The Angel's Knight #10 - About the Setting of Priorities

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New England, October 14, 2017

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I put the phone back into my pocket, not for the first time wondering how it is that important events always seem to happen all at once. Of course something would come up back in Los Angeles the moment I leave the town for the other side of the continent.

Diana Knight, a new Slayer, or so Faith says. Diana, the same name Cordelia mentioned during one of her visions. Neither Wesley nor Faith knew about that, of course, seeing as it was only last night. Well, seeing as Cordelia predicted little more than the girl arriving and being of some importance to us I guess I can be excused for not entering that information into the database before I got called away.

This throws up a lot of questions, of course. How can a new Slayer have been called when Faith is still alive and well? This has happened before, as I well know, but at that time we figured out the reasons rather quickly. This time, though? Somehow I have a feeling that it might prove to be a lot more complicated than drowning and CPR.

Remembering this inevitably leads my thoughts down worn and familiar paths, paths I don't have the time to wander right now. Or ever, really.

"Another piece of the puzzle?"

The woman posing that question is named Maryke and she is the leader of one of the most powerful covens in the known world. We have worked quite closely with them for some time now, have done so ever since Giles brought them to America after the incident with Willow. There are too many people playing around with powerful black magic and we needed a counterweight.

They have also proven quite adept at helping us figure out various prophecies we have on record, which is why I am here today.

"Cordelia predicted the arrival of a girl called Diana," I tell Maryke. "Apparently she just turned up back in Los Angeles."

"Will you have to leave immediately?"

"No, I believe Wesley and the others can handle it."

She nods and motions for me to sit down. It is hard for me to feel at ease in this place. The coven occupies a large mansion near the ocean and is warded in numerous ways to prevent dark forces from entering here. Things like me you might say. The witches have to lower their defenses quite a bit whenever I come for a visit. One of the reasons why we do most of our meetings via phone and webcam these days.

The largest room in the mansion, safely shielded from daylight for my benefit, holds little more than a large pentagram painted onto the floor. Maryke and half a dozen other members of the coven are sitting around it, most of them have their eyes closed and are chanting under their breaths. The air is heavy with magic. White magic, which sends yet more shivers of unease down my spine.

"We have spent much time pondering the information provided by your seer," Maryke begins, moving her hands in a strange pattern as images begin to take shape above the pentagram. "Our own psychics are nowhere near as connected as she is, of course, but they have been able to add some details here and there."

"Enough to form a picture?"

"An outline maybe."

She directs my gaze towards the visions hovering in the air. It shows a picture that is quite familiar by now, though I have never seen it with my own eyes. A giant torch burning in what looks like an underground cavern.

"This seems to be the preeminent image in Cordelia's vision. From what we have managed to sense from her psychic readings we believe that this, for lack of a better word, is the prize in the upcoming battle."

"The prize?"

"Power, Angel. Quite a bit of it. Our strongest seekers have tried to locate this artifact by using the impressions garnered from Cordelia. They haven't been able to find it, but there is one thing they all agree upon. Whatever this torch is or represents, it is extremely powerful. A prize the likes of which many people would gladly kill for."

She closes her eyes and the images change, showing me brief flashes of things that I have heard Cordelia talk about. Glimpses from the lives of our friends, as well as those we can safely count among our enemies. Giles, Willow, Master Nest, Glory, Doyle, Faith, the demon Akathler, Jenny Calendar, Darla, Holland Manners, Kendra. Many others that I do not recognize.

And Buffy. I try not to think of her too much, yet these visions seem to have a different opinion about that.

"Cordelia sees glimpses of all these people," Maryke explains, "many of whom are no longer among the living, yet seem to be important nevertheless. It took us a lot of time to find any kind of common theme to all these visions of lives past, Angel, but I believe we have found it at last."

If they have actually managed to make sense of it all than they accomplished a lot more than Wesley, Fred, and the people we have working on this in Los Angeles have managed. Somehow I am quite certain that I won't like the answers. Prophecies or visions, they never mean anything good.

"They all show inconsistencies, Angel. Things that, upon first glance, do not make sense."

I look at the images she is showing me. I see Master Nest rise from the ground, liberated by Buffy's death, only to find defeat at her hands and somehow his death closes the opening Hellmouth. No reason why it should, yet it does.

I see men in suits that can only be employees of Wolfram & Hart (I know their looks by now) and they are opening a wooden box that I recognize as the artifact that brought Darla back. How can a dead vampire be brought back as a living human with nothing but the empty life forces of yet more vampires to make it happen? Somehow it worked.

I see myself, running through a corridor and barreling through a door just in time to save the life of a friend. Kate Lockley, dying from an overdose of sleeping pills, and I manage to bring her back from the edge. It is she who realizes that I entered her apartment without ever having been invited. A vampire can't do that, yet somehow I did.

A group of scientists is assembling a patchwork creature, made from demon and human parts, held together by technology and magic. Something like this can not possibly be alive in any true sense of the word, yet somehow it rises and slays its own creators like something directly from the Frankenstein myth.

There are other images, things that people in our line of business have seen a thousand times, yet never spent a second thought on. A vampire gets stacked and for some reason it's not just his body that turns into dust, but his clothing as well. I see countless books filled with prophecies, somehow always turning up mere days before said prophecies come to pass. I see dozens of demons, every single one of them powerful enough to bring about the end of the world, but somehow they only turn up at a place or a time when someone is there to stop them, never in some remote part of the desert with no way for anyone to reach them in time.

None of it makes any sense at first glance.

"The world we move in is filled with impossible things, Angel," Maryke says, "yet we have learned to just regard them as fact and move on. I believe the visions are meant to change that, to teach us to look beneath the facade. To grasp the bigger picture behind it all."

I nod. It does sound logical. It does not bring us that much closer to seeing that big picture, though.

"Anything else?"

"Cordelia's visions seem to guide different people towards different goals. When you are with her, for example, she often sees images of Darla."

Darla. I had hoped that she was a chapter of my life I could finally close. Well, I thought that once before and it did not quite work out that way. She came back and almost succeeded in tearing me down, making me into what I once was. It did not happen and I like to think I am stronger for that experience. When she left me that night I hoped she would heed my warning and never return. Sixteen years and counting, she never came looking for me again.

Do I have to go out and look for her now?

"Have you been able to make anything out of that girl that always appears together with Darla?"

The images above the pentagram change, showing me the girl in question. A teenager, long blonde hair, a strangely subdued look in her eyes. There is something incredibly familiar about her, something about her eyes, but I can't place it.

"She is connected to Darla, that much is certain. In what way, though we can not say. There is a strong sense of conjunction. We expect you to meet her very soon."

I shake my head. This is not what I wanted to hear.

"There are more important things for me to handle. Have you discovered anything else?"

Maryke gives me the kind of look I often seem to get from people who are close to me, yet to not really know me. Which is most people around me, actually. I don't let them get close. It's safer that way, both for them and for myself. People I allow close, people I allow myself to care for, they always die or worse. Doyle. Darla when she was human. Cordelia. And ... so many other people.

This look they give me says that they wish they could help me somehow. Help me let go of the guilt. They just don't know how. They don't understand me and how could they?

I think there was only ever one person who really understood and she ... she isn't here anymore. Hasn't been for a long time.

"Cordelia's visions," Maryke finally continues, "as well as some of the things our own seers have glimpsed, seem to indicate a widespread movement among the world's supernatural population."

"Demons?"

"Not just demons. Mages, half-breeds, weres, neutral creatures, everyone who is in some way connected to the mystic is drawn to a certain place."

"What place?"

"We are not certain yet. The only thing we can tell for sure is that it seems to be here in America. Quite a few people we tend to keep an eye on have or are in the process of coming here. Vampire and demonic activity in Europe is in sharp decline, while the opposite is true for America."

A gathering of forces then. Not only of the demonic side, though. If supernatural creatures are drawn to a certain spot for some reason, shouldn't I be feeling it as well. Shouldn't Maryke and her friends? Unless we are already where we are meant to be.

We still know much too little. Even with all these puzzle pieces we know too little.

"We will put all our people on full alert. If the need arises we can have the Initiative ready for action within 24 hours. Oz hopefully has convinced his people to join us as well. If there is to be a battle we will be ready."

I look at Maryke again.

"It would be good if you could come with us as well. We could use your help with more than the visions."

We have talked about this several times before. The coven members are not warriors, I know that. They have aided us in the past by lending their magical strength to both Giles and Tara, making them stronger than they would be on their own, but none of them have ever been in the field themselves. This time, though, I have a feeling we're going to need all the help we can get.

"There is something else, Angel," Maryke says, rising from her position. The visions in the pentagram fade and the other witches rise as well, making a quiet retreat.

"What is it?"

"There was something else in one of Cordelia's visions, one I believe you have no knowledge of as of yet. Something that does concern you, however. On a very personal level."

What is she talking about? I know about all of Cordelia's visions. Checking the logs compiled by whoever sits with her is always the first thing I do after waking up.

"Mr. Giles did not put it in the logs," Maryke answers my question before I can even pose it, "because he felt it was something we should try and verify it first before it could be told to anyone else. Especially you, Angel. We haven't exactly managed to do that, but I believe it is time for you to be told regardless."

She hesitates for a moment, looking a bit uncertain.

"Maryke, what is this about?"

"Mr. Giles, he ... he once told me of ... of Buffy."

I wait for her to continue, not sure what I am to say right now.

"He told me of her, what she was to you. Only a bare outline, no details, but ... apparently Cordelia saw her in one of her visions."

"What?" Why would the visions show Buffy? She ... she died sixteen years ago. She isn't here anymore. She is safe, I know that. If any human being ever deserved to go to Heaven it was here and she is safe there. She has to be.

"All the puzzle pieces suggest that there will be some kind of final conflict happening, Angel. Something very big, something that might shape the future of this world for all time. And ... according to the vision ... Buffy will be there. She will be involved in the battle."

No! No, this can't be. Buffy is dead. I saw her body, I was at her funeral. I know what Willow did to her and I personally made sure that it could never happen again. A team and I went into Sunnydale and we took her remains with us during the evacuation. No one can possibly raise her again, no one can defile her like this again. She is safe.

"Angel!" Maryke's hand is on my cheek and my eyes snap back into focus, showing me her worried face.

"You must be wrong," I tell her. She has to be. "Buffy is dead."

"Cordelia saw her, Angel," Maryke repeats. Why is she saying this? "And ..."

Her voice trails off and I am quite sure I do not want to know what else she has to say. Yet somehow my mouth moves without conscious effort and I hear myself asking her what else Cordelia saw.

"She will be fighting in the final battle, Angel," Maryke whispers, her voice barely audible. "And she will be fighting against you."

TO BE CONTINUED