Part B
Angel had barely unwrapped his parcel and was giving the two pairs of fine looking woolen socks a puzzled look, when the buzzer sounded.
"Lorne?" Angel asked, wondering if the Pylean had any more amusements lined up for the night. He had absolutely no intention of letting carol singers, strippers, Siegfried and Roy, or even Elvis himself into his apartment – not tonight, not ever.
Lorne raised his hands defensively. "No more surprises, pleasant or unpleasant - at least none devised by this party planner. Unless you count the carol singing – which we simply have to do. You know you have a place in my heart, Angelcakes, even though I must admit your high C scarred me for life - and your high B for that matter - But singing is my first love. There can be no Christmas without the doremis, comprende mon capitan?"
The buzzer sounded again.
Irritated, Angel dropped the socks on the table and headed for the door. The surprise visitor was just that, a surprise. "Eve?" Angel was so thrown off kilter he automatically took a step back and Eve, impeccably dressed in a very revealing cocktail dress and high-heeled Pradas, chose to read this as an invitation and quickly slipped inside.
"Now that we've established that you still remember my name, shall we find out, if you remember how to mix a dry martini?" She said and let her creamy shawl slide to the floor, revealing bare shoulders. "And before you ask, stirred is fine."
Moving lithely and seductively like a siren from outer space, she walked passed Angel into the living room only to stop in her tracks. "Oh, you have visitors."
Her surprise didn't fool Angel for one second, but he decided to maintain the charade. "We're having a little Christmas party," he explained the obvious.
"How quaint," Eve said, with just a tiny hint of poison. "It's good to see that you've got your priorities right, champ."
It was the kind of remark Lilah might have made under the circumstances, Wesley thought. Sans the use of stupid nicknames, and with more panache. A sudden pang of loss sliced through his hard earned holiday cheer and he reached for his wine glass.
Meanwhile, Angel made no move to mix the requested Martini. Instead, he folded his arms in front of his chest and glowered at her. "Was there something you wanted?"
Unfazed, Eve stepped towards the table to greet the others with a nod. She swiped up the socks, eyebrows raised, and dropped them disdainfully. "Socks. The gift that warms the heart. Someone must really like you."
She turned around and opened her purse. "I was on my way to a party, when I realized I'd forgotten go give you this…." She held out a sealed envelope to him. "It must have landed on my desk by mistake. The mail department has been absolutely chaotic since Edgar's capture, which is rather ironic, don't you think? Anyway, I thought it might be important, so I stopped by the office and here I am."
Stone-faced, Angel took the envelope. It bore the stamp of the legal department. He slapped it against his palm a few time, then turned abruptly and held it out for Spike to take.
"What, I'm your guinea pig now?" Spike spluttered.
Angel looked heavenwards. "It's yours. Your 'present,' if you will."
"Oh?" Spike took the envelope, touching it gingerly, like it might explode – or turn him into a reindeer. In this place anything was possible.
"It's customary to say thank you," Eve suggested, meaning both Angel and Spike.
"Don't let me keep you from your party," Angel replied.
"My Martini?" Eve insisted with a strained smile.
Exasperated, Angel gave Lorne a nod, and the Pylean walked up to the bar to mix the requested drink. Anything to get Eve to leave.
* * *
Wolfram & Hart weren't in the habit of locking people up. They made most of their money avoiding confinement for their clients. Nevertheless, they were equipped for exceptions, like Pavane or Ethan Rayne. No expenses had been spared in furnishing the labyrinthine basement of the LA branch with a dozen holding cells and in making them as secure as Fort Knox. Securer, in fact. There were enough magical wards and technological barriers in place, to impede every method of communication known to mankind. Prisoners were completely incommunicado, unless Wolfram & Hart lifted these barriers deliberately.
There were three security guards who's only task was to keep their eyes and ears open and watch the various surveillance monitors: small CCTV screens, a silver scrying bowl of enchanted water, and a little scarlet demon in a cage that looked like a winged lobster, and that was primed to shriek at every change in the flow of magic within a twenty yard radius. Sorcerers could be slippery customers, Ethan Rayne had therefore received the full treatment.
Getting out was impossible. Getting in wasn't. Not for someone who knew Wolfram & Hart inside out. It didn't take long and the three security guards were snoring peacefully, and all the alarms were disabled.
"We had a deal," Lindsey McDonald said, as he opened the door and stepped into Rayne's cell, a loaded gun in his hand, and a death sentence in his eyes. "And you didn't hold up your end of the bargain."
"After four years without magic…. I needed to know I hadn't lost my touch," Ethan said with a shrug.
The chaos sorcerer was clearly outmatched, much older than the young lawyer, unarmed, impeded by enchanted handcuffs. Without the ability to magically boost his strength and speed he was a tired man in his fifties, physically weakened by four years of imprisonment. Trying for the gun was too undignified, so all he could do was meet his end on his own two feet. Ethan slowly got up from his bunk, and approached the newcomer.
The two men stared at each other for a moment.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," Lindsey said, raising the gun until it pointed at Ethan's head. His voice sounded strained.
"The world is more interesting with me in it?" Ethan suggested with a charming smile that never reached his eyes.
When Lindsey hesitated, Ethan lifted his gaze from the barrel and to the young, clean shaven face before him, to the angry frown that seemed to be a permanent fixture.
"You should have seen the look on Angel's face," Ethan said, and a spark of genuine mirth lit up his face. "When he saw the reindeer. Priceless. I'm just sorry I never got to unleash my big surprise. That really would have brought the house down."
The hand with the gun wavered.
TBC