Holland Manners' office was quiet. He rather liked it that way. It meant everything was going as planned, and that meant no heads were rolling. Literally. Life at Wolfram & Hart could be so uncertain sometimes. He picked up the monthly employee report on Lindsey McDonald and smiled. The competition between the young man and Ms. Morgan was quite satisfying. He couldn't wait to see who would win when their department was reorganized.
"Uh…sir? Mr. Manners?"
Holland sighed and looked up. "Yes, what is it, Charles?" he asked his assistant patiently. The man hovered in the doorway, holding a cardboard box as if it was about to explode.
"This came in the mail, sir. I think you should see it."
"Well, bring it over," Holland ordered, clearing space on his desk. Charles hurried over, deposited the box, and scuttled back out of striking distance. Hmm…interesting. Holland peered into the box and his eyebrows shot up.
It was a human hand, clenched into a fist. The packing pellets surrounding it were soaked in blood; it was very fresh. Something was written on the back of the hand. Holland turned the grisly object over with one finger. "Revona," it read in large, black letters. Very interesting indeed.
"It's—ah—we believe it's holding something," Charles pointed out. Holland checked and confirmed his assistant's statement. Holland gently pried the blood-spattered slip of paper free. The script was flowing and old-fashioned, but it was easily legible.
"One won't be enough."
"Charles, find out who this hand belongs to," Holland ordered.
"We already know, sir," Charles said. "It's Dr. Woldrich, sir. In charge if interdemensional travel. His last project was Revona."
"Well, then, I know exactly who did this," Holland said, more to himself.
Charles, mistaking the direction of his words, asked, "Shall I order a termination team?"
"No," Holland said. "I want to see how this plays out."
*****
Long days at the office were nothing new to Lilah. In fact, she had spent several consecutive days working on her largest cases. Still, she was relieved to be able to go home, take a long bath, and enjoy a glass of good merlot. She strode across the parking lot to her Lexus, the only sound the rhythmic percussion of her fashionably expensive shoes.
She tried to balance her briefcase, loose folders, jacket, and keys as she attempted to unlock her car and lost the keys. With a grunt of frustration, she piled the rest on top of her car and stooped for the keys. She stood up and almost dropped the keys again with a stifled scream.
A man leaned against the hood of her car. She could have sworn no one was there a second earlier. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and very attractive in a dangerous kind of way. His dark hair was gelled into spikes and his deep-set eyes were almost black.
"Lilah Morgan, right?" he asked casually. His voice was deep and deceptively quiet. There was something about him that set every warning bell ringing in Lilah's head.
"Yes," she replied, keeping her voice haughty. "I have normal business hours, if you'd like to make an appointment."
"I'm not here for your services," he replied, pushing away from the car and prowling toward her. Lilah tried to take a step backwards and realized he had her pinned against the car. "What do you know about Revona?" he demanded.
"Revona? What is that? Some kind of skin care product?" Lilah feigned ignorance. The man's eyes flashed angrily.
"It would be in your best interest not to lie to me," he warned. "I'll ask you again. What do you know about Revona and Parhon?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lilah lied. The man smiled faintly; it was not at all a reassuring sight. Suddenly Lilah found herself facedown on the ground, the pavement being ground painfully into her cheek.
"Revona," the man growled. Then the cool touch of a knife blade kissed the side of her neck. Lila's mind raced. Her keys, and panic button, were gone. Her pepper spray was in her briefcase, as was her cell phone. She had no way to call for help.
"It's an alternate dimension," she gasped, deciding that it was time to start thinking about self-preservation. "It exists in parallel to ours."
"It was your idea to take the children, wasn't it? Take them where their families couldn't follow. Raise them to be slaves of Wolfram & Hart." The knife bit a little deeper into Lila's skin and she hissed in pain.
"No, no it wasn't my idea," she babbled. "It was Manners. Holland Manners. He authorized the project."
"Liar! I saw your name! You sent the retrieval team after them!"
Lilah realized that the man attacker could only be Angel, the former vampire and father of the prophesized Sun-caller. Unfortunately, that information didn't reassure her any. "Manners sent the team," she said quickly. "He was trying to clean things up after you compromised Revona."
"Hank Summers. What did you do to buy him? What did you do to convince him to turn against his own children?"
"Like I'm going to tell you in this position," Lilah retorted, deciding to make a bold stand. "We can make an exchange. You let me go, and I'll give you the information you want."
"I already have what I want," Angel hissed in reply, the knife sliding a little deeper. "Now I want you to bleed."
Lilah gasped in pain as a trickle of warmth slid down her throat. "All right, all right! I'll tell you! We promised to give his daughters back to him. Return them to the age they were when he left them so he could start over."
The knife stopped, and Angel was silent for a long time. "Bitch," he whispered, and Lilah's world went black.
*****
He had experienced a great many strange and frightening things during his many years with Wolfram & Hart, so unlocking his home office to find a stranger sitting in his chair didn't faze Holland Manners at all.
"Hello," he said genially. "What can I do for you?"
The man unfolded from the chair and circled the desk, moving with a predator's grace. "We haven't met," he said, his voice sparkling with false charm. "You're Holland Manners. I'm Angelus. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
"I had hear you had been…neutralized," Holland said tactfully.
Angelus shrugged rather theatrically. "Yeah, well, that's what he wants people to think. The truth is, I never left. Right here the whole time, just waiting for the opportunity to get out."
"Well, congratulations on your emancipation," Holland replied. Angelus grinned dangerously and hopped up to sit on the desk.
"I've come through channels to find you, you know," Angelus said, playing with the brass figurines displayed on the desk. "You're hard to get a hold of."
"I'm a very busy man," Holland told him. "So please don't think me rude when I ask you to get to the point."
"Fine by me," Angelus got to his feet again and rubbed his hands together. "I'm going to kill you."
Holland cocked an eyebrow. "Are you now?"
"Yup," Angelus said. "I just haven't decided whether it's going to be fast or slow."
"And what have I done to earn such a consequence?" Holland asked, not concerned in the slightest.
"Well, first you kidnapped my daughter and took her to a demon dimension to be raised as your puppet, and then, when I finally manage to get her back00after twelve years, I might add—you sent a retrieval team to recapture her. That kind of pisses me off."
"I never expected such familial loyalty from one such as you, Angelus," Holland said, his face and voice betraying nothing.
Angelus began to pace. "You don't get it. It's not about loyalty. It's not about love. It's about what's mine. And you took what's mine and tried to make it yours. And I just can't allow that."
"I think you should reconsider," Holland told him. "We could use someone with your philosophy."
Angelus seemed to consider that for a long moment. Then his head came up. Holland resisted taking a step backwards. Where his eyes had once been so dark they were nearly black, they now gleamed venom-yellow.
"Nope. Sorry. Too late." He lunged across the room and seized Holland by the neck. Angelus slammed the lawyer against the wall and lifted him until his feet dangled above the ground.
"I've decided," he hissed. "I'm going to go with fast." With a twist of his wrist, he snapped Holland's neck and let the lifeless corpse drop to the ground. He stood over the body, staring at it thoughtfully. Then he turned and left the way he had come: through the window.