Chapter 3

The office interior looked as if it hadn't changed much since 1965. Knotty-pine wall paneling, wire postcard rack, chipped and scarred Formica-topped front desk. A Middle Eastern man in his fifties glanced up from behind it as Spike and Illyria entered the building.

"We're supposed to be meetin' some people here," Spike told him. "A 'Michael' something - wait, where'd that bloody card go now..."

The desk clerk nodded toward an interior doorway. "They're in there. Go on in."

Feeling somewhat apprehensive now, Spike opened the indicated door and took in the room beyond it. It was obviously a parlor: sofa, armchairs, coffee table, telly. The chupacabra and another young woman were bent over the table, consulting a map. Beside them was a bookish, fortyish-looking man in a suit and tie - thin, fair, acne-scarred, bespectacled. (Little yellow Giles, Spike said to himself.) The diminutive slayer sat on the floor, immersed in school books and homework.

"Ah, here you are!" The bookish man quickly rose and smiled pleasantly. "Spike, isn't it? And Ill...yria? We spoke earlier on the phone. I'm Michael Wight."

He extended a hand. Spike hesitated, took it, and shook, feeling awkward.

Wight appeared to take no notice, motioning them to the couch. "Please, sit down. Can we offer you anything? ...You're sure? Well, let's see, you've already met Paloma of course, and Thu. This is Kay, another of our associates..."

The young black woman - plump, pretty, smartly-dressed - smiled a greeting.

"And Dilip Singh, who owns the place." The desk clerk had entered silently and taken a seat at a dinette in the corner.

"I've explained your problem to everyone here; of course we'll all do whatever we can to help. I wish I could promise something, but...anyway, we'll give it our best shot."

Illyria began to wander the room as he spoke, openly scrutinizing the people and furnishings, fixing them with a pale, unblinking stare. The slayer's activity caught her attention and she paused, towering over the girl, cocking her head back and forth like an inquisitive chicken.

"Algebra," Thu whispered. "It sucks donkey balls."

"How's this little squad operate?" Spike was asking. "You part of a coven, or that Council of Watchers?"

"The COW? Heavens, no. We're employed by the City of Ass Cra- sorry, Ashcraft. Officially we're on the books as Law Enforcement Consultants. That's legalese for the town council quietly realizing that simple bullets aren't enough to stop the otherworldly activity that goes on here."

Wight's round, boyish face and high-pitched Midwestern voice were so mellow that he might have been talking about the weather. "We've got a variety of skills among us. I'm a seer, like your friend Miss Chase."

How the hell does he know about...oh, right; seer.

"...clairvoyance, mostly, with some retro-cognitive and telepathic abilities."

"Sees through walls, sees the past, reads minds," Spike translated to Illyria.

"Kay's a telekinetic - she moves objects with her thoughts. Dilip knows a bit of sorcery, and Paloma and Thu provide muscle. Paloma's also our link to the demon worlds - sometimes I think she could sell ice to the Eskimos."

Paloma smiled at the compliment. Behind her, Illyria suddenly spoke.

"Is this Shiva, the Destroyer?" she asked, pointing to a Hindu figurine on the bookcase. Dilip nodded.

Illyria turned away from the statue. "It's not a good likeness."

"Hey, show a bit of respect, will you? They're offerin' to help us here," Spike scolded.

Illyria stiffened, as if taken aback, then announced forcefully, "I do not wish to die."

"All right," Wight agreed. Then, quietly, "What would you like?"

Illyria considered. "I want the body I once had. But I concede that there are no more like it, and that your conjurer's magic cannot create one. I want...I want to be free to move through dimensions again. To be as mist. I want to float."

"Be honest, Blueberry. You want to conquer," Spike smiled wryly.

"I want to escape."

The room fell quiet. "You'd be content to be a disembodied entity?" Wight asked.

"If it meant freedom to move, to travel...yes, it would be enough. I've never known such restriction as I have had in this body."

"You'd give it back to Fred Burkle, provided we can find her?"

"Yes."

The queep of a cell phone interrupted them. Kay tucked the phone to her ear and spoke briefly, taking notes, then slid the instrument back into her purse.

"Doper Dave's back," she said to Paloma, "And he's brought another road crew. I've got an address. If we leave now we can probably catch them all before they fan out for the night."

"Sounds good. Thu?"

"I'm done." Thu slammed her textbook shut and hopped to her feet.

"Liar. Bring a flashlight and you can finish in the car." Paloma turned to Spike. "Hey, if you want to come with us, we could probably be done a lot faster. It's a vampire nest, and the last time they were in town it was just Kay and me, and a lot of 'em got away."

Spike hesitated and regarded Illyria. "Don't know if I should leave when..."

"I think we'll be all right, if Illyria's willing to bear our company for a couple of hours," Wight said. "We'll call you if anything happens."