Author: Misty Flores
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for.
--
Chapter Nine
--
Fred stepped out of the car with a grim determination to enjoy herself despite the mire circumstances that surrounded that night.
Wearing a long red dress that was slim fitting, her hair pulled up, and sporting the contacts she almost never bothered to bring out, Fred felt different…
But not better.
After all, the problems that were making her stomach queasy and her heart ache were definitely not any less solved, and Gunn and Wesley were still at the hotel and-
Cordelia gave her a short distracted smile, reminding Fred the reason they were here was not a girl's night out, not by a long shot.
Shifting in the dress and almost tripping on the heels, Fred caught a picture of herself and Cordelia as they passed the mirror in the darkened hallway, music only a dull throb now.
Passing by, it was like looking into another world. A world where Cordelia walked on by without a second glance, the very picture of a rich young woman with no regard for anyone. The expression on her face was cold, almost disdainful, and trailing behind, in this curious world, was another stranger, a beautiful young woman with long brown curls and more make up than was needed in a tight red dress and sparkling brown eyes.
She paused, looking into the mirror, thinking about possibilities and probabilities and the law of alternate universes.
"Fred!"
"Coming!" Startled out of her reverie, the young physicist moved quickly, catching up to Cordelia, eyes suddenly widening as the curtain was pulled open and they both stepped into the club.
This was definitely… different. Fred clutched at her purse, muttering a harried 'Oh my' at the image on the stage, the dancing young man who gyrated his pelvis and smiled down at her.
Her blush was discernable, she was sure of it, she could feel the heat of it on her cheeks, and she looked quickly away, wiping bangs out of her face as her mind floated back to Charles for one second before she forced it back to the present, following Cordelia into a corner table.
Cordelia slid into the booth as if it was custom made for her and her form only. Fred hopped a bit, scooting in.
"Ms. Chase." Immediately a smile that seemed foreign plastered on Cordelia's face as an older, balding man came to them, weaving around tables and clasping her hands.
"Donald."
"Lovely to see you again."
"Lovely to be here," Cordelia returned warmly. Donald cast a curious eye in Fred's direction and Cordelia smoothly waved a hand over to her. "This is my friend, Ginger Burkle."
Ginger? Fred began to shake her head to correct the name, but Cordelia shot her an icy look, and that was quite enough to shut her mouth and only shake his hand dutifully.
"Bringing in new clients already?"
"Hello, Rebecca."
"Victoria!" Rebecca slid in next to her, looking genuinely happy to see Cordelia.
Finally able to meet the infamous Rebecca face to face, Winnifred was mildly excited, only to find it quickly gave way to confusion. Fred cocked an eyebrow, studying the pimp. Definitely didn't SEEM the type to kill and ritually sacrifice other woman… in fact that had been bothering her this whole time.
For someone that believed in women liberation and the deconstruction of boundaries and morals, it seemed … odd… that Rebecca Hull, tattooed or not, would really go as far as to sacrifice sexually active woman to a sex God. That seemed a direct opposition to her true beliefs.
Crossing her arms, Fred frowned, unsure, mind whirling with the possibilities.
By this time Rebecca and Cordelia were fully immersed in conversation, and Fred forced herself to turn to Donald, who just smiled at her.
"New here?"
Nodding, Fred attempted to sound elegant, but ended up with her accent plastering on more sugary sweetness than usual. "Victoria told me I had ta see this place to believe it."
"Oh, honey, that's how I ended up here," he grinned a toothy grin, revealing a gold cap on his molar. "But you don't seem the type."
Fred gave a sad smile. "I'm not," she admitted honestly, shifting eyes to Cordelia, who was still talking in low whispers to Ms. Hull, who was inching closer to Cordelia's side by the second. Slightly distracted by the hand Rebecca placed on Cordelia's forearm, Fred answered flippantly, "Ah had a fight with my boyfriend."
"Ahhh…" he gave a low whistle of sympathy. "I know how that is."
"Ginger."
Fred just smiled at Donald.
"Ginger." This time Cordelia pressed at her arm, and Fred suddenly remembered who she was supposed to be.
"Oh! Hi, sorry!"
Cordelia gave her a slightly narrowed gaze, and motioned with a jerk toward the man without a shirt waiting with a tray at the end of the table.
Fred looked up, felt her heart jolt, and choked in surprise.
Angel was standing there wearing nothing on his chest but a bowtie.
She coughed, blushing furiously, and when her face got red from lack of air, Cordelia clapped her on the back, quickly saying to her friend, "She's fine for now, I think. I'll take a Red Bull with Absolut."
"Ooooh. Rough day?"
"You have no idea."
"Actually," Donald stood. "I was just about to get a drink for myself. Angel?"
The vampire only had eyes for Cordelia, and Fred was free to inspect him freely, and her eyes hungrily roving over the bare chest, feeling slightly guilty for doing so, and with good reason.
Fred's eyes were still glued on Angel's chest, when Cordelia pinched her slightly. Fred felt the slight pain and jolted up, reaching up to set her glasses straight before realizing she wasn't wearing any.
Rebecca leaned back, smiling at the scene. "Now there's a girl who needs to get laid."
"She's not completely herself today," Cordelia said flippantly, eyes focused on Angel as he retreated toward the bar, Donald following. "She had a fight with her boyfriend."
"Ohh… then you definitely need to get laid," Rebecca said with a smirk.
Cordelia gave a short, grim smile before turning a serious look to the young owner. "Rebecca, can I talk to you alone?"
Realizing she must have missed out on something largely important, Fred looked up, leaning in to hear the conversation, the loud music obstructing her from getting everything completely.
The concern on the owner's face was evident as she nodded, getting up to let Cordelia out. "Sure."
Donald came back with the drinks, setting down Cordelia's.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice harried. "One of the ladies seemed to have a little too much to drink and is taking it out on our bathroom."
Cordelia pushed the drink to Fred as he walked away, giving her a grim smile. "Have it, I'll be right back. Don't MOVE."
Cordelia's eyes narrowed and suddenly ill at ease, Fred nodded emphatically, hands in her lap, taking in a harried breath as Cordelia followed Rebecca through the club disappearing when she walked through a door on the far end.
Waiting, Fred sat, mind suddenly calculating, wondering if she should have perhaps followed them in for the confrontation.
Fluttering with logic and possibilities, Fred contemplated the nature of the case, and the thought crossed her mind that they honestly did not have enough evidence of yet to confront anyone.
Then again, there rarely was enough of that in their business.
She was quickly beginning to learn that logic sometimes never had anything to do with anything but math. Her mouth pulled into a frown as she reached for Cordelia's drink, eyes suddenly moist as a well of buried emotion came bubbling to the surface.
The lights flickered, and a young black man stepped onto the stage, smiling devilishly. The piercing cries of the women in the room were almost too much to handle.
There was a jolt in Fred's heart, one that came fueled with more than a little anger as she remembered her real reason for coming, and more than ever determined to enjoy herself, she wrapped her palm around Cordelia's Absolut with Red Bull, taking one large gulp.
It almost made her gag, and she set it down quickly, but it made her slightly lightheaded, and feeling a bit better, she smiled, suddenly able to appreciate the man's movements much more.
--
"So what are you saying, English, that the demon isn't about female empowerment at all, but about domination?" Charles Gunn slumped back in his seat, completely confused, shaking his head.
Wesley clucked his tongue, eyes roving over the pages. "I know it sounds odd, but this isn't the Greek mythology that we've come to embrace. It's convoluted, a demon that's taken what's familiar and perverted it."
Charles lolled his tongue around his mouth, getting up and moving around the desk to peek over Wesley's shoulder. "So you're saying this guy is playing Cupid and 'Dite, but ain't really it?"
"Farthest thing." Wesley flipped some pages, and then pointed out the drawing in Cordelia's sketch. "Have you heard the parable of the genie?"
"Do I look like I would know about the parable of some funny old genie?"
Wesley ignored the gripe and continued with the story, "In short, a man was granted three wishes, but each wish became a curse instead."
Gunn sank back down in the desk, "So you're saying that this dude may SEEM to be all about gratifying love and sex and all that but really is more about-"
"Parasite. Feeds off the emotion – under the guise."
Charles and Wesley locked eyes, and Gunn nodded, blowing out his breath. "Well now we're getting somewhere."
Wesley shut the books, reaching for the telephone, punching in some numbers.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Angel. I'm hesitant to confront Ms. Hull until we know for sure the extent of her power."
"Or, I can go!" Gunn immediately rose, reaching for his jacket. "And umm…. Talk to them…" The words died at Wesley's look, and both men suddenly looked away, the real reason for Gunn's enthusiasm obvious.
"Gunn…" Wesley rose, but Charles immediately shrugged him off, expression unreadable as he jerked toward the doorway.
"Don't, Wesley-"
"I'm merely trying to-"
"I get it, okay?" Charles finally snapped, swallowing hard as he turned back, turning hard eyes at Wesley. "I know that I'm being irrational and judgmental and I have no right to not trust you or her, but you know what? It don't matter. Maybe I don't trust myself, I don't know. But I need time."
"You'll lose her, Gunn," Wesley said quietly, hands in his pockets, tone solemn. "And what happens then?"
Charles froze in the doorway, as the words sunk in, and shoulders slumping, he just left as if he hadn't heard a word.
--
"Come on."
Cordelia followed Rebecca into her office, noting the sincere concern that was easily readable on Rebecca's expression.
It made her more than a little queasy. Since her entrance into the club this evening, Cordelia had been fighting the anxiety that came with going into a situation almost blindly. Her hands balled into rather unlady-like fists, and it made her unclench them thoughtfully, hoping that Rebecca hadn't noticed.
Sinking into the chair opposite her desk, watching as Rebecca's eyes drifted from her hands to her eyes, Cordelia realized with a sinking stomach that she in fact, had.
Should she wait for Angel?
Cordelia glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, noting that the eye contact with Angel stating her purpose might not have been enough. The dork sometimes had the intuition of a toad.
"You okay?"
Cordelia blew out her breath, managing a grim smile as she crossed her legs, leaning back into her chair. "Not really." When Cordelia looked back towards the door a second time, Rebecca sighed.
"Don't worry, I already know."
Cordelia blinked, taken completely by surprise.
"You do?"
Rebecca nodded, frowning, her voice sympathetic. "Don't worry. He's getting fired today."
A blank look invaded Cordelia's face, her mouth dropping open. "Huh?"
Rebecca gave a short, sad smile. "I know he didn't… well I know and um… he pretty much had to-"
Cordelia's mind grappled with the realization. "You're firing Angel?!?"
"Victoria I know you like him, but if he didn't make you-"
The door opened and Cordelia's head swiveled, catching Angel's gaze in wide-eyed panic as he stepped into the office, closing the door firmly behind him.
"Angel, good." Rebecca rose, motioning to the seat beside Cordelia. "Take a seat."
Angel looked almost unsure, turning to Cordelia with expressive eyebrows but she only shrugged helplessly.
"Cordelia?"
"I haven't exactly told her yet."
This time it was Rebecca's turn to look confused. "Cordelia?"
--
Someone in this place was most definitely loud.
Fred tore her eyes away from the man grinding on the stage, found herself slurring a bit as she nearly tipped on the leather seat, waving her hands.
"SHUT UP!"
With a smile, she sank back into her chair, tipping the rest of the contents of the drink into her mouth, smiling blissfully up at the dancing man.
The room was so brilliantly alive with colors and remarkable contours and she was feeling slightly sleepy, but her smile was never so wide and she had never felt so completely… uninhibited.
"Ms. Burkle?"
Winnifred swung her head around and smiled at what seemed to be two different Donalds.
"Hulooo."
"Umm… Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm absolutely perfect, thank you."
"I see…" He looked suspicious, but only pursed his mouth. "And Miss Chase?"
Cordelia. Where was Cordelia? Fred frowned, searching the club and her mind before she shrugged helplessly, smiling sunnily up at the man. "Maybe she's off boffing Angel."
"Fred?"
The familiar voice made Fred smile even wider, as her body twisted and Wesley was engulfed into a hug.
"WESLEY!"
"Perhaps some water," Donald muttered, moving away.
The image of Fred Burkle smiling so… cheerfully up at the strange man, exposing so much cleavage, was disconcerting enough, but now the armful of the young girl made Wesley blush, as he carefully pulled her arms away from his neck, setting her back down in the bench, ignoring the curious patrons that were beginning to look their way.
"What are ya doin' here, Wes?"
"I… have a message for Angel…" Fred's fingers slid between the top two buttons of his shirt, and Wesley gasped, wrapping fingers around her palms and jerking them away. "Fred are you alright?"
"I'm so GOOD, Wesley." She grinned cheekily, resting her head on his shoulder and gazing up at him adoringly. "You're so cute."
The blush intensified, and Wesley swallowed down the betraying sense of emotions as he patted her awkwardly. "Are you drunk?"
"Don't be silly, Wesley!" She sounded absolutely horrified at the thought. "Ah've barely even had a drink of the Red Cow-" she fumbled with the now empty tumbler until Wesley grabbed it out of her hand and set it on the other side of the round table, out of her reach.
"Fred, WHERE is Cordelia?"
"Ah was just tellin' that man that ah think she's boffing Angel…" She snuggled deeper into Wesley's arms, "They've got kyerumption, ya know."
Wesley groaned, glasses glinted as Fred continued to position her hands in rather compromising positions, searching the room for any sign of Cordelia or Angel.
--
"Who the hell is Cordelia?"
Angel sent Cordelia an annoyed glare, but the Seer only narrowed her eyes and gave as good as she got.
Rebecca stood, and her attention was diverted, her tone even as she remarked, "That would be me. Rebecca I don't we've been entirely honest with you. Angel's not a stripper-"
"Damn right he's not. He's fired."
"I'm actually- FIRED?! I'M FIRED?!"
"Angel honey," Cordelia reached forward, wrapping her hand around his arm. "Kinda not the point."
Rebecca's eyes caught the intimate gesture, her mouth floating open in surprise. Backing up, suddenly eyeing the door, she demanded, "What the hell is going on?"
"Angel and I are detectives," Cordelia said, reaching into her purse and flipping out a business card.
"What the hell did I do to get fired?" Angel asked, apparently still not quite able to get past that one point.
Rebecca reached for the card, sucking in her breath as she read off the name, "Cordelia Chase. FUCK." Slamming the card down, she reaching into her drawer and pulled out a check book. "What the hell is this gonna cost?"
"Cost?"
"Money." Rebecca's eyes were cold as she opened the book, pen poised to write. "I'm assuming you take bribes."
"We're not working with the police," Angel said, crossing his arms, blocking the path to the doorway with his heavy set frame.
"We're here to talk about this," Cordelia said, placing the missing videotape on the desk, the red rose next to it.
"What, the video tapes?" Rebecca shook her head, obviously panicked.
"Bribes? I notice you're not entirely unfamiliar with the concept?" Cordelia asked, voice and tone inferring as she settled down into the chair.
"You think that I- that this- NO!" Rebecca slammed her hand down, sweeping her hand wide to the stack on the bookshelves. "I run a business, CORDELIA. The videotapes, the monitors are there to make sure my boys perform, that's all. That's how I knew you faked it."
Cordelia allowed one small smirk of triumph at Angel. "See?"
"You were NOT FAKING!"
"Oh, I so was."
Angel let out a growl, turning his glare at Rebecca. "She was not faking. And… FIRED?!"
"You're a horrible stripper Angel! You MUST have seen it coming-"
"Angel-"
"She didn't fake, okay-"
"Angel-"
"What the HELL is up with his face?" The panicked look that fled over Rebecca's face made Cordelia jerk her head back to Angel.
"Angel! Game face off! Now!"
Rebecca was now completely pressed against the wall, body shaking with fear.
Cordelia just rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You sacrifice women to the demon God and a little vampire is supposed to scare you?"
"Little?" Cordelia absently patted Angel's shoulder to appease him.
But Rebecca looked completely shocked. "I - WHAT?"
--
"Yo man, she can't do that in here."
The large black man appeared almost out of nowhere, and Wesley found the shiver running down his spine, yelping when Fred's roaming hands reached under his belt.
"I- uh…Sorry… I can't seem to-"
"Come on," Brian motioned, taking the wobbly Fred by the arm, helping Wesley. "Let's see if fresh air will do something for her."
Fred giggled, mumbled something intelligible before slipping, forcing Wesley to wrap his arms around her waist, bringing her soft form closer to him.
Gritting his teeth, he ignored the whispers in the soft southern accent, nodding to the bouncer. "I'm terribly sorry."
"She's just drunk, it happens." Wesley eyes glanced suspiciously toward the cup, but he only swallowed and nodded, following Brian toward the door.
"Perhaps fresh air will do you good, right Fred?"
"Wesley, I love your glasses," she whispered, and pressed her lips gently against his.
--
"Are you two insane?"
The reaction caught them both off guard, and for a second all three only stared at each other blankly.
"So you're telling me that the five-plus murders we've linked to your club and your Red Roses, you know nothing about?" Cordelia asked skeptically. "Please. I may be half baked but I am still a woman."
Rebecca's legs gave out from under her, and Cordelia and Angel followed the movement as she slumped onto the floor.
"I have no idea what the FUCK you are talking about!"
Cordelia suddenly lost all patience. Ignoring the tears, she walked forward, kneeling down and grabbing Rebecca's wrist, pulling up the sleeve.
She froze, staring down at the tattoo, and her voice seemed very much like a growl as she turned, eyes narrowed down at the vampire who was watching with crossed arms.
"Angel…."
"What?"
She yanked the arm up, showing him the tattoo. "This is a tattoo of a POWER PUFF GIRL."
Angel paused, suddenly confused. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm SURE."
Rebecca yanked her arm back, cradling it carefully to her.
"What do you have against the Power Puff Girls?"
--
Donald sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the elegantly tailored handkerchief.
Thank God.
Finally able to breathe, he took in a large breath of air, letting the cool air refresh him, thankful to be rid of the smoke, the shrieks and the noise, at least for now.
Reaching for his keys, he moved to the door of his Cadillac, opening the door, distracted suddenly when two young men and an obviously drunk young woman came around the corner of the club.
Leaning against the car, he observed, shaking his head in disgust before moving forward to intercept them, pulling off his blazer in the process.
--
"It… looked similar."
Cordelia sighed, running hands through her long extensions, sending Angel a scathing look. "I could kill you right now."
Angel glared right back at her, and reached into his pocket, kneeling down in front of the very scared, and now it appeared, seemingly innocent, Rebecca.
"Rebecca, I know you're scared, but I'm not going to hurt you." Taking out a folded slip of paper, he held it up to the light. "Have you seen anybody wearing something that looks like this?"
Rebecca, sweaty and slouched against the wall, straightened up, leaning forward to inspect it.
"Yeah," she said finally, grabbing onto Angel's hand to pull herself up, straightening her suit. "I know whose that is." She pursed her lips, shaking her head forcefully. "What the hell is going on?"
"Whoever has this tattoo is the one doing the murders," Cordelia said, leaning against the desk. "We have no time. Who is it?"
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "Why would Donald murder all these women?"
--
Wesley felt slightly uneasy as the man approached them, on his face an obviously displeased frown.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir-" he began, but immediately was cut off, as the older man snapped at the young black bouncer.
"This isn't the one. You KNOW it's not the one."
"Yeah, well I didn't serve her the drink," Brian snapped back, "You did."
"I gave it to the right girl."
"Does this look like the right girl?" Brian asked, motioning to the woman in Wesley's arms.
The words created an aura of fear inside of Wesley, as he took a breath, suddenly stepping back from the two men.
His eyes roved down to the man who had joined them, and noticed a very similar tattoo on his wrist.
Bloody Hell.
"Fred," he whispered, stumbling under the elfin girl's repeated caresses. "Come on…"
She seemed almost completely gone, head lolling back, eyes closing.
Donald turned, inspecting the British man with cold eyes. "Take care of him."
Brian smiled and Wesley had no time to drop Fred to protect himself when the fist slammed into his face.
Falling back, his head hit the pavement, a large crack splintered into his ear drums, and the world went completely black.
--
There was no time left for stealth as Cordelia rifled through Donald's files, moving quickly as Rebecca continued her rant.
"So you're saying he's been using my club as a front for ritual demon sacrifices?"
At Angel's harried nod, she sucked in her breath. "The bastard."
Cordelia only snapped, "Rebecca, we'll embrace your pain later, okay?"
"Look." Angel stood, slamming the vault on the desk and with a fist slammed down on top of it, broke the lock.
Rebecca turned, reaching in, pulling out the herbs, the sketches…
"Witchcraft?"
"Oh yeah."
"I have to check on Fred," Cordelia said, moving out of the office.
Rebecca sucked in her breath, slamming down the articles and following her. "Damn bastard son of a bitch-"
Angel ignored the stares of the various male strippers, pushing past the crowd in Donald's doorway.
"That girl looking for the cute little chica that came in with her?"
Angel paused, turning back to Rolando. "Yeah. Where is she?"
"Drunk as hell. Brian and some other guy took her out."
Angel gave him a dark look, and immediately headed for the doorway.
