Chapter 10

Unwelcome Visitors

            Kate paced. She always paced when she was at a crossroads; it helped her think. Thinking was something she wasn't normally loathe to do. Most of the time, the thinking was clear, straightforward, and led to decisive action. Thinking about Angel, though, simply provoked her into fits of indecision.

            He was, on the one hand, evil personified – a creature of the night. As she reflected on it, though, she realized that his being a vampire was not what bothered her. What bothered her was that every time there was something threatening her city – and she thought of L.A. rather possessively as her city – he was right in the middle of it. It wasn't his evilness that was the problem between them. In truth, it was the opposite. Angel was a warrior of light, which meant that his life revolved around stopping bad things.

            Kate had been a cop – she understood a life of stopping bad things. But the things she had lived her life to combat were all things she could understand … and confront. She could combat them on her own terms, with her own skills, and in her own way. The things Angel and his crew faced were things beyond her understanding; they were beyond even her imagination.

            She turned on her heel, looking at the situation in her mind the way she would look at a suspect, saying in a quiet voice the questions she would ask herself if she was conducting an interrogation – why does this bother you? What were you thinking? Why didn't you say something? The analytical part of her brain – the cop part – hammered away with those questions.

            Because I'm scared, she finally replied to herself. She shouted it in her mind, her defenses breaking down exactly the way a hundred suspects had under her cop-brain's relentless assault. It scares me. Not the evil, not the thought of the bad things. No, it's that I'll be useless – helpless. It's my city, and I have to depend on someone else to take care of it.  She paused a moment, reflecting, wiping away the single tear that had begun tracing its way down her cheek. Because I can't fix it, she admitted finally. Because it's my job to fix all the wrong in this city, and I can't do it. She paused for a moment longer, taking a deep shuddering breath. Because I need him to help me.

            She looked over at Cordelia, who thankfully was still out cold. She couldn't imagine what she might have to do to the girl had she been observed crying. She glanced over at the desk computer. There was still work to do – still plenty of evil to fight. She'd better get to it.

            As she crossed back to the desk, the front door opened. Kate looked up expecting to see Angel. "Speaking of evil …." She muttered, and came out to the lobby.

            Lilah and Mr. Gray walked calmly into the building. Lilah's face twisted into the smooth, arrogant smirk she had practically trademarked. "Well, well, well," she said, shaking her head at Kate. "Is babysitting the best job you could find? You know, after being fired and all?"

            Kate's face went red with anger. Her hands curled involuntarily into fists. "Get out," she said lowly, every ounce of menace and anger carrying through in her voice. When Lilah and Mr. Gray didn't move, she took one step forward. "Get out now!" she snapped.

            She didn't see the blow coming. Indeed, there was no way for her to. Lilah and Mr. Gray were standing all the way across the room. The flaming demon in the well cut suit simply flicked his hand, and Kate was knocked off her feet and back into the bell desk. The crack of her head against the wood reverberated creepily in the odd acoustics of the lobby. Mr. Gray showed no signs of noticing; Lilah, on the other hand, smiled even more broadly.

            "Serves her right," Lilah muttered, and then pointed towards Cordelia's inert form. "That one," she told her companion, who moved over to her. Lilah stood a few steps back and off to one side in order to watch the operation.

            Mr. Gray raised one shadowed hand and reached out to Cordelia. Slowly he moved towards her head, feeling his way through her aura. With each inch, Cordy's breathing became more frantic and labored. Lilah grinned at the woman's discomfort, savoring it cruelly.

            Mr. Gray snatched his hand back with a hiss. He turned his glowing eyes on Lilah. "This one is chosen of the Powers!" he growled accusingly.

            "Yeah. So?" Lilah replied.

            "You should have told me," he stated. "She will not do." He shook his head and turned away from her.

            "Why not? She's perfect," Lilah protested.

            "I will not offend the Powers by defiling their vessel," he said, his tone broking no disagreement.

            Lilah, however, was not one to be so easily dismissed. "You can't be serious," she stated flatly. "I don't know about you," she continued, her finger stabbing at the air in his general direction, "but my bosses aren't real worried about the Powers or their vessel. They just want a job done." She took a step forward and added, "And I suggest you start worrying more about what they think than what the Powers think."

            Mr. Gray turned his eyes calmly on Lilah. "Foolish," he said quietly. "Impudent," he added, his voice rising to a harsh whisper. "Mortal," he spat, and suddenly his hand was around Lilah's neck. He lifted her high above the floor. "Your war is with the Powers, not mine." His eyes burned into her as he slowly crushed her throat. She could feel her trachea snap under the pressure, her vertebrae being compressed. "The sooner you realize that I am not here as an agent of your Senior Partners, the sooner you will realize that I hold your life and afterlife in my hands and at my whim. You were given to me, Lilah, as a tool for my duty. I can use or discard you as I see fit." And with a final thought, he snapped her neck, and dropped her lifeless body to the floor.

            Mr. Gray stalked across the lobby to where Kate lay. He reached a hand out and detected a flicker of consciousness in her. "You are strong," he said, knowing that she heard him, even if it was too painful for her to move or respond. "However," he continued, reaching down to cradle her head between his hands, "it is often not enough to be merely strong." He closed his eyes for a moment, centering his power deep within himself. When he opened them, he could see that Kate had opened her own to a mere slit. "This will hurt," he said, without emotion.

            The searing pain that coursed through Kate's brain was the most intense agony she had ever realized. It was, to be sure, more than many incidents which had knocked her cold. However, the creature holding her needed her conscious, and so she was not allowed to escape into oblivion. Instead, she screamed.

            There was no telling how long it lasted. The pain was a universe unto itself – without beginning, without end. It merely was, and time had no meaning in it. The pain simply was, and it was forever.

            And then it was over. Suddenly, without warning, the universe of pain shattered, and unconsciousness claimed her. Her last breath was to hope that she was dead. Mr. Gray, however, had other ideas. He made sure that she lived, and that she hadn't retreated so far into her own mind as to be irretrievable. He would need her later.

            He stood, and looked around. Cordelia, in her unconscious state, was aware at some level of what was happening. She tossed and cried in her unnatural sleep. Next to her lay Lilah's broken corpse. Mr. Gray considered. He hated to leave Cordelia behind, but he dared not risk offending the Powers. Besides, he had Kate, and the knowledge he needed. He nodded, she would be enough.

            Then, with a sigh, he contemplated Lilah. He needed her, as well. At least for awhile longer. He waved his hand, and her body twisted of its own accord back into alignment. Bones knit suddenly with a sickening sound. He throat reconstructed itself. He left the bruises, though – a reminder that he felt she needed. With a quick nod, he retrieved her soul and shoved it back into her body.

            Her gasp of breath was followed by a strangled cry. She looked about wildly, crawling to her knees, fighting down the panic and bile. With a few ragged breaths she brought herself under control. Still on her hands and knees, she looked up through the long hair that had fallen across her face. The look she cast at Mr. Gray was mix of fear and hate.

            She remembered it all. She remembered feeling herself die. She remembered the panic, the crushing of her own body. And she remembered what had happened afterwards. She would get him for that.

            Mr. Gray saw that she had returned to some semblance of reality. Of course, her eyes would be haunted for a long time. He knew, also, that her heart was filled with a desire for vengeance against him. He did not dismiss the threat, but it was not his primary concern at this point. He had more that needed to be done; he would deal with her revenge later.

            He pointed at Kate's inert form. "Bring her," he said to Lilah, and then strode out.

* * *

            "Bring her," Sheffield ordered.

            Baker and Jessup escorted Faith into the warehouse office. She was still weak, barely conscious from the sedation. That was good. The other Slayer had been trouble, but this one was a killer. They had to be careful. Very careful.

            They were set up on the waterfront. The warehouse space was dingy, rundown, and damp. Just beyond it was ample evidence of a war zone. Fire gutted hulks and multi-colored gang tags leant it an air of civil war. The few residents of the environment had no feeling for the place beyond subsistence. Sheffield had been places in the third world that were better kept.

            They entire perimeter of their operating area was secured and surveiled. Motion detectors, laser grids, and constant armed patrols prevented any interested locals from getting too close. Magical wards and a couple of slaved creatures kept interest from other quarters at bay as well.

            Power had been the most difficult task. Their initial recon of the area had showed sufficient resources. However, when they began the task of setting up in earnest they discovered that the couplings and breakers were shot. There was simply no way to survive the power draw they were going to need. They had, instead, hijacked a diesel generator and brought it to the warehouse. That operation was performed by the less trustworthy members of the team.

            The other operation had been to hit the medical facility. The doctor had arrived from the Ring mere hours before the operation was launched. He had the location – Sheffield didn't want to know how he had come across that piece of intelligence – and they had moved quickly. The test had been a success. They had killed and revived one of the women there with perfect precision. Then they had loaded up all the equipment and brought it back to the staging area. That had been a job for the others in the team – the ones Sheffield knew he could count on for anything. Even murder.

            With the addition of the generator, the setup was in full swing. Soon they would perform the same operation on Faith. She would need to be at full strength for that, though. That meant that they had to wean her off the sedatives. Unsedated, she was dangerous, unless they could control her.

            The guards brought the limp girl into the office and propped her on a chair. She was nothing much to look at, Sheffield reflected. Prison hadn't been good to her. She was thin, her hair was limp, and the fire in her eyes was barely a spark. Hard to believe, considering all she had done to land herself there.

            She was more than just a murderess. That anyone could do. She had become an assassin. First, she had worked for a demon lord who attempted to enter this dimension and control it. Then she had worked for Wolfram and Hart. Her record of successful kills was not very impressive. Twice she had been sent to kill Angel, and twice she had failed. Along the way, though, was an impressive array of dead and injured humans, demons, and at least one really good torture session.

            Now, though, she simply looked like another broken reprobate. Her spirit crushed by the endless monotony and lack of hope that prison brings. He would have to reignite that fire in her; reignite it without burning himself. She had been turned from a wildfire to a smoldering bit of ash. He had to fan that back, shape it, and turn into a flamethrower.

            And the Ring had sent just the tool for the job.

            "How are you feeling?" he asked cordially.

            Faith glared up at him. For a moment she thought she would simply flip him off and refuse to answer, but she swallowed that impulse. "Crappy," she managed to croak out.

            "That's understandable," he said. "The demons who transported you out of the prison also poisoned you. It's a good thing we found you in time, otherwise it would've been much worse."

            Faith looked up at that, confusion transforming her face. "Huh?" she managed to say at last.

            "We rescued you," he said, simply.

            She shook her head. "Captured me, you mean?"

            "Captured? No, of course not." Sheffield shook his head and smiled at her, putting his friendliest expression. It wasn't much, but it was all he had. "What makes you think that?"

            "I'm a prisoner," she replied. "Only without the yard time."

            "Prisoner? No." Sheffield again smiled at her. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. You're not a prisoner at all."

            "Then why have I been locked up?" she asked, a bit of defiance emerging, but mixed with a tinge of hope. Was it too much to hope? To believe?

            "The poison," Sheffield replied. "You were quarantined."

            "But I'm better now?" she replied, irony twisting her expression. "Try again."

            Sheffield held up his hand to forestall further argument. "No," he said, "you're not better. Not yet." He turned and took a box from his desk and opened its lid. From it he took an amulet. "But we just received this," he said, showing it to her. "And this will make it all better."

They locked gazes for a moment as Faith waged a battle deep inside herself. Hope battled with cynicism, but under the intense gaze of the Major, hope won out. She reached for the amulet, and Sheffield assisted her in putting it on.

He smiled at her. "Rest now," he said. "When you wake up, it will be much, much better." Faith nodded, and Sheffield could almost see the tendrils of control reaching out from the amulet to invade her.

Yes, he thought, soon it will be much better.