A Union of Souls, Chapter Ten
"Where's Whistler?" Doyle greeted Angel as he walked back through the doors of the offices. The Irishman sat in front of the computer, Cordelia leaning over his shoulder while they both peered at the screen. He saw Giles on the telephone in the other office, and the former Watcher nodded to him in greeting and acknowledgment as Angel sank discouraged into the nearest chair. "You didn't find him?"
"No, I didn't find him," Angel admitted reluctantly. "I know Whistler. At least I thought that I knew Whistler. I checked all the places that I thought he would be, but – nothing. How about you? Did you guys learn anything about the Book of Isiri?"
"It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack," Cordelia grumbled, slumping back into a chair. "I can't believe that I am going to say this, but I really wish Willow was here right now."
Angel lifted a questioning eyebrow at her.
"Well, she's like Wicca computer girl. This would be a piece of cake for her. I mean even Doyle can't find anything occult or magick related. And the dork can usually find something on the computer."
"I think there was a thinly veiled compliment in there somewhere," Doyle remarked, staring at her in disbelief.
"Very thinly," Angel said. He looked up expectantly as he heard Giles end his phone call and step into the outer office. Four years of knowing Giles told him how to interpret the look on the man's face. "You found something?"
Giles nodded solemnly. His pale eyes moved from one interested face to another, finally stopping when his gaze again rested on the ensouled vampire. "I'm afraid you're not going to like it."
"Ooh! There's a news flash," Cordelia chimed. "Something bad is happening, it involves magick and we're not going to like it. Boy, and I thought this was party weekend."
Giles turned his head to give Cordelia a dark, warning glare. Angel merely sighed. One thing he had learned in the few months of working with Cordelia was that she tended to return more and more to bitch mode the later the hour and the more tired that she was. Giles' reaction was a clear illustration of how much things had changed and how far apart lives had drifted. Once upon a time, Cordelia's cutting remark would not have phased the man at all. Now, it was Angel and Doyle who easily ignored and shrugged her off.
"What's the news, Giles?" Angel asked carefully.
The librarian took a seat on the couch, removing his glasses as he did so. For a moment, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and then set to his course, replaced glasses and addressed those in the room. "I was able to contact Wesley, whom after some persuasion was willing to check the Watcher Journals relating to the Book of Isiri. Mind you, he didn't find a great deal of information, and he does intend to keep working, but the one spell in that book that we should be wary of is known as 'The Enslavement.' "
"I'm already wary of it," Doyle commented. "I certainly don't like the sound of it."
"As well you shouldn't." Giles paused, his eyes straying towards the coffeepot. He barely suppressed a grimace as he looked away from it and back at Angel. "The Enslavement is something of a rather nasty spell. It allows the caster – or a vessel appointed by the caster – to enslave the souls of living beings. To in essence, capture them and use them and their bodies as the caster deems necessary and appropriate."
"Gee, some of us don't speak Watcher, can we try that in English?"
This time it was actually Doyle who gave Cordelia an exasperated glare. "Did you ever see the movie 'Serpent and the Rainbow' Princess?"
"Yeah, what about it? And don't call me 'Princess.'"
"Soul capturing, Cordy. Zombies. For real," Doyle glanced at Giles for confirmation, "That's if I'm hearing you right."
"You are indeed," Giles nodded. "If this spell was to be used, the person would effectively be a puppet Cordelia. No free will, no choices. Everything they ever did, said, thought would all be controlled until the caster tired of them – or ate them."
"Ate them?" Three voices echoed the man's comment.
"Not literally, not in the cannibalistic sense of the word," Giles explained. "But once the Enslavement has been performed, the soul which is enslaved belongs to the caster – the master – as the case may be. One of the fringe benefits of the spell is that the caster may devour that soul, receiving energy and unspecified magickal power for an unspecified amount of time."
Doyle rapped his fingers on the desktop loudly. "I'm not liking that word unspecified. You used it twice too much for me."
"As I said, Doyle, Wesley didn't have much information for me. We can only hope that he finds us more. I certainly don't like the thought of that book being in the wrong hands."
"Cordovan's hands," Angel corrected. The vampire rubbed the back of his neck, trying to brush away the chill that washed over him as his thoughts took shape and form. He hadn't expected good news from Giles, but he had hoped that it wouldn't be quite as unsettling. "If Cordovan starts casting that spell he'll be able to raise an army of killers and assassins."
"And spies," Giles added. "The Master is able to see through the eyes of the enslaved."
"Then I guess the answer is simple enough." Angel stood and started forming an attack plan in his mind. "I'm going to get that book back. We can't let Cordovan cast that spell."
"You're going by yourself?" Doyle sprang to his feet instantly, nearly sputtering. "After what you just heard?"
"Doyle, I don't have a choice. We can't let Cordovan cast that spell."
"But what if he's already cast it?" Cordelia asked. Gone was the sarcasm and ice, replaced with the genuine concern she liked to pretend didn't exist. "Did you stop and think about that? Even if you go all 'grr' you might still get your ass kicked. Or worse."
"As much as I hate to admit it, Angel, Cordelia is right." Giles rose from the sofa. "You simply cannot go charging in to confront Cordovan without knowing what you might be up against. It's suicide. And while we may have had our differences, I don't intend to watch you throw your life – unlife – whatever – away."
"And I can't just sit around here and wait and see what happens. He has to be stopped."
"Whoa, slow down, Angel." Doyle rounded the desk coming to stand in front of him. "This isn't just about your vendetta against Cordovan, there's a bit more at stake here. We're behind you on this, but we gotta have a plan. 'Cause I don't know about you, but I happen to like having my body parts attached and not bleeding from every orifice."
The sound of three very slow and hesitant knocks on the outside door caused all four heads to turn. So caught up in his conversation with Giles, Doyle and Cordelia, even Angel's vampiric senses had not detected the two people entering the building. One of them, he didn't recognize at all; a young man in his early twenties, with a lean angular face, dark haired and dark eyed.
The young woman was another matter entirely. Familiar almond shaped dark eyes stared at him as she lowered her hand from rapping on the door and tugged listlessly on a handful of the tiny braids that covered her head.
"I was looking for Angel," her British accent rang out crisp and clear, her eyes never leaving his. "I guess I found you."
Doyle's mutter was soft enough that Angel was certain he was the only one who heard it. "And just in the nick of time, I might say."