"I'm not. - I know what I said earlier. - But I don't want the visions
anymore. I tried to be brave. I did. But I'm just scared now. I'm scared
all the time. I mean look at me! What could be *so* important that the
Powers would do this? I just don't understand."
- Cordelia, That Vision Thing
--
It was easier, when she didn't think.
The table was slightly uneven under her manicured fingertips, she felt the scratches as she rubbed rhythmically against the wood, making a mental note to remind Lorne that tablecloths - especially linen - did a great job of hiding riot induced scars.
Her hazel eyes traced every bite in the wood as Angel spoke, not daring herself to think about the significance of THIS mission, forcing herself to listen with a passive voice when the words came, quickly, rapidly.
Her heart skipped slightly, an unwelcome testament to her all too human reaction to a mission she had long ago denied, and in an effort to push it away, she lay a gentle hand on Douglas' palm.
And found it trembling.
Ms. Cordelia Chase, ex-Higher Being and demoness extraordinaire, felt her previously liquefied spine ramrod into steel. Cordelia stared at Douglas, saw the utter confusion and the pure... strangeness of it all.
Shit. Great, Cordy. Just great. Alienate the guy before you even hit the altar.
"Sweetie, it's not all that confusing," she finally told him patiently. Next to her, Angel looked harried. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if he was late for something, and Cordelia felt no more need to waste time. All of this pettiness, the daggers in the backs and the glares seemed idiotic compared to what Angel was trying to do.
He was trying to save a soul. Bethany's soul.
"So... there are trials?"
"Well, sweetie, it's like this." Cordelia squinted, pursing her lips as she shared a glance with Angel, searching for the best way to word it. "After the whole 'higher being' business, I came back to earth. The details don't really matter, but it's safe to say, it took a lot to get the trust back in the Powers."
"Some of us never got over it," Angel remarked quietly, and she swallowed hard, ignoring the pointed look.
"So, anyway," she said in breezy tone. "We got involved in a different kind of soul saving. Angel had a key, and one time we didn't quite like how things went, so... Angel used it."
"A key?"
"To a different dimension," Angel confirmed, fingers rubbing around a shot glass, swirling with red liquid. On his face was a scowl. "A 'higher' dimension."
"It was an adventure and a half, but... we came to an understanding... After, Angel almost killed Skip-"
"Skip?"
"Her demon guide. Keep up," Angel barked.
Douglas blinked, shifting uncomfortably in his chair at the sharp words, forcing Cordelia, caught in the middle of a glare with Angel, to turn her attention back to him.
"Angel doesn't like him," she explained, an apologetic note in her tone. Her eyebrow arched and she shot Angel a glance. 'Behave,' she mouthed.
"You wouldn't either, if he kept taking your damned wife," came the mumbled grumble.
The best thing to do was ignore it. "ANYWAY, if we believe... umm... believed that a soul had been unfairly judge, we as ... 'lower key' beings, have the right to use a mediator to barter for the soul. It's really rare, and it's only happened a few times-"
"More than a few."
"More than a few?" Douglas repeated.
"The first was a while ago... Angel championed a pregnant woman," Cordelia said, rifling through the memories quickly and effortlessly. Lorne appeared behind her, a warm hand placed companionably on her shoulder. Startled, she paused, glancing up. He smiled warmly. It was... new. Lorne was even better at holding grudges at hissy fits than she was. Still, Gift. Horse. Mouth. Not looking.
"First time I met the studmuffin," Lorne volunteered. "Gave a nicely painful rendition of 'Mandy'."
Even Cordelia couldn't stifle the burst of laughter that came with that memory. Angel's lips reluctantly pulled into a smirk, and Douglas' own grin was hesitant, as if stuck in the middle of a private joke he had no part of. Another stab of guilt slid through her like ice.
This wasn't what she intended. No trips down memory lanes. No smiling over cute Angel anecdotes. Douglas didn't have to know it. He shouldn't have even known the little bit that was being shared. Eventually, he would get curious, and ask...
"What the Princess is saying, Dougy-Boy," Lorne clarified, "is that there are certain cases where the Powers that Be might allow a Champion to go to bat for a wayward soul. This might be one of those times. Lots of people involved, prophecies, grudge matches... it could get ugly."
"And with Cordelia... no longer involved and given my... history with Skip..." Cordelia blanched at Angel's hesitant remarks. History with Skip. It was almost a running gag at A.I., how Skip and Angel given the chance, would tear each other's heads off. "That only leaves Wes."
"Wesley?" Cordelia blinked. "But he's not-"
"He's trying."
Cordelia's hazel eyes darkened, curiosity mingled with pure surprise. When did Wesley become a Champion?
Douglas was focused on something else entirely. "You were a Champion?" he sounded almost awed. "You never said that, Cordelia."
"Featured word, 'was', sweetie. It doesn't matter anymore," she said dismissively, concern overriding any urges to explain THAT part of this whole fiasco. "Wes can't handle a trial."
"In hell, maybe," Lorne sighed, pulling out the seat beside Cordelia's and plopping himself down. "But that's not where the trials are taking place."
"Where are they now?"
"Because of Wolfram's claim, here." Lorne answered.
Here. The trials were here?! That hadn't been done in years! "Angel-"
"Under the post-office, where the Oracles were," he said quickly. "Converted into a courthouse for this occasion."
"The Powers are fair, but not stupid." Lorne looked almost amused as he leaned back in his chair. His tone was calm, collected, as if he was talking about the weather forecast.
"It doesn't matter. With Wes's record, the Powers won't listen in heaven, hell or earth." Angel's tone was dark, low, reminiscent of an animal in the way he eyed his drink. The look in his eyes was calculating.
She remembered that look. She remembered everything, but that look always did something to her. No matter how many years past, Cordelia never, ever, ever forget that Angel was a vampire. So many people did, but she never did. Not when she married him. Not when she loved him, utterly and completely. He was still very much a vampire.
She never minded. But she never forgot. The hidden danger, the glittered anger, the malicious smile, the penchant for blood...
And she had loved him. So utterly. Completely. Despite that. Because of it.
God... was she a mental case or what?
"Guess we'll just have to go with my patented sudden burst of violence," he finally said, settling back.
She had to roll her eyes. Some boys never changed. "Right. Cause THAT always works with these guys." she remarked flatly. A dark gaze met hers cocked eyebrow pointedly. "Umm... hello?" she responded, waving a manicured hand in the air. "Powers? Kinda all-seeing. They'd know if you'd break her out, and then good luck on getting a pardon."
""Fair. Not stupid," Lorne repeated.
Angel continued to stare, a defiant glare, stance insinuating that she was clearly getting on his last nerve. Tough cookies. Cordelia could give a rat's ass if she was emasculating him in front of dear ole' Doug-y. The stupid vamp was going about it all wrong.
"Cordelia-"
"Just listen. Pointers, from the old pro- mainly me. You have to convince the Powers that Bethany can be championed, that she's capable of being saved. Maybe made a champion herself."
"The only way we can do that is to get an interview, and Skip's guarding her. He won't let me near her, and Wes' history with Wolfram and Hart-"
A warm hand slipped into hers, pulled on it. Doug was trying to get her attention, but she only dimly felt the pull. Distracted, she squeezed back, and immediately turned her attention to Lorne.
"Well, what'd she do? Maybe we could use it."
"Nobody really knows. Your telekinetic Carrie still had a little bit of a violent streak, but... nice girl, read her soul once. From what I hear, pretty much almost killed another one of Skip's kids on a job. After losing you to him," Lorne indicated Angel. "I can understand a little hostility."
"No reason to blacken her soul, or damn her."
"Prophecy, sweet cheeks. Wolfram and Hart are jumping on it."
"And, to top it off, she signed a contract," Angel interjected.
Crap. "With the lawyers?" Cordelia gasped.
"When she was living with Lilah all those years back. For an 'internship'." Frustration forced the unbreathing vampire to take in a mangled sigh, long fingers rubbing through silken strands of hair, almost disrupting his heavily gelled hairdo.
Cordelia watched the action, letting the memory click into place. Bethany, scared and a runaway, years ago, living with Lilah, probably signing a contract while staying with her that could have been for anything, when in reality she had just sold her soul....
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"You have to get a witness of character stated. That's the only way you'll save her. Violence won't do anything but send a Warrior out and then there's no trial."
"Cordelia, we don't HAVE a Champion to fill the role," Angel snapped.
Douglas coughed, really loud. In fact... he had been doing that for a while now. Pulled back to the present, Cordelia took in a ragged breath and patted his shoulder. "You okay?"
He looked almost relieved, and she couldn't figure out why. She wasn't really IGNORING him...
And then she could have killed him.
"Cordy... weren't... YOU-"
"No," she said immediately, the pit dropping deep down into her stomach. Anvil City. No. No. NO. No way in hell. She was NOT a Champion. Angel's hot gaze was on her, and she never forgot he was a vampire, never at all.
He could smell her agitation, hear her heartbeats...
-- dark and sweaty, locked in a lover's embrace, cheek pressed against one breast, counting each heartbeat, chuckling as he joked he could make them double, triple in pace -
She took in an unsteady breath, but deliberately turned her head, locked eyes, her resolution firm.
"You could save her life, Cordelia," Angel said frankly.
"Cordelia, we could take a later flight if it'll save an innocent woman's life..."
No, no, no, no, no-
"He's going to have to do this one without me."
Lorne broke into the exchange, adding warmth into her incredibly cold words.
"Sweetie, I hate to be the Devil's Advocate- 'cause frankly, that was Wesley's job, but... there is no one else."
There had to be. She wasn't DOING this again. She had promised herself -
-- sobbing when Angel found her, clutching him tightly as she damned the soul... forced to choose in a final test that she passed, bleeding and broken --
Oh, God. Cordelia closed her eyes, the silence suddenly overwhelming. There wasn't any way she could DO this now. This wasn't supposed to be a swinging anvil sending her back into the Higher Realms.
This was supposed to be a fucking clean break. No visions. No powers. No trials. No tests.
No tests.
Three male eyes pinned her, and Cordelia squirmed, thoughts shuffling with images of Bethany...
Scared. Alone. Damned.
Her eyes fluttered open, and immediately, she saw Angel staring at her.
Dark brown eyes. Pleading. Understanding. Silent. Knowing...
Fuck you, Angel.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't walk away from this one. Not Bethany.
If anyone noticed the considerable moisture that had gathered in her eyes, or how she her voice seemed gravely and husky, no one dared mention it.
"What's the commission on a benefits life insurance policy of a major detective agency, sweetie?"
It was exactly the opposite of what everyone THOUGHT she was going to say. For a moment, there was only complete shock. Angel blinked, once. Douglas stared at her, slightly open-mouthed, not quite getting it at first.
Lorne burst into a chuckle, shot glass hovering over his mouth. "Man, she's good," he almost sang.
"It's... a lot of money, Cordelia, but..."
A perfectly arched eyebrow cocked in Angel's direction. Eyes glinted with challenge as she sat back in her seat. "Well?"
Angel hadn't moved. His fingers still thumbed over his glass of blood, swirling over the tip, gently, seductively. Dark brown eyes appeared almost black, and there was no smile on his face. There was no expression.
"Sweetheart," the tone was low, dark and sarcastic, an imitation of her pet words for Douglas. "Have you forgotten that I'm already dead?"
"Not you, dumb ass," Cordelia snapped. "Fred. Gunn. Faith. Connor-"
"The entire Brady Bunch," Lorne mused, openly approving. Angel glared, but the happy Host only took another sip of his Seabreeze.
"I negotiate the deal, I get an interview, I set up the plea. That's all. Those are my terms." Pure emotion rifled through her, flowing at a zephyr's pace. Adrenaline pumped in her veins and this was IT.
One last 'screw you' to the Powers. One last jolt in her heart, one last mission. Just a little one. No character of witness. No soul saving. An interview and a plea.
And a nice little nest egg to top it off, enough to move her and Douglas out of that damned garage apartment and into a house away from the quite wonderful Mrs. Gertrude Sanderson.
Every nerve was tingling in expectation, like a track star waiting for the gun to sound off.
It came with one word.
"Fine," Angel said heavily, pushing away from the chair.
Her world shifted, jolted back into place. She smiled.
"Good," she answered, standing immediately, mechanically allowing Douglas to place her jacket over her shoulders, shrugging into the sleeves. "Douglas, get the paper work and meet Angel back at the hotel." Douglas, still a little mystified at the rapid arrangements, nodded hesitantly. "I want a certified check, Angel. I'll have my cell phone on. Call me when you get it, Douglas."
"Okay, Cordelia-"
"Angel, the bill." Cordelia shoved him the slip of paper. The vampire looked almost comical, staring at the small receipt. "NOW." He rolled his eyes, and when Lorne shrugged, he motioned, digging into his wallet as he moved toward the bar.
She had a lot of crap to do, but she didn't forget Douglas. Cordelia took a breath, gathering herself, and turned to smile at her fiancé. Short nails ran up his shirt, and softly, she flicked a stray bang out of Douglas' eyes. He had beautiful eyes. "You're really gonna do this?" And he was smiling.
"Don't get too excited, it's pretty routine," she said with a grin. "Listen, do me a favor."
"Sure..."
"Give me all your money."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"Sweetie, as much as you like Angel, the fact that he's a vampire, and you are marrying his ex-wife. He's up to something-"
"Cordy, you don't think he's THAT shallow, do you. All he really wants is for you to be happy-" Douglas' faith in vampires was really very stupid, all things considered. Okay, not dumb... just very... innocent.
"He'll take it. Get you in a card game. He sucks at cards, but he'll cheat-"
"Well, you know I never gamble-"
"Uh-huh. And if anyone had ever asked me before I met him if I would have willingly become a Night Light to save his pale ass I would have laughed in their faces. Now give me the money," she repeated.
It amused him, even if his blue eyes darkened slightly. Her no nonsense attitude pleased him, and it gratified her. Chuckling, Douglas shook his head and leaned down, brushing his lips gently once with hers. "In my pants."
Her grin was saucy, naughty as she slid long fingers into his jeans, squeezing his butt before coming out with his wallet, removing the bills, slipping them into her jacket, and returning the wallet back to his place. "Warm," she whispered.
"You have no idea," he almost growled, gathering her closer. Eyes closed involuntarily as he kissed her again, and the heat of the kiss struck her. She'd never get used to it. Not when she was so used to cool lips. "Just be careful," she heard close to her ear. "It's all we have right now-"
"Doug, you don't happen to have change for a twenty, do you?" The 'affectionate' slap on the back nearly sent Doug careening into the table, and she rolled her eyes.
"See what I mean?" Kissing Douglas again, she moved past Angel. The contrast between the warm and cold bodies were amazing. Sex was different with a vampire than with a human... With a human things got so... hot... too hot. So warm...
With vampires it was fire and ice, pleasure and pain... Douglas always did wonder why she had to do it with the air conditioner on.
Great, Cordelia. Because this is a REALLY good time to think about sex.
Taking in a controlling breath, she pulled her hand out of Douglas's and held it out to Angel.
The vampire and Douglas both stared.
"The key."
Angel blinked, Douglas broke into a relieved grin, and Cordelia lost her patience.
"You brought it, didn't you?" she asked flatly.
Another smile, different than the ones he had been giving her all afternoon, drifted to his perfect lips. For a moment, just one, she saw Angel. Really saw him.
It made her heart ache.
"Yeah. I did," he said simply. The coin and the key were placed in her hand. Immediately, she shoved them into her jacket pocket, close to her breast.
"Now GO," she ordered, pushing them away.
Angel and Douglas obeyed, and she couldn't quite contain the smile
of satisfaction as they moved toward the doors of Caritas, quickly and
efficiently.
No matter who the hell claimed ownership of Angel Investigations at one time or another, Cordelia had always been the boss. She knew it. They knew it.
She rocked.
"Leaving already?" Lorne asked, blazer spiffy and purple, as he broke in on her ego-trip.
Eyes still on her departing fiancé and ex-husband, she shrugged. "Sure," she replied. "Aren't you coming?"
She wasn't asking for much. Just a trip to another demon dimension to sneak past a guard and interview a person on trial for her soul.
Lorne, sweet Pylean demon that he was, gave her a thousand watt smile that would have lit up all of Los Angeles.
"Sweetie, wouldn't miss it for the world."
--
Yeap. This was definitely going to be harder than he anticipated.
Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan looked around the back alley of Caritas, feeling mildly out of place as he watched the Seer fit the key into the coin expertly, step back.
The feeling of anticipation was mutual, he guessed. Though he wondered, tilting his head as she shot him a distracted smile, if she was as afraid of this as he was.
Lorne had known Cordelia for a long time. He felt he knew her, sometimes better than even Angelcakes himself. And he knew, Brown Eyes wasn't ready, not for this.
He had expected the break, had seen it coming. When everyone else, even the little Wild Child herself, had waited for Cordelia to return, unconsciously leaving her place open, he had closed his mind to it.
How did a person come home, when she had no home to come to?
Cordelia had no place in this world, and that was her problem. For years, she had been pulled in different directions, like a seesaw, a slinky. Twisted and turned, and no one had seen it coming but him.
Stress marred the pretty eyes, and Lorne strongly suspected that if it wasn't for the whole demon aspect, Cordelia would have had quite a few wrinkles by now. She had issues, and flying off to live in Maine with her Malibu Ken Doll wasn't going to do anything to solve it.
As screwed as Angel was about all this, he was right about one thing: Cordelia belonged to the mission, and the mission belonged to her.
He didn't say a word as Cordelia took a deep breath. He never mentioned that he saw her hands openly trembling so much she dropped the coin twice. When she flashed him an insecure glance, he only nodded and smiled.
When the coin dropped, and the ring twisted, he saw the portal open, and immediately followed, feeling the familiar pull as Cordelia held his hand and led him into her world.
Into the world of the Higher Beings.
Into the world she hated.
And hey, after what he knew...
Who could say he blamed the kid? Not after that. Not after what they did-
The swirl was large and round, luminous, almost beautiful, and in a flash they were there. Darkness, pain... the prison dimension.
"Nice," he commented, craning his neck as he inspected the torches and cave-like walls. "Very into the earth-y tones. Nothing says 'prison' like a good musty 'caca' tone."
His own laughter was never reciprocated. Unsure, Lorne turned, and immediately the laughter caught in his throat. Cordelia's palm was gripped tightly in his, and he now knew why she had implied he come.
He shut up. This would be the hardest thing. Her uneven breathing, her heart skipping rapidly, all gave away Brown-Eyes near panic.
Lorne didn't do a thing but wait for the memories to stop, for Cordelia to get a reign on her reality.
There was nothing else he could do.
--
Her eyes had grown pure white, that day. Silver orbs that glistened as she stood, deep within the heart of what some would call heaven, others would call hell.
She had been alone. Her champion was a fighter, his strength in his fists, in his dead, unbeating heart, and he had no place here. This was a place for higher beings, a tomb almost, for those supernaturally inclined.
In the bright light, she could barely see. She was unable to tear her eyes from the form before her.
"She has grown weak," came the response.
Heartbeats pounded inside her ribcage, a betrayal. In here, she was not allowed to be human. In this cage, she was a higher being, a creature objective and above love, above hate.
"I'm not weak," she whispered, but it wasn't true. She was all too human, a disappointment to the beings who created her. The ring on her finger burned, bright light forcing the metal to sear, but the pain was nothing.
This was nothing.
Dark eyes of panic and fear bore into hers, a young man with hands tied behind his back before, pleading.
"The choice must be made."
A large lump that was incredibly hard to swallow caught her whisper, her near plea. Her witness was essential, her testimony was fact.
He had killed. In cold blood. Future prophecies revealed that this young man, if chosen, would create chaos, evil. Circumstance or chance, it was not something they were willing to allow to happen.
"Cordelia." The voice was a snap, angry and significant, and even now, it made her shudder. "You're stalling."
Sudden anger forced the words out, flashing hazel eyes pinned the demon guide. "You're damned right I'm stalling!" Cordelia turned. It was so much easier to focus on the grey demon, so much easier to look into his soulless eyes than to stare into the one of the mortal. "I won't make this decision. I won't damn him."
His large fingers moved into fists, and she could tell, Skip did not understand. His life was for the Powers. His loyalty was to the Powers. It was all he knew, despite the numerous references to popular culture.
"You know what he did."
"I also know why he did it."
"It was not his decision to make."
"Then what makes it mine?" She was shaking now, bright light getting whiter, eyes now devoid of any speck, of any trace of color. All she saw was black and white - no grey, no purple, no red.
"You made this choice. You understood the ramifications-"
"I understood nothing! I didn't sign up for this!" The bright light grew brighter, and the human before her now shut his eyes, almost crying from the brightness. "I won't damn a soul- you can't make me."
He was getting more and more frustrated. Skip's jaw was tight, the Powers above her were eerily quiet. There was nothing in this room. Nothing but brightness and light. Nothing but the soul - eternity hung in the balance.
"You left to join Angel," he said finally. "We let that happen. The world needs his champion. Fine. You defied orders and you MARRIED him. Bound yourself to a figure-"
"How is that wrong? What's wrong with living?" Her hands pushed and suddenly Skip stumbled back. "How can you live without a soul, Skip? How can you understand-"
"Cordelia-"
"We save lives, we save souls, but we aren't allowed to love. What we do 'transcends' love. And there's something seriously wrong with that, Skip. It's WRONG." she pleaded now, desperate for him to understand. "Nothing should take the place of love, if you don't have it, what else do you have?"
"Cordelia, if you don't know that, you'll never truly attend your higher calling." The tone was almost ashamed. Disappointment was etched in Skip's face, stone cold indifference to her tears.
He was coddling her.
Clarity came in that single glance, in his glare.
"This is another test," she whispered.
He stood silent. The Powers were silent.
"MY GOD!" her eyes closed and the tears stung, hot and searing from her glow. "THIS is a test? My witness? Damning a soul?"
"You know what he'll do."
"He hasn't done it yet."
"He's an evil soul."
"We don't KNOW that-"
"Yes. You know. You know it."
They wanted her words. Her confirmation. Her knowledge that with her witness, she would damn him to hell. A man who had killed for love, who's entire life hung in the balance of 'maybe'.
Moisture etched into her orbs, and it cooled her.
"I'm tired, of tests, Skip," she suddenly said, turning back to the young man. "Everyone has a limit."
"You are a higher being-"
"SCREW that. If that's what it takes, I'm staying in the lower dimension."
"Cordelia, you've outgrown it. You're never satisfied and you know why."
Satisfied? She almost laughed. How on earth could she be satisfied? She never had enough time to try to be. There was always a vision, always a soul, always a LIFE that was ahead of her own.
"Time's running out. You must choose."
The anger boiled over, her mind filled with Angel. Fred, and Gunn and Faith and Wesley. Lower beings. Lower beings who loved and sacrificed and saved.
Her eyes shot up to the brightness, for once unafraid of it. "And you?!" she shouted to the Powers. "What's YOUR take? Open up your damned mouths and SAY SOMETHING!"
"Cordelia."
"FUCK YOU, Skip." They were Faith's words, and they came from Cordelia's mouth with conviction. "I choose to fail." She turned, away from the young man, away from the decision, away from the test.
"You walk away from this, Cordelia, you walk away from the mission." Skip's voice halted her steps. "You choose not to damn this soul, you sacrifice the lives of countless others. He's tasted evil. He will kill again. He WILL conjure the forces. Everything that has meant anything will go away. Your mission will mean nothing."
The mission. All of this, for the mission. Her life, given away, her heart deadened - for the mission.
It was the mission that had brought her here. It was the mission that had made her a higher-being. It was the mission that forced her to leave Angel.
It was the mission that forcing her to do this.
The damned mission.
In one second, faith died. Cordelia looked around, saw what she had become, and hated herself. It was only one second. But it was enough.
Eyes cold as slate, sudden hate that seemed anything but 'higher', filtered through an icy glare.
"Then damn him," she whispered suddenly. "Damn him, and damn you."
Her demon guide looked almost apologetic. For a small sliver in time, she saw regret, sorrow, but his faith in his mission overwhelmed the empathy, and he nodded.
He got what he wanted, the Powers, eerily silent, got what they wanted.
And Cordelia Chase damned a soul.
She passed their test.
They failed hers.
She stood, silent, as the boy was dragged away. The white light grew brighter, brighter, and inside her, there was nothing.
Brightness faded away to darkness. Feet now stood on gravel, silence gave way to crashing waves. As quickly as they needed her, as quickly as they had taken her, they discarded her, back to her life, back to live with what she had done.
When Angel found her, she was on her knees. Tears dripped from her cheeks, sobbing pools at her feet. A soul wracked with pain in the Seer caused the crack, and when his hand touched her shoulder, she flinched away, falling to the ground and clutching at her heart.
She could still hear the cries. She could still feel the hate.
--
"Brown Eyes?"
From somewhere, almost out of her realm of hearing, she felt his presence.
"Cordelia."
She trembled, a low whimper slid out of her, and her chest once again constricted, the cold iron in her soul almost painful.
She opened her eyes.
"Yes, Lorne?" she asked softly.
"You okay?" He looked truly concerned.
A small, grim smile slipped onto her features.
"Never better," she quipped. "Let's go."
End chapter