For the tenth time since he'd escorted the demons to the elevator Marcus checked his watch. In all likelihood, Jessica was dead or mortally wounded right about now. The thought made him cringe. Telling himself it was for the best, he sat down and tried to work. She's better off. She can't die because of me if she's already dead. Vivid images of Jessica fighting for her life kept haunting him, so he rose from his chair to find something to distract him. Cyborgs.
"Peter!" Marcus bellowed into the intercom system.
It took the young man mere seconds to appear in the doorway. "Yes Sir?"
"Send Patterson in," Marcus ordered.
Peter fidgeted apprehensively. "I don't know where he is, Sir."
Marcus' eyebrows shot up. "Explain."
"He just left, Sir. Didn't leave a message or say anything. Just up and left." Peter cast his eyes downward. He knew Marcus had a bad temper, and he feared for his life since his boss was in the worst mood ever.
Marcus frowned but refrained from butchering the young man. "Notify me as soon as he gets in."
"Yes Sir." Relief etched on his face, Peter backed up quickly into the other room and closed the door silently.
Pacing in front of his desk, Marcus tried to figure out where Patterson had gone. The Partners wouldn't have kidnapped him again; they weren't into repeating their own pranks. Maybe Patterson had discovered something important and was pursuing that at this moment. He probably hadn't had time to inform Marcus of the matter and had gone off to chase the information himself. Patterson was getting careless, trusting that Marcus would bail him out if he got into trouble. Marcus would, that was beyond any doubt; but right now it was very inconvenient. He had other things on his mind. Like not thinking about Jessica. Crap.
He needed to find something or someone to pummel. Violence always cheered him up. Cracking skulls and severing limbs was like a Christmas party to him. At least, it had been. Somehow the brutal slaughter of random people and demons had lost its appeal to him. He contemplated picking a fight with Tez so he could work off some of his frustration without injuring his opponent too badly. Tez had a short fuse like himself; it would be a piece of cake to get him to deal the first punch. Nodding slowly to himself, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, startled by the sudden shrill ring it produced. Recognizing the number on the display, he sighed.
Pressing a button, he answered the call. "Archduke Sebassis. What can I do for you?"
"Mr. Hamilton. Since the Black Thorn and yourself are starting to get along again, we want to ask you for a favor."
"Anything, Archduke." Gritting his teeth, Marcus cursed the fact that he had to keep up the act of being a lowly liaison. "Give me the details and I'll be right on it."
"We're accepting Angelus into our folds," Sebassis disclosed. "We need a proper sacrifice, and there's word that Drogyn the Battlebrand is in town. He's guarded by Illyria. Could you fetch him for us?"
Marcus blinked at the Thorn's stupidity. Oh well. It was their funeral, nothing he could -- or had to -- do. "Of course, Archduke. Consider it done." Ending the call, he smiled to himself.
Drogyn. It had been a while, centuries even, but the Battlebrand had always been a worthy adversary. The prospect of getting to beat the crap out of him -- and Illyria no less -- did manage to lighten his mood a little. It took him all of five minutes to find out where Drogyn was hiding, and he made his way to Spike's apartment with determination.
As the demons dragged her to her feet, Jessica came to her senses. She wouldn't go down without a fight. She kicked one of them in the knee, trying to elbow the other in its stomach. Two other demons moved toward her to hold her down, while another one sprouted a set of knife-like extensions from its claw. Like Wolverine. It advanced on her. Jessica's will to fight ebbed away as quickly as it had surged. She broke down in sobs.
"Gentlemen," a voice interrupted. "One moment please."
The demons looked up reluctantly. The one with the claw kept staring at Jessica fixedly, moving the sharp extensions of his claw to her throat slowly and deliberately.
"Stop that," the voice ordered with authority, making the demon halt its movement. "I have a message from Mr. Hamilton."
Grumbling their discontent, the demons turned to face the intruder. If Hamilton had really sent this man to deliver a message, they'd better listen. The leader spoke up. "What message?"
"You're to abstain from killing her in Mr. Hamilton's apartment. Blood and carpeting do not mix." The man seemed to ponder this statement for a while. "Well, they do, but that's exactly my point. Anyway, take the girl to your lair. Mr. Hamilton gives his permission to use the girl for other purposes. He has suggested that she'd make a wonderful ritual sacrifice. Congress with the Beast and all that." He made a dismissive gesture.
The demons conferred about this in hushed tones. They could use a sacrifice like this girl to placate their lord. He had after all expressed his disgruntlement with the sheep and goats they'd been sacrificing to him in the past years. They nodded their agreement. "We'll take her."
Two of the demons moved to haul Jessica back to her feet, providing her with a view of her rescuer. I mean postponer. It was Chris Patterson. Jessica lost all courage. Marcus' assistant. Apparently Marcus had decided that a quick death just wasn't any fun. Instead, these monsters were allowed to entertain themselves with her and eventually sacrifice her to God knows what.
Patterson had walked into Marcus' apartment a few seconds ago. He'd memorized the elevator combination, thinking that it might come in handy one day. He hadn't thought that day would come so soon. Making his way toward the sounds of struggle, he'd contemplated the right course of action. Not that he actually had a lot of time to come up with a plan.
In Patterson's mind, Hamilton's awful mood and the group of demons sent downstairs could only mean one thing: for whatever reason, Hamilton had decided to dispose of Jessica Nader. Something he couldn't allow. The young woman deserved better. He wasn't sure yet how he'd go about saving her life, but at least he'd bought her a little more time. Maybe he could enlist the help of Wolfram & Hart's sweep team, under the pretense of being ordered to do so by Hamilton himself. He'd figure something out.
On the way to the front door, Jessica tripped. The demons did not slow down to let her regain her footing, but dragged her behind them. A vicious snap sounded, indicating that they'd broken her arm. Patterson winced in sympathy as she shrieked in pain and had to force himself to keep quiet. He was supposed to be just the messenger, not the rescuer. If he told them to go easy on her, it was all too possible he'd give himself away. They were not that bright, but even the most dumb demon had a nose for things like that. To his relief, one of the demons decided to give her a rest and hoisted her up on its shoulders.
Patterson followed the demons into the elevator and waved goodbye to the demons as they exited. Leaning back against the elevator wall, he pressed the button for the third floor, where Hamilton's office was located. He wondered whether he should bring the Nader girl up or not. Judging by the foul mood Hamilton had been in that morning, it'd be wise to refrain from doing so if he wanted to stay alive enough to save her.
That was bracing. Drogyn hadn't really put up a fight like he'd expected, but nonetheless, it had been fun to pummel Illyria into oblivion. He'd had to make sure that she'd live though; Team Angel didn't stand a chance against Sebassis' armies if they didn't have the demon god on their side. Still, it had been amusing to rile the Blue Bitch. The look on her face -- totally uncomprehending how it was possible that she, an Old One, was being crushed by someone, as insignificant in her mind as Marcus -- had been priceless.
Marcus straightened his tie and adjusted his suit. He checked his shoes for sticky bits of Illyria but found none. Thank God. The last thing he wanted was to clean Old One off his shoes. Those guys stained like hell. He remembered that once, in the Middle Ages, he and his brothers went up against the Old Ones that ran Wolfram & Hart -- of course, a primitive version of it -- in that time. They'd defeated the demon gods, naturally, but their clothes had been ruined for good. Of course, fashion had changed since then, but he still remembered being miffed about the loss of his favorite tunic. He'd taken it out on some of their new serfs, he recollected with a vague sense of shame.
He nodded to himself while he left Spike's apartment. He'd made the right decision, having Jessica killed. He'd never been ashamed of something he'd done before and he was sure it was her doing. She influenced him in some way, causing him to want to be less evil than he actually was. That was just plain wrong. He couldn't change what he was, just like she couldn't change who she was either. She was human; she had a conscience. She would never have been able to live with him, knowing his nature and loving him in spite of it. Thinking of Jessica in the present tense made him realize that she wasn't alive anymore. She was dead. In more than one way he'd killed her. He'd broken her spirit and he was pretty sure he'd broken her heart too. Plus, he'd hired the gang of demons that were specifically ordered to kill her instantly, granting her very little opportunity for survival.
Marcus tried to swallow down the wave of nausea that overtook him and lashed out at a streetlight. The thing fell over, crashing into a car and setting off its alarm. A few passers-by gaped at Marcus open-mouthed. He narrowed his eyes at one of them.
"What are you looking at?" Marcus inquired menacingly, halting his stride. "Never seen a man kick down a streetlight?"
"Um... no." The man he'd addressed looked at him as though he was mentally unstable. "But by all means, be my guest."
Despite himself, Marcus chuckled at the man's pluckiness. "Thanks." He headed back toward the Wolfram & Hart office buildings and forced himself to desist from doing more damage to municipal property. The Partners did not need the extra publicity. However, even though he'd gotten his share of violence that day, he couldn't shake the feeling of frustration that still haunted him. No. Not frustration. Anger? No. Why am I trying to name my emotions? Bottom line was: he still wanted to beat the crap out of someone or something.
Grumbling to himself, he entered his office. Peter was bouncing up and down excitedly behind his desk, obviously dying to tell him something. Marcus groaned. "What is it?"
"I found him," Peter announced enthusiastically. "I found Patterson."
"Technically," Patterson corrected him while emerging from Marcus' office. "I came back on my own, so he didn't really find me so much as see me come in. But who's keeping score, right?"
"Right," Marcus agreed. He was getting accustomed to Patterson's bizarre sense of humor. It was quite possible he even started to appreciate it. "In my office. Now."
"Yes Sir." Patterson followed him into his office and plopped down in his usual seat.
Marcus sat down across from him and raised his eyebrows, waiting for the man to elaborate on his absence. When Patterson didn't start talking, he folded his arms. "Well?"
"Well what, Sir?" Patterson tried to stall for time. Maybe he'd come up with a reasonable explanation in the time it took Hamilton to formulate his question.
"Oh, forget it," Marcus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I feel like killing someone."
Patterson recoiled slightly. "Well, don't look at me."
"I'm not looking at you," Marcus said tiredly. "My eyes are closed and my hand's in the way."
"Right. Okay." Patterson sounded relieved. "Do you want to talk about it, Sir?"
"About what?" Marcus scoffed. "There's nothing here I can't handle."
Patterson shrugged, deciding to leave the subject of Marcus' issues alone for now. "If you say so, Sir."
"I do. Now tell me about those cyborgs." Marcus leaned back in his chair, trying to focus on other matters than Jessica's bloodied corpse left somewhere in an alley.
His cell phone rang, cutting Patterson off even before he started talking. Marcus gestured for him to leave the room and answered the call. "Hamilton."
"Hey, brother-in-law," Tina greeted him cheerfully. "You sound cranky."
Marcus sighed. If anyone else commented on his mood today, he was going to rip the person's arm off and beat him or her about the head with it. "That's 'cause I am."
"Ooo-kay. Hey, I wanted to ask you something," Tina resumed, not in the least affronted by his bluntness. "Matt and I wanted to invite you and Jessica over for dinner. Saturday sound okay?"
Marcus' face fell. Jessica. "No."
Tina stayed silent for a few seconds. When she spoke up again, concern was evident in her voice. "Marcus, what's wrong? You haven't done anything stupid, have you?"
"Define stupid." Had he done anything stupid? He'd been so sure he was doing the right thing. It was for the best. Wasn't it?
"Like, say, breaking up with her?" A gasp indicated that Tina realized that that was not really his modus operandi. "What have you done, Marcus?"
"I haven't done anything," Marcus defended himself. "But I may have hired someone to do it for me."
His brother's wife sounded downright livid. "You dumb, retarded son of a... Matt, talk some sense into your brother." She handed the phone over to her husband.
"Hey bro," Matt greeted him. "I hear you messed up?"
"Apparently," Marcus griped. "What's she on about?" He could virtually see Matt's shrug.
"I don't know, man. She liked the girl. We all did." Judging from the sounds emanating from his phone, Matt fumbled around for his cigarettes and knocked something over in the process. "Whoops. Sorry honey. I'll buy you a new one."
"Can we focus for a while?" Marcus wondered tetchily. "Why is it such a big deal all of a sudden when I get rid of one of my... special friends? You guys never bothered me about it before."
"True," Matt assented. "But you've never been in love before."
Marcus made a non-committal sound. His brother was right, but Marcus wouldn't admit it if his life depended on it. Well, maybe then I would.
"Out of morbid curiosity," Matt continued amusedly. "What kind of twisted logic has your addled brain cooked up to justify killing her?"
"Nicely put. Get over here and repeat that to my face. I've been itching for a good fight." Marcus half and half hoped that Matt would appear in his office so he could punch the undoubtedly smug grin off his brother's face.
"Mind if I take a rain-check?" Matt chuckled. "I know you can whoop my ass, I so don't need proof of that. But nice dodging of the subject, Marcus. Now I can rest assured you've done something that goes well beyond the normal definition of stupid."
"I have not," Marcus stated firmly. "She would have died anyway. It was a matter of time. I just wanted it to be quick and relatively pain-free for her."
"Spoken like a man in love," Matt mocked. "Come on. Why would she have died? Okay, she was human, but she could easily have lived for another fifty years. Oh and just so you know: getting ripped apart by a mob of demons does not equal quick and relatively pain-free death."
"She wouldn't have lived for even another year. She'd be taken, just like Tina and Madea were. She can't take care of herself, Matt. I'm not always there to look after her." Desperation crept into Marcus' voice. "She'd die and it'd be my fault."
"Like it's not your fault now?" Matt sounded incredulous. "Really, Marcus. How deluded can you get?"
"What? It was the best option." His defense sounded weak, even to his own ears. "For both of us."
"Tell me how killing the girl you love is the best option for you. And for her, for that matter. You were just scared of opening up. Letting someone in. And what do you do? The thing you have always done: kill the girl and be done with it. Problem is, this time it won't go down that easily. You're in for some serious brooding once it kicks in what you've done. You really messed up this time, bro." Tina yelled something in the background. "She says the seven of us will come over and kick some common sense in your -- and I quote -- stupid, retarded, dumb and brainless ass. Charming woman, isn't she?" Matt snickered. "Eloquent, too."
Marcus ignored Matt's speech and counted his relatives in his mind. Seven? Matt, Tina, Kuan-Yu, Madea and Tez. Five. "Seven?"
"Yeah. Don't forget little Meg and Tommy. They loved her," Matt clarified, then added. "Surprisingly strong for pre-schoolers, those two."
"Right. Well, I gotta go." Marcus suddenly felt very tired. "See ya, Matt."
"Take care, M." Matt paused for a moment as if he was contemplating something. "See ya."
Matt ended the call, leaving Marcus to stare at his phone pensively. Matt had a point, although Marcus was loathe to admit it; he'd been scared to let her in and he'd chosen the road most familiar to him to deal with it. And now she was dead. He felt a sudden and unexpected need to make sure she hadn't suffered. Determinedly, he set course for his apartment.
Jessica's entire upper body hurt. She couldn't tell whether it was her broken arm, the wounds Marcus had inflicted , the constant sobs that had racked her body for the last hours or the fact that she'd screamed herself hoarse since the moment the demons had deposited her onto a cold hard floor and left her alone to go sit at a large table on the other side of the room. She was chained up to some sort of frame that was mounted to the wall. She had about three feet to maneuver, enough to reach the bowl of water they'd provided her with. There was another bucket standing next to it, but she didn't want to think about having to use it. She would've much preferred being killed on the spot back in Marcus' apartment. She'd only been here for an hour or so, but it had gotten old really fast.
With her good arm, Jessica tugged at her chains for the hundredth time. They didn't give. What would she do if they did anyway? She couldn't take all six of those demons alone. Hell, she couldn't even take one of them. Let alone with one arm broken.
Not for the first time she wondered how she could have been so wrong about Marcus. Had he really been waiting for a reason to get rid of her? She found it hard to believe. But then again, she used to find the concept of demons and supernatural beings hard to believe and look where that got her.
That morning he'd said he was sorry. She'd loved him more than ever at that moment, even though she knew he'd never meant for their 'relationship' to last. He had most likely been planning the best way to kill her right about that time. So why would he apologize? She didn't know. Probably to add a little drama to her death scene. Do I sound bitter? Can't imagine why. Jessica wished he'd had the guts to do it himself, that way she would at least have had some proof that he'd cared about her, if only a little. Giving her away to six monsters that could do as they pleased with her just did not spell love.
The worst part was: she still wasn't sure she wouldn't take him back if he asked her to. She was weak; she knew that. Right now she was too far gone to care. She'd most likely die here and never see him again.
Tears stung behind her eyes. Her arm hurt, she was cold, hungry, chained up and at the mercy of things with enormous claws. It honestly didn't get any worse than that. One of the demons approached her, tossing her something vaguely bread-shaped. Jessica reached for it with her good arm, grateful for something to eat and not caring whether it was poisoned or not.
So sorry. I'm so sorry. The words echoed through her head. She constantly tried to figure out the meaning behind them. What was he sorry for? Sorry for hurting her? For having sex with her after the way he'd treated her? For planning to kill her? All of them good reasons to apologize for in their own right. Had he been sorry at all or had he just said it to play with her some more? Why did she care about that anyway? The time to worry about it was long gone. She should have paid more attention to Marcus' needs instead of mindlessly assuming he'd want the same things she did. If she'd treated him more like the evil thing he was, maybe he wouldn't have grown tired of her yet. Then again, she would never have given herself to an evil thing. Funny, 'cause that's exactly what you did last Sunday, a little voice inside her head mocked. Jessica scrambled to sit against the wall and leaned back, closing her eyes.
On his way down to his apartment, Marcus realized Matt couldn't have been more right. It was slowly settling down in his mind that he'd been responsible for her death. He'd killed the one he loved; there was no way around it. He couldn't shake the images of her pleading for her life, trying to ward off the demons he'd sent after her. He cursed his vivid imagination. In his mind's eye, it was he who dealt fatal blows and it was he who slit her throat. His knees buckled and he had to use the elevator wall to support himself.
Images of her smiling, laughing, loving him flashed between the mayhem in his mind. He shook his head violently, finding those happy thoughts even harder to bear than the violence now she was dead. What had he done?
Bracing himself for the sight of Jessica's corpse in his apartment, he walked in. He should have ordered the demons to take her elsewhere, but he hadn't been thinking clearly at the time. He hadn't wanted her to suffer, so he'd thought it best to have her killed on the spot instead of being dragged away by a group of demons only to be killed a couple of minutes later. That did mean however that Marcus would have to deal with her body. And the blood. He surveyed the living room but didn't see any signs of a struggle. Maybe they'd overpowered her in the bedroom. He'd probably have to get another apartment altogether; he'd never be able to live in it again. Her memory was all over the place.
He checked the kitchen but it was completely empty. Not even a sign of Jessica having breakfast, which added support to the bedroom theory. Reluctantly, he set foot in his bedroom. Nothing. He frowned in confusion, flinging the bathroom door open. Nothing.
On his way to the study his cell phone rang. Marcus considered hurling it into a wall but decided against it. Despite his current state of mind, he still had a job to do. That didn't mean he had to be polite, though.
"What?" Marcus barked into the receiver.
It was Tez. "Marcus. You got a minute?"
"Actually--" Marcus started, but he was interrupted by Tez.
"This can't wait," Tez said gravely. "I have to tell you something."
His serious tone caught Marcus' attention. "What's up?"
Tez cleared his throat. "I was in love with a human girl once."
Stunned into silence, Marcus tried to gather his thoughts. After a couple of seconds he'd regained his bearings. "Really? What happened?"
"I cut her open with my favorite broadsword," Tez answered curtly.
Marcus swallowed uncomfortably. "Yeah. Okay. Well, thanks for sharing." This was not what he needed right now.
Unperturbed, Tez continued. "And there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about her ever since. Not a day I haven't regretted it. Now please tell me you haven't done anything stupid yet."
"Um... can I get back to you on that?" Marcus knew that it was no use arguing with Tez when he had his mind set on something, and he knew his brother was bound to give him hell about his decision to have Jessica killed. And Marcus was giving himself enough hell about it as it was. He was still trying desperately to come to terms with his actions; he didn't need to be confronted about them by his brother.
Tez sighed in aggravation. "What have you done, Marcus?"
"Had her killed by a group of demons. Talk to Matt and Tina if you want details." Marcus entered his study, fully expecting to find a bloodbath. Nothing. "Bastards!"
"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, 'cause I do... but it's just me here. Singular. Not plural." Tez tried to lighten Marcus' mood. He had some more things to say, and he was sure Marcus would not want to hear them.
"Not you. Those demons." Marcus was looking around anxiously. "There's no blood. They took her. Against my orders."
"Okay, now I'm confused," Tez inquired, puzzled by Marcus' cryptic remarks. "You ordered a bunch of demons to kill the girl and now you're mad that they actually did it?"
Marcus slumped down on the nearest chair. "No, I ordered them to do it quickly and on the spot. You know, to save her the suffering. There's no blood anywhere, let alone a body; so that means they've taken her."
"Maybe they just snapped her neck and took the body for food," Tez suggested, making Marcus nauseous.
"They're not the neck-snapping type," Marcus reasoned. "They've got extendable claws the size of a two-by-four."
"You're something, you know that?" From Tez' voice, Marcus could tell his brother was getting angry. "Trying to save her the suffering... you should have done it yourself. What do you think went through her head when she saw those guys?"
"That's why they should have made it quick. And I couldn't do it myself," Marcus huffed.
"That should have given you some sort of a clue, Marcus," Tez pointed out. "I've been there. Believe me, I know."
Marcus sighed defeatedly. "She's gone, Tez." She was really gone, and it was his fault.
Tez was silent for a few seconds. "I know."
"But it's for the best, right? It'd never work out." He was evil, she was not. That was all there was to it.
"Marcus, we can't change what we are," Tez said patiently. "That doesn't mean we can't love or be happy. The choice is ours. It's always been ours. Look at Matunde and Tina, or Kuan-Yu and Madea."
Marcus rolled his eyes. Tez just didn't get it. "Tina and Madea are demons. Jessica was human. She wouldn't have survived. I couldn't always have been there to protect her."
"Bullshit," his brother snapped. "You really think the four of us couldn't have come up with a solution for that?"
Did he think that? Marcus was ashamed to admit he hadn't even thought that far. In his fear of letting her in, he'd chosen the easy way out. He closed his eyes. Too late.
Tez' voice softened. "I know how you feel. Don't be too hard on yourself. Go and take it out on those demons."
Now that was a good idea. Marcus perked up a little and ended the call. "Thanks, Tez."
Blood. Violence. Mayhem. That had been his life before she'd come into it. Could he have given up all that? Could he really have defied his nature for her? He didn't know, but he realized he should have at least tried. He shook his head wryly. Too damn late. He'd feel better after he'd slaughtered every last one of the demons that had killed her.