Part Eleven
"Here comes the payoff.
What are you made of?
You're empty,
You're hollow,
You're sinking fast."
-Econoline Crush, "Sinking"
Lindsey's mood was foul enough the next morning to discourage all conversation, though Stephanie-Ann at least gave it an honest attempt. She fell into a sullen silence when her innocent inquiry into how Lindsey had slept earned her a barely human snarl. Whitney and Cordelia did not even bother to try.
Cordelia, by marked contrast, was buoyant to the point that Whitney asked her about it. His manner remained as friendly and slightly suffocating as the day before; Lindsey, apparently, had not told him that Cordelia now understood that she was no more than goods to be delivered. There were implications there, powerful ones, but Cordelia had neither the time nor the inclination to analyze them. She stretched her face into an Oscar-winning smile instead, setting down her coffee cup to hide how badly her fingers were trembling to dump the scalding liquid over Whitney's head.
"What's not to be happy about?" Whitney slanted his eyes to indicate the empty town around them. Cordelia shrugged her shoulders and put on an expression of regret. "And there's not a thing that I can do about that. I'm not going to waste my brain space worrying about the things that I can't change." Lindsey, sitting a few feet away, made the smallest of involuntary movements. Cordelia pursed her lips into a line for a second, the only sign that she gave of noticing. "Besides, I've always wanted to go to Las Vegas. Do you think it lives up to its reputation?"
Something of a death's head flickered through Whitney's eyes, only for a moment. Cordelia got the impression of cockroaches scuttling away from the light. "Lost Wages or Sin City?"
"Both."
Whitney returned her grin. "Baby, I sure hope so." He returned to packing up the gear. Cordelia whished that there was a shower that she could stand under.
"You didn't run." Lindsey's voice was coming from just beyond her shoulder, raspy/dangerous and falsely warm, like whiskey going down the throat. Given the amount of muttering that he had done in his sleep the night before, Cordelia wasn't surprised. She didn't turn her head to look up at him.
"I'm not the running type." Cordelia picked up her coffee mug and drained it before pouring herself a fresh cup. "Besides, there's a nice old lady who would like me to deliver a message for her."
"Cordelia, I'm-"
"You have no idea how much I want to beat your head in with the coffeepot," Cordelia interrupted in a chirpy voice that didn't match the gleam in her eyes. "Might want to think about that before you begin offering up meaningless apologies." She still couldn't look at him. "You are Inot/I sorry, Lindsey, and that stone still around your neck is the proof of it. I hope that Flagg," Cordelia spit the name out as though it were a bullet, "gave you your silver in advance, 'cause guys like him? Tend not to be big on the keeping of promises." Cordelia slammed the mug down hard enough to shatter the bottom out, showering the earth with steaming coffee, and stalked off to help Whitney. Lindsey stared down at the half-moons of scarlet that had welled up in his palm.
---
They were in Las Vegas before noon. Whitney and Stephanie-Ann's chatter grew in volume and diminished in content, nervousness that they wouldn't admit to swirling around them thick enough for any outsider to see. How much they actually knew Cordelia was unsure of, but she was willing to bet that it was a significant chunk. Lindsey himself was silent and impassive, staring at her with eyes that reflected back only what Cordelia put there. She pretended that he was nothing more than an ugly lawn statue, one that she would be smashing with a hammer as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The fantasy, welcome distraction through it was, came a little too vividly for the strictest amount of comfort. Cordelia stared at her hands and imagined that she could still see blood there.
And then there was Flagg himself, seeming to fill up the road even though he was physically no different from any other man. Whitney could have run him over with no more than a twitch of his foot on the gas pedal. Gasps of varying volume rang out across the Hummer's interior, and Cordelia told herself that she had only looked away for a moment, that Flagg had a car and people with him and men didn't just appear out of the air. The cold prickle that had broken out along Cordelia's hairline belied rationalizations, telling her that the world had taken a change for the primal several weeks back and it was time that she got with the program if she wanted to survive to see the other side of it. 'Stand on your own two feet, girl. They're all that you can depend on in the end.' It wasn't real, but imagining Mother Abigail's voice was soothing all the same. Cordelia raised her chin and schooled her features into those of a queen as the Hummer rolled to a halt.
Lindsey's hand had barely touched her elbow before Cordelia jerked her arm away. "Cordy," Lindsey began, watching Whitney watching them in the rearview. The mirrored glass over his eyes lifted and then descended again too quickly for Cordelia to be sure of what she saw behind it. She forced her hand, slowly, to uncurl from its fist.
"I thought I told you not to call me that." Cordelia flashed him a politician's smile as she spoke, the kind that was really no more than an excuse to bare her teeth. "What, are you afraid that I'm going to embarrass you in front of your new boss? Don't worry, Lindsey. I'll be a good girl." She stepped down from the Hummer unaided, with the grace of royalty.
Flagg was there before Cordelia's feet had touched the ground, with that eerie sense of both moving and not that he had used when appearing in the middle of the road. Ooh, and from the moment his skin touched hers, Cordelia knew that all the girl power in the world wasn't going to control the deluge of sweat that ran down her spine and into the waistband of her jeans.
"Here's the lady of the hour!" Flagg exclaimed, grabbing her hand before she could gather her wits enough to pull back. He was wearing the sort of expression that was unsafe to leave small children alone with. "The very woman that I've been waiting for! And I hope, I truly, duly hope, that the trip wasn't too difficult for you?"
"Company could have been better." Cordelia's hand was returned to her. She resisted the urge to wipe it against her jeans. "Congratulations on a successful apocalypse, by the way."
Flagg displayed teeth that reminded Cordelia of bleached-out corn. "Not my apocalypse, cutie-pie," he said. If she survived this, Cordelia vowed, the next person to call her 'cutie-pie' was going to be in a world of hurt. Not that they wouldn't be, anyway, but she was retracting her warning shot. "All yours. I would never be so presumptuous as to claim an accomplishment that wasn't mine."
Cordelia took a page from Giles' book and directed her answer in the form of a glare.
Lindsey walked up wordlessly to stand behind Cordelia's shoulder; she only knew that he was there by the nod that Flagg directed towards him. "Down to the very letter of the law," Flagg said. "I always knew the jokes about lawyers weren't true." Cordelia refused to turn around and view Lindsey's satisfaction.
"How long?" she asked Flagg, and didn't need to elaborate in order for both of them to understand.
"The entire time." Lindsey's tone was calm, cultured. He could have been ordering drinks or an execution.
Cordelia turned around at last. If her eyes narrowed any further she wasn't going to be able to see. "You're scum." Lindsey's lips curved into the faintest of smiles. He had brought his jacket out of the vehicle with him, though Cordelia didn't know why. It was already blistering. She took a deep breath and focused very hard on not hitting him instead. Unfortunately, this brought about the immediate problem of keeping herself from hitting Flagg.
The wider Flagg grinned, the less his teeth looked like chips of corn and the more they began to look like the teeth of a rodent, something small and dank that scurried and fed on the flesh of fallen predators. A rat or a ferret…or a weasel. The knot of infant terror that Cordelia was keeping locked away in her stomach contracted, pushed to the side by a dangerous bubble of laughter.
The amusement dropped off Flagg's face like the sun disappearing behind a cloud, leaving behind a petulant almost-child in the negative space that remained. Cordelia had the feeling that she wouldn't like this toddler's tantrums, though. "What is it?" Flagg snapped.
And yet, she just couldn't seem to help herself. "Have you ever been to Nebraska?" Cordelia asked, her voice candy-shop sweet. "There are some people out there who would love to meet you. They have the neatest ways of exterminating vermin."
Flagg's eyes were brittle and cold, promising all measure of payment later on. "Lloyd," he called over his shoulder, "do me a big favor and make sure that Cordy here gets to my office safe and sound. We're going to having ourselves a nice little palaver after I take care of some business here."
A young man, slight of build and the with the sort of lank blond hair that was always going to look as if it were in need of a good shampooing, stepped forward. Around his neck was a stone identical to the ones worn by Whitney and Lindsey, save for the fact that his had a key-shaped flaw set into its center. His fingers as they touched Cordelia's elbow were oily and nearly apologetic. "Ma'am," he said in a voice that had only stopped cracking a few years before, "if you'd come this way." A car with tinted windows idled at the curb. If Cordelia got inside, she knew that her chances of making it out of Las Vegas were going to dwindle so small as to become nonexistent.
A soft weight settled around Cordelia's shoulders. She whirled on Lindsey, raising her hand to knock off the jacket that he had the gall to drape around her shoulders as if they were a couple on a date. Lindsey caught her wrist, ducking his head until his lips were millimeters from her ear. "Just take the fucking jacket, okay?" His breath was hot against her skin and panic twirled through his voice like smoke. The lopsided weight of the jacket, however, was very real.
Cordelia's eyes widened in realization, and oh god Flagg was watching, there was no way that he hadn't seen-Lindsey leaned in closer, blocking Flagg's view of her face. His mouth covered hers before she could pull away.
As far as kisses went, it suffered from being hot and panicky on both sides, and oh yeah, the minor detail of Lindsey turning into her own personal Benedict. For shocking Cordelia back into her senses, though, it worked like a charm. The cracking noise made by Cordelia's hand across Lindsey's face was louder even than the sound of the car's engine, and the second one was even better. Lindsey rocked back, grinning, and the sunlight glinted off the silver chain around his neck. Cordelia dragged her hand across her mouth and spit onto the pavement.
"I have a thing for damsels in distress," Lindsey told Flagg. His tone was cruel. "Going to get me in trouble someday."
"Won't be finding many of those here." Those teeth again, and a shudder ran down Cordelia's spine. Flagg nodded towards Lloyd, who stepped forward again and took Cordelia's arm. Cordelia pulled her jacket closer around her and went, glancing back just once.
Flagg had his arm thrown around Lindsey's shoulder in a brotherly gesture, mouth angled so that he could speak directly into Lindsey's ear. Lindsey had his head dipped to listen, but his eyes flicked up to meet Cordelia's. Of his performance now or the one that he had been playing out over the past few weeks, Cordelia could honestly not say which one was better.