'This looks like I'm chasing him.'
Kate stood at the front door of the Hyperion and frowned at the art deco ironwork.
'I can't believe I'm thinking twice about going in. I'm thinking I'll call Cordelia on her mobile and get her to come out. This is pathetic.'
She turned away and sat on the steps for a moment, to collect herself.
'Damnation ... why did she have to go and leave her shopping in the restaurant? Or why couldn't I have called and asked her to pick it up? Why in the name of God am I here?'
She groaned, and then thought of the embarrassment of being discovered, sitting on the steps, like some stray animal. She got up, took a deep breath and marched in.
To her intense relief, Cordy was sitting in reception.
From his vantage point on the stairs, Angel could see Kate was not happy.
Recently, when she came to the hotel, whatever the purpose of her visit, she would always come and seek him out. She seemed as keen for his company as he was for hers. Usually they managed to at least grab five minutes in one of the offices, talking and kissing. Or if they were alone, they'd go up to his room and narrowly avoid making love.
Now she was stood talking to Cordelia, leafing through a demon compendium, looking self-contained and indifferent, and above all, not trying to find him.
She was mad, and he didn't blame her.
When Cordelia went to answer one of the desk phones, Angel descended the stairs quickly and touched Kate's elbow.
"I'm sorry about this morning."
She raised her head and gave him what he considered her worst cool and neutral look. Her eyes were devoid of emotion, her face blank and calm. "Which bit are you sorry for?"
Angel sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. Kate went back to her book.
"I guess ... I left a little abruptly."
"I suppose you did. Must have been an important message, huh?" Her voice was level and smooth; no hard edges indicating she was angry, so fullness or quivering to hint that she was sad. Nothing but leaden containment and steely control. A sudden urge to make her cry welled up in him and he had to mentally bat it away.
"Kate, please. This is difficult for me."
"I'm not trying to make it difficult." Kate shrugged. "I just don't know what you want from me."
Angel crept closer lowered his voice to a whisper. "You do. You know what I want." She glanced at him and he tried to hold her gaze, to convince her with his eyes that he was telling the truth. "There's just more to it, that's all. I can't ... There are issues."
She drew in a deep breath. "You think there aren't 'issues' for me too? You're a vampire, Angel."
He flinched at the word. "You're right. I mean. You're right to be worried about that."
"That's not the point. I'm just saying ... twelve months ago I didn't believe vampires existed. It's not all plain sailing for me either."
Angel hardly heard her. He was a vampire. There really was no getting away from it, if he appeared human sometimes it was essentially an act, put on for the benefit of others. He continued woodenly, "Kate ... have you changed your mind? Do you want me to back off?"
She opened her mouth to say, "Do you want to?" and then realised it was a stupid question. After this morning, how could she doubt it? She felt her cheeks flush and said nothing, turning away to hide the unexpected strength of her sudden distress.
Angel watched her closely. She wouldn't look at him, which was a bad sign, he could usually count on a piercing stare at least. She was turning pink, which must mean he'd hit the mark. He swallowed to hide his crushing disappointment. "OK. I'll ... I won't bother you. I mean, I'll stay away for a while. For good, even. If it's what you want."
She watched him walk away to one of the offices and close the door firmly behind him. Cordelia was looking sadly from the door to her and back again, which normally would have annoyed her no end, but now it didn't seem important. She seemed to be rooted to the spot.
"Kate?" It was Cordy again, with a coat on, pulling gently on her arm. "C'mon. Let's go and get really squiffy."
Kate shook her head. "I've got to see a client in half an hour. But thanks."
"Then come to my place afterwards. You know where it is? I'll get a bottle or two and we'll talk." Cordy bit her lip. "To be honest, I was going to ask you anyway. I'm worried about Angel. He's not himself these past few days."
"Can we badmouth him later? You know, after the second bottle?" Kate gave her a smile.
Cordy grinned back. "You betcha."
Angel leaned back against the door and closed his eyes.
He'd just told Kate he would stay away from her. What on earth was he thinking? There was no chance.
He was obsessed with her. Every spare waking hour was filled with thoughts of her; recollections of time they'd spent together, her smell, her feel, the way she looked, and above all the effect she had on his senses when she was close, chastely clothed and curled up round him in her bed, hanging on his arm in the street, pressed into him when they kissed in his office, half-naked and flushed against the backdrop of his room upstairs.
And now he was going to stay away from her. Some chance. Worst of all he was pretty sure it wasn't what she wanted either. Of all the stupid things to say ...
He knew the symptoms. At first he didn't appreciate what was happening, but then one evening he woke up and realised he could remember everything she'd said during the week gone by. About a collection of insignificant things - the new office furniture, the last bit of television they'd watched together, a shirt he'd bought, the price of bloody gas in the city.
He caught himself going back over their conversations. What she said always remained the same but he was embellishing his own words to make them better, sharper, more original, to impress her.
God help him, he'd even kept hold of a piece of her clothing. She'd left behind a satin camisole - simply forgotten to put it back on. When she remembered and asked him about it, he said he didn't recall seeing it anywhere. When all along it was tucked at the back of a drawer in his room.
A tiny voice in his head told him: there was a time when this would have been nothing more than a challenge, an obstacle to be overcome. When he wouldn't have taken no for an answer. But he hadn't been Liam for over two hundred years.
A sudden heaviness overcame him, like a weight dropped onto his chest. Angel's eyes snapped open. Without realising it, he'd fallen to the carpet on the inside of the door and was sitting against the base of the doorframe. His right hand was clutched to his throat and his chest was heaving. His left hand was on the floor, fingernails driven into the carpet pile.
He tried to say "What the hell..." and found he couldn't. He could form the words but not make the sound. Something vital was missing.
He couldn't breathe.
TO BE CONTINUED