Lorne handed Tecothra a six-inch hexagonal candle. "How many times have you done this?" he inquired, gesturing around them.
She set the candle atop the third post of the four they had errected in the center of the hotel lobby. "Five or six," she held out her hand for the final candle.
He delivered it to her expectant palm. "That's not very many."
"Yes, well, that's because oftentimes the Powers leave the Dead dead. It's not very common for their infinite plans to be mucked up, as I'm sure you well know."
The Pylean nodded. Tecothra took a few steps back to have a gander at their work. The four posts were perfectly alligned in the geographical center of a former Gateway to another dimension - or so Akishya had said - and such a location was ideal for the job Tecothra now faced.
"Everything appears to be in order. All we need is Doyle." she sighed.
"He may be gone for awhile. Cordy was pretty upset. I mean giving me a headache upset."
"I know,"
The demon followed her over to the stairs, upon which they both seated themselves. "This really has you down, doesn't it, Honey?"
"You can see that, huh?"
"It's hard not to." he conceded, squeezing her knee.
"Hmm," she looked into his eyes. "I bet a lot of people take you for granted." Lorne smiled at the floor. "It's not everyday you meet someone who knows what you're feeling, where you've been, and where you're going."
"It doesn't bother me,"
"Sure it does,"
"No, I meant I'm used to it. People come into Caritas, they sing, I tell them what they want to know, and then they leave. That's just the way it goes. A lot of them are demons, seeing as humans aren't very open-minded. No one comes in seeking friendship, they just want direction."
Tecothra rubbed his back across his shoulders.
Angel stormed into the lobby. He had been out searching for Cordelia for the last hour. His mood spoke volumes of what he had found.
"Don't worry, Angelcakes. I'm sure she's fine." Lorne tried to be comforting, but the truth was that he was worried, too. If the Scourge were in town...
The vampire nodded. "I hope so," he observed the set-up before him. "Is this for bringing back Doyle?"
"Yes," Tecothra answered simply.
"How does it work?"
"I stand in front pretty much where you are now and say the magic words. He stands inside the box and as he steps through the transdimensional wall he will materialize."
"Has it ever not worked?"
"Only in the ghost stories told around camp fires." Lorne's face bore a question. "What, you've never heard the one about the guy who was crossing back over to our Plain, but the woman performing the rites was murdered before he could complete his journey? He lost his hand in transport and had it replaced with a hook so he could exact his revenge on the teenagers who screwed up his resurrection."
"That's just dumb." Angel shook his head.
"Well, it's an urban legend." she shrugged.
"There are more people who can do what you do?" the Pylean inquired.
"A few. Not many. But then again, how many like us ever really accept our abilities? And then how many tell others about them?"
Lorne nodded, a half-smile curling his lips.
Angel watched them, noticing it for the first time: The attraction. Lorne was in love. The vampire had never given much thought to the green karaoke demon. He had always been the Host, owner of Caritas, who could tell you your fortune after you sang for him.
Now suddenly he was Lorne, demon from another dimension who had feelings, too, just like anyone else. And he was feeling for this woman who claimed to be capable of resurrecting a friend who had been dead for two years.
"Why must everything be so weird around here?" Angel mumbled to no one in particular.
Doyle ran through the door. He would have been out of breath, had he still required oxygen to live.
"Doyle, you're back," Tecothra stated, more for the others' benefit than anything.
The ghost nodded as Angel tried to follow her line of sight. "Hello, Doyle,"
"Hey," he replied, coming to a stop in front of the poles beside, the vampire.
"He said 'hey'," she passed the message along. "Are you - "
"Tell him that Cordy was captured by the Scourge and to get his undead ass out to Highway fifty-two east. There's a farm there that they're using as their hide out. They killed the family. I tried to stop them, but there was nothing - dammit!" Doyle kicked the canvas bag that Tecothra and Lorne had emtied in preparing for the ritual. It skidded clear across the room.
"Is he mad?" the vampire asked.
"He says Cordelia was captured by the Scourge and taken to their farm hide out on Highway fifty-two east." she summed up.
He was already on his way to the weapons cabinet before she had finished talking.
"He can't go alone!" Doyle exclaimed. "Tell him to get the others - there are hundreds of the bastards."
"Angel, wait! Doyle said there were hundreds of them."
"I can take care of them. I've done it before."
"Yeah, and look how that turned out."
He growled at her.
"Angelcakes, you should listen to her. Let's think this through," Lorne reasoned, "You go alone, you get staked. Now, where does that leave Wes and Gunn and Fred and especially Cordy? Hmm? Up the perverbial creek without a paddle, that's where, Honey. Champions of Light aren't like - certain other special beings in that in the case of one dying another is called."
"Stay out of this, Lorne." Angel hissed. "You've bought her story, among other things, and that's fine, but this is about saving Cordelia now."
"Hey, Sweetie, I want to rescue her just as much as you do. But there's a smart way to do it, and you're not thinking clearly."
"I'll take Gunn with me, okay?" Angel pushed past Lorne.
Tecothra's mind raced. "Sing something." Doyle broke in.
"What?"
"I said - "
"Not you," she snapped at Angel.
"Tell him to sing something. Then the demon can see what will happen, and that will convince Angel ta stay."
"Doyle, you're brilliant. Angel, sing us a tune, would ya?"
"What? At a time like this? Cordy was right, you are nuts."
"Lorne and Tecothra exchanged glances. "No, she's got a good idea."
"Hey, it was my idea, Buddy,"
"Nothing you see in my future can convince me not to go." Both regarded him curiously, as that was an incredibly stupid thing to say. Angel sighed. He knew it, too. "'Never made it as a wise man. Couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing. Tired o' livin' like a blind man. I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling, and this is how you remind me.'" he sang in monotone. "Happy?"
"Yes," Lorne replied, "But you won't be."