Chapter 12

By Carycomic

SAN FRANCISCO AIRPORT HILTON,

TWELVE HOURS EARLIER

(MICK ST. JOHN'S P.O.V.)

We checked into Josef Kostan's private suite at the Hilton around eight-thirty the next morning. The concierge at the desk needed only one phone call to verify my claim at having a standing invitation, to make use of it, in Josef's absence. Not to mention, blushing in embarrassment at having doubted that claim so snobbishly!

What can I say? Sometimes, it pays to be on a first-name basis with the richest Toreador on the West Coast.

Buffy and Willow took the master bedroom, Xander took one of the two guest-rooms, and I took the couch. And, I have to confess, I fell asleep before any of them. Because, like I said: I can only withstand a limited amount of direct sunlight.

We woke up around one in the afternoon with the other three ordering room service to quench their appetites. Me? I got out my "brandy flask" and swigged down some cow's blood. When those preliminaries were over, Willow was the first to broach the subject of how we'd be spending the day.

"Well, as I see it?" remarked Buffy: "We first have to determine whether or not that really is just a replica of Queen Bessie's Lucky Charm at that museum. Think you're computer wizardry is up to the challenge, Will?"

Willow grinned. "Let me at 'em!"

"That a girl! Xan? Why don't you accompany me to the museum so we can scout out the in-house security. You know; just in case we have to...preemptively borrow it?"

"Oooh!" exclaimed Xander: "What a nice new euphemism for stealing."

"Down, boy! Mick; how about you? You got enough sunblock to make it to Chinatown?"

I nodded: "Contacting Angel during daylight hours would be best for me. I'm a lot less likely to run across any of my 'rival bloodhunters.' Emphasis on the sarcastic finger quotes."

"Swellish!" replied Buffy: "Then let's hit the bricks."

Ninety minutes later, I was at the House of Lavender Flame knocking on the door of a third floor room. I had used my vampirically-enhanced olfactory sense to ferret out which one Angel was staying in. But, I was so busy mentally patting myself on the back, I momentarily forgot he had not come here alone.

A fact I was reminded of when I felt the point of a wooden stake pressed against the back of my head.

"Halt! Friend or foe?"

The voice was decidedly female, so it was easy to deduce that this must be the one called Cordelia.

"Definitely a friend. Buffy sent me!"

The door in front of me opened up without any further delay.

"Come on in, and talk fast," ordered Angel.

And, that was how I first came face-to-face with the former Scourge of Europe.

I told him my story; he gave me his. When he told me about the audience with Prince Julian later that night, I was a little dubious.

"If the local Brujah primogen is secretly Cyrus' man, he won't just stand idly by and let this go. He'll secretly arrange to have something happen before you get to Luna's mansion."

Angel nodded: "I know. And, I have to admit; I was initially at a loss with regard to having any kind of contingency plan. But, now, with you and Buffy, here...?"

"...the luck of the Irish might finally be with us," finished Doyle.

"From your brogue to God's ear," muttered Cordie.

Lyle Gorch, and his brother Tector, had originally been scalphunters back in the Old West. When they could not find legitimate bronco Apaches to shoot, kill, and scalp for blood money, they would gladly substitute innocent Mexican peons!

Then, they got vampirized.

For the next century after that, they roamed, raped, and pillaged at will. Sort of like New World counterparts of Angelus, Darla, Drusilla, and Spike (only cruder). Then, one day, they chose to go to a California town called Sunnydale, to try and solidify their vampiric reputations by slaying the Slayer. But, all that truly happened is Lyle losing Tector to some half-buried monster called a "bezoar!"

Considering himself a good and loyal brother, Lyle came back to Sunnydale, a year later. Determined to avenge Tector's Final Death, at all costs. Once again, however, the Slayer and her friends got the upper hand. This time, by dusting his beloved "wife," Candy!

Now, though, he had a new wife. Someone twice as good in bed as Candy. And, with twice as big a grudge against the Slayer as Lyle himself. It was she who had talked him into abandoning his old ways for a new motif. And, he had to admit: this "Bonnie-and-Clyde" look was a definite improvement.

He hefted his tommy-gun: "You about ready, little darlin'?"

She smiled as she finished buttoning her pin-stripe blazer and donned a black-banded white fedora.

"Uh-huh! Let's go put the 'harm' in Harmony Kendall."

tbc