Well, I'm back from my trip and raring to go. Finally, some action in this chapter (I know it's been sorely lacking from the last two chapters, but I promise there will be some more in chapters to come…). I also wanted to deal with the concept of Wicca/Witchcraft in this chapter. As a practicing Wicca myself, I wanted to strike a balance between the religion of Wicca and magic/witchcraft as it is so brilliantly portrayed on this show and others (there's a shameless reference to Charmed coming up). Disclaimer – I am not attempting to represent the craft of Wicca realistically in this story (although some of it may be reasonably accurate); my own practice is personal and private, and any reference to Wicca in this story is for entertainment purposes only…
Finally, a request. I'm a bit disturbed by the lack of feedback I'm receiving for this story. Is it THAT bad? If you don't like it, let me know where I'm going wrong. If you do like it, please let me know. I'm pouring a lot of heart and soul into these stories and it's a bit disheartening not to get any feedback. Well, that's enough shameless plugging from me for one day… On with chapter 3…
Half an hour had passed before Cordelia felt well enough to leave the bathroom. She figured that with Wes and Gunn gone, Kathy researching and Angel in his office, no one would notice her absence. She figured wrong.
As she was sneaking back to her desk, she ran headlong into Angel, who had been waiting for her.
'Everything okay?'
'Sure,' Cordy replied. 'Why wouldn't it be?'
'Maybe because you've been in the bathroom for thirty minutes,' Angel said with concern.
Cordelia shrugged and slipped passed him to sit at her desk. 'What a girl does on her bathroom break is her own business.'
'They're getting worse, aren't they?'
'My bathroom breaks?'
'Cordy,' Angel replied impatiently. 'I'm talking about the headaches. I know you've beenhiding how much pain you're in.'
'That's not… I'm fine,' she insisted. Angel didn't believe her.
'Come on Cordy. Talk to me.'
Cordelia looked at Angel's concerned and unwavering face and sighed. 'Okay, okay, so I might bea tad more headachy than before. But it's nothing to worry about. I'll be fine.'
Angel wasn't convinced. 'Maybe… maybe we should get you checked out.'
Cordy shot him a look of incredulity. 'Like by a doctor? What are we gonna say? My mystical visions sent by a higher power are giving me migraines?'
'I was thinking more along the lines of a mystical check up. Maybe the Host at Caritas…'
'Maybe,' she replied. Off his impatient look; she went on, 'I'll think about it. In the meantime, we have a case that needs our attention.'
'Cordy…'
She cut him off. 'I appreciate you being worried about me. Really.'
She turned her attention to her computer screen, her fingers once more dancing on the keyboard in her search for information. Angel watched her for a minute and she ignored him. Damn, this woman is stubborn, he thought. Reaching out a hand, he laid it under her chin and turned her face towards him. She looked at him,a little surprised that he would initiate physical contact like this.
Making her look him in the eyes, he said, 'Promise me that you'll let me know if they get any worse. Andwhen this case is over, we'll go see the Host.'
Cordy tried in vain to turn her surprised look into one of defiance. Failing miserably, she decided to give in instead. 'Fine. I promise. Now, can we get back to work?'
Releasing her, he nodded and returned to his office. Cordelia stared after him for a minute. Sometimes, I just can't figure that manpire out, she thought as she returned her attention to the task at hand.
Wesley's eyes scanned the rows and rows of books with a look of appreciation. Seldom did he come across a collection of books that rivalled his own. One such collection resided on Melissa Simpson's bookshelves. Numerous rare texts line the shelves, most of them relating to magic, the spiritual realm and shamanism in its various forms. His eyes came to rest on a particularly old and rare book about African Shaman ceremonies and beliefs. He had read about this text, but had never physically seen a copy. Just as his hand was reaching for it, Gunn called his name.
'Found something you might be interested in,' Gunn was saying. 'Melissa's Book of Shadows.'
'I think it is now safe to assume that Melissa was indeed a witch,' Wesley commented, going over to view the text that Gunn was leafing through.
Gently turning each page, he saw that in the early part of the book, Melissa had recorded the Wiccan Rede, along with Esbat and Sabbat rituals, prayers and incantations, various potions and other items of coven craft. In the later pages, he was startled to find numerous references to demons and other personifications of evil.
'We sure this girl's name was Simpson and not Halliwell?' Gunn quipped.
'This is highly unusual,' Wesley commented. 'The initial part of the book suggests that Melissa was a Wicca in the religious sense. However, the later chapters which contain references to various demons, suggests otherwise.'
Off Gunn's querying look, Wesley continued, 'Magical or supernatural witches have usually been exposed to demons at some point and are aware of their existence. In many cases, they help in the fight to bring down demon kind.'
'Like our girl, Kathy. And Willow and Tara,' Gunn interjected.
'Precisely,' Wesley agreed. 'However, for the purely religious Wicca, it is a religion based on nature, not the supernatural. Any magic done is ceremonial or worship based, and while it may enact personal change, it's certainly not used to fend off demons. In fact, as there is no devil in Wiccan canon, demons normally would have no place in a witch's Book of Shadows.'
'But, Melissa knows about demons. Her book is full of them.'
'Yes. It would seem that she is indeed aware of their existence,' Wesley acknowledged. 'We should probably bring this book back with us to the hotel so I can make a closer study of it. It may hold some reference to who or what attacked her.'
He had picked the book up off the table and turned towards the door when the first robed figure attacked.
Kathy pressed her fingers tight against her eyes, making her vision momentarily go black. Her handwriting swam before her on the page.She had been staring intently atthe same page inthe notebook for hours, trying to make sense of her translation. Beside her notebook lay Angel's sketch and an old book she was using as a reference. She turned a page in the ancient text and refocused her eyes. Spotting something, she double checked her notes.
'Hmm. Interesting,' she said to no one in particular. Cordelia was scrolling through various websites on her computer, looking for any mention of La Inquisición de la más Pura Palabra. Angel was leafing through books, on the same quest. They both looked up as Kathy spoke.
'Have you translated it?' Cordy wanted to know.
'Maybe,' Kathy replied, not looking up from her work. 'Give me a minute to verify.'
Angel got up from his chair and moved to the table Kathy was sitting at. He stood behind her, watching as she scribbled something down in her notebook.
'You know, I used to hate it when the teacher stood over me at school,' Kathy commented wryly, still not looking up, but smiling to herself.
Angel looked sheepish. 'Sorry.'
'It's okay,' Kathy replied, giving him her eyes. 'I think I'm done.'
She pushed her notebook towards him so he could read her transcription. Cordelia joined them to see it too.
The Soul must be purified,
Redeemed in the eyes of the Lord.
I sacrifice this creature of evil
In the name of ?
The Truth, the Word
Will wash over you and through you,
Burning the magic from your wretched body
In the name of the most pure Word.
'Heavy stuff,' Cordy commented. 'What is it? Some kind of spell?'
Kathy shook her head. 'I doubt it. More like a prayer.'
Angel pointed to the row of question marks on the fourth line. 'What about this? In whose name is the sacrifice taking place?'
'I honestly don't know,' Kathy replied. 'That's the only word I couldn't find any reference to anywhere. It doesn't seem to be part of the same language, and I don't know which dialect it comes from.'
'Doodheks,' Cordelia read the original transcript. 'Never heard of it. Maybe Wesley will have an idea.'
'I let him have a look when he gets back,' Kathy replied.
'Well, I for one think our progress deserves a cup of coffee and a donut,' Cordy suggested, making her way over to the snack table.
Angel was looking at Kathy's translation again when he heard the coffee pot shatter on the floor and Cordelia scream. He turned and, with his vampire speed, managed to catch her before she hit the floor. Her body convulsed as a new vision invaded her mind.
So much pain. So much blood. Robed shadows gathered round a writhing figure on the floor as her body was tortured past endurance. Words. So many words in a strange language, carved with an ornate dagger. A girl screamed, over and over.
It took a while for Cordelia to realise that the voice that screamed was her own. Angel held her as she shook on the floor, her screaming replaced now with dry, heaving sobs.
'It was the same as before, Angel,' Cordy gasped. 'She's in so much pain. There are cloaked figures standing around while he does it. They're, they're at her house…' Cordelia closed her eyes, trying to visualise the house she had seen in her mind. '2137 West Broad Street.'
Angel tried to help her up, but Cordelia shook her head. 'Go!'
Angel looked at Kathy, silently asking her to take care of the distraught seer. Kathy obliged by kneeling closer to Cordy, placing a comforting hand on her shaking arm. Angel got his feet and sped out of the building.
Choking back her tears, Cordelia cradled her head in her hands. Despair filled her voice when she said, 'He's going to be too late.'
Barely keeping on his feet, Wesley's struggled to focus his eyes after the blow he had received to his head. Looking around the room, he was able to register the sight of Gunn fighting two robed figures before his own assailant attacked again. The second blow knocked him backwards, over a low coffee table. Without pausing to think, he reached inside his jacket as the figure came at him once more. With an economy of movement, he plunged his dagger into his attacker's chest and shoved him to the floor.
The two figures that Gunn was fighting were down with their Kung Fu moves. But Gunn had some moves of his own. Fending off a roundhouse kick from one of them, he landed a crushing blow to the second guy's jaw. Swinging around, he grabbed a large candle stick that resided by the fireplace and swung it at the first guy in one, smooth motion, catching him across the throat and sending him crashing to the ground. One down, though Gunn as she turned his attention to the other one, who had recovered and was coming at Gunn again.
Wesley got to his feet and was about to give Gunn a hand with his remaining attacker when movement near the door caught his eye. Turning, he saw a fourth cloaked figure grab a book from the shelves and run for the door. Calling out, Wesley pursued. But when he reached the top of the stairs seconds later, the thief had vanished. Wesley returned to the interior of the apartment in time to see Gunn knock his final opponent out cold.
'Well, that was too damn easy,' Gunn commented, clearly pleased with his performance.
'I think that was merely a distraction,' Wesley told him, moving to the bookcase. The book on African Shamans that he had admired earlier was gone.
