MysticWolf1: Thank you for taking time to review! And yes, that a very good nit pick. I'm going to have to do some tweaking to make sure it's clear that Lindsey and Lilah are dealing under the table (because no matter what the Senior Partners want, I'm sure that Lindsey anyway would do a happy dance if Angel were to bite the big one).
Author's Note: I must take a moment to concur with something I heard Joss Whedon say in an interview. Fight scenes are a pain in the butt to write out.
Also, I've managed to upload three knock wood chapters without anything exploding! I'm quite excited as computers are not exactly my strong suit.
Chapter 3
The sight of the crossbow woke Angel up enough for him to dodge to the side. He wasn't quite fast enough—the bolt caught him in the shoulder and the pain was enough to snap him completely out of his daze. Without even pausing to pull it out, he charged his attacker before she could get off another shot.
He caught her around the waist, slamming them both into a stack of empty garbage cans. The crossbow went flying, and Angel fancied that the crash could be heard all the way to the Hyperion. He thought he had her, but she worked one arm free and slammed the heel of her hand into the butt of the arrow, driving it in deeper. Gasping in pain, Angel felt his grip loosen, and the girl rolled clear. He turned in time to see her grab the crossbow, rise, and take aim.
This time the arrow flew wide as Gunn tackled her from behind.
One well-placed kick from the girl had Gunn rolling on the ground, coughing. She scrambled to her feet, looking frantically about for her weapon. She found it—being aimed at her by the dark haired woman who had appeared at the mouth of the alley.
"You know," Cordelia Chase remarked, "this is our night off. I had it all planned out. Why can't you miscreants respect the fact that other people have schedules?"
"Angel? Gunn? Are you all right?" Wesley flanked Cordelia, holding the baseball bat that Cordy kept in the car for emergencies.
"We're okay." Angel jerked the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder and threw it aside. Gunn had gotten back to his feet, looking pained and angry. He joined Angel, effectively blocking off the far end of the alley, while Cordy and Wes stood between the girl and the alley's mouth. They had her neatly trapped.
She looked from one pair to the other. Angel's keen ears picked up a muttered, "Oh shit."
Angel took two careful steps toward her. "I don't know why you're doing this," he said evenly, "but it's over. Now, we don't want to hurt you, but--"
That was as far as he got before the girl turned to face him and raised an empty hand. There was a brilliant flash of light, and a shock wave blasted him backwards.
Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn were caught by complete surprise. The girl used it to her advantage. The trash cans, which had been knocked asunder in the initial assault, flew from the ground, driving Wes and Cordy back. She spun at the sound of Gunn running towards her. She never touched him—Gunn simply flew over her head, slamming, upside-down, into the side of the building. Wesley came at her with the bat. She quickly scooped up a piece of two-by-four that lay among the litter in the alley. She met Wes's downwards swing, jerked the board free, and rammed the end into his stomach, causing him to collapse to his hands and knees. She raised the board over his back to deliver another blow.
"Hey!" a voice shouted from behind her.
She turned, but didn't have time to redirect her attack. Angel delivered one staggering blow to her jaw and she went down—right on top of Wesley.
"Ouch," Wesley commented from his prone position.
"Sorry." Angel dragged the unconscious girl aside by one arm and helped Wesley up. "You okay?"
"I'll live," Wesley replied, bending to retrieve his glasses.
"Me too." Gunn staggered into view, bracing his back with one hand. "Cordelia?"
"I'm fine." Cordy sounded more annoyed than hurt. "Aside from smelling like a dumpster. Why does fighting evil have to be so damned messy?" She joined her companions. "So, what's the story? Who is she and why is she trying to kill you?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." Angel searched through the girl's pockets while he gave them the abridged, Reader's Digest version of what had happened. He found her wallet, which he tossed to Cordelia. "See what you can find in there," he said. He searched the inner pockets of her jacket and removed a wicked looking stake and a sheathed dagger. These he handed to Wesley.
Wesley held the dagger up to the light, studying the hilt closely. "That's interesting," he said.
"What is?"
Wesley pointed to the sigil that was carved into the hilt. "This is the insignia of the Kindred," he said. At the blank looks from his friends he explained, "The Kindred is a loose paramilitary organization of witches and wizards. They've been active for a little over two hundred years. That would track," he added. "It sounds as if you were hit by a spell designed to throw you off balance."
"Great. Another club o'evil," Cordelia said.
"Well, that's the interesting thing. They're not. Evil, that is," Wesley explained. "The Kindred act primarily as defenders, not only of other witches and wizards, but of ordinary civilians. They're the good guys."
"Is part of their MO dusting random vamps?" Gunn asked, straightening up experimentally.
"No," Wesley said. "An unprovoked sneak attack by one person? From what I know about them it's not ever remotely how they operate."
"What in the name of Aretha happened out here?" The Host had arrived.
Angel gestured to his would-be assassin. "This is the girl you talked to?"
"Yes. What the hell did you do to her?"
"She was trying to kill Angel," Gunn told him. "That note led him into a trap."
The Host looked down at the young woman, shaking his head. "This is wrong. This is very wrong," he said.
"I'll say," Cordelia replied. "If you're mistaking 'I want to dust your ass' with 'I need your help' then I'd say your crystal ball needs some serious polishing."
"I didn't make a mistake," the Host replied indignantly. "She did come in needing help. Serious desperation—that was all I was getting off of her. Believe me, I would have told you if I thought she was planning to go all Ellen Ripley."
"Cordelia, what did you find?" Angel asked.
Cordelia turned her attention back to the girl's wallet. "Let's see. Her name is Rachel Harper. According to her driver's license, she's from Oregon. Twenty-three years old. Registered Democrat. Bank card. Library card. Some pictures. Nothing really out of the…..uh oh."
"What uh oh?" Angel asked.
Cordelia held out a small, cream colored card. In bold black print were the words: Wolfram & Hart. Lindsey McDonald, Attorney.
"That settles it." Angel picked the girl up. "Let's get back to the hotel."
"And do what?" Cordelia asked.
"And get some answers," Angel replied