CHAPTER FOUR
Lindsey watched Darla primping her hair. Darla knew he was probably wondering how she did it so well without a mirror. She wore a blue silk dress with spider-web thin straps. It clung to her curves and flattered her pale skin. Lindsey had to know something big was happening. She could tell by the furrows in his brow that he didn't like it. If he had any clue what she planned on doing, she imagined he'd be even less happy.
"You're going out again," he said, coming over to her. There was a sadness in his voice she could practicably distill and bottle.
She thought about lying to him, telling him a lame story about needing to hunt. She considered the full truth; Wolfram and Hart wanted her to seduce Angel but she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Wolfram and Hart have something they need me to do," she said, simply. It was true but more importantly, it was innocuous.
"Why didn't they tell me?" He came over and finished zipping up the back of her dress. She was grateful. Darla never could figure out why women did silly things like put zippers and buttons in places they needed someone to help them with.
"I don't know."
"I do." He sighed, his lips brushing her earlobe. He nipped it gently. "They don't trust my objectivity. They think I'm too close to you." He kissed the bare skin of her shoulder.
"Aren't you?" She reached back and ran her hands down his side and squeezed his firm ass.
He turned her in his arms and gently kissed her on the lips. She felt the sorrow washing out of him into her. "Yes."
"Lindsey, I'm..." she trailed off.
"Sorry for what you're about to do?" he finished for her. "I can see it in your eyes."
"Vampires are rarely sorry," Darla said weakly, going very still in his arms.
"I don't want to know what you're going out to do," he said, letting her go.
"No, you don't," she replied and he turned away from her. "Lindsey, do you want me to leave? I shouldn't be putting you in the middle of this mess."
"It's really going to be a mess, isn't it?" he interrupted.
"Vampires might rarely be sorry but we often make huge messes. We excel at it," Darla took his hand. It was so warm. "And I shouldn't pay back everything you've done for me with horror." She could barely believe the words coming out of her mouth. Was it the soul she had just let go of? Was it being human again, even if it had only been briefly? Or was Angel's goodness infecting her? Why should she care what she did to Lindsey? She should be savoring his pain but she wasn't. She hated hurting him even if in the end, if things went well and she got what she wanted; Angel.
He squeezed her fingers lightly. "I knew what I was getting into. I don't want you to go."
She kissed his cheek, knowing full well he had no clue what he had gotten into, not really. Love had struck him blind. She almost wished he had found a better vessel to pour his love into. "Thank you."
She left him standing there, melancholy singing a threnody in his soul so loudly she could hear it. Darla blocked Lindsey from her mind. She had to. Her plan required concentration. Over three hundred years of being hobbled by women's fashions enabled Darla to move gracefully, nigh silently, in her stiletto heels. She didn't even see them as a hindrance.
Darla got into the Viper she had stolen from a junior Wolfram and Hart lawyer who had dared to pinch her butt. They wouldn't find his body any time soon. She didn't know if her car could outrun Angel's but it should be fast enough if escape was needed.
She headed for St. Keara's Catholic Church. By now teens from a local high school should be there, lured in by the promise of drugs, alcohol and music. Contacting the less savory teens had been easy enough. She knew they'd spread the word about a rave. The priest had already been subdued. She wondered if she'd get too many rats on her bait, making control difficult. Lindsey had delayed her. She had wanted to be at the church before they started to arrive.
Just a dozen would work nicely. She'd lock up the church as soon as she got her quota provided she wasn't immediately overwhelmed. Ah well, first come, first torture and eaten. Darla smiled softly as she started the engine. This was going to be fun.
"I just want you to be totally clear on this."Angel pushed off his GTX where he had been leaning waiting for Kate to pull up to the church in her car. "You don't go after Darla. You only rescue any survivors."
Kate scowled, not liking to take orders from him. "I've helped kill vampires before."
"Not like Darla. She's older than most of the ones you've gone up against," Angel said, though it wasn't exactly true. The demon in Darla was new but it had all the previous demon's memories. "She taught me all I know...well, what I didn't expound on at any rate."
Kate's lips curled as she brushed a blond lock off her face. "In other words, she's a real sick bitch."
"Exactly." Angel shrugged. "And Darla's been known to use guns."
Kate frowned. "That's just cheating." She went to the trunk of her car and pulled out her bullet proof vest. She squirmed into it. "Instead of exploding bullet tips with fulminated mercury, we need to figure out how to do it with holy water."
"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Angel admitted, trying to imagine how much that would hurt.
Kate took a long look at the church. "How can you be sure she's here?"
"I can't but it's the best place to start. This is an old Irish church in a section of the city that has seen far better days. Half the buildings around here are abandoned, and the people who do live here would barely care if a bomb went off. This isn't exactly what I used in Meath but times are different," Angel said.
Kate double-checked her weaponry. "I've got a bad feeling."
"You should." Angel took point. He thought he smelled blood as he neared the old wooden doors engraved with the what might have been the four horsemen of the apocalypse or the four archangels, he couldn't tell. He could hear music softly playing behind the old, strange doors, which were locked. Kate gave him a questioning look. He wasn't sure if she doubted his guesswork or if she heard the music, too, and knew if the doors were barred it was going to be bad. He broke the lock and the blood scent boiled out of the church, accompanied by pathetic little whimpers.
Angel was grateful for the sounds. They grounded him, took the edge off the involuntary, gnawing hunger the blood smell touched off. Behind him, he heard Kate gag. He couldn't blame her. Darla had crucified the priest over top the writhing Jesus on the cross behind altar. She had stolen razor wire from somewhere to fashion him a crown of thorns after dressing him in his vestments. A golden cross embroidered on the white vestment gleamed through the gore running down his body. The baptismal font under the foot of the cross caught his blood.
Angel remembered doing that in Meath. Darla had been so impressed he had braved giant crosses and kicked over an entire font of holy water just for her. The rest of the church resembled his memories but now with Darla's special touches, like the naked, still living girl tied to the altar, face down. She had pulled the lungs out of through the back of one young man, like wings, and hung him from the choir loft like an angel.
Angel didn't even want to know why Darla had stripped two girls and two boys, lashing the boys to the side altars and the girls to the altar boys' kneelers. Long lit offering tapers had been inserted into all four of them in varying orifices. Angel couldn't tell over the music and the sobbing from the other kids trussed in bundles, no doubt for feeding on later, if the four human candle holders were still breathing.
"Mary Mother of God," Kate whispered behind him.
She had never struck Angel was the religious sort but this kind of thing would shove almost anyone back into the wells of desperate belief in something bigger. He put his body between Kate and the forefront of the church, hoping Darla wasn't hidden in the cry room behind them. "Darla!" he bellowed.
She came out of the sacristy with that little half smile that used to drive him wild on her painted lips. Her dress was spotless. Had she worn an apron to do this? Done it nude? Why was he even torturing himself thinking about it?
Darla tossed her golden hair in a way that used to turn him on. He forcibly reminded himself this was the creature that killed him; that gave him the Gypsy girl whose death resulted in his curse; who forcibly beat him out of their home when he turned to her for comfort when he had gained his soul; who had tried to kill Buffy.
A voice kept whispering in his head, 'mother, lover, companion for over a century' but he drowned it out with the moans of the tortured teens; their pleading for rescue so sharp in their eyes it left him bleeding.
Darla caught sight of Kate and her face morphed. "You weren't supposed to bring a date."
"What have you done, Darla?" Angel asked.
Darla's face smoothed back over. "You don't recognize it?" She seemed disappointed.
"Yes, I remember Meath." His voice went glacial. "Did you honestly think this would have some kind of effect of me?"
Darla cocked a hip at him. "I know it has. If you weren't touched, you'd trust yourself to come alone and not bring a pathetic mortal body guard."
"I knew there'd be people she could help," Angel replied, seeing Kate wasn't waiting on him to rescue the kids. She was cutting free the nearest bundle of bodies.
"Uh-uh-uh," Darla asked, sauntering toward Kate. "We can't have that."
Kate stood back up, knife in hand, drew her pistol with the other, shot Darla and went back to working on the knots without missing a beat. Darla dropped the moment the bullet tore into her, high and to the right; not deadly, even if she had been mortal, but painful enough. She was back up almost instantly. She ran for Kate. Angel caught her and tossed her so hard she flew over the wrought iron table that held the offering candles and crashed into a pedestal holding the Blessed Virgin standing atop the world, her bare foot crushing a snake.
Mary toppled on top of Darla, leaving her even more bloodied. Angel heard Kate telling the kids to run for it but he ignored them, advancing on his former lover. He tripped over a plastic rain coat half tucked under a pew. The coat was soaked in blood. That's how she didn't get all messed up, he thought, kicking it off the end of his shoe. Darla scooped up the statue of the holy mother and threw it at him. Angel dodged easily but it was enough time for Darla to go out a side door.
"Handle the victims, Kate. I'm going to end this," Angel said, racing after the vampiress.
Darla out-sprinted him to her car, high heels and all, roaring off down the road. Angel followed in the GTX. She hit the freeway where he had no hope of stopping her. The huge engine in the Belvedere easily allowed him to keep up with her, pass her even, but there were too many cars on the highway to do anything more than chase her. Any heroics might result in innocents being killed.
Darla left the city limits but Angel was in no mood to let her go. She was heading for Sunnydale and he wondered if she even knew it. Maybe she did or maybe she didn't. Either way, she got off an exit that led to a relatively smaller town. He didn't know why she left the highway other than perhaps she realized she couldn't outrun him so she'd try to lose him. Instead, she seemed to decide that was a mistake and headed back for L.A where she'd have a better chance at losing herself in the crowd.
He didn't know what little city within Los Angeles they were in when she left the highway again. This section of road was more deserted, a stretch of cemetery along the driver's side of the road. Angel tried to cut her off. He was more experienced at handling fast cars, evidenced by the fact Darla lost control and crashed into a tree. As he slammed on the brakes, he saw her getting out of the car. Any other time Darla and a Viper might make for a great wet dream but now he was beyond furious. She had hurt all those kids just to impress him and it had to stop.
She fled into the cemetery and he ran after her. Angel easily gained on Darla. Her heels kept sinking in the soft earth. She stumbled and went sprawling on top of the grave-length headstone that overlaid the plot, embedded crookedly in the ground; a favorite presentation in the 1800's, barring the unevenness from upheavals. Angel was on top of her before he even knew what he was doing. He should have kept clear of her, kicked her, staked her, anything but put his body on top of her's.
Somewhere in the midst of the fists he rained down on her, her cries reached a primal part of him. The way she squirmed under him, trying to get away, ignited the parts of him he tried to keep locked away in Angelus' eternal cage. He loved her pain, the smell of her blood, the mere scent of her. Angel was only dimly aware he was growling under the light of the hunter's moon. His fangs pricked his lips. He wanted to taste her.
"You killed them!" he snarled. "For me."
"Not all of them," she said, clawing at him.
He lifted her by the arms, slamming her back against the headstone, cracking it. Darla yipped. "None of them deserved what they got."
"Angelus would have loved it," she hissed, spitting blood past her cracked, swollen lips at him .
"He's gone!" Angel hauled her up by her dress and the delicate silk tore; another mistake. As if the scent of blood and her moving under him hadn't already given him a raging erection - thoughts of the rough sex play he and Darla had so enjoyed racing through his mind - the sight of her moonstone pale breasts made rational thought nearly impossible.
Darla tried to unseat him and failed. Angel struggled not to show the blow she landed had probably broken a rib. "Dru was right. You have been pussy-whipped by that Slayer."
For a ludicrous moment Angel tried to imagine those words coming out of Dru's pouty little mouth. "Dru said that?"
Darla shrugged under him, almost relaxing, sensing she had made a chink in his armor. "Well, I'm paraphrasing but she definitely was trying to get across that the Slayer tamed you." Darla's ridged brow wrinkled even further. "Or maybe she was mumbling about the sun eating the moon, who can tell? It's Dru. Spike was best at figuring her out. But it's true. As if the soul wasn't bad enough, that Slayer turned you into a real do-gooder. It's sickening but I can help you. I can return you to your former glory." She ran a hand over his cheek. "Wouldn't that be wonderful, my darling boy?"
Angel wanted to crush her skull for saying that, for daring to touch him like that but more importantly, he wanted that touch. The darkness in him welled up like a blood-rimmed tide. The desire to accept her offer overwhelmed him. Who cared about him? The Powers That Be jerked him around. Yes, he helped others but who was helping him? Why couldn't someone have used their magic to fix his curse so he could be with Buffy? No one had even suggested it. It was like everyone in Sunnydale wanted him to suffer, including Buffy. She could play the tragic fairy princess this way. The last few times he had seen her she couldn't wait to rub her great new life in his face.
Gunn had never liked him. He couldn't begin to figure out Kate but knew she seemed to think he was merely stringing her along to do a terrible evil to her at a later date and hating herself for having some kind of feelings for him. He knew she did but at this point they were irrelevant.
Wesley shut him out and Cordelia had cut him to the core when she blamed him for Wesley getting shot. They wouldn't even let him see his one-time friend. They wanted him to disappear into the darkness, to stand silent as a shadow in their hearts. He had been set adrift down the River Acheron, riding it to the confluence of the River Styx. Angel was drowning in the water of hate and Darla was the only one there to pull him back to the shore.
He nuzzled her bare breast. Darla's fingers tangled in his thick hair, dragging him up her body so their lips could meet.Darla rolled him and he let her, feeling the rough limestone of the grave marker under him.
She smiled down at him, the demon part of her hidden now. She turned on his belly, what was left of her dress puddling around her narrow hips. Darla had had centuries to perfect her technique. Angel's head dropped back against the headstone as she squirmed on his torso.
She looked back at him, smiling. "It's nice to have you back. I love you, you know."
Angel tensed. Those words were like drinking holy water. When he thought of love, he didn't see Darla's face. He saw someone equally petite and hair almost as golden but her eyes were wide and innocent. She was willing to give her life so that he could survive a toxin that should have killed him. The woman crouched over him now, working him masterfully, would have left him to die. She had left him in Holtz's hands at least once. Where was the love in that? What in the hell was he doing?
"No!" Angel grabbed Darla by the waist and threw her off.
She rolled in the grass, cracking into an upright headstone. She shook her head then focused on him. "What do you mean, no?"
"This isn't happening. It can't go on like this. You have to pay for what you did tonight."
Darla's face went demonic. "I can not believe you."
"Believe it. You and me, it's not happening. Not now, not ever." Angel got up, stalking over to her.
Darla slipped off her high heels, jumping to her stockinged feet. She met his charge, wielding her high heel like a scythe. The stiletto tore Angel's throat wide open. He fell back, hand to his ruptured neck, blood pouring through his fingers. She knocked him down and kissed him. "Bye, lover. And it will happen. I promise you that."
Angel saw Darla try to take his car but he had the keys and she knew nothing of hot-wiring. She bodily dragged the Viper off the tree and got in, naked expect for her garters. The Viper limped back onto the highway. He didn't doubt Darla'd find someone to snack on and steal their car.
It took some time for his neck to clot off enough for him to get up and get to his car. He called Kate to make sure she was okay and that the kids were safe. He drove as fast as he could, weakened from his injuries, racing daylight and his voracious need to feed so he could heal.