Disclaimer: see chapter 1
"This is it." Angel slowed the car and they peered out at an anonymous low- rise apartment block. Connor checked the address again.
"Yeah, this is it." He glanced at his father. "So, what happens now?"
Angel accelerated away and turned left at the end of the road. "We go and see if he's in. I guess he won't be."
They found a parking space down the next street, and got out of the car. Angel went to the trunk and pulled out one of his short swords, attaching the sheath to his belt and making sure that his coat covered it. He passed Connor a dagger.
"Put that in your pocket, but don't use it."
"Then why are you giving it to me?" Connor asked.
Angel closed the trunk and locked the car. "Just in case. But I'm serious. Don't use it, unless it's against a demon. All right?"
Shrugging, Connor nodded. "Okay."
His father smiled briefly. "Right then."
The apartment block proved to be manned by a concierge, who came out at the ring of the bell. "Can I help you?"
Angel smiled. "Yes. I'm looking for an old friend. Lindsey McDonald. He said to call and see him if I was ever in town, and here I am."
"Mr McDonald's out this evening, I think," the concierge said. "Playing a gig at one of the bars downtown."
"Could you tell me which one?" Angel asked.
"Sure." The concierge disappeared inside his small office and came out again with a flyer. "Here. It's the Silver Bell. Bar on Third Street. Can't miss it." Angel took the flyer and tucked it away. "Should I tell Mr McDonald you called?"
"No need," Angel said. "We'll go by the bar. Thank you for your help."
Connor smiled weakly and followed his father out. "Nice performance."
"It worked," said Angel shortly.
Back in the car with a map open, they found their way downtown and parked again. Connor fell into step beside his father as they headed towards the sign of the Silver Bell, illuminated in neon blue, and tried his best to look twenty-one.
Inside, the bar was busy, bustling with a variety of middle-aged couples and groups of younger people. There was a buzz of chatter around the tables close to the door, but as Connor followed Angel through the crowd into the bar proper he noticed that the conversations were fewer, and a strain of music threaded its way into the atmosphere. Someone was playing the guitar and singing, a gentle, mournful piece.
Angel slid into an empty seat and Connor took the one next to him, and shadowed in their corner they looked towards the low stage at the far end of the bar. A spotlight illuminated the musician, a slight man with a mane of greying hair whose hands caressed his guitar. Connor glanced at his father, and knew by the vampire's set expression that this, at last, was Lindsey McDonald.
He turned his attention back to the song, which ended with a short ripple of chords. The audience broke into sustained applause, and Lindsey McDonald acknowledged them with a short smile.
"He's good," Connor found himself saying, and Angel turned to glare at him.
"Why does everyone always say that?"
"I'm not saying I like him, just his music," Connor said, defensively. "You've really got a thing about this guy, haven't you?"
"He'd be happy to see me dead, and the feeling's mutual," said Angel. "Though we parted calmly, I guess. Still, that was before he tried to have you taken."
He broke off as a waitress came to their table. "What can I get you guys?" she asked, wiping the surface down quickly.
"Two beers," Angel ordered. "Do you know when this set finishes?"
"Fifteen minutes or so, I guess," the waitress returned.
Angel thanked her, and she hurried away.
They waited in silence. Connor passed the time by alternately watching Angel and the man on stage, and sipping his beer. Lindsey McDonald played three more songs, and then, after thanking the audience, stood up and started packing his gear away. Finally he slipped on a battered leather jacket and made his way towards the exit.
Angel, with a nod at Connor, got up to follow him, and they wove through the crowd and outside into the cooler night air. McDonald was a short way ahead, heading towards a battered old car parked alone a few hundred yards away. Angel quickened his pace, and Connor had to lengthen his step to keep up.
They reached the car just as Lindsey McDonald was shutting the trunk with his guitar inside. Angel put his hands in his pocket and waited silently. Connor thought it best to stay out of the way, so he leaned against a nearby wall.
McDonald turned. Angel said, "Hello, Lindsey."
"Fancy seeing you here," Lindsey McDonald said, calmly, and stepped around the vampire to reach for the driver's door handle.
"Why am I not surprised that you're not surprised to see me?" Angel asked, his tone equally cool.
"Figured you'd be popping by sometime soon," the ex-lawyer said. "You want to discuss this here, or back at my place?"
"How do I know you'll let me in when we get there?" asked Angel.
"I don't want another door broken by you," McDonald said. "Yeah, I'll let you in."
Angel pulled his car keys from his pocket and threw them to Connor. "Go and get the car," he said. "I'll wait here, with Lindsey."
Connor caught a brief glimpse of a pair of piercing blue eyes and a face turned in his direction. He caught the keys and nodded towards Angel. "Okay."
He hurried away to the convertible, parked at the other end of the street, and drove it back to Lindsey McDonald's car. By the time he reached them, the man claiming to be his father was inside the vehicle, the engine running, with Angel next to him in the passenger seat. Connor reached out and locked the doors of the convertible, and then followed McDonald back to his apartment.
Nobody spoke as they climbed out of the two cars, and followed Lindsey McDonald inside the apartment block. The concierge popped his head out of the little office and said cheerily, "You found your friends, then, Mr McDonald?" McDonald smiled thinly and led the way up the stairs.
On the third floor he unlocked a door, glanced around, and pushed it open. "I invite you in," he said, waving a hand, and Angel and Connor came in and closed the door behind them.
The apartment was furnished simply with a couple of armchairs and a sofa upholstered in brown fabric. Some pictures hung on the beige walls, and a half-open door showed a small, neat kitchen. McDonald propped his guitar in a corner and went across to a drinks cabinet, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He turned around with the glass in hand.
"So you're Connor," he said, meeting Connor's eyes with the bright blue gaze. "I'm Lindsey McDonald."
"This is it." Angel slowed the car and they peered out at an anonymous low- rise apartment block. Connor checked the address again.
"Yeah, this is it." He glanced at his father. "So, what happens now?"
Angel accelerated away and turned left at the end of the road. "We go and see if he's in. I guess he won't be."
They found a parking space down the next street, and got out of the car. Angel went to the trunk and pulled out one of his short swords, attaching the sheath to his belt and making sure that his coat covered it. He passed Connor a dagger.
"Put that in your pocket, but don't use it."
"Then why are you giving it to me?" Connor asked.
Angel closed the trunk and locked the car. "Just in case. But I'm serious. Don't use it, unless it's against a demon. All right?"
Shrugging, Connor nodded. "Okay."
His father smiled briefly. "Right then."
The apartment block proved to be manned by a concierge, who came out at the ring of the bell. "Can I help you?"
Angel smiled. "Yes. I'm looking for an old friend. Lindsey McDonald. He said to call and see him if I was ever in town, and here I am."
"Mr McDonald's out this evening, I think," the concierge said. "Playing a gig at one of the bars downtown."
"Could you tell me which one?" Angel asked.
"Sure." The concierge disappeared inside his small office and came out again with a flyer. "Here. It's the Silver Bell. Bar on Third Street. Can't miss it." Angel took the flyer and tucked it away. "Should I tell Mr McDonald you called?"
"No need," Angel said. "We'll go by the bar. Thank you for your help."
Connor smiled weakly and followed his father out. "Nice performance."
"It worked," said Angel shortly.
Back in the car with a map open, they found their way downtown and parked again. Connor fell into step beside his father as they headed towards the sign of the Silver Bell, illuminated in neon blue, and tried his best to look twenty-one.
Inside, the bar was busy, bustling with a variety of middle-aged couples and groups of younger people. There was a buzz of chatter around the tables close to the door, but as Connor followed Angel through the crowd into the bar proper he noticed that the conversations were fewer, and a strain of music threaded its way into the atmosphere. Someone was playing the guitar and singing, a gentle, mournful piece.
Angel slid into an empty seat and Connor took the one next to him, and shadowed in their corner they looked towards the low stage at the far end of the bar. A spotlight illuminated the musician, a slight man with a mane of greying hair whose hands caressed his guitar. Connor glanced at his father, and knew by the vampire's set expression that this, at last, was Lindsey McDonald.
He turned his attention back to the song, which ended with a short ripple of chords. The audience broke into sustained applause, and Lindsey McDonald acknowledged them with a short smile.
"He's good," Connor found himself saying, and Angel turned to glare at him.
"Why does everyone always say that?"
"I'm not saying I like him, just his music," Connor said, defensively. "You've really got a thing about this guy, haven't you?"
"He'd be happy to see me dead, and the feeling's mutual," said Angel. "Though we parted calmly, I guess. Still, that was before he tried to have you taken."
He broke off as a waitress came to their table. "What can I get you guys?" she asked, wiping the surface down quickly.
"Two beers," Angel ordered. "Do you know when this set finishes?"
"Fifteen minutes or so, I guess," the waitress returned.
Angel thanked her, and she hurried away.
They waited in silence. Connor passed the time by alternately watching Angel and the man on stage, and sipping his beer. Lindsey McDonald played three more songs, and then, after thanking the audience, stood up and started packing his gear away. Finally he slipped on a battered leather jacket and made his way towards the exit.
Angel, with a nod at Connor, got up to follow him, and they wove through the crowd and outside into the cooler night air. McDonald was a short way ahead, heading towards a battered old car parked alone a few hundred yards away. Angel quickened his pace, and Connor had to lengthen his step to keep up.
They reached the car just as Lindsey McDonald was shutting the trunk with his guitar inside. Angel put his hands in his pocket and waited silently. Connor thought it best to stay out of the way, so he leaned against a nearby wall.
McDonald turned. Angel said, "Hello, Lindsey."
"Fancy seeing you here," Lindsey McDonald said, calmly, and stepped around the vampire to reach for the driver's door handle.
"Why am I not surprised that you're not surprised to see me?" Angel asked, his tone equally cool.
"Figured you'd be popping by sometime soon," the ex-lawyer said. "You want to discuss this here, or back at my place?"
"How do I know you'll let me in when we get there?" asked Angel.
"I don't want another door broken by you," McDonald said. "Yeah, I'll let you in."
Angel pulled his car keys from his pocket and threw them to Connor. "Go and get the car," he said. "I'll wait here, with Lindsey."
Connor caught a brief glimpse of a pair of piercing blue eyes and a face turned in his direction. He caught the keys and nodded towards Angel. "Okay."
He hurried away to the convertible, parked at the other end of the street, and drove it back to Lindsey McDonald's car. By the time he reached them, the man claiming to be his father was inside the vehicle, the engine running, with Angel next to him in the passenger seat. Connor reached out and locked the doors of the convertible, and then followed McDonald back to his apartment.
Nobody spoke as they climbed out of the two cars, and followed Lindsey McDonald inside the apartment block. The concierge popped his head out of the little office and said cheerily, "You found your friends, then, Mr McDonald?" McDonald smiled thinly and led the way up the stairs.
On the third floor he unlocked a door, glanced around, and pushed it open. "I invite you in," he said, waving a hand, and Angel and Connor came in and closed the door behind them.
The apartment was furnished simply with a couple of armchairs and a sofa upholstered in brown fabric. Some pictures hung on the beige walls, and a half-open door showed a small, neat kitchen. McDonald propped his guitar in a corner and went across to a drinks cabinet, pouring himself a glass of whisky. He turned around with the glass in hand.
"So you're Connor," he said, meeting Connor's eyes with the bright blue gaze. "I'm Lindsey McDonald."