Disclaimer: see prologue
Chapter 4
"Package delivered, sir." Charlie sounded pleased with himself, Luc thought.
"Well done. Hurry up and return to us, then."
"Yes, sir."
Luc cut off the connection with a smile. "They've done it."
Angelus, reclining in an armchair with one leg flung over an arm, nodded. "Good. I wonder how long it'll take them to work it out."
Luc tucked his phone away in his breast pocket, and shrugged. "Not long, I would guess. Whatever else one can say about our monsieur Fletcher, he was not stupid."
"He wasn't clever enough, though," Angelus said. "Not to escape alone."
"That," said Luc, "would be a very clever person. Escaping with help is one thing. Escaping alone, from you - quite another."
"Flatterer."
Luc grinned. "You know it, sire. What's the next stage of the plan?"
His sire stood up, easily, and crossed to the window. "Next stage is we go after Fletcher's nearest and dearest."
"Alors," Luc said, "first we need to find where they are. Lucky we kept those cards of his. I have the address of his apartment."
"Then we go into the apartment." Angelus tapped his fingers on the windowsill. "We'll send those demons who turned up for Darla's recruitment session in, and they can bring us an address book."
"Perfect," Luc agreed. "Isn't this like old times? Remember those soirées we used to go to, planning the death of some pretty woman?"
"The Council is far more than a pretty woman," Angelus said, coming and sitting again next to Luc. "The Council . ah, it's the biggest prize of the lot. Nobody has ever managed to really put them in their place. They're an arrogant lot, just asking to be smashed." He put his arm round Luc's shoulders. "But together, Luc, I think you and I and Darla could do it."
Luc leant into the arm and sighed. "Mmm. Wouldn't you say, though, sire, that getting the better of someone with a little courage is more satisfying? Quelqu'un comme ce Fletcher? He was foolish, but he was brave."
Angelus smiled, and shook his head. "Oh, my Luc. Admiration of a human will get you nowhere."
"Au contraire," Luc said, "it means I wish to smash him down harder. Let's call those demons up, shall we, and send them to pretend to be burglars."
The demons seemed only too happy to be asked to break into Mike Fletcher's apartment, and hurried off with crowbars and balaclavas and instructions to find an address book. Luc had had to repeat the instruction several times, and finally he wrote it down and gave it to the most intelligent-looking of the group with a sigh and a shake of his head. Angelus had disappeared to find Darla, and Luc, checking the clock and discovering there were a good two hours of darkness left, pulled on a coat and wandered out for a walk.
He went north and walked along the edge of Hyde Park for a little while before he glanced around, ensuring nobody was there to see him, and vaulted neatly over the wall into the silent park. The moon and the orange streetlamps sent an ethereal glow on to the trees and the immaculate lawns, and Luc put his hands in his pockets and hummed a tune to himself as he strolled along in the direction of the Serpentine. Empty boats bobbed by the shores of the lake, awaiting daytime tourists, and the wind rippled the surface of the water. Luc decided to walk round, over the bridge at the far end of the water, and back past the swimming clubhouse. All around him was silent, save for the hum of traffic through Kensington, and he was swiftly over the bridge and walking back towards Hyde Park Corner. He had passed the clubhouse and was back alongside the water when he heard the footsteps; the brisk, measured pace of someone in boots confident of what they are doing.
Luc paused, and listened again. Two pairs of footsteps, in fact, men talking to each other in low voices. Looking ahead, Luc thought he could see the glow of a torch, and he realised now that there were two policemen, or maybe security guards, patrolling the park for intruders or tramps sleeping rough. He smiled, and set off again towards them.
As he got closer to the pair his guess was verified - two men in dark uniforms, one with a torch, both with radios. He kept walking, hands still in pockets, and they did not see him until he was a matter of paces from them.
The torch beam hit Luc's face, and he blinked before his eyes could adjust to the sudden light.
"You there!" said the security guard with the torch. "This is private property and you're not allowed in after the gates shut."
"I beg your pardon," Luc said, taking his hands from his pockets and showing they were empty. He found himself wanting to smile at the security guards' easy confidence in their powers to evict him from the park.
"C'mon, now," the other guard said. "If you just come along with us quiet- like we'll let you out and no harm done, this once. How d'you get in, anyway?"
"Ah, he'll have stayed behind when the gates shut," his companion interjected. "Like they all do."
"Actually," Luc said calmly, "I jumped the fence."
The security guards exchanged glances. Luc took his chance, landing a slicing cut on the side of one guard's neck to render him unconscious, even as he let the demon take control to go for the jugular of the other man. He found he was suddenly ravenous, and the blood slipped down easily. With the first guard dead, he bent and picked up the unconscious man and drank more slowly.
Sated, he regarded the two bodies on the ground and then looked sideways at the lake close by. A grin stretched across his face, and Luc picked up first one guard and then the other and threw each body as far as he could into the water. They sank, weighed down by heavy uniforms. Luc sent the dropped torch after the guards and then straightened his clothes, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his lips, once more human in appearance, and began to stroll away.
Back at the house he found Spike alone in the sitting room, his booted feet up on a table, a cigarette in his mouth and a half-empty bottle of whisky in his hand. The younger vampire started to move his feet until he realised it was Luc who had entered the room, and as the Breton went to take an armchair opposite he put them back on the table.
"It's you."
"C'est moi," Luc agreed, lying back and closing his eyes.
"Had a good night?"
"Not bad," said Luc, and described it for Spike. "You?"
"I want this chip out of my skull," Spike said. "I'm sick of not being able to kill anything. And the old man says I can't kill demons randomly, got to be a reason."
"You're not playing with the Slayer any longer," Luc pointed out. "Maybe we could persuade one of the Council to take out the chip for you. It does seem a shame to have it in. I'm missing our hunts together."
"Like in Chicago?" Spike asked. "Yeah, they were good." He blew smoke out of his mouth. "Wonder what Dru's doing at the moment?"
Luc opened his eyes. "La belle Drusilla. I haven't seen her since Chicago either. Did you . tu sais, split up?"
"She left me," Spike said curtly. "For a Chaos demon."
"Aie!" said Luc, sympathetically. "Nasty."
"Yeah, well," Spike returned, "these things happen, don't they? And before you ask, Luc, I do miss her."
Luc held out a hand for the whisky and, after a moment, Spike passed it. Uncorking the bottle, Luc swallowed a mouthful and passed it back. "Did those demons get back, do you know?"
Spike put the bottle on the table. "What, the ones you sent off to play at burglars?" He waved a hand towards the sideboard. "Angelus left you a note."
"So he's back too?" Luc stood up to find the note.
"With Darla. Don't interrupt."
Unfolding the piece of paper on the sideboard, Luc grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it. What does this say then?"
He scanned the few lines of copperplate writing and his grin got wider. "Mais c'est parfait! Now this, Will, this you have to admit is inspired."
Spike took the note and read it too. He nodded. "Not bad. Could be fun, if I was able to actually inflict pain on anybody."
Luc shook his head sympathetically. "I'll suggest we find a doctor for you, mon cher. You should be allowed to enjoy this séjour as much as the rest of us. A doctor, and then a girl."
"Make her blonde and fiery," Spike said, "and I'd be very happy with that idea."
"Like a certain Slayer?" Luc asked. Spike opened his mouth to contradict him, and then clearly thought better of it.
"Hell. Yeah, like the Slayer. What, you didn't think she was kind of attractive?"
"Elle, c'est la Tueuse," Luc said. "The Slayer, Will. Not usually a girl to chase, unless you want to kill her." He tucked the note inside his pocket. "Besides, hasn't Angelus already had her? Second-hand goods."
"That was the poof version of the old man," Spike answered. "All lovey- dovey. Pa-bleedin'-thetic."
Luc patted the other vampire on the shoulder. "Allez, she's half a world away. Forget her for now; we'll get your chip out and then you can go after her." He yawned. "I suggest you get some sleep. We may need it. Bonne nuit."
"G'night," Spike said, picking up his whisky bottle.
Luc shook his head again, this time in amusement, and went out smiling.
--- Author's note: I'm not actually sure if there are security guards patrolling the Royal Parks, but the gates of Hyde Park are closed at night. Poetic licence, this once.
Chapter 4
"Package delivered, sir." Charlie sounded pleased with himself, Luc thought.
"Well done. Hurry up and return to us, then."
"Yes, sir."
Luc cut off the connection with a smile. "They've done it."
Angelus, reclining in an armchair with one leg flung over an arm, nodded. "Good. I wonder how long it'll take them to work it out."
Luc tucked his phone away in his breast pocket, and shrugged. "Not long, I would guess. Whatever else one can say about our monsieur Fletcher, he was not stupid."
"He wasn't clever enough, though," Angelus said. "Not to escape alone."
"That," said Luc, "would be a very clever person. Escaping with help is one thing. Escaping alone, from you - quite another."
"Flatterer."
Luc grinned. "You know it, sire. What's the next stage of the plan?"
His sire stood up, easily, and crossed to the window. "Next stage is we go after Fletcher's nearest and dearest."
"Alors," Luc said, "first we need to find where they are. Lucky we kept those cards of his. I have the address of his apartment."
"Then we go into the apartment." Angelus tapped his fingers on the windowsill. "We'll send those demons who turned up for Darla's recruitment session in, and they can bring us an address book."
"Perfect," Luc agreed. "Isn't this like old times? Remember those soirées we used to go to, planning the death of some pretty woman?"
"The Council is far more than a pretty woman," Angelus said, coming and sitting again next to Luc. "The Council . ah, it's the biggest prize of the lot. Nobody has ever managed to really put them in their place. They're an arrogant lot, just asking to be smashed." He put his arm round Luc's shoulders. "But together, Luc, I think you and I and Darla could do it."
Luc leant into the arm and sighed. "Mmm. Wouldn't you say, though, sire, that getting the better of someone with a little courage is more satisfying? Quelqu'un comme ce Fletcher? He was foolish, but he was brave."
Angelus smiled, and shook his head. "Oh, my Luc. Admiration of a human will get you nowhere."
"Au contraire," Luc said, "it means I wish to smash him down harder. Let's call those demons up, shall we, and send them to pretend to be burglars."
The demons seemed only too happy to be asked to break into Mike Fletcher's apartment, and hurried off with crowbars and balaclavas and instructions to find an address book. Luc had had to repeat the instruction several times, and finally he wrote it down and gave it to the most intelligent-looking of the group with a sigh and a shake of his head. Angelus had disappeared to find Darla, and Luc, checking the clock and discovering there were a good two hours of darkness left, pulled on a coat and wandered out for a walk.
He went north and walked along the edge of Hyde Park for a little while before he glanced around, ensuring nobody was there to see him, and vaulted neatly over the wall into the silent park. The moon and the orange streetlamps sent an ethereal glow on to the trees and the immaculate lawns, and Luc put his hands in his pockets and hummed a tune to himself as he strolled along in the direction of the Serpentine. Empty boats bobbed by the shores of the lake, awaiting daytime tourists, and the wind rippled the surface of the water. Luc decided to walk round, over the bridge at the far end of the water, and back past the swimming clubhouse. All around him was silent, save for the hum of traffic through Kensington, and he was swiftly over the bridge and walking back towards Hyde Park Corner. He had passed the clubhouse and was back alongside the water when he heard the footsteps; the brisk, measured pace of someone in boots confident of what they are doing.
Luc paused, and listened again. Two pairs of footsteps, in fact, men talking to each other in low voices. Looking ahead, Luc thought he could see the glow of a torch, and he realised now that there were two policemen, or maybe security guards, patrolling the park for intruders or tramps sleeping rough. He smiled, and set off again towards them.
As he got closer to the pair his guess was verified - two men in dark uniforms, one with a torch, both with radios. He kept walking, hands still in pockets, and they did not see him until he was a matter of paces from them.
The torch beam hit Luc's face, and he blinked before his eyes could adjust to the sudden light.
"You there!" said the security guard with the torch. "This is private property and you're not allowed in after the gates shut."
"I beg your pardon," Luc said, taking his hands from his pockets and showing they were empty. He found himself wanting to smile at the security guards' easy confidence in their powers to evict him from the park.
"C'mon, now," the other guard said. "If you just come along with us quiet- like we'll let you out and no harm done, this once. How d'you get in, anyway?"
"Ah, he'll have stayed behind when the gates shut," his companion interjected. "Like they all do."
"Actually," Luc said calmly, "I jumped the fence."
The security guards exchanged glances. Luc took his chance, landing a slicing cut on the side of one guard's neck to render him unconscious, even as he let the demon take control to go for the jugular of the other man. He found he was suddenly ravenous, and the blood slipped down easily. With the first guard dead, he bent and picked up the unconscious man and drank more slowly.
Sated, he regarded the two bodies on the ground and then looked sideways at the lake close by. A grin stretched across his face, and Luc picked up first one guard and then the other and threw each body as far as he could into the water. They sank, weighed down by heavy uniforms. Luc sent the dropped torch after the guards and then straightened his clothes, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his lips, once more human in appearance, and began to stroll away.
Back at the house he found Spike alone in the sitting room, his booted feet up on a table, a cigarette in his mouth and a half-empty bottle of whisky in his hand. The younger vampire started to move his feet until he realised it was Luc who had entered the room, and as the Breton went to take an armchair opposite he put them back on the table.
"It's you."
"C'est moi," Luc agreed, lying back and closing his eyes.
"Had a good night?"
"Not bad," said Luc, and described it for Spike. "You?"
"I want this chip out of my skull," Spike said. "I'm sick of not being able to kill anything. And the old man says I can't kill demons randomly, got to be a reason."
"You're not playing with the Slayer any longer," Luc pointed out. "Maybe we could persuade one of the Council to take out the chip for you. It does seem a shame to have it in. I'm missing our hunts together."
"Like in Chicago?" Spike asked. "Yeah, they were good." He blew smoke out of his mouth. "Wonder what Dru's doing at the moment?"
Luc opened his eyes. "La belle Drusilla. I haven't seen her since Chicago either. Did you . tu sais, split up?"
"She left me," Spike said curtly. "For a Chaos demon."
"Aie!" said Luc, sympathetically. "Nasty."
"Yeah, well," Spike returned, "these things happen, don't they? And before you ask, Luc, I do miss her."
Luc held out a hand for the whisky and, after a moment, Spike passed it. Uncorking the bottle, Luc swallowed a mouthful and passed it back. "Did those demons get back, do you know?"
Spike put the bottle on the table. "What, the ones you sent off to play at burglars?" He waved a hand towards the sideboard. "Angelus left you a note."
"So he's back too?" Luc stood up to find the note.
"With Darla. Don't interrupt."
Unfolding the piece of paper on the sideboard, Luc grinned. "I wouldn't dream of it. What does this say then?"
He scanned the few lines of copperplate writing and his grin got wider. "Mais c'est parfait! Now this, Will, this you have to admit is inspired."
Spike took the note and read it too. He nodded. "Not bad. Could be fun, if I was able to actually inflict pain on anybody."
Luc shook his head sympathetically. "I'll suggest we find a doctor for you, mon cher. You should be allowed to enjoy this séjour as much as the rest of us. A doctor, and then a girl."
"Make her blonde and fiery," Spike said, "and I'd be very happy with that idea."
"Like a certain Slayer?" Luc asked. Spike opened his mouth to contradict him, and then clearly thought better of it.
"Hell. Yeah, like the Slayer. What, you didn't think she was kind of attractive?"
"Elle, c'est la Tueuse," Luc said. "The Slayer, Will. Not usually a girl to chase, unless you want to kill her." He tucked the note inside his pocket. "Besides, hasn't Angelus already had her? Second-hand goods."
"That was the poof version of the old man," Spike answered. "All lovey- dovey. Pa-bleedin'-thetic."
Luc patted the other vampire on the shoulder. "Allez, she's half a world away. Forget her for now; we'll get your chip out and then you can go after her." He yawned. "I suggest you get some sleep. We may need it. Bonne nuit."
"G'night," Spike said, picking up his whisky bottle.
Luc shook his head again, this time in amusement, and went out smiling.
--- Author's note: I'm not actually sure if there are security guards patrolling the Royal Parks, but the gates of Hyde Park are closed at night. Poetic licence, this once.