The Devil's Advocate

Chapter 2

By Vixen

Massive. It was the only word Connor could think of to describe the mansion the address had led him to. On the outskirts of the city, the southern colonial estate was situated at the end of a long road concealed by stately trees. Tall, black iron gates prevented onlookers from coming onto the private property. The boy peered through the gates and frowned. This was what being evil apparently bought, a nice home and plenty of money. It wasn't right.

Hitting the intercom on the brick column that formed the sides of the gate, Connor heard it beep and waited for someone to answer. There was a long pause before anyone replied. The only sound was the camera attached to the top of the arched column moving its lens towards him. Connor eyes it suspiciously, but a voice from the intercom brought his attention back to the electronic device.

"State your name and business, sir."

He pressed the talk button on the intercom and said, "Uh.. Connor Reilly, I'm here to talk to Mr. Petrovia." He paused, knowing that wasn't going to be enough, and then added, "Tell him I'm Angel's son."

He stepped back, wondering if that would be enough. He relaxed a bit when the gates began to swing back, opening up to the cobblestone driveway. As he walked towards the house, Connor kept a suspicious eye on his surroundings. Trust was not a luxury he could afford in his enemy's territory.

A butler opened the front door by the time Connor reached the porch. Leading the boy into the house, he closed the door behind them. The butler, whom Connor had nicknamed Alfred due to his resemblance from the Batman comic, gave a cordial nod and gestured for Connor to follow him, "This way, sir."

The inside of the house was no less awe-inspiring. From the lobby, Connor followed Alfred down a wide marble hallway that seemed to go on forever, passing several locked rooms, some expensive looking artwork, and one historically accurate suit of armor. After entering the east wing of the mansion, they made a right down another corridor and arrived at an open doorway.

The same man who had been at The Hyperion the day before was seated at a large desk. Shuffling over paperwork, he looked every bit the businessman, just like what Connor's father was trying to pull off. Only Petrovia did it much better, mounting success upon success and showing off his pride with every movement. Gesturing to Connor, Petrovia got up from his desk, "Come in, young man. Connor, is it?"

Petrovia stuck out his hand, but Connor would not accept the hospitality. Instead, he gruffly asked, "You still have the contract from the Black Thorn, the one about the Shanshu prophecy, right? I want to take my father's place and enter the competition for it."

"Hold on," Petrovia laughed, leaning back against his desk he crossed his arms. "While it is true I did come to acquire the contract when the Black Thorn fell momentarily, why should I place it on the bargaining table when I'm not so sure you are who you say you are. Vampires can't have children, you know."

Connor sighed impatiently. Did he have to explain this to everyone he met? "It's a long story." Suddenly he heard someone behind him. Spinning around, he saw a man holding a crossbow and an arrow bolt headed straight for him. Catching the arrow in midair before it hit its target, he threw it on the floor and whirled towards Petrovia, anger catching in his throat, "Do you try to kill everyone who comes to talk to you?"

"Impressive." Petrovia ignored Connor's outburst and glanced back at the man with the crossbow, "Thank you, Mr. Jones, you may go." When they were again alone, the man spoke again, "Connor Reilly, son of Angelus, heir to the Order of Aurelius.. with you headlining in the opening match, I could bring in quite a lot of money."

"Then it's settled." Connor said, "You want your money. I want the contract. It's a win-win situation."

"That is, if you do win. You do realize this is a fight to the death, correct?" When Connor nodded, albeit somewhat hesitantly, Petrovia produced a piece of paper from the drawer of his cabinet. Placing it on the desk, he pointed to the bottom line, "Sign here, please."

Connor read over the contract. Was this what his father had felt, he wondered, when Angel made his own pact with the Black Thorn? The overwhelming apprehension that he might be signing over his life mixed with an unyielding need to do whatever it took to gain the advantage. He noticed one small line on the paper in small print, "What is this Sorcery Consent Clause?"

"Simply put, if you fail to show up on time for the match, I am legally allowed to let my shaman curse you, or kill you, or whatever he'd like to do that particular day. That way, even if you run away, you won't get far."

Connor put pen to paper, signing his name, "I won't run."

Petrovia took the contract, looked it over once and told Connor, "Everything looks to be in order. Like it said in the contract, the match is on Friday, eight o'clock at Club Evolution."

"I'll be there," Connor told him before leaving. Walking out of the mansion, he knew he was being watched, but it didn't matter. They'd let him go, for now; he was Petrovia's ticket to many more years living in the lap of luxury. While he hated helping the man rise to an even higher status of wealth and power, it was the only way life could possibly ever be normal for Connor. The only way his father could possibly ever become human.

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As Illyria performed an effortless roundhouse kick in Connor's direction, he managed to duck under it and avoid the blow. It had taken him all week, but he was beginning to make some progress. Or at least he thought so until she backed up her first kick with a backhanded punch. He was just recovering his balance when she came back with the swing. Unable to avoid it this time, he was knocked into a metal bookcase that occupied one of the corners of the basement.

She smiled, enjoying the fact that she was still powerful despite having a moderate amount of her ability stolen by Wesley's machine. That had been months ago, when she was just becoming accustomed to life in her new shell. Now, she knew how to make the human bodywork for her, how to instill fear in her enemies. She knew it was only a sparring match and had she really hurt the boy there would have been hell to pay, still the vampire offspring had said to use full strength and given that option she wouldn't hold back.

Connor stood up, managing to catch his breath. It was all in the name of preparation, he reminded himself, getting ready for the fight. However exhausted Illyria made him, he wouldn't quit. He shook away the pain from the fall, and looked over at the cocky ex-goddess, "Again."

Illyria nodded, a pleasant expression coming over her. She really did enjoy hurting him and she was enjoying getting all the violence out of her system with no repercussions. "If you seek to continue your stupidity, I am more than ready, child."

Connor, who was used to her prodding insults, ignored them. Though he still couldn't figure out why he had ever found her attractive. It was the outfit, had to be. Maybe the fact that he had always found Fred kind of cute, plus the sheer vigor and poise Illyria possessed. Maybe also the fact that she moved like she owned the room and the way her muscles were tight and firm was not lost on him either. As he lunged at her, she flipped him into the air and down onto his back. He groaned, nope, definitely just the outfit.

"You are as frail as the rest of them," Illyria said, her cold eyes starring at his lying beside her feet. "What do you hope to accomplish with this? You will never beat me in a match, either real or for a practice drill."

Connor grinned back up at her, she was acting like he had already lost though he still had one more trick to try. Kicking his feet at her calves, he managed to take her by surprise and topple the ex-goddess. She fell to a heap on the floor, entangled with his feet. She kicked away from the dogpile, gathering herself and standing back up. Simultaneously, he rolled back onto his feet, and fell back into a fighting stance. "You like to talk a lot."

"In my time, those I spoke to cowered before my presence." She struck out at him, but he backed away just in time. "I was both feared and revered. I will not be beaten by the spawn of a vampire today." By the time her words left her mouth, she had used feigned punches to back him into a corner. "Let this be a lesson."

Before Connor had time to react, she had lifted him by his shirt and slid him across the stone floor. The force that she tossed him was so quick it sent him into the far wall, bumping his head against its stony façade. He moaned and lifted a hand to his head, sitting up slowly. There was going to be a rather large bump there in the morning, he thought he could already feel the area swelling.

While Connor tried to get reacquainted with the idea of a world that was not spinning with nausea, Spike laughed. He was sitting on the stairway in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. Connor had been so caught up in the fight he hadn't even realize that Spike was watching the match. He frowned and shot the vampire a look, "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to tell Blue hasn't lost her touch."

Illyria took this as a well-deserved compliment and simply stood there and accepted his praise. Connor on the other hand, pouted and began to leave the room. He'd taken enough punishment and humiliation for one day; he didn't need it from Spike too.

As the boy was passing Spike on the stairs, the vampire looked up at him, "What exactly are you planning? You've been acting like you're going into battle, all week down here getting your arse kicked. If there's a party going down, you'd best tell Uncle Spike about it."

Connor rolled his eyes, if anything Spike was more his nephew. It was hard to tell with vampire relatives how the family tree would be drawn. Moreover, he didn't need anyone butting into his affairs. They were his own problems and he'd handle them alone. Lying with the skill of an expert, he told the vampire, "Nothing's going on, Spike. Illyria and I were just practicing. That's it."

"You do know," Spike took the last drag from his cigarette, and stubbed it out on the stairs. "Whatever you do have up your sleeves, I will find out. In fact, I'm making it my next new hobby. Got nothing else going on at the moment anyway."

Connor sighed, annoyed and didn't dignify the vampire with a response. As he stomped up the stairs, he heard Spike talking to Illyria, "Wanna help, Blue? Find out what up with the kid and win a prize."

"You will be my prize."

"Uh.. no. Not really, pet."

The conversation died down as Connor closed the door behind him. He grimaced, the match down at Club Evolution was in two days, Illyria was still winning their matches, and now Spike seemed compelled to find out what Connor was hiding. There was no backing out of the fight now, however. He had no choice but to show up at the club as promised, whether or not that wound up getting him seriously hurt or worse.
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To be continued...