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Numfar, do the dance of shame! It's been about a week since my last update, * goes red with guilt *, but I am working very hard. Uni starts soon, so I hope you understand. I'd like dedicate this chapter to all you poor people out there who had to start school or work at the beginning of the month. You have my pity.
CHAPTER 8.
Angel couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even after everything this Jane woman had just told him of the encounter, the man still considered them all evil. Surely the fact that the woman was still alive and unharmed was proof enough that that wasn't the case. Apparently not.
He'd watched as the others were tied, hands and feet, and led away by the man's orders.
"Don't kill them yet, we may still need them alive", the man had said, infuriating Angel even further. He had taken the chance to struggle and break free of the cuffs that pathetically tried to hold him now that his friends were out of harms way, but he had underestimated his opponents. They had come prepared for a battle with a vampire; they knew what he was.
Crosses and holy water forced him to the ground and heavy-duty chains were produced, binding his wrists and ankles together in shackles. Not for the first time that evening, he had wanted to demand 'who are you people!?' at the top of his lungs, but he didn't get the chance. A hoard of men stepped up to beat him savagely, kicking him as he was down and pummelling him with their fists.
Through the pain and the cacophony of blows and grunts he could make out the elder's voice, resonating above the din like a light in the dark.
"Trevor, Jones", he said, "assemble teams and search the hotel. I want the target found, now. It won't have gotten far. And station someone by the door. If the prisoners try anything I want to be notified immediately. Leave a couple of your best for the interrogation."
Angel knew what he was referring to, and he knew it wouldn't be good. His tormentors left off for a moment, and through the tears of pain, Angel could see the man's face hovering over him.
"I never like to have to take human life, no matter how unworthy, but you realise you leave me little choice. It is unfortunate, but in the course of duty, it is important to maintain secrecy. If you had left your little human friends out of this, or let young Jane go without a fight, you probably wouldn't be in this mess now. So you see, you brought it on yourself. It was never our intention to get this involved. However, as it is, you will all have to die, if only to protect all the lives you see here."
The man sighed and leant back, rubbing his forehead wearily. He looked as though he had seen far to much death in his time, and Angel believed that he truly was sorry to be doing this. That did not help Angel's situation, though. Time to bring out the trump card.
"Look, you don't understand", he spluttered, spitting blood and grimacing. "It's not what you think. I have a soul. We're not evil, or in a cult. We run a detective agency…we help people!"
The man smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you are clearly the one who doesn't understand if you think I would fall for that. Though I have to say, I've heard a lot from your kind in my time, but this one has to be a first. Detective agency you say, in an abandoned hotel? So where's your office, your clients? And your license?"
"Well, we…um…"
"As I thought. We've seen the books you have on the occult. Don't try to pretend you have nothing to do with it. And you, with a soul? I've never heard such drivel."
"Do you really think a vampire would have human friends if he didn't have one?" Angel asked, getting onto firmer ground now. "It wouldn't matter to me if they died, and yet I took a bullet to protect them! Ask her, she was there!"
Angel pointed as best he could with the only finger he possessed that didn't feel broken. 'Jane', if that was her name, had the good grace to at least look doubtful.
"Tell him", Angel pleaded, "tell him how I didn't kill you. I didn't even hurt you! I know what it is you came for, but you have to believe me when I say that we didn't know anything about it, and we still don't. The creature found us, not the other way around. We were trying to find out where it came from and what it was. The books are one the desk, take a look for yourselves."
The crowd that had now gathered around him paused for a second, exchanging glances and holding breaths. The man considered everything Angel had just said, and he looked at him hopefully, praying that it would enough to save them. The man stood and turned away, and Angel's undead heart sank.
"A clever trick, vampire, but it won't stop us from doing what must be done. I should expect that you knew we were coming and put on the act for our benefit. Well, it won't save you. Once you tell us what we want to know, you will be released from your suffering, but until then…"
He nodded at the men hovering like hungry wolves over him, and they began with renewed enthusiasm to finish what they had started. Groaning through clenched teeth, Angel succumbed to despair for the briefest of moments, and wondered if any of them would get out of this alive.
* * *
Cordelia fidgeted, nervous and uncomfortable in the ominous darkness of the basement. Her wrists burned and itched, bound together tightly with what must have been the most frayed and moth eaten bit of rope in existence as a cruel punishment for her skin. Any attempt to move or strain against the knots rubbed more fire up her arm and threatened to bite deeper, so she had quickly learnt not to bother trying. This would take a different approach.
Luckily for her, she had made the wisest fashion decision of her life this morning, wearing long pants with her heels that mercifully spared her ankles from the same rough treatment. She was thankful for small favours, especially considering the current situation.
Having adjusted to the enforced darkness, she could make out the others lying not so far from her along the wall. Gunn was still out, having had a reminder of the head injury he had received much earlier on in the day, and he was slumped on his side, looking much the worse for wear. A little further along was Wesley, tied to a pipe as an extra precaution, ensuring that he couldn't escape.
It was too dim for Cordelia to make out his expression, but she could hear his ragged breaths, and guessed that he was just as anxious as she was, although for what particular reason, she could only guess. No one had a better excuse than her at the moment, in her opinion.
The kids were back. On the opposite side of the room, seated in a amongst the various boxes and crates that no doubt contained the odd weapon or two but that were still tantalisingly out of reach, the children had congregated, choosing this very moment, of all times, to make a reappearance. They stared at her coldly, their faces only too clear despite the gloom. They made no move for her, but just stared, unsympathetic of her own troubles.
The little black boy and girl huddled together, squeezed between two stacks of chairs, protected from the world in their own private hiding place. To the left of them, the kid with glasses hugged his knees and rocked himself, silent tears streaming down his face as his eyes pleaded with her for help she couldn't give. Shuffled into a corner, his eyes wide with fear, it was clear that he didn't like the dark. Finally, with his back to the other children in a display of isolation, the boy with the black eye blooming on his face sat on a box of his own, swinging his legs about in a random rhythm over the side. His head turned on his shoulder, he glared at Cordelia with a scowl, dismissing any kindness she might have for him to protect himself from the inevitable pain that came after.
All she could do was lie there and watch, feeling the gazes pierce into her skin, sending prickly chills along her body. She hated this; it frightened her and broke her heart at the same time. She needed to make it stop.
Blinking hard and shaking her head in an attempt to drive the images from her mind, she averted her gaze once again and concentrated back on her friends and the problem at hand. She would be of no use to any one if she started to fall apart, and she was the only one who wasn't tied to the wall or conscious enough to move. Feigning a fainting fit was always a good way of ensuring that the big burly men forgot their wariness and dismissed her as a threat, leaving her far less secure as her inferiority dictated. Stupid morons. Gunn's struggling had earned him another bash on the head, as well as an extra length of rope for poor Wes. They obviously weren't too keen to let them two break free and come after them any time soon.
She looked back at Wesley, hoping to catch his notice but too afraid of attracting unwanted attention by voicing anything more than a whisper. There were no guards left in the room with them at the moment, but the doorway up the little staircase was not that far away, and she doubted if that too had been left unmanned. Any indication of what she was up to down here could be heard through the door and provoke a stream of annoyed gunmen to appear, and that would certainly put a damper on her plan.
Unfortunately for her, Wesley was not paying attention, but in fact had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. For a second, Cordelia wondered if he was in pain. She had to get closer as quietly as she could, which was proving to be easier said than done. Giving up on the prospect of maintaining any shred of dignity she had left, she ceased with the wriggling and the shuffling and simply rolled over herself, taking half of the dust on the floor with her.
She carefully avoided Gunn's legs and, negotiating her way around an assortment of regular basement debris, came to a stop at Wesley's side, pointlessly spluttering in a failed attempt to dislodge the generous layer of grime and ick that had so thoughtfully applied itself to her face. The guys had better appreciate this sacrifice.
All thoughts of the condition of her hair were banished as fast as they had occurred once she had sat up, leaning on the wall next to Wesley. He was trembling. He controlled his too fast, shallow breaths as she glanced over her shoulder, confirming that the children were still there, still watching her intently. She swallowed hard and looked back, and Wesley gave her a weak smile.
"Are you aright?" Cordelia whispered, forgetting to brag about her achievement when it came to fooling the guards. Wesley just looked pleased to find that he wasn't alone after all.
"Wesley?" she asked when he didn't reply.
He closed his eyes and turned away as he nodded. "Sorry, I just…don't like it down here."
Cordelia felt her cheeks burn at the statement, and was actually thankful that the shadows were hiding her anger from view. A hundred things ran through her brain as she searched for the right thing to say, but she realised with regret that now was not the time for a righteous outburst against the wrongness of the world. She sucked it up and forced her eyes dry, using her inner rage to chase away the all reminders of the ghostly children distracting her from the task. There would be time for that later.
"Don't worry", she said softly instead, "we're going to get out of here now. I need your help."
Inching round and putting her back to him, Cordelia moved her delicate wrists as carefully as she could, keeping in mind that she couldn't exactly see what she was doing behind her.
"Wesley, shift round a bit", she instructed, finally managing to make her hands and his to meet where they were tied behind their backs. "You may not be able to undo your own knots, but you might be able to do mine. Give it a try."
"I can't", he said with a sigh after a pause, "they're too tight. I can't feel my fingers."
He was right, his hands felt cold to the touch, and they were shaking. The bonds were probably cutting off blood supply. Cordelia winced involuntarily at the thought, and then changed her plan of action. Flexing her own fingers to get a bit of dexterity back, she fumbled around with knots she could find, trying to loosen them. It was proving to be more difficult than she thought.
She'd seen enough of those weird survival type programmes at home (thank you very much, none existent social life), but only because Dennis liked to watch them, of course, and she knew that the colder you get, the harder it is to do the simplest things with your fingers. Like how people had survived miles of trudging along in blistering blizzards until they came to the relative safe haven of a cabin, only to die from the cold because they broke all the matches when trying to light a fire. And how it only takes a couple of seconds to open a flare to summon help, but after being in the water out at sea for a few minutes, that time can be increased a hundred fold.
These thoughts didn't exactly do wonders for her morale, but she stubbornly refused to let her heart sink any further. Okay, so this could take forever to do, but she was going to try, dammit.
Something warm and wet on her hands made her stop what she was doing, and she shuffled round abruptly to see for herself.
"Oh my God Wesley, you're bleeding!" she half hissed, taking in the angry abrasions all along his wrists where his skin had rubbed raw. "When it starts to hurt that much you stop struggling, dumbass! What's the matter with you?"
She gave him an angry glare and he looked away, abashed. She caught herself too late and shut her eyes in embarrassment. Mentally kicking herself, she bit her tongue, realising what she had said. She really needed to work on the thinking-before-she-opened-her-big-fat-mouth thing.
Cordelia's apology died on her lips when she was interrupted by a scraping sound, echoing into the dark space with a sudden * klunk *. A pause, then renewed scraping, getting steadily louder as the source of the noise drew near. She felt Wesley hold his breath beside her, listening for the direction of the sound, and she did likewise, relieved that she wasn't hearing things again.
Her eyes were drawn to the small vent in the wall above her when it became apparent that it was responsible. She was at the wrong angle to be able to see through the slats on the covering, and the suspense became almost unbearable when the scraping stopped just inches from the opening.
Nothing happened, and she and Wesley looked at each other, sharing the confusion. Their eyes snapped back when something pounded on the plastic guard from the inside, making it rattle on its fixings. A couple more blows was all it took to send it tumbling to the floor with a cringingly loud clatter, forcing Cordelia to risk a brief glance at the door, although it kindly remained shut.
Two little white paws emerged from the hole, closely followed by a stubby tail and a fluffy butt. Tiny toes scrambled for purchase on the smooth concrete as the creature lowered itself down with its forelegs securely gripping the ledge and, once at arms length, it took the opportunity to turn its head and chirp at the onlookers.
Cordelia couldn't suppress the pleased smile that broke out on her face at the sight, and Wesley released his breath with relief, some hope of escape returning at last. The little animal dropped down from the ledge, its fall cushioned by Gunn's slumped body. It sniffed worriedly at the fallen human, pawing at his bloodied face. When it got no response, it looked up for Cordelia's attention as if to alert her of the fact that Gunn needed help. Refraining from rolling her eyes, she summoned up her best friendly face and found the silly baby voice that she usually reserved for cute dogs or annoying Wesley.
"Come on, over here little guy! That's it, come help out your friend Cordy!"
The voice didn't sound right as a whispered husk, but it seemed to have the right effect. The creature slowly shuffled towards her, taking its time to cross what Cordelia considered to be a relatively short distance, even for its short legs. It went straight by her, hopping on to Wesley's lap.
"Yeah, okay, or you could just go straight to your favourite person and leave me here on my own, stupid creature." Despite her sarcasm, to which the creature seemed blissfully oblivious, Cordelia looked on with concern.
"What's wrong with it?" she asked Wesley, noticing its struggle to walk. "It looks exhausted."
"I don't know", he answered quietly, watching the little thing as it checked him over and sniffed around his shirt.
'We need a little help here', Cordelia thought to herself, hoping that if she waited long enough, the creature would eventually catch on and be of some use. She let it finish its inspection in silence, trying to contain her excitement when it finally got around to looking around their backs and found the ropes binding their hands.
Ignoring Cordelia completely, it became agitated when it saw the blood on Wesley's hands, flattening its ears and growling like a cornered cat. It pulled at the ropes vigorously, only stopping when Wesley hissed in pain. Looking at Cordelia for help she couldn't give, it resolved to fix the problem itself, bring down its head and baring its teeth. It bit down hard and started nibbling away, pulling and tearing at the thick bonds like a kid tucking into a chicken drumstick.
Stringy buts of frayed twine came away as the creature gnawed, becoming more desperate the longer it took. Its little paws clutched tightly at the knot in concentration, and with one final tug, the whole lot came away, disintegrating into a pile of fibres on the floor. It spat the remaining bits out of its mouth as Wesley slowly pulled his arms out front and rubbed his useless hands on his shirt, trying to warm them up.
"Okay, my turn now", Cordelia whispered, trying to encourage the creature to pay her some attention. Instead, it continued to ignore her, focusing on stamping the evil bits of rope into the ground to make sure they were dead.
"Hey! Creature!" she hissed, waving her arms up and down. Still no response.
"I'm sorry, Cordelia", Wesley said, "I can't get my hands to do anything."
He stared at the offending appendages with annoyance, having failed to even pull the ropes off of his feet. His fingers had gone blue with the cold and they tingled ferociously, making it painful to move them whilst the blood returned. The release of the pressure the ropes exerted made him a little light-headed as his circulation rushed back, and the resulting dizziness made him reluctant to get to his feet whilst they were still tied. Instead, he sat where he was and fought it off, closing his eyes and tucking his hands under each arm, ignoring the slow trickle of blood staining his shirt.
Cordelia was no better off, and she was loath to spend too much more time down here waiting for Wesley's help. She tried for the creature again, it having left the rope for dead and coming once again to check on its bleeding friend. Cordelia was getting frustrated now.
"HEY!" she grunted as discretely as she could manage. What was it that woman had said? Oh yeah, "Narchie, get your furry ass over here!"
The creature spun, narrowing its eyes at her and cocking its head. She smiled and nodded, encouraging it to approach. After a hesitation, it came to her side, finally noticing the condition of her own wrists. Without another thought, it got to work attacking the bonds, breaking her free and then returning to Wesley's side.
"Thank God for that", Cordelia mumbled under her breath, reaching down to take care of her ankles. It didn't take long to undo the knot there, or on Wesley's own legs, and she immediately turned to Gunn, sparing a brief glance to the other side of the room.
The children had gone, granting her a short respite for once. She was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and she silently thanked whatever fates were responsible and put it out of her mind.
Having untied Gunn and propped him up against the wall, Cordelia was satisfied that he was as well as could be expected, and resigned herself to the fact that they would have to come back for him later whilst they tackled the main problem. If they could find Angel and team up, or maybe persuade those people that they meant no harm…
She sighed. She very much doubted that any of that would work, but she couldn't think of a better idea. Making Gunn comfortable but able to do nothing for his head, Cordelia stood and scanned the room, looking for something that would help. There were bound to be some of Angel's training weapons down here, if only she could find them. They may not do much against superior numbers and firepower, but it was something.
She began rustling around frantically as Wesley hauled himself to his feet, watched over with concern by his furry friend. For some reason, the thought of a Watcher being watched over made him smile slightly, and he considered the possibility that he had lost more blood than he thought.
Cordelia came towards him with that scary glint in her eye that she got from time to time, thrusting a rusty looking sharp thing into his slowly un-numbing hands. This was it, then. Exchanging a silent nod, they turned to the staircase, ready to make their ascent.
They were both hesitant to reveal themselves, knowing that this could be the most foolish thing they had ever done. The sound of shouts and gunshots confirmed it for them, though, and on the count of three, they burst through the basement door.
To be continued…