Disclaimer: See chapter one.
"Can I help?" The voice startled Cordelia out of her stupor as she gazed at the seemingly endless stream of text. Yeva was standing in front of her, twisting her hands in a mousey, twitchy sort of way, "Want me to look too?"
"Sure." Cordelia inwardly winced at her own tone, the short word sounding sharp on her tongue. The foul mood she was in wasn't the girl's fault, she was tired and still cold from their earlier soaking. In a feeble attempt to alleviate her guilt, she passed one of the books from her pile, flashing a professional, yet tight smile.
They carried on the tedious task of research in relative silence, the only noise coming from the clink of coffee mugs as they were emptied and refreshed. A heavy sigh from Yeva soon denoted boredom had finally set in.
"So, you guys do this for a living? Helping people from demons and such?" She leaned her head in the crook of her arm and gazed lazily at her companion, trying to make eye contact.
Without looking up, Cordelia answered, "Yup, we're regular superheroes. Poor superheroes that have cheap coffee and obviously no social lives to speak of." That hard tone was still in her voice and this time Yeva caught it.
"You don't like me do you?" The blunt statement caught Cordelia off guard and she looked up sharply, "Or at least, you don't like half of me."
Cordelia almost shot out a retort denying any such prejudice but quickly swallowed it. Now that it had been actually said, she realised that, perhaps, there was something within her that shied away from the half-demon.
It wasn't a conscious thing, she barely even knew it was there but nevertheless it was, and Yeva had called her on it. This time when she looked up the smile was genuine. "Sorry. Guess that's not really doing anything for our image of helping the helpless is it?"
The hard look in the other girl's eyes softened. "It's understandable."
Cordelia put the book she was reading down. "But it's not forgivable, I just need to open my mind a little more, something which you'd think living on a Hellmouth for most of my life would have done." The humour in her voice eased the two into something resembling friendly chatter and then spent the next hour discussing Sunnydale, witches, werewolves and, much to Cordelia's surprise, Bloomingdale's summer sales.
They remained like that until Doyle arrived, slightly damp from the retreating rain. The torrents had trickled down to a drizzle, so now the city was bathed in a misty grey haze.
"Having fun ladies?" Cordelia could see he was obviously wishing he'd opted for research instead of trailing around the demon bars and hangouts, talking to some unsavoury characters, and avoiding others, for information on the rogue demon attacker. He shook his head and droplets flew across the two seated on the sofa, causing Cordelia to jump up and smack him on the arm.
"What are you? A Labrador?" she squealed. "Just because we don't look like drowned rats, there's no need to soak us too."
"Sorry Princess, didn't want you feeling left out" Behind them, Yeva giggled and Doyle used the distraction to scoot around the desk before he received another slap.
Decided that she was far too classy to pursue him, Cordelia merely returned to the sofa, feeling vindicated. "So, did your oh-so-seedy friends tell you anything about our demon?"
"Not really." He looked disappointed, "Well, nothing solid anyway. There definitely been some happenings, a few people missing, and all half-demons, I might add. No one seems to know exactly what's doing it but their pretty scared by the whole thing"
The news wasn't really a comfort, but Cordelia gave him a smile anyway, "Well, back to the books then. You can help."
He pulled a face, "Oh joy!"
They weren't at it for long before Cordelia gave a yelp, startling Yeva and causing Doyle to spill his coffee.
Ignoring his irritated look, she dumped the large book into the centre of the desk. "Sorry, but I think I've found it." She placed the large book on the desk and stepped back slightly to let the others look. On the page was a sketch of their demon in all its muscled glory. Underneath was a couple of sentences but the language was unfamiliar.
"Any guesses what that says?" Doyle piped up.
Cordelia shrugged, "I was hoping you'd know."
He shook his head, hair now dry and slightly fluffy. "Not a clue." He shot a look at Yeva, "Any ideas?"
The girl simply shrugged, "Don't look at me. I can barely speak my own name in any other language."
Cordelia let out a frustrated sigh, "Guess we wait for Angel then."
"Wait for me why?" The vampire smiled at the collective jump he received at his subtle arrival, his undead skills allowing him to enter the room unnoticed.
Cordelia gave him a hard glare, "That's it; no more sneaking around! I'm getting you a bell!"
Doyle nodded in agreement, "You almost gave me a heart attack man!" He clutched at his chest in mock pain.
Angel smiled again, not sorry in the slightest. "Sorry, what's up?"
Cordelia passed him the book, "It's our demon, but we can't read what it says about it."
The vampire studied the page for a second before speaking, "It's a Gruagach demon, found in South America primarily, mountain-dwellers, very strong and typically a...oh…" He paused, frowning.
Doyle leaned over his shoulder, "What is it?"
Angel continued, "It says here that this demon is typically a protector of cattle, normally peaceful, though can be defensive if threatened."
Cordelia's confusion was evident in her voice, "Cattle, as in cows? That doesn't make sense. Why would a cow demon attack people? Oh! Unless they were rustling the demon's cattle! Like in those old Western movies."
Doyle gave her a lopsided smile, "Princess, I find it a tad difficult to believe there are cattle rustlers in L.A. Hell, I'm not even sure there are cows in L.A"
"Have we got the wrong demon then?" Yeva asked, taking the book from Angel, "Oh, definitely not. I never forget someone who tries to eviscerate me." She handed it back, a little green around the gills.
Cordelia sighed, "So, we have a protector of cows attacking people…for reasons best known to itself. It sounds like this case is definitely up our street – it makes no sense!"
Angel frowned, unable to disagree with her statement, "Well, it doesn't matter. We need to stop it. I talked to Kate, this isn't the first time this has happened. There's been five more."
"Five!" Doyle's voice rose a note or two in alarm, "This thing's killed six people in total?"
Angel nodded, his face grim, "And we're going to stop it before it hits seven."
As darkness fell over the City of Angels, a tense atmosphere settled as well. It was as if the inhabitants that walked the rain-drenched streets could feel the fear in the air and were keeping themselves in doors. Angel could almost smell the emotion in the air, and it smelt musty.
"Penny for them?" Yeva stepped up next to him, joining his gaze at the landscape outside of the window, "It's looks so much prettier at night, you wouldn't even guess at what goes on out there, wouldn't you?"
He gave her a lopsided smirk, "You'd be surprised."
She returned the smile, "I guess you've seen quite a bit in your line of business. And I suppose the whole vampire thing adds a twist on your everyday perspective."
"Is it that obvious?" He briefly toyed with the idea of changing his look, to see if that helped. Maybe dye his hair blonde? The idea made him smile again.
"You smell undead," Yeva's comment dragged him back from his thoughts. "I've never seen a zombie with such a good complexion before." This time he laughed and turned away from the window to lean on the ledge.
"And you?" he asked. "Have you always known about your other half?" He inwardly winced as soon as he said it out loud, recalling Doyle's distain when discussing his demon heritage. He was afraid he might have overstepped the mark, but she didn't seem to mind the prod,
"No, it came about around twelve years ago, I was pretty young and I think that helped me adjust better. Nowadays I'm thankful for what it's given me." Her voice sounded soft, almost wistful.
"Sounds nice." The pair looked up abruptly from where Doyle's voice drifted across the room as he stood in the doorway.
Yeva caught his hard stare, "It was."
Angel took the cue to leave, knowing that Doyle wanted to hear more, but wasn't ready to speak in front of an audience.
He moved swiftly, gathering his coat. "I'm going to check in with Kate, see if she's heard anything else about the new crime scene" He grabbed his coat and left, casting a quick supportive glance at the other man before shutting the door behind him.
Once he was gone, the two hybrids stood for a moment, weighing the other up. For Doyle, he found himself becoming irritated at the mere presence of the girl, as if her easy acceptance of her heritage was a personal affront to his own difficulties.
She spoke quietly, as if reading his thoughts, "I have a nagging suspicion that there's something you find uncomfortable about me."
He answered quickly, "I wouldn't say that."
She replied, just as fast. "What would you say then?"
He stepped further into the room, one hand reaching back to rub the back of his neck, while the other rested firmly in his pocket.
She gave him time to find the right words and for a second, he was thankful. Struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice, he finally voiced the question that was really eating at him, "Weren't you angry? I mean, with your parents, for not telling you? All the time you were growing up, they hid it from you. How old were you? Twelve? Thirteen?"
"Nineteen," she replied.
For a second he was silent and he found himself thinking, "She's older than she looks."
She continued, "It wasn't easy I'll admit but I couldn't get angry, even if I wanted to. My mother had died when I was a baby and my father thought it would be easier if I believed she was human. After all, I looked normal, so he had hoped I would never need to find out."
He processed the information, mapping his own childhood alongside hers. "I had a similar experience." He hoped the tone in his voice told her that was all she needed to know.
"And are you still angry? With your parents?" There was a moment as he regarded the other half-demon, a desire for the truth etched on her oval face.
He found himself speaking the truth, for once in his life, "Yes. And so should you be. You just said, your father lied to you, deceived you! You go through life happy as anything and then suddenly, someone drops a bomb on you and expects you to deal with it. It messes up everything and there's not a thing you can do about it."
The half-smile on her face vanished. "Your problem is not with me Doyle. I've handled my demons and made the best of my life. If you're looking for someone to blame for your own life, then you need to look closer to home."
"Thanks for the tip." His voice sounded petulant but he didn't care – he wasn't going to be lectured by someone he hardly knew.
Her face turned stony at his outburst, "Well, that's all you're getting from me. I've got my own problems, in case you hadn't noticed."
She turned back to face the window, arms crossed. He felt a pang of guilt; he was getting testy about something from the past he couldn't do a thing about while this girl was trying to escape a horrific death at the hands of a killer demon.
Swallowing his anger, he mumbled an apology to her back.
"Forget about it." She turned to him, features relaxed and the familiar smile returned, "I fancy a coffee, you want one?"
Her sudden change in mood took him by surprise and he found himself smiling. "You fancy our coffee?" he asked, trying a light laugh, a joke to ease the tension, which he fully expected to fall flat.
"Actually I was thinking the deli round the corner, my treat?" She smiled. Apparently, he was forgiven.
Doyle paused for a second as Cordelia face suddenly flashed into his mind and another swirl of guilt rose in his stomach. But then a little voice piped up from somewhere in the back of his head, 'It is only coffee...'
Again, sorry for the delay. I'm writing as much as free time allows. However, reviews always help to speed up the process - I welcome all constructive feedback, suggestions, opinions, etc...