of the outside door opening. She caught him at the bottom of the steps and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Hey," she said as he spun around. "What's with you?"
To her surprise, Xander looked angry. His face was flushed a deep red and his breath whistled through his nose. He looked down at her, his eyes snapping. "Sorry. I had to get out."
"Xander," she said, "what's wrong?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "It could be," he said.
"What could be? Compete sentences and an idea would help me a lot."
Xander's lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. "It could... Cordelia could... We haven't actually done it, okay?"
Buffy blinked. "You and Cordelia haven't had sex? Were you going to share that? It is kind of important, you know."
Xander looked around. "We haven't had sex. I don't know what she's done with any of her other boyfriends."
Buffy punched him in the chest. He staggered back two steps and went down hard, performing a complete back somersault and coming to rest on his butt. "Hey, was there a reason for that?" he said.
"You jerk," she said. "Your wounded male vanity is not the issue here."
"What do you mean?" he said, struggling to his feet.
"I don't give a damn if you're embarrassed that somebody else may have slept with her and you haven't. She's the one in trouble. She's the one who's scared." Buffy turned, beckoning to him with a hand. "Come on. Let's go tell them."
***
"As you can see," Hockey Mask said, "we have obtained the correct knife." He held up a battered leather sheath. A plain hilt wrapped in black leather was visible. "It's not as pretty, but according to the guy at the store, it's exactly what we need." He looked at Cordelia. "Thanks for being so helpful." He held out the scabbard for Scream, who took it and slid free the dagger.
It was an ugly knife, the blade pitted and dark. The grip showed no ornamentation. That made it worse; this was an instrument for killing, not some showy plaything. Something caught a glimmer of light and Cordelia saw it was writing of some sort.
"Who first?" Scream asked. Cordelia's blood ran cold when Hockey Mask looked at her.
"Not the Queen," he said. "Make her watch the others." He pointed at Janine. "Her first."
Scream grabbed Janine by the hair and dragged her across the room. Freddie and Old Man guarded Cordelia and Casey. Janine was so far gone she didn't even scream. The only sound she made was a small, distant whimper. Hockey Mask opened the small black book. Cordelia's mind raced as he began to read.
"Lord Azrael, we are gathered as your servants. We bring you the boon you demand, the price you command. We bring three, three untouched, three pure, three unknown by man. Let their blood--"
"Wait!" Cordelia's eyes were wide, like someone in the grip of a fevered hallucination. "Have you checked the moon?"
"What?" Hockey Mask sounded annoyed.
"The phases of the moon are always important in this stuff," she said, putting all the conviction she could muster into her voice. "It's always by the dark of the moon or the full moon, or something like that, and we're not at either one."
"This is bullshit." Scream knelt beside Janine, his left hand holding her head to the floor, one of his knees pinning her shoulders. "She's stalling." He hefted the knife.
"She was right about the knife." Old Man's voice was soft and hesitant.
"What?" Hockey Mask demanded.
"I said--" Old Man's voice caught and he began again. "I said, she was right about the knife. Maybe she's right about this."
"Who cares?" Scream's frustration was growing. "Why would she be telling us this anyway?"
"I told you, if these things backfire then it's worse than death." Cordelia looked at each of them. "If this goes bad, do you want to be some angry demon's man-bitch for eternity?"
Hockey Mask looked at her, unmoving. He turned to Old Man. "Let's check the document."
"Aw, come on," Scream protested.
"I said, we'll check the document." Hockey Mask looked at his minion. "We do this right. Say she is stalling--"
"Which I'm not," Cordelia said.
"-it takes us an extra twenty minutes or so." He looked at Cordelia and cocked his head, then turned back to Scream. "Tell you what, if she's lying, you can cut her up a little before you kill her. Maybe carve on her face a little. That sound fair?"
"On her?" The pleasure the thought gave him was evident even through the muffling effect of the mask. "Oh yeah, that's fair." Cornelia shrank back, trying not to look at the knife. She heard a faint gasp and looked at Casey. Tears ran down the other girl's face and she shivered like someone in the grip of malaria. Hockey Mask pointed at Old Man, who left the room.
"See, that's what makes this fun," Hockey Mask said to Cordelia. "When the spell picked you, we couldn't believe it. How cool was that, that we get to kill the empress bitch of all time, Cordelia Chase?"
Old Man came back, carrying a piece of paper that he handed to Hockey Mask. He began reading. He tapped it with a forefinger.
"Fuck, she's right," he said. "The dark of the new moon. When is that?"
"Thursday." Old Man shrugged. "I went ahead and looked it up."
"Well then," Hockey Mask said, "I guess we wait a couple more days." He looked at the girls and a nasty chuckle grated underneath the mask. "Seems you guys get to enjoy pissing in a bucket for a while longer."
"Hey, could I just go ahead and kill this one?" Scream still had Janine pinned to the ground.
"No," Hockey Mask said. "We're not doing this for laughs. We need three for the ritual."
"We'll find another one."
"I said no." Hockey Mask's voice thickened with anger. "It took a lot of planning to get these three. They're the ones. Now let her go."
"Fuck you." But Scream got up and jammed the knife back into its sheath. Janine didn't move; she remained stretched out on the floor. The masked quartet left the room, Scream still bitching about not getting to cut anyone.
"Cordelia," Casey said, "are they going to find us soon?"
"Yeah, they are." Cordelia pushed herself upright and stood there for a moment, trying to control her dizziness. "But just in case they're late," she said, "we need to come up with some kind of plan on our own."
Janine laughed and the laughter grew until it acquired a hysterical edge. Cordelia and Casey watched her until the fit passed and she quieted.
"You stupid imbecile," Janine said. "Why don't you just accept it? We're going to die."
"No." Even in her weakened state, Cordelia's anger flared. "I don't quit."
Casey looked up at her. "Cordelia, I hate to agree with her, but--"
"If they cut my throat, fine, then they cut my throat. But I will not put my head on the block for them." Cordelia's breathing was harsh and rapid.
Casey bit her lip as she glanced down. Looking back up at Cordelia she said, "So what's the plan?"
"I don't know yet," Cordelia said. "I'm a little stronger on theory than practice."
***
End of "Mystery Date" part 2