Chapter Four: The First Night – Cordy
Cordelia stepped out the front door of the inn and was met by a gray, overcast sky. Somehow she knew that it wasn't truly night yet; on the other side of the thick cloud cover the sun still shown in the sky. The inherent knowledge – the fact that she just knew – was what really drove home her vampire status for the first time. She'd known intellectually that since she was residing in Darla's body, she must have all the physical attributes that went along with it. But that knowledge hadn't really registered with the young woman.
Hey, I wonder if I can go all grr, she thought before quickly dismissing the prospect in favor of the task at hand. Information first. Play later.
Cordy decided her first task was to determine when and where she was. She looked around, hoping to spot a newspaper stand or something. Seeing nothing to help her, she decided she was going to have to ask someone.
A young, twenty-something, well-to-do looking man was walking down the street towards her, and putting on what she hoped was a friendly smile, with just a touch of "poor, helpless female," she stepped into his path.
"Excuse me sir," she said, laughing lightly in a self-deprecating manner. "I seem to have forgotten the date."
The man stopped and smiled brightly at the woman in front of him. It was obvious she was wealthy and he looked around, confused that she was out without an escort.
"It's the sixteenth, miss," he replied.
"The sixteenth?"
"Of September," the dark-haired man confirmed, before continuing. "Are you alone? May I walk you to your destination?"
Cordelia barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Stupid man; he deserved to get eaten. If she was really Darla, he'd never know what hit him.
"No thank you, kind sir," she said, hoping she wasn't laying it on too thick. "I'm just around the corner from my destination." She purposefully stepped around him and continued on her way. Well, at least she'd learned the day and month. Not the most helpful information, but it was a start. And, the man had spoken with a British accent, so she was somewhere British.
Okay, British – what do I know that's British? Well, there's Wesley, and Giles. I suppose I could try to find some of their ancestors. Oh! The Watchers Council! They can help me! Even as she thought it, Cordelia felt the urge to smack herself in the forehead. You're Darla, remember? What are you going to do? Walk right up to Council headquarters and ask for asylum? They'd stake you before you could say "White Hat"!Cordelia was so deeply engrossed in berating herself, that she didn't hear the commotion on the street at first. Cries and shouts echoed up and down the roadway and when the noise finally pierced her consciousness, she looked up in time to see an empty carriage being drug by a team of run away horses, galloping straight towards her.
Before Cordy could decide how to react, someone grabbed her from the side, pulling her out of the way of the horses, saving her from being trampled. Cordelia and her rescuer went down in a heap on the cobblestones, the horses' hooves missing them by inches. As the carriage continued on down the street, Cordy sat up, turning to look at who had saved her.
The gentleman she'd stopped and asked for the date lay on the street next to her. He had landed face first, cracking his head against the stone. A small cut on his forehead dripped blood. He blinked, and sat up slowly. Apparently the action didn't agree with him, because he stopped moving and closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium.
Oddly, Cordy found her attention drawn to the cut on his head. It fascinated her and she couldn't figure out why. It wasn't a particularly large or unusual cut. She'd certainly seen worse on the guys when they came back from a job. Hell, she'd had worse herself. So what was it about it . . .
Cordy's focus was distracted as she heard an odd crunching noise. She knew that noise – it was the sound a vampire made when it went into game face! She started to discreetly look around to see if she could spot the threat. However, before she could turn very far, she saw a young boy standing across the street watching her. His eyes had grown wide with fear. Cordy's brow furrowed with confusion. Or it would have, had it not already been transfigured by her own vamp face. The realization that the sound she had heard came from her, made Cordelia's own eyes grow wide. She couldn't let anyone see her like this!
She quickly lowered her head into her lap, hoping that between her full skirt and her long hair, she could hide her face until she got it under control. Taking a few deep breaths, the seer practiced some of the meditation techniques she'd learned to deal with the pain her visions used to cause. She was rewarded when she heard the sound of her facial bones shifting back into the smooth planes of Darla's human face. She quickly double-checked the transformation by lifting a hand to her forehead. Feeling no bumpies, she then checked her teeth. They were flat and normal and thankfully human.
I've got to eat, soon, she thought. She'd been ignoring the ache in her stomach because she didn't yet want to consider how she was going to drink blood. She knew she would have to, but she hadn't thought it would affect her this much. Cordy decided to ignore it for now. She hoped that being aware of it would be enough to keep the game face under control.
"Are you alright, miss?" the man beside her asked.
"Yes," she replied. "What a dreadful fright. I guess I wasn't watching where I was going. Thank you."
"Certainly, m'lady," the man said. "Are you quite sure I can't escort you to your destination? It would be a shame for any more misfortunes to befall such a beautiful woman as yourself."
Cordy smiled politely, internally wishing that someday the man would appreciate the fact that she wasn't really Darla. "Actually, I'm not feeling so well. I think I'll just head back to the inn my…husband and I are staying at," she replied.
The man deflated visibly for a moment when Cordelia mentioned her "husband" before quickly recovering and helping her to her feet. Once she was standing he offered her his arm and said, "Well, we can't have you getting run down by any more horses. And I certainly couldn't leave a woman who wasn't feeling well to fend for herself."
Cordelia sighed and took his arm, allowing him to walk her back the way she'd come. Might as well milk the damsel in distress routine for all that it's worth, she thought as they began walking. After a few steps, she pretended to falter, leaning more heavily on the man.
"Are you sure you're quite alright?" he asked. "Perhaps you ought to sit down for a moment."
"I'll be fine," the beautiful blonde stranger assured him. "I know I asked you before, but I've simply forgotten what with the horses and all. What is the date, again?"
"The sixteenth of September," he said, patiently, wondering if indeed the woman was 'alright.'
"And the year?" she asked casually.
The man looked at her oddly before responding, "Eighty."
"Of course, silly me," Cordy said, laughing in what she hoped was a 'don't worry, I'm just a dumb, helpless woman' kind of way.
Let's see. It's defiantly not 1980. So, that leaves either 1880 or 1780. Dru's here, and she wasn't turned until the mid-1800's, so 1880 it is. 1880, why is that familiar? Something about the date tickled the back of Cordy's mind. It's something in the file, she decided, referring the file on Angel's past she and Wesley had made for Gunn and had used to acquaint Fred and Lorne with the history of their champion when Darla has shown up last year. Something significant happened in 1880. If only she could remember what it was.
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Stupid horses. Stupid game face. Stupid horses, scared by stupid game face, Buffy thought petulantly as she watched the horses run away down the street, wildly dragging an empty carriage behind them.
She had emerged from the inn, intent on finding some dinner. She was going to look for a butcher shop, but she honestly wasn't sure if one would be open after dark. Sure, in 21st century America, stores stayed open later than that – even stores in Sunnydale, which was, at best, questionable logic. But here, she wasn't so sure. She'd been relieved to find that some internal vampire clock told her it wasn't yet true dusk, and even more relieved to see the thick cloud cover that would hopefully allow her to move around during the day. Still, Buffy stopped just inside the shadowed door of the inn, sticking her hand out tentatively until it was bathed in what limited daylight there was up to the wrist. Seeing no smoke, and feeling no pain, she sighed, relieved.
The clouds, though, didn't guarantee she'd be successful in finding a butcher shop. Not to mention the fact that she was still penniless and would not only have to find a butcher shop; but she would have to find a butcher shop she could steal from.
So, she'd allowed herself to acknowledge the fact that she might have to secure blood another way – animals. When she'd come across the lightly tethered horses, she'd mentally been repulsed by the very idea. Then the ludicrous picture of Drusilla standing next to a horse, wearing a giant bib, and holding a large knife and fork – one in each hand – had popped into her mind, nearly causing her to laugh out loud. Apparently, her new body hadn't found the idea so silly though. She'd promptly shifted into vamp face and the scared the living daylights out of the horses.
They had reared up, pulling their tether loose from the wooden bar it was looped over and taken off, away from the vampire in front of them.
Smart animals. Stupid, but smart, Buffy thought ruefully, shaking her head. She gave them one last look, still careening madly down the street and started walking in the opposite direction.
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"Two blocks down and left half a block," Cordelia repeated the directions to herself in a mutter.
Cordelia had watched her new friend from behind the edge of a curtain in the inn's front window as he walked down the street after dropping her off. Thankfully, he had continued in the direction he'd originally been going, opposite the direction she had set out in. Seeing him turn a corner, she had let the curtain fall back against the glass and turned and gotten directions from a servant girl, who was sweeping the great room.
Looking up, she saw a sign reading simply "Books" hanging over a shop's entrance. Mentally crossing her fingers, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The interior was warm and cheery, if somewhat musty. A middle-aged woman perused books on one shelf, while an elderly man arose from a desk and approached Cordelia.
The smell of aged, leather-bound volumes was reassuring to the young woman. It reminded her of the hundreds of research sessions she'd been party to, and of the certainty that, no matter how grim things looked, they would live to fight another day. Of course, those research sessions always featured more players than just her. And let's be honest, Cor, she thought. You've never exactly been the big brains of the group.
The young woman sighed, refusing to let her negative thoughts dispel the comforting atmosphere of the bookshop. As the shop's proprietor reached her, she plastered on her million-dollar smile, or what she hoped was a fair approximation of it – on Darla's face who knew what it looked like. She thought about trying to see herself in the shop's window before remembering she would cast no reflection. Boy, this no mirrors thing is a real bitch!
"Can I help you find something, miss?" he inquired politely. He was an older gentleman, balding slightly, with a portly belly filling out his jacket.
"I'm looking for books about …" she trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her request. Time travel and body switching spells, got any of those? "…that are of an unusual nature," she finished hesitantly.
The old gentleman smiled kindly before asking, "What kind of nature?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, really. Books about the occult, I guess," she replied, hurrying to explain. "My husband collects them." If I have to put up with him, I might as well use him as an excuse.
The man smiled warmly, trying to ease her discomfort. He assumed the young woman's unease was due to shopping for books that were of a subject matter unsuitable for a woman of her obviously high station, if her clothing was any judge. She must be embarrassed her husband has such an unseemly hobby.
"I don't have a lot of that type of volume. What I do have is over on that shelf," he said. Gesturing to where the woman was standing along one wall, the man continued, "However, that's Mrs. Devlin. She and her husband own a small shop a few blocks over, and they carry quite a bit of unusual merchandise. If I don't have something that suits you, she very well might." Taking Cordy's arm, he said, "Let me introduce you."
Allowing the man to lead her across the room, Cordelia smiled politely at the woman as she was introduced.
"Cor . . ." the seer paused in offering her own name, before finally settling on a solution. "Darla Corr."
As Cordelia quickly perused the limited offerings looking for anything that might help, she failed to notice Mrs. Devlin's repeated glances at her. The woman hadn't reacted upon seeing Cordelia, but after the introductions, she couldn't stop stealing glances at the stunning blonde.
Had Cordelia been paying more attention to the woman and less to the useless books in front of her, she would have seen the woman's eyes grow wide as recognition hit her.
"I'm about ready to head back to my shop, dear," the woman said. "If you haven't found anything, perhaps you would care to walk with me. You could tell me more about what type of book you're looking for."
It was a gamble, the woman knew, to invite such a well-known and dangerous vampire as the infamous Darla to walk with her. However, it was a risk she had to take, and she certainly couldn't leave the violent creature alone with poor old Mr. Brooks. I should be safe enough, Mrs. Devlin decided, as long as I stick to the populated areas and make sure to get myself within reach of the weapons when we get to the shop. She seems to be looking for something specific. That doesn't mean she won't kill you all the same, a little voice reminded her. I know, but how can I pass this opportunity up?
Cordelia smiled at the kindly woman next to her. How nice of her to be so friendly. Hopefully, her collection would be more helpful. The books the old man carried had proven useless. Mostly they were basic histories or fanciful exaggeration from what she'd seen. No actual spell books or specialized histories among the bunch.
Thanking the old man for his time, Cordelia accompanied Mrs. Devlin out the door of the shop.
To be continued in: "Chapter Five: The First Night – Buffy"
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A/N: Happy New Year everyone! Thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't been reviewing (Which, I guess, I'm just assuming that folks other than those who review are reading. Let's not disturb that little fantasy of mine, okay?). But, special thanks go to all the nice reviewers who made my day since my last posting: Ilpopi, Dawn, Cindy, Si.Crazy, Anonymous, Rachel, and Lora Darcy. You guys are wonderful! I'd forgotten what a narcotic reviews can be! Yay!
On another note – if you're ever having trouble accessing a new chapter to a story, open the story, and in the address bar, after the story id number add "&chapter=3" (or change the 3 to whatever the number is of the chapter you're trying to access). Sometimes ff.net gets the stories updated, but then won't let you see the new chapters right away. This is a nice trick to get around that.