Footfalls paced back and forth, back and forth, each step carefully measured, pausing at one end of the cage to turn and repeat. Even as he prowled his enclosure, Connor never once took his eyes from the guard at the door, well out of reach beyond the thick bars that trapped him inside his pathetic jail.
To his credit, the guard had withstood the scrutiny unflinchingly, but now the strain was beginning to tell. Connor observed a trickle of sweat as it carved a path down the side of the man's face and allowed a cool smile to curve his lips.
The guard shifted at that, gripping the staff planted at his side more tightly, gaze darting nervously away from the spot somewhere on the wall to meet Connor's eyes, then jerking back again.
It was only a matter of time before he broke, Connor knew, resuming his silent stalking. Discomfort first, then anger. Maybe angry enough to approach, to get too close. Close enough for Connor to reach him through the bars and…
The fledgling plan died a premature death as the door to the cavern swung open. Connor cursed the distraction even as he welcomed the familiar sight of the man that entered. Here was something he knew, his opponent, his enemy, the trickster that had brought him to a caged end.
Connor stopped his pacing, standing to face the man, folding his arms across his chest in a gesture of defiance.
The man grinned at that, then stepped aside to allow something bright to enter, something golden beneath the firelight that flickered on the walls of the dark cavern.
A woman glided passed, cool and haughty, chin raised, feet delicately picking their way over the uneven floor to prevent her pale robes from being soiled by the dirt. She was beautiful, Connor acknowledged, but he knew much of beauty, enough to be wary of it. Not everything in Quor-Toth had been ugly, but, underneath, it had all been evil.
Connor's gaze was drawn suddenly to the woman's side, where something big and black ambled on all fours. In a shattering contrast to the woman, here was something monstrous and terrible indeed, something that was at least honest in this place. Amber eyes watched Connor, unblinking, clocking him as a predator did its prey. A mouth full of sharp canines drooled profusely, a black, forked tongue swiping out to wipe the excess saliva away.
"You have done well."
Connor's eyes darted back to the woman as she spoke. The man, the trickster, came instantly to her side and they both turned their attentions to their prisoner.
Connor forced himself not to fidget under their scrutiny, holding both their stares. It was a game he had so recently played with the guard, and a valuable lesson Holtz had taught him. A mongoose should never take it eyes from the snake, the older man had warned, grimly, confusing Connor with the strange beast names. But in Quor-Toth, he had learned quickly that he was the mongoose and every dark and filthy thing that crawled there the snake.
"Arrogant." The woman spoke the word approvingly. "But no more difficult that the others I have tamed."
Blues eyes flashed in indignation at that, and Connor felt his fingers curl in fury.
"Strong," she continued, running her eyes boldly the length of Connor's frame. "And appealing. Much like his father in that regard."
Now Connor did move, unfolding his hands to stand rigidly at the mention of Angel. The reflex denial, he's not my father, was on the tip of his tongue, enticing him to speak, but he was determined not to give them a word. Not a single one.
Cool azure met with furious agate as Connor attempted to stare her down, but his efforts seemed only to amuse her. Which infuriated him all the more.
"When the sun has set on the morrow, Baron, it will be done," she told the man at her side, giving Connor both a name and a shiver of fear before he brutally crushed the weak and traitorous emotion. "My power will reach its zenith by then."
A day then, Connor reckoned. He had a day to escape whatever these people had planned for him. But whatever their scheme, Connor knew they would have to let him out of his cage first and foremost. And when they did, they would not live long enough to regret their misjudgement in doing so.
"As you command, priestess," Baron said, bowing his head as the woman swept passed him, tugging on the collar and chain that bound the creature to her side.
"Come, Golgoth."
Connor watched her and her pet leave, a tiny frown on his face. How could a woman as small as she keep such a monster at her beck and call without it tearing her throat out? Magic, a voice whispered disgustedly at the back of his mind. Holtz had warned him of conjurers, of their wiles and tricks, cowards that relied on dark arts to overcome their enemies without honour or fairness.
His gaze travelled quickly to that of the man, Baron, who watched him with dark, unreadable eyes. Unlike the woman, Connor was uncomfortable under this one's gaze, yet he raised his chin in mute rebellion, refusing to show any weakness.
Baron turned to observe the priestess as she departed, then nodded towards the creature that crawled at her feet. "That will be your place, soon enough, child," he told Connor, matter-of-factly.
Connor jerked back at that, felt his lips curling as he bared his teeth in his fury. "No," he snarled, then cursed himself for giving them that single word he had denied them until now.
He took a single step back from the bars and slumped down on the wooden bunk behind him, putting his back to the wall and bringing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly about them. Effectively cutting himself off from his captors.
Baron smiled, knowingly, then left, barking out a sharp order to the remaining guard as he did so. Sullenly, Connor watched him leave through the hair that had fallen over his eyes. There was something not right about the man, something that raised his hackles and the fine hairs on the back of his neck.
He would find out soon enough, he decided, with a mental shrug, when he cut the man open.
*****
"Ok, thanks, man." Gunn replaced the receiver with a sigh and negative shake of his head to Angel.
Angel resumed his determined pacing, as if somehow the ritualistic act could help find his son. Gunn's contacts had nothing. Lorne was in Vegas, still incommunicado. That only left…
"Got it!" Fred called out, emerging from the office, carrying a sheet of paper. "I knew I had it somewhere," she continued, spreading it out on the counter. "It's just, you know how you put things somewhere to keep them safe and then for the life of you, you can't remember where you put them in the first place…"
"Fred," Angel said, loudly, cutting off her diatribe.
"Sorry," she apologised, sheepishly, then read out the list of demons and cults who had been intent on taking Connor as a baby. "And lastly, we've got Frank," she finished.
"The mobster who died last month in a shoot out with the police," Gunn added. "In other words, we got nothing." Something in his own words rang a bell and he straightened. "Wait a minute. What about that drug dealer Connor got in trouble with when he first came back?"
"Tyke?" Angel said, considering then dismissing the idea. That kind of scum wouldn't have the resources needed to take Connor down the way he had been. Tyke, like all his cowardly kind, would have used a gun.
Angel pushed away from the counter, needing to move, to pace, to do something. Grabbing his coat from its hook, it was time to make the rounds.
"Fred," he called, as he crossed the lobby, "keep working on those lists. Concentrate on anyone who might have the resources to use dark magic. Gunn, I want you to dig up anything you can on vampires and demons living in the area where Connor disappeared. They might have seen something and we can shake them down later."
"On it," Gunn replied, shortly, reaching for the phone.
"What are you going to do?"
Fred's voice halted Angel as he rounded the corner and he paused, put his head back round. "Whatever I have to," he said, as much a promise to himself as to Connor, then headed for the sewers.
*****
Draping one arm carelessly over her head, Lilah Morgan, director of the most powerful law firm in Los Angeles, heck the world, snuggled deeper into the cushions, attempting to create the most wanton look a woman had ever possessed. She knew she was beautiful, hell she was gorgeous, but with things between her and Wesley so delicate, she didn't want to leave anything to chance.
With her other hand, she smoothed down the red negligee, fingers toying with the lace, picturing, with a smile, Wyndham-Pryce's face when he came home to find her lying on his couch. A present, prettily wrapped up for him in the form of the evil lawyer bitch queen of Wolfram and Hart. He wouldn't be able to resist and she chuckled throatily at that.
"Very nice," a voice drawled from the doorway, and Lilah bolted upright, hands instinctively flying to cover herself.
Who are you trying to kid? she asked herself, disgustedly, abandoning the attempt at preserving her dignity. You're hardly a virgin on prom night, Lilah.
She swung her legs over the edge of the couch, giving the intruder an annoyed look. "Shouldn't you wait to be asked inside?" she demanded, reaching out for the scotch she had poured earlier. Wesley didn't seem to be drinking the stuff much lately, she mused, as she tilted her head and threw back a quick shot, feeling the familiar, welcome burn of the alcohol.
"Don't need to," Angel replied, closing the door behind him. "All I need is the one invite, unless you retract that invite with magic. And I know that's not exactly a priority on Wesley's to do list, what with you being top and all."
"Actually, I meant for courtesy's sake," she sniped back. Normally she loved sparring with Angel, the hopeless do-gooder, but now wasn't a good time. Rising, she reached for the pale blue robe draped over the back of the couch.
"Surely not on my account, Lilah," Angel said, as she pulled it on.
"Don't flatter yourself," she shot back, as she cinched it tightly about her waist. "So, you're here to see Wesley, huh? Funny that, I thought you two were mortal enemies. He certainly seems to think so."
Angel didn't pause at that, cheap shot though it was, but wandered over to the bookcase. "Actually, I am here to see Wesley, but I figured I might catch you here as well." He threw a pleasant smile over one shoulder, one that raised goosebumps along her bared arms. "Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."
"Whatever it is you want," Lilah said, folding her arms, "forget it. We're even now and I'm done doing your good work."
"Even?" Angel seemed to think the word over, then shrugged, turning his attention back to the books. "Connor's missing."
Lilah blinked at the sudden confession, taken aback. She had thought that, after everything she had seen and done, nothing could surprise her, but this was one hell of a shock. When she got back to Wolfram and Hart, heads were going to roll for it. Quite literally.
"At first, I thought it was you," Angel said, casually, turning to her. "But then, even you wouldn't be that stupid, Lilah. You know I'd kill you in a second."
Unthinkingly, Lilah's hand moved to her throat, recalling the way he had grabbed her, so quickly, in the White Room of the law firm, and knew that, were he to kill her, she'd never see it coming. Unless he wanted her to.
"So I had this idea," Angel continued, giving her that creepy smile once more, "to track down all of Connor's enemies, all of my enemies, see if anything shook loose. But then I had an even better idea." He moved in closer and she forced herself not to back away, not to be intimidated. "I decided I'd let you find them instead, counsellor."