He was dressed all in black. His hands rested on the polished wooden railing as he looked down at them. His eyes roamed across the group and when they met Buffy's gaze she felt embers flare in her chest. His hands gripped the rail tightly for an instant before he turned away. Buffy directed her attention to Angel's companion.

He was tall and thin, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit with the faintest of chalk stripes running through it. Deep-set dark eyes rested between a thatch of thick, dark hair and a pair of cheekbones that might have been forged by Wusthof. A long, sharp jaw bore a heavy five o'clock shadow. An aquiline nose completed the ensemble.

"Wow," Cordelia exhaled. "Who's the poster boy for brooding yumminess?"

Buffy felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach turn from heat to unease as the stranger placed a hand on Angel's shoulder. Angel shivered ever so slightly and a blank, dark look passed through his eyes that made Buffy shudder. Every molecule in his body seemed to be trying to get as far away from that man as possible. They descended the stairs with Angel in the lead.

"Excuse me," Giles said to Angel. "I don't recall any mention of a guest."

"That's because I asked him to keep my name out of this," the man said. His voice was deep, with a hint of gravel and an accent that Willow tagged as something Eastern European. "I have no bona fides with you, so I asked him to serve as my intermediary."

Buffy pointed first at Angel, then at the man. "So you two know each other?"

"Oh yes," the man said, throwing an arm across Angel's shoulders. The vampire flinched again. "We know each other quite well."

"Perhaps you should tell us who you are," Giles said.

"Of course." The man held out his hand, palm up. Angel visibly relaxed. "My name," the man said, "is Florestan. I work for the Mayor."

The last of the golden hour faded from the windows and the murk of night crept in. Buffy knew it was an illusion, but it seemed colder as well. She realized that she had pushed her chair back and was ready to spring to her feet. She looked around. Cordelia, Xander and Willow sat with their mouths open and Oz looked as though he'd been turned to stone, although this wasn't such a noticeable change. Giles was frozen, handkerchief in one hand, glasses in the other.

"Okay," Buffy said. "You work for the city. Is this a library inspection?"

Florestan smiled at her. "I didn't say I worked for the city. I said I work for the Mayor."

"Still," Buffy said. "Not sure what that means to us."

He turned to Giles. "May I sit?"

The librarian snapped out of his daze. "Yes, of course."

Angel took the seat opposite Buffy as Florestan lowered himself into a chair. "I believe that I have some information which could be of great value to you."

"You know the Lotto numbers?" Xander asked.

Florestan turned his head and looked at the boy. "I've heard Mr. Trick speak of you."

"Okay," Buffy said, vaulting to her feet. "That's the magic word. You've got about a tenth of a second to convince me to not use your head for a tetherball."

Florestan examined his fingernails. "Well, I might be able to tell you why he's in Sunnydale." He looked at the Slayer and smiled. "You couldn't do it anyway. The tetherball threat, I mean."

"You rather obviously love to hear yourself talk," Giles said, his manner so calm that everyone knew he was a raging volcano inside, "but this might be a good time to get straight to the point."

Florestan shrugged. "Very well. I believe that you know of Mr. Trick's reputation as a salvage expert. He has been hired by the Mayor to locate an artifact and transport it to Sunnydale."

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?" Xander asked in a sardonic voice.

Florestan rubbed his hands together. "He is trying to locate the Seal of Solomon. And I believe he is about to succeed."

***

Robert Woo sat on the hard metal bunk in his cabin and breathed deeply. The throb of the ship's diesel engines vibrated through the space. Robert sat calmly, his heartbeat and respiration slowing as he aligned his being with the pulse of the vessel.

Robert Woo was no scholar. He was, in fact, a powerful wizard who had spent most of his years actually fighting the forces of darkness. He was not a man given to introspection. He was not meditating to gain self-knowledge, or to moderate any frustration with his circumstances. He was rather storing his energies, claming himself and removing impurities, converting the anger and ill will he felt toward those who had invaded his home into a burnished and perfect thing, a resolve capable of motivating a man to do whatever needed to be done.

Robert Woo had sometimes wondered if he was really meant to be a Watcher. He had so little in common with the others, yet he had maintained a belief that one day his purpose in this organization, so full of people unlike himself, would be made plain. He had prepared for that day and now it was here.

A serpent had entered the heart of the Watchers. Robert Woo would find the serpent, cut off its head and cauterize the stump.

***

Giles blinked. "The Seal of Solomon?"

A grin, cruel in its self-satisfaction, touched Florestan's lips. "Yes, it was--"

"A mystical object created by Solomon. Its purpose was to enslave demons and force them to build the great temple in Jerusalem." Willow shrugged, arms crossed over her chest. Florestan looked rather annoyed.

"Why would he do that?" Cordelia said.

"Oh, well, he believed that it would be wrong for human hands to touch the material of the temple, what with the sinning and all, and he thought it would be a real kick to force demons who had rebelled against Jehovah to build him a house."

"Will, how do you know this?" Xander leaned his forearms on the table.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Jewish, remember?"

Cordelia glanced at her watch. "Well, I'm really sure this is very important, but I'm all out of time. Game starts in ninety minutes."

Xander made his mocking face. "Glad to see your priorities are in order."

Cordelia was unfazed. "Look, you know this isn't my strong suit anyway. I can do the kick-ass, I hate the study hall. Just takes some notes and fill me in later." She glanced at Buffy. "It's not like we're really on point here anyway." She hitched the strap of her bag over her shoulders and walked out of the library. Florestan watched her go and turned back, a leering grin on his face.

Xander pointed an accusing finger. "Hey, buddy, watch it. That's my girl."

"Bravado does not fit you." The dark man's black eyes glittered.

Buffy felt an electric shock ripple through her. "You're not human," she said.

Angel broke his silence. "No, he isn't."

Buffy kept her eyes on the dark-haired man. "You vouch for him?"

Angel shrugged. "Not exactly. He won't cause you any physical harm, but I'd be careful about believing him."

Florestan slouched back in his chair, hands clasped loosely over his stomach. "I am offended. I always tell the truth. It's not my fault people don't listen."

"So, this is Solomon, cut-the-baby-in-half Solomon?" Oz asked. Willow nodded. "So, what's the deal with this seal?"

She shrugged. "In some versions of the story it's a scepter, in others it's a ring. It's covered in all sorts of mystical symbols." Her eyes widened and she sat up straight. "Oh, and the tetragrammatron is written on it."

Xander's eyebrows scrunched together. "Is that a new Pokemon character?"

Willow waved a hand at him. "No. It's the true, unutterable name of God. Sort of the core of its power." She looked at Florestan. "You think they've found it?"

Florestan looked at Giles. "I must say that you do a masterful job of maintaining order." The Watcher ignored him with a fervor that bordered on the maniacal. The demon turned back to Oz and Willow. "It has not been recovered, but they have determined that it still exists and where to look, and that is more than half the game."

"What's the damage if they find it?" Buffy asked. "It's jewelry."

Florestan shrugged. "If the Mayor procures the seal, he will have the power to control all demons. They will have to do his bidding."

A moment of cold silence rang through the room before Buffy spoke again. "Okay, that wouldn't be good, but here's what I don't get... why are you telling us?"

His body language stayed languid and nonchalant but Buffy could feel how closely she was being studied by those black eyes. He hitched himself forward in his chair and steepled his hands before him. "My coming here, my offer of this information, it does not convince you?"

"No." Buffy sounded as though this was the most obvious fact in the world. "A demon lying is like a fish swimming. It's part of what they do."

He thought about that, then nodded. "But if that is true, then why would you believe my justification?" He shook his head. "You either accept this or you do not."

Buffy looked across the table. "Giles," she said as she met Angel's gaze, "will you be okay for a minute?"

"I believe so," the librarian replied.

"Good," Buffy said as she got up. She motioned to Angel. "We need some private time." She marched into the hall, followed closely by her one-time lover. "Okay," she said, turning on him as the door swung shut behind them, "what gives? I thought you were leaving."

Angel's expression remained unchanged. "I was. He found me first. I think he's telling the truth."

Vertical frown lines appeared between Buffy's eyebrows. "You said you wouldn't believe him."

Angel shook his head. "I said I'd be careful." He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "Florestan's like any other demon. His first priority is self-preservation. That's the only instinct that allows them to survive."

Buffy held up a hand. "What does this have to do with saving his ass?"

Angel looked grim. "People think the underworld worships chaos. They don't. Chaos is too creative, to uncontrollable. Demons love order, regimentation. Power and territory are guarded jealously. There's constant jockeying for position, never any trust, constant vigilance for challenges as well as opportunities for advancement."

"Okay, so Hell's like your typical Fortune 500 company. I still don't get his point."

"Don't you, Buffy. Don't you see?" Angel glanced over his shoulder. "The Mayor is planning to stage a coup on Hell."