Chapter II: Halloween in July.
The elevator door opens. He takes a few steps into the cold and dark apartment, taking his jacket off as he straddles in. He drops it on a nearby couch and walks into his room.
He takes a close look at the bed and feels awkward. Then, shaking his head, he walks over to his desk and takes out his wallet, cell-phone and keys and drops them. He takes off his wrist-watch and leaves it beside his keys.
He sits on the table, facing the oddly obscure view of Los Angeles and unties his shoes. He shakes them off and stands back up. He steps into the unnecessarily large bathroom, opening the first three buttons of his shirt then sliding it from over his head. He drops it on the floor and walks into the shower and slides the curtain close. He throws his pants, socks and other unmentionables over the curtains and walks to the farthest spigot from his room there is in that large shower, then slowly turns it on to Cold.
As the first spurt of water falls on his body, he feels it naturally quiver in response. He grasps his left hand and stares at the circle embedded on it. He closes his eyes and it's suddenly two weeks ago.
He feels the cold grip of the gun in his hand... its sway over him. He sees the man in front of him... a poor, frightened and withered man scouring for answers as to why must he die after trying so hard to atone for his past sins. His life gone in the blink of an eye. The man he could have called friend.
He feels the bullet fly out of the chamber. An object so very small. It's hard to put it on words... most times he can't even understand that it even happened.
'It seemed like only yesterday...'
He let's go of his hand and looks at the water falling on his face. He closes his eyes and sees the look on his "friend's" face. It's not denial. It's not anger. It's regret.
He takes a step closer to the body and he feels the joy emanate from the man behind him. He stares at him blankly as the blood turns darker. He turns around slowly without turning his gaze from him and as he takes the first steps towards the stairwell on the roof he's startled by Lindsey's cold stare.
He's taken aback momentarily and opens his eyes. The water is still running its course through his body. He holds his hand again and then turns the shower off. He turns around and finds Lindsey looking at him at the other end of the shower. Blood is flowing from a single gunshot wound to his forehead. Wesley blinks and, as he opens his eyes, finds he's alone.
The thorn in his hand burns. His conscience stabs his heart with the cold blade of guilt.
After an hour and several minutes not worth counting, he steps out of the back seat of a black-colored Bentley. He scrapes his feet against the dry cement underneath his shoes. He raises his glare and feels a cold burn of electricity run through his spinal chord. He looks at the moon shine over gargoyles poised along the roof of a large, gothic mansion. Their hideous expressions too hard to discern from his point of view, he ponders calmly whilst staring blankly into their eyes, as if it they saw right through him from afar, judging him and laughing.
He takes a few steps away from the car when he feels a hand pat him slowly on the back. He continues to stare at the gargoyles as Hamilton stands beside him. "Mohkra demons," says Hamilton leaning towards his ear, "Served high-ranking demons as their guard-dogs after they took control during the power vacuum left by the Old One's exit from our world. Very efficient for protection, but by all means as dumb as rocks."
"Being extinct doesn't help a bit either," Wes responds looking in disdain towards them.
Hamilton smiles and crackles softly. "No. It certainly doesn't."
Wesley looks at the uninviting double oak doors in the front of the house. Hamilton notices Wesley's hesitation in entering and takes a deep breath. "Having second thoughts, sir?"
"No... not really, no. Just--"
"Nervous?"
Wesley takes a deep breath and exhales quickly. He scratches his beard softly then wipes his mouth. He tries to keep his composure in a desperate attempt to maintain his position against Hamilton. "Perhaps," he says after a few moments. "I feel like I'm giving an oral report in High School dressed as a hot dog."
"Well... as long as you come with all the trimmings you should be perfectly fine."
Wesley scoffs, then says, "Yes, I'm sure having sauerkraut spread all over my head will help me get my act together before they realize I'm hesitating."
Hamilton grins. "Oh, I'm sure it won't... but at least it'd distract them while you're at it."
Wes looks at him with a hint of surprise in his eyes. "You're dabbling with humor now?"
"Makes me look more accessible," says Hamilton, fixing his tie. Wesley chuckles quietly then looks back at the building in front of him. He walks up the steps towards the door. Hamilton knocks twice and in seconds the door opens. A large, light-green colored demon in a tuxedo opens the door, bowing before Wesley as he steps aside.
"Welcome, gentlemen," says the Butler as he rises. "The Circle awaits your arrival." They enter pushing everything that might constitute as second thoughts out of their minds. Wesley walks a couple of steps ahead of Marcus as they enter the Grand Hall. Members of the Circle mingle with each other to the sounds of the 18th century while they drink decades-old Dom. Wesley takes a deep breath and before he can process a coherent thought the room is filled with an engrossing whistle. From across the room a tall devil with skin as crimson as blood claps his hands with enthusiasm.
"Hey baby, would you look at what the cat dragged in tonight!"
Wesley looks slightly over his shoulder then back at the devil as he approaches him, followed by two voluptuous blondes.
Wesley bows with a smile in his face. "Lord Izzeriel."
Izzy scoffs and shakes his head grinning. "Cut that lordship crap with me, kid," he says slapping Wesley in the arm. "I'll have to gouge your eyes out if you did. Call me Izzy... everybody does. Want a glass of the fizzy stuff?"
Wes smiles in compliance and Izzy snaps his fingers at a butler nearby carrying a tray on his hand. The waiter walks up to them and Izzy puts his glass on the tray then proceeds to take two. He hands one to Wes and drinks from the other.
"Lovely companions," Wes says smiling at the women. "Guards?"
Izzy chuckles. "Hell, no," he finally says. "Picked 'em up at 'Fuzzy, Pink Tails' before coming here. Thought I'd showed 'em a nice time before I eat 'em."
The girls giggle softly behind him. He moves closer to Wes then says to his ear, "Am I the only one under the impression that they think I'm kidding?"
Wes smiles. "It'll make for a nice surprise, I'm sure."
"Hey, you're not kidding, kid." Then looking over Wes' shoulders, "Hey, Hammy, how are you, boy?"
"Very good, Lord," says Hamilton with a smile. "Thank you."
"You got a nice kid here Wes," says Izzy raising his cup of champagne to him. "I know Hammy since he was a tyke... well, since he was twenty-five really, but still a just a tyke. You've come a long way, boy."
"Thank you, my Lord." Hamilton bows slightly as Wes looks at him from over his shoulder. He looks back at Izzy smirking.
"What about not calling you Lord?" says Wes.
"I'd have to gouge his eyes out if he doesn't call me that." He takes a moment to finish his drink then says, "Only my peers have the right to call me that... well, them and chicks like these... I hate it when they call me 'daddy'."
Wesley takes a casual sip of champagne, then says with a slight smirk, "Perfectly understandable."
Izzeriel takes a deep breath and puts his arm forcibly over Wesley's shoulders. "So? Have you met the rest of the bunch?"
"Can't say that I have. After the initiation ceremony I had to leave rather quickly."
"Nobody really stays long after the ceremony anyhow. They come, watch the newbie get their hand skewered and go. It's an old and boring tradition that the elders insist on putting every sap that comes our way through."
"Yes, I have to say I agree. The whole voyeuristic aspect of it tends to be somewhat bothersome to shy people such as myself."
"Mmm... Wouldn't know. There weren't that many of us when I started."
"When did you start?"
"You mean here? Or in the Circle per se?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well... I got inducted as a thorn longer than I care to remember, but I've been stationed here since a little before Wolfram & Hart opened here in L.A."
Wes looks around at all the different demons and creatures mingling in the room. The entire scenario seems intriguingly picturesque to him, yet he can't shake the uncertainty from himself. Izzy notices and smiles.
"This ain't the full roster, kid," he says. "The Circle's too big. Sebassis, Vail and myself are directorial heads of this branch."
"Which would be...?" asks Wesley, half expecting the answer.
"Hell-A and all its fuzzy neighbors. The true capital of the U.S. of A."
Wesley smiles. He looks about the room again, and for a moment every fear, every thought of denial, every concern, every single feeling of weakness become one. Then nothing. For the first time since he ventured into his current path he has no doubt in his mind that it was worth the risks and the pain it had caused him.
"This... this is just so..."
He tries to talk, but his overpowering emotions don't allow him. Izzeriel smiles at him. A smile of arrogance and triumph disguised as empathetic encouragement.
"Overwhelming?"
"Remarkably so," responds Wesley, arching his back as he draws breath.
"Well, boy, you're breathing the air of the mighty... and that'd be 'cause you're part of it."
Wesley looks at him, honored by the remark.
"And with the Partners giving you the reigns of the L.A. branch of the firm... it's not gonna be long till you're trading places with Sebassis."
"The archduke? I thought he was the most influential member of The Circle?"
"He's a figure-head. Archduke Sebassis' influence is in his legacy. Guy's got armies of followers, kiddo. Plural. But everything else about him is just superficial. Vail's the true power here. Problem is he mostly keeps to himself."
Wes looks over Izzy and notices a small figure standing in the balcony at the other side of the Hall. He drinks down what little remains of the champagne and looks back at Izzy.
"Anyways, kid," continues Izzeriel, "this is your night. The ceremony is just tradition, like I told you... this is the true initiation. If you make it through the night in one piece, you'll be good from here to eternity. And that I mean literally."
Wesley chuckles, "Sounds good."
"Should be... plus, you get to hang with me all night. And there's no goddamn downside to that."
"Definitely not," Wesley says smiling as Izzy pats him in the back.
"Good," Izzy smirks as he leads Wes across the Great Hall. "Then let's get at it, kid. Still a long way to go till the night is over. And I promise that if you make yourself look good, I'll talk the Partners into lending you Lilah for the after-party party, eh?" He clicks his tongue and winks at him cockily.
Wesley and Izzy laugh together as they walk into the crowd of Thorns, followed closely by Hamilton. They greet people as they walk by, yet unbeknownst to them Wesley's being watched from afar. A smile curls in his lips as he gazes at him. Much potential he sees him.
Much to celebrate tonight.