Trailing cables and motes of dust, Wesley carried the fax machine into the circle and dumped it on the floor. A waxy scroll of paper emerged from it and he bent over to read the words as the machine printed them.
"What was lost shall be found ..."
From the floor above he could hear a struggle, and then a determined thumping sound. Wesley glanced at the ceiling, before continuing to read.
"Not dead, nor of the living. Spirits of the interregnum, I call."
Footsteps pattered overhead, as if someone was running from the front of the hotel to the rear.
"Let her know the page of humanity, gobs ... oh for Pete's sake Giles, how did you ever get where you are today with this handwriting?"
An electrifying scream came from the stairwell.
"WESLEY!"
Wesley gave up and raced for the stairs. As he approached 212, it became obvious that something very bad had already happened.
Outside the room the carpets were soaked in blood, and the walls were heavily splattered to waist height. Wesley pushed the door open cautiously, and was relieved to see both Angel and Gunn struggling to their feet.
"What happened? Where's Cordelia?"
"She escaped," Angel gasped, "I think she went to the upper floors."
"Escaped?" Wesley was aghast. "How?"
Gunn rubbed the muscles of his neck.
"She broke her chains, tried to bite me."
Angel nodded. "Hit me with the telephone. Did you do the spell?"
"Well, if I did ..." Wesley winced at the bruise forming on Angel's forehead, "I'd say it failed."
Angel sighed. "Well, you'd better try again. Gunn and I will track her down."
Gunn pointed towards the window, where light was seeping in around the edges of the curtain. "We sealed the sewers. She's not going far in this light."
While his friends checked the hotel's abandoned rooms one by one, Wesley returned to the lobby, where the fax machine was still and silent, sitting inside the magic circle under the papery cocoon of its spewed message, like the nucleus of an embryo.
He began again.
"What was lost bloody well shall be found ..."
"You got that right."
Cordelia mocked him from the door of the lift.
Clutching fragments of flimsy paper, Wesley backed as far away from her as he could, while staying within the ring of bones. Her eyes followed him, shading by turns hungry and amused as she came into the artificial lights and reclined against the back of an armchair.
"Going somewhere? Wes ... I just got here. Stay for a drink?"
Ignoring her taunts, Wesley continued to chant.
"Not dead, nor of the living."
At the sound of the words, Cordelia's lip curled and she spat "You're gonna want to stop that."
Wesley's practised eye scanned the pages in his hands and he blurted out the main points of the rest.
"er ... Spirits of the interregnum, I call ... et cetera ... Let her know the pain of humanity, gods! - um ... oh yes ... Reach your wizened hands to me! ... er ... and so on and so forth ... Give to me the soul of Cordelia!"
Cordelia slithered from her perch and stalked around the edge of the circle, snickering audibly. Wesley groaned.
"Bugger! Giles, you promised ... Really, is this any way to treat a friend?"
A cool, calm voice broke into the panic.
"Try it again. I've got her."
A battered, blood-soaked and lightly dusted Kate Lockley stood in the doorway, with a crossbow pointed steadily at Cordelia's back.
"Kate!" Wesley felt faint with relief. "You're alive! Is that blood? Angel will be so ..."
"Wes, spare me the Angel angle just for the moment. Say the damn spell, OK?"
"I've said it!" Wesley shook a fist of paper at her in frustration, "It doesn't work. Now, let me see, what did I miss out ..."
Cordelia backed towards the lift doors.
"Wes!" Kate yelled, "Hurry!"
"Well, there's this whole section about who can wield the spell, I missed that out because it doesn't seem to apply to us." Wesley frowned, "Then again, perhaps we do have to ask for permission."
Cordelia stretched out a hand and hit the button for the top floor. Kate cursed inwardly, as she realised Cordy somehow knew she wouldn't shoot.
"Wes! Do something!"
"OK, I'll try and ad lib..." Wesley paced the circle. "Spirits, hear me! This gift is passed on from a race who used it by right. Given freely to us by ... well, Giles, and he had it from a real gypsy! No! Blast and damn it all ... Giles got it from a witch, but she was left it by a gypsy who was trying to help, I promise!"
Nothing happened.
"It was in the manner of a bequest," Wesley pleaded with the art deco plaster mouldings above his head. "And under American law I think that gives us certain rights ... although I haven't actually checked that ... but you know, time is very seriously of the essence here. Or, to put it another way, I'm bloody desperate, please make the spell work or we're all going to die!"
As the last words of his frantic plea died away, Wesley collapsed to the carpet. Kate flung the crossbow to the floor and raced over to him. As she reached the edge of the circle, the lift doors opened and Cordelia slipped inside.
Wesley suddenly rose to his knees, and flashed an angry glance at his surroundings. Kate gasped as a blow to her chest from some invisible force flung her outside the circle, and at that moment, Wesley's head snapped back and he began to chant in tongues.
"Lasa orbita sa fie vasal care-i va transporta sufletul la el! Asa sa fie! Acum!"
"Oh God," muttered Kate. "I really hope that's a good sign."
Rolling over and seizing the crossbow again, she struggled to her feet and made for the upper floors.