A Ray of Light
"You're sure you can pull it off then?" Spike was nervous and them some, and it showed.
Long, pointed ears twitched, then flopped down to land nearly to the little demon's shoulders.
"What I be telling you for last hour, vampire?" it demanded in exasperation. "I be finding Rose and giving package. What in package?"
"Pictures," Spike answered shortly. "She's not going to know you. She might even be afraid of you."
"I be knowing how to deal with hysterical peoples," the Q'xlzr sighed. "Vampire be giving I pictures before I be expiring of extreme old age?"
Matching the Q'xlzr sigh for sigh, and because he was really desperate to get Rose back, Spike handed the demon the envelope in his hands.
&&&&&&&
"Are you sure you wrote this down properly, Ariel?" Wesley asked, squinting at the manuscript in question.
"I think so, Uncle Wes," the little girl replied, snuggling into him.
Wesley smiled. A natural-born little flirt, he thought, stroking her hair. At least Ariel allowed the kissing and cuddling as freely as ever. Alaric was coming of an age when he was becoming acutely conscious of his masculinity, and therefore would only accept handshakes from his 'uncles' as a general rule.
"Pay attention, Uncle Wes," the aforementioned fledgling male grumbled. "You're supposed to help us get mummy back."
"You're absolutely right, Alaric," Wesley agreed. "So why don't the two of you let Oz take you back home so I can get busy translating it?" He saw from the crestfallen expressions on their faces that he hadn't quite lived up to standards again. He racked his brain hurriedly, and added, "You did very well, bringing this to me. Thank you."
The twinkle returned to the twin's eyes, and both of them condescended to kiss him upon their departure.
&&&&&&&
"Have you seen the Q'xlzr demon?" Angel demanded. "It was supposed to report in to me."
"Not within the last five minutes," Spike replied, with complete truth. It had been over half an hour since he'd seen the little demon. And it wasn't like he had a problem with lying to Angel, it was just.., it was Rose's influence, that's what it bloody was.
But this time, Angel didn't catch the sarcastic edge in Spike's voice. Either that or he was so inured to it that it failed to register. "If you do see it, send it to see me, okay?"
"Absolutely," Spike agreed, straight-faced. He stood and watched Angel's retreating back and muttered, "Git."
&&&&&&&
She wandered through the crowded mall a little aimlessly. She didn't know why she'd gone on the shopping trip, let alone what had prompted Richard to suggest it. She had everything she needed, thanks to the spree he'd just indulged her with. So, clothes weren't an issue. Although it would be nice, a random thought floated through her head, to go shopping for clothes without an argument. Now where did that come from? It was like half a memory. A scene, words, but no people to put it in context.
The mall's food court boasted a gourmet coffee shop, and she spent a ridiculous amount of money for what purported to be a bona fide taste sensation. It fell far short of the mark, in her estimation, but at least it had caffeine in it.
She was leaving the food court when a spindly, blue gray hand reached out from behind a potted plant and tugged on her wrist.
The curious thing about it, she reflected, was that she ought to be afraid. Terrified, really. But she wasn't, not in the slightest. It may have been small, and relatively innocuous in appearance, but it was entirely outside the norm.
Orange cat's eyes regarded her solemnly. "You not being afraid of I?" it inquired.
She smiled hesitantly. "I guess by rights I should be," she murmured. "But for some inexplicable reason, I'm not."
"I no hurt," the creature assured her. It held out an envelope. "I being here to make delivery."
"Thank you," she responded automatically, as she received the packet. As the miniature.., monster, melted away, she thought she heard a mutter that sounded like someone saying, "Poor Rose."
&&&&&&&
Wesley went back and forth between manuscript and dictionary. He was sorely tempted to call Ariel back to help him. It wasn't that he couldn't read her writing, but it was a different alphabet than she was used to. Some of the characters were a little.., ambiguous, and he could have used a bit of clarification. He resisted the urge. The children were far too well versed in the seamier side of things anyway. It wasn't like they could be protected from learning it, being telepaths. But it was a direct offense to his sense of decorum. He sighed and went back to his translating. Right now, he was just working on the more obviously correct symbols. As he wound down, he would try to get the rest of the meaning in clear. But it was going to take a while. Maybe quite a while. He wished he could be sure that he had quite a while.
&&&&&&&&
Curious at what the envelope could possibly contain, she found a semi-quiet little nook, just out of the main bustle to inspect the contents. At first, all that she could be sure of was that they were photographs, the backs were to her. Then, she turned them over. The first picture was of a pair of children. An adorable little boy with white-blond hair and blue eyes, and a little girl, apparently the same age as the boy, with hair and eyes that looked oddly familiar. It took her a few moments to realize that the little girl had her coloring. Perhaps it was a picture of her as a child? But that notion was swiftly dispelled when she turned to the next picture. A family group. The two children in front, and behind them, a smiling man who made it obvious where the little boy got his looks, and a woman. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and looked again. But there, in the photo, the fourth face in the group was the same one that had looked back at her from the mirror this morning. So, she had been right. She wasn't married to Richard, and she was everlastingly glad that she had put him off from sleeping with her. She'd felt all along that it wouldn't be right, and now she knew why. But no matter how long she stared at the pictures, it still stirred no memories or feelings in her. She wished they did, she thought wistfully. They all looked so happy. It was then that she realized that there was one more picture in the group. The last one was of herself and the man. He sat behind her with his arms around her, looking down at her lovingly, and her head was turned in profile so that she could gaze up at him, also looking very much in love. But try as she might, she just couldn't remember any of it. She tucked the pictures away in her purse. She didn't think it would be a good idea to let Richard see them. If the pictures were genuine, and not contrived in some way, then Richard was lying to her, and had been since she had woken up on board the airplane. Now, she was starting to be determined to find out just why he was lying to her.
&&&&&&&
"Did you do it?" Spike asked. He'd been spending a considerable amount of time keeping an eye on the doors, hoping to see the Q'xlzr's return and head it off at the pass before it could spill the beans to Angel. Finally, his vigilance had paid off.
The little demon gave him a scornful look. "I be telling you, didn't I vampire?" It held out a hand expectantly. Just because Rose was its friend didn't mean that it didn't intend to get paid. Especially when payment had been promised. "Rose has pictures. Wasn't scared of I either."
"She wasn't?" That sounded damned odd to Spike. Given the average person's attitudes and training, she should have screamed and run. Still, he laid a stack of bills in the Q'xlzr's hand.
The blue gray figure shook its head. "Rose even smiled at I," it said a little smugly. "Boss vampire be waiting for I. I should be..,"
"Keeping your mouth shut and not telling him where you were or why you're late," Spike filled in for it. "I'd rather wait and see how things turn out, first, before I give that nancy-boy the chance to take a shot at me."
The Q'xlzr gave him a puzzled look, then, with a twitch of its ears, it was gone.
&&&&&&&
The old man sat at a table, with the spider sitting in front of him, stroking it with a forefinger. Contrary to popular opinion, the spider seemed to be purring.
"The senior partners don't seem to have a problem with what we're doing, Corinna," the ancient observed. "At least, from what I could tell. Sometimes, the partners are a little hard to read. Nor can I really guess at their motives." He picked up a teacup that was sitting in front of him, and took a dainty sip. Then, he gazed down into the dregs in the cup. "A useless conceit, really. I know there's nothing to be found in the tea leaves." He went back to stroking his ghastly little pet. "Still, an interesting study. I wonder if Richard has managed to find anything out about the sacrifice. The partners weren't particularly forthcoming on the subject. If I didn't know better, I'd say that they didn't know very much about her either." Corinna clambered up his arm to rest on his shoulder, and he turned his head for a brief moment of affection with his pet. "But I can't really imagine the senior partners putting this Rose up in their own personal suite without knowing anything about her. No, Corinna, there's more going on here than meets the eye. Let's hope that Richard turns it up, and quite soon. The sooner the sacrifice takes place, the sooner you and I can get out of this cell. The sooner we can return to the surface." The red flecks in his eyes suddenly grew, and blazed. "And then, my dear," he rasped. "We can feed."
&&&&&&&
"Start making your plans for the security, Angeleyes," Lorne said, breezing into Angel's office. "Richie boy swallowed the bait, hook and all. Are you sure that we can't just snatch the Rosebud back from him? Even if she doesn't remember, at least she'll be back where she belongs."
Angel shook his head. "Lorne, I've been talking to the doctors," he told the empath. "And they all agree that that kind of shock could do permanent damage. But they also say that amnesia so total is very rare. And it's even rarer that it's anything but short term. So if we just sit tight, and keep our eyes open, the chances are that Rose will remember on her own."
The Pylean stared down at the floor for long minutes. "So I guess that going up to her during the shindig is out of the question, isn't it?" he muttered. "Just staying on the sidelines and not being able to..,"
"Lorne," Angel interrupted. "It's hard for all of us. But we're going to get her back. And right now, she doesn't seem to be in any danger. So let's just be happy that she's safe for the moment. Okay?"
"If you say so," the demon sighed.
&&&&&&&
She started looking at the music that Richard had given her again. She still wasn't one hundred percent with singing in front of all those people, but she had kind of allowed herself to be painted into a corner about it. So, she guessed that she'd better be well versed in it. Funny, but for all that it was a foreign, and dead, language, she didn't seem to be having any trouble with the pronunciation. It seemed to come almost naturally. Now, if only she knew what the nonsensical-sounding words she was to sing meant. Then, one of them became clear to her, and then another, and another. Before she knew it, she was starting to read the long-dead language. And not liking what she was reading. In fact, she was becoming quite frightened. She stood up with the papers in hand, intending to take them to.., whom? She didn't know anyone here. Or did she? She pulled the photographs out of her purse and looked at them again, hoping for some sort of inspiration there. But nothing happened. That is, nothing happened until she started to return them to their hiding place. Then, she dropped one, and it flipped over as it fluttered to the floor. And she saw the string of numbers written on the back. A phone number. Whose? His? Or someone else's? So many questions, and no answers yet. But maybe that's why she had this phone number. So that she could get some answers.
&&&&&&&&
Angel tried to ignore the ringing phone. Harmony should have gotten it. He glanced out the inner windows and saw that there was no sign of Harmony anywhere near her desk. With a sigh, he picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello?" The voice at the other end of the line sounded uncertain, and a little timid. And awfully damn familiar. "I'm sorry, I was just given this number, I don't even know what it's for. I just thought that maybe you might be able to help me." There the briefest of pauses, but before Angel could answer, the voice spoke again. "Oh, how stupid of me not to introduce myself. My name is Lily Mc Daniels. At least, that's what Richard says it is."
"We'll get it all sorted out," Angel promised. He had no idea how Rose had come across his phone number, and right at the moment, he didn't particularly care. He was just happy to be speaking to Rose. "And that's what we're here for. To help. Maybe it could get us started if you told me why you thought you needed help."
"Well," she said, voice gaining a little confidence, now that he hadn't dismissed her out of hand. "Richard, that's my husband, or, at least, he says he is, I don't know, I seem to have amnesia, and I suppose that's part of the problem." She realized she was rambling, and made another attempt, hoping to gain some coherence in the process. "Richard is running for the state senate, and he says that he wants me to sing at a fund raiser for his campaign." She stopped and took a deep breath, as if she felt she would need the extra oxygen just to get through the statement. "It's in Etruscan. I don't know how, but I seem to have a passing acquaintance with the language. And if I'm reading this correctly, if I sing this at that fund raiser, I'll be offering myself, and heaven knows who else, as a sacrifice to some demon or other. Does that sound insane to you?"
"Believe it or not," Angel replied. "It doesn't. It sounds very possible. And very dangerous for you. I think we're going to have to get you out of there." What with one thing and another, he realized that he hadn't introduced himself to her. Of course, it was an alien concept, having to introduce himself to someone with whom he'd been friends for years. "Sorry, by the way, my name's Angel."
"Angel." Her voice lingered over the word a moment, but only a moment. Apparently it wasn't enough to unlock any memories on its own. "What do you think we ought to do? The fund-raiser's tomorrow night."
"My firm will be handling security," he informed her. "We'll use that as a way to get you out of there before you sing that song." Maybe he ought to tell her who would be rescuing her. After all, he could hardly deny that there was one person, who, more than any other was entitled to. "The man who will get you out of there has bleached blond hair..,"
"And blue eyes?" she broke in eagerly. "And sculpted cheekbones?"
"How do you know what Spike looks like?" Angel suddenly started smelling a rat. A peroxide blond one.
"This strange little blue-gray creature met me at the mall today," she replied. "It gave me an envelope with some pictures in it. That man was in two of them. So were two little children. And so, it would seem, was I. Angel, can you tell me who I am?"