Chapter Nine

Angel did not mention his encounter with Calder to William. He saw no purpose in it.

The news on Saturday morning announced in a short article the vandalism of a small store in the area, thought to be the work of a gang of kids. Angel tossed his Palm (the most basic model he could find in the store and he still didn't know how to use it properly) aside and finished breakfast over his new—well, old—book. The news always announced such petty crimes, and while Angel was fairly certain that the gang who committed the vandalism was Calder's, so long as they weren't hurting anyone, Angel didn't care to have a part in it.

Near midnight several weeks later Angel stood in front of his nearly empty fridge and decided the time had come again to go to the hospital across the street to replenish his blood supply. Angel had switched back to human blood over 70 years earlier, when the government had mandated that every eligible citizen donate blood a certain number of times every year to keep the hospitals well-stocked. Now the hospitals had more blood than they could handle and were happy to give Angel all he needed. He found in his minimal contact with people and with the passage of time, the change affected him little.

He shut the door of the fridge and wondered if he should wear his jacket tonight or not, not for the weather, but for his appearance.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Puzzled at who could want to talk to him so late, Angel left the kitchen and opened his front door.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Fear swarmed around Angel, prickling his taste buds. The rest of his senses instinctively kicked into high gear. A heart thudded in his ears, forcing adrenaline through the bloodstream, lungs laboriously pushed air in and out, and Calder's body trembled in erratic spurts, as though he were freezing despite the warm spring air.

"Angel," he said. "I—" He stopped, trying to force the words out. "I—" He looked determinedly at Angel and exhaled sharply, blowing out all his hesitation.

"I need help."

Angel jerked his head to signal Calder to come in. Calder hurried in and Angel closed the door behind him.

"I'm in trouble. I don't know what to do." Calder's voice cracked and looked down at the floor. The waves of fear crashed around Angel like a lighthouse in the midst of a storm.

"It's alright," Angel said. "Tell me what's going on."

"I—well, we—I mean. My friends and I…um…"

"You commit petty crimes, I know. Keep going."

Calder looked up.

"Calder, of all people to confess something to, you've picked the one you can't top. What did you do?"

Calder took a breath. "We were supposed to just rob a store. I've never done it before, but some of the others have. It was supposed to be easy, but… The owner was there. We didn't see him until it was too late. One of others took off his gloves, and the owner saw this on the back of his hand." Calder pulled up the right sleeve of his jacket to show a symbol that looked vaguely like a bent-out-of-shape Euro sign tattooed on the lower part of his upper arm, near the crook of the elbow.

"It's a magic symbol—it binds us somehow. I think it's supposed to make it easier to locate each other when we're separated. It appears in different places on different people when you do the spell. It wouldn't be so bad that the owner saw it, since it could have just been a normal tattoo. But as he was struggling against Aether he pulled off his mask. Aether's tattoo is on his cheek. He usually does a concealment spell to hide it, but since he was wearing the mask he didn't bother. So now the owner knows what it looks like and he knows we all have it and he knows we're all kids. If we let him go, he'd tell the police. They'd search the schools and arrest anyone with this symbol on them." Calder's trembling body matched his voice. "So we didn't…"

"Didn't?"

"…Let him go."

Angel let out a long breath of air as that sank in. He shook his head in dismay and rubbed at his brow. "As ucht Dé, Calder."

"I know!"

"What'd you do with him?"

"We kidnapped him. We took him Marlin Castle; Zeus knows how to disarm the system. I didn't want them to do it, but what else could we do? I don't want to go to jail!"

"How did you get away?"

"They sent me for more rope. I thought about running away, but they'd find me with this." He gestured to the symbol. "Angel…when I left, the oldest three, our leaders, they were trying to decide what to do. I walked past them as I went out. Th-they were talking about killing him a-and hiding the body. I think they've gone mad: I've never heard them talk like that."

"They're not going mad, they're scared." Angel replied. "People do stupid things when they're scared. They're not thinking things through." Angel added, almost to himself, "If they were, they'd know that only someone who knows what they're doing would be able to pull that off." He spoke louder again, "Come on." Angel jerked his jacket off its hook and swung it around himself. Appearances definitely counted for this venture.

"You're helping me?"

"You, yes. But I'm also helping that store owner. You realize you're not exactly dealing with the natural consequences of things?" Calder's face fell. "At least not legally." Angel walked over to the wooden chest next to the couch and opened it. "On the way you can tell me about that binding spell you used. I need to know every detail about how you worked it. And just to warn you: it hurts to reverse it."

Calder bit his lip and nodded, but some of the fear ebbed. Angel pulled out two stakes and a dagger and closed the cabinet. He handed a stake to Calder.

"Just in case. The woods are crawling these days."

Calder took the stake.

"Keep it hidden, but convenient to pull out quickly."

Calder nodded and, taking a shaky breath, followed Angel out the door.

They reached the castle with little difficulty. The vampires and demons of the area who knew Angel tended to give him a wide berth, but then, not everyone knew him. They stayed under cover of the woods as long as possible, leaving to cross the open field at the narrowest point. The guard at the door paced nervously as Angel and Calder approached from the side, and turned wildly at the sound of their soft footsteps.

"Who's there?" he asked. Angel materialized out of the darkness in front of him and the guard jumped.

"What do you-"

"Go home," Angel said.

"No way, I—"

Angel grabbed the boy's shirt roughly in both fists and repeated in a low growl, "Go home." As soon as Angel let go, the boy turned and ran away toward the nearby city as fast as he could.

Angel turned to Calder.

"Is there a place in there you can hide?"

Calder nodded. "We took him to the Great Hall in the tower, but there are all sorts of little rooms between here and there."

"Okay. When we get in, hide yourself where you can hear me, but don't let anyone see you—especially the owner of the store. He can't remember that you were ever a part of this. Okay?"

Calder nodded again. Angel, quietly as possible, turned the knob. This section that they were entering was a reconstruction built about a hundred years ago according to vague and rare old records. The castle hadn't been much of anything special except a home for the ruling family of the region, so the city historians had little to go on. The maintenance of the building was funded mostly by cheap tourist admissions now, and it showed in dusty arrangements of furniture and period props, and a dank scent from old hidden ventilation ducts. Angel wrinkled his nose and led the way toward the tower.

As a human, Angel had always wanted to see the inside of the castle. Miles on the other side of town, it had been a mysterious golden well of fantasies that ran on riches and freedom. He'd even tried to seduce the homely daughter once, just to get a look inside, but she turned him down with a look of horror worse than some of the ones he'd gotten as a vampire.

It turned out that he hadn't been missing much. A plaque beside the doorway leading to the original section of the castle informed them that small rooms lined the perimeter of the tower with an inner corridor servicing both the rooms and the modest Great Hall in the center. As they entered this section of the castle, Angel noted that the carved stonework was minimal and the hall was small and even more dank. His hair just brushed the stone ceiling, which was dotted with scorch marks above the sconces that once held torches. Centuries of staleness assaulted Angel's nose, and he breathed, "Francis Blake, you lying bastard."

When they reached the heavy wooden doors marked by another plaque as being one of several entrances to the Great Hall, Calder pointed significantly at it, and then at a set of coiling stone stairs in a corner to the left, which he then climbed until he was just out of sight.

A light from-Angel guessed-a portable lantern or two glowed around the edge of the slightly ajar door, illuminating the iron handles and braces. He edged closer to listen to the voices inside the room.

"…yup, Pan took off. He should've been back nearly half an hour ago. Doesn't matter, we'll find him."

"You don't suppose he ratted on us, do you?"

Another voice piped up, "He wouldn't be stupid enough to do that… Would he?"

The first voice spoke again. "He might. Making a confession reduces the charges."

The angry voice of the leader "Zeus" spoke, "There won't be any charges when we're done here."

"What are you going to do with me?" a terrified male voice asked—from the floor, by the sound of it.

Though Angel couldn't see the speaker, the reply came with an obvious sneer, "Apollo's been reading about other dimensions and how to send people to them. How does a world without sun sound? Better pack your winter coat…" There was an appreciative, yet nervous laugh from the group. "He should be back soon, too. Then we can get started."

Angel had heard enough. Pushing the heavy door open and striding into the room, he said, "Unless he bailed on you, too."

Several of the teens yelled in surprise; the ones who were sitting jumped to their feet, and they all assumed defensive fighting positions. The two who had been standing on either side of the door grabbed Angel and held him back.

Angel took a brief moment in his supposed captivity to admire the Great Hall. Small for its kind, but much grander than the rest of the castle so far. This room was at least a little more befitting the rumors. The room was stone from floor to tapestry-covered walls, and the ceiling soared high above them, beams curving up into supports for the floors above and iron chandeliers below. In the middle of the room, there were long wooden tables with equally long benches arranged in a U shape. At the top of the U was an elaborately-carved dark wood chair, with shorter, but similarly-carved chairs spreading out like wings to either side.

The kids had set up camp with their captor near the arms of the U, with portable lanterns on the ends of each table and their captive on the floor between then, hands and feet bound.

"Who are you?," the leader demanded, marching up to Angel with an open pocket knife. His eyes were wide and terrified, long hair coming loose from his ponytail in a way that made him look somewhat insane. "How did you get in? What did you do to our guard?"

Angel shook his head in mock wonder. "I guess everyone's deserting you tonight. That happens when you make really stupid decisions. For the record: robbing a store, kidnapping the owner, and killing him are all really stupid decisions."

"I knew it!" one of the kids behind the leader shouted. "Pan ratted on us!"

"I got all the information I needed just listening to you. Rule number one for forming evil plans: never spell them out—anyone could be eavesdropping. I'm sure I never made that mistake when I was evil…"

Zeus's eyes narrowed and he shifted uncomfortably. "Who are you?"

"You really don't want to know."

Zeus took a step forward and touched the tip of his knife to Angel's throat. The two kids holding Angel tightened their grip. Inside, Angelus yearned to put the kid properly in his place.

All in good time.

"I think I do want to know," the kid said. "And as I'm holding the knife here, I think you want to tell me."

Angel laughed. It was not jolly or hearty or genuine. It was degrading and cruel and downright creepy. "What are you going to do? Threaten me? Threats are only good if you follow through on them. And I know you won't do that."

The teen's face hardened in anger. "You don't know anything about me," he spat.

Still smiling, Angel said, "I wasn't talking about your intentions to follow through. I was talking about your ability." Before anyone could register what happened, the kids holding Angel hit the ground with loud thuds, the knife flew out of its owner's hand and clanged in a dark corner, and a bewildered Zeus found himself pinned against the wall that used to be behind Angel, with Angel's own dagger to Zeus's throat.

"The rest of you leave," Angel called to the shocked kids behind him. "Now." Most of them ran for the door, the rest hesitated and followed.

Angel took the dagger off the kid's throat and pulled him roughly toward the captive—a pudgy man with black hair and a thick mustache—and away from the open door. Releasing him suddenly so the boy stumbled, Angel said sharply, "Don't move."

He bent and sliced the ropes that bound the man, who had managed to get them fairly loose already. The man scrambled to his feet a little shakily.

"Go home," Angel said quietly. The man stumbled out as quickly as he could.

"Now," Angel turned to the terrified leader. "We need to talk. We can do it any way you want. Easiest for you," he pointed the dagger in the leader's direction, "would be to give me the information I need. Most fun for me," he pointed the dagger at himself, "would be various forms of threatening or, I'll admit, torture." Angel sighed wistfully and fingered the blade of his dagger. "It's just been too long."

The leader trembled.

"So," Angel continued, "let's get to it. I understand you and your little gang have been employing a binding spell so you'd know where to find one another in times of crisis, or in case one of your numbers deserted you. If you did it right, you should be able to tell me the general direction of the one you call 'Pan.'"

The leader seemed to concentrate a moment before pointing over Angel's shoulder in the direction of the door. Angel smiled with one corner of his mouth.

"Not bad. It's not one of your more basic spells. Been practicing long?"

"Apollo…"

Angel nodded thoughtfully, still fingering the blade. "If memory serves, you need what's called a concero—an object that's unique to the group—to complete the spell. What was yours?"

The leader's voice shook. "Th-the knife."

"The one you threatened me with?"

The boy nodded. Angel considered that for a moment before calling, "Calder. Come here." A moment later Calder emerged from the door behind Angel and approached cautiously, unsure how close he should get.

"You!" the leader yelled, fear temporarily forgotten in his anger. "You lying, deserting bastard! You just wait, Pan, just wait until -"

"Be quiet." Angel said commandingly, and the boy fell silent. Angel turned to Calder.

"I think the knife went that way," he pointed to the corner to Calder's left. Calder nodded and went to look for it. Angel turned back to the leader and smiled in false pleasantry, still toying with his blade.

They waited.

"Here!" There was a slight scrape of metal on stone as Calder picked up the knife and his footsteps approached from behind. The knife appeared at Angel's elbow and he took it without looking, stowing his own dagger away in his belt. He took a few steps forward, the knife pointed at its owner and bouncing gently up and down as Angel spoke.

"This is the concero?"

The boy nodded. He looked like he desperately wanted to back up, but his feet seemed too paralyzed with fear.

"You're sure?" Angel used the blade of the knife to gently lift up the boy's head, forcing him to look directly into Angel's eyes. He let Angelus appear for a split second before pushing him back down. "I would hate to find out that you were lying to me." Actually, Angel was quite sure the boy was telling the truth, but this was just too much fun. Angelus whispered many nasty suggestions in Angel's ear.

"It is, that's it! I swear! Tell him!" The kid's eyes switched desperately to Calder for confirmation. Angel turned to look at Calder also, keeping pressure on the blade.

"I guess it is," he said. "I don't know how the spell worked, but we used that knife in it."

Angel allowed his satisfaction to show as he turned back. He took the blade out from under the boy's chin and looked at it.

"Tell me," he said conversationally, "how is a thing like this unique to your gang?" He turned the knife over, inspecting it. "Pocket knives are not uncommon, particularly amongst petty criminals such as yourself."

"It was my great-uncle's. He made knives, and that one he made just for himself. There's no other like it. He gave it to me before he died."

Angel made a noise of mild interest—although in actuality the boy had just given him an important piece of information—and continued the interview.

"The chant," he said. "Latin or Italian?"

"Latin."

"The stone?"

"Apatite."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I remember because Apollo said it was apatite and I was hungry at the time, so-"

"And the candles?"

"Green and 100% soy wax. So it wouldn't burn so fast."

"Alright." Angel had all he needed. "Anything else you care to add?" The boy shook his head.

"Nothing you know of that might cause it to go wrong? You did everything to the letter? Nothing added? Nothing omitted? Nothing substituted?"

"No, that's it. Really."

Angel nodded. "Then it's time to leave. I'll be keeping this." He bounced the knife again in gesture.

"Hey! It's mine!"

"Yes, that's true, it is. Do you want to leave me your address? I'll mail it back…"

The thought of telling Angel exactly where he lived did not seem to appeal to the kid, so he scowled instead.

"Alright then," Angel said, closing the knife and pocketing it as he turned and headed for the door. When he reached it, he swung around abruptly as if he had just thought of something. "Did you know that if you scalped a man and hung him upside down alive it would take seven minutes and 43 seconds for all the blood to drain from his body? Depending on how deep you cut the scalp, of course. It varies." He paused. "I wonder how I knew that…"

And, turning, he left the building. Calder took one look at his former leader and hurried after Angel.

There was just one problem: Angel had disappeared.