Eliot slept.
Not his usual ninety-minute cat nap. He slept long and hard as he had every night since being brought to Wolfram and Hart. It wouldn't occur to him the following morning that it was anything unusual anymore than it had the day before. It was a kindness that he slept really; not that he would ever know that either. Neither would the guards know that the pitch-black darkness they looked in periodically was actually a blinding glaring white.
Even for the Conduit, the recreation of a body was taxing work. Shortcuts were sometimes required. Eliot Spencer conveniently provided what it needed to perform the task at hand. A few cells here, a little tissue there. He would never know it was taken. The pain he felt in his sleep would fade into the recesses of his mind, like a nightmare or the distant memory of tortures long ago.
The man that was slowly reforming in the gleaming nothingness of the white room, however, would remember everything. He screamed as if for both of them.
Words were formed in the emptiness surrounding him, from sources that he couldn't see and could only barely hear. Words whispered so softly that he felt them more than heard them, and they went on endlessly.
He writhed, back arching as muscle and sinew formed, nerve endings exposed, his skin as yet unformed. He knew hell. This was worse than hell. This was the way to madness.
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Tara sat up on the bed, the silk sheets slipping from her body as she reached across Angel to get the file she had printed out earlier. "He wanted this translated. Do you know what it says?" She asked.
"You want to do this now?" Angel asked with a grin, caressing her bare flesh.
She laughed. "Insatiable," Tara accused. "You do know I have work to do. We can spend the day in bed when the job is done."
He took the paper from her and read it. His features hardened and then turned bland. "It's nothing -"
"If you say it's nothing I need to know about I am out of here," She told him. "You need to stop trying to play me. I know Eliot looks like McDonald and you have issues with that, but you are not going to use me to hang Eliot out in effigy for someone that you've already had killed." She moved away from him on the bed, sitting out of arm's reach. "I mean it, Angel. This isn't a line you want to cross."
"It's something from one of the Neimic ancient texts," He told her.
"Not another prophesy. I hate prophesies."
"No, nothing like that," Angel said quietly. "It's an admonishment to protect the traditions because they are what separate the tribe from the savages."
"Savages?" She asked.
"Humanity," Angel said. "Humans weren't the first creatures to walk the earth. They were savage and aggressive and eventually discovered magic to send the demons into another dimension. a lot of dimensions. Hell dimensions. To the demons at the time, humanity was no better than a swarm of plague rats."
"Nice," She said. "Is that why vampires are on the bottom rung of the demonic ladder?"
Angel nodded. "There are certain schools of thought that believe that we were created to wipe out humanity." He shrugged. "Where did he find this?"
"In McDonald's paperwork," She said. "He's been going through it trying to sort out what this is really about. It can't just be trying to keep the peace between two warring factions. There is something else going on. I'm watching someone else run a con and I can't sort out what they're after."
Angel frowned, "What else did he find?"
She handed him the pages he had wanted typed. She figured that was Eliot's way of telling her that he wanted Angel to have them. She honestly didn't know if that was in Eliot's best interest or not.
Angel got out of bed, not bothering to get dressed before padding into the library next to his room.
Tara followed and watched as he pulled out an old map of the city spreading it over the table. "That is beautiful," She said, looking at the sepia drawing of old Los Angeles. "It's what. from the turn of the last century?"
"A little before actually," He said. It was laid out with the demonic boundaries as they were back in the late 1800s. He laid out a more modern map next to it with the boundaries also marked. All of the boundaries had changed; all that is, except for the Neimic. "This is prime real estate," Angel told her. "The Neimic have been guarding and protecting this site for a long time. I think they have been here in that location since. well. before what became the Native Americans crossed the Bering Strait."
"Why is it prime real estate? It looks to be one of the worst districts in LA," Tara asked studying both maps.
"Ley lines," He said "For one. It's always been a place of power. I don't think even they know all the reasons it's important other than its religious significance. To them, it's like the Dome of the Rock. but underground. They put the significance of its power in a religious context. Someone like Wolfram and Hart would see it as pure power. Control of this territory isn't just about which side of the family the big bad is on. it's about who leads their religion, as well as their politics."
Tara leaned against the table, half perched on it. "What would happen if the Neimic go to war?" She asked.
"It would tear LA apart. Not that people would notice. It will get written off as gang violence and natural disasters but it would be bad. War is unpleasant from a distance. Imagine when it's in your backyard."
She nodded, "And if they wipe each other out?"
"Then there would be a vacuum and another war as the neighboring demons rushed in to try and fill it."
"Unless Wolfram and Hart gain control first," She suggested. "What would they do if they figured out Lindsey wasn't Lindsey?"
"For one they would tear Eliot limb from limb, then go at each other once the negotiations fall apart."
"No wonder they didn't just bring Lindsey back. They want this to fail"
Angel scowled, "We can't let Lilah control that meeting tomorrow. She'll find a way to make him trip up."
"Then, I guess, we have work to do," Tara said, going back to get her clothes.
Angel let out a long low sigh. "I knew she was going to say that."
The morning came far too quickly for Tara. Especially with the circuitous route she had to take to work to avoid detection. Angel had worked with her for hours to pronounce the words of the Neimic scripture perfectly. Eliot was better with languages. He would pick it up quickly. He and Angel were going to have to work hard to create a lasting peace outside of Wolfram and Harts's control or things would go from bad to very bad in a very short period of time.
She reached Wolfram and Hart shortly before 8 am and found Eliot already in his office pacing back and forth as he looked over the files. "I'll be right back with your coffee, Mr. McDonald," She told him and motioned for him to put in the earbud they had given him.
Once he had done so she walked out of his office and let the security guard lock it behind her. She smiled at him and went on her way down to the cafeteria. "Do not listen to Lilah when she starts telling you what to say. It's all been a setup from the beginning," She said in a voice that could only be heard through the earbud.
*That much I had figured out,* Eliot grumbled quietly.
Tara explained everything that Angel had explained to her. "I need you to learn that phrase you had me translate for you. Never mind what the Wolfram and Hart translation says," She told him what it was, then, went through the words with him one at a time. Once he could equate the words with what they individually meant he picked it up like a natural. If you overlooked the Southern accent.
"Good. Okay, Angel has done this before. We're going to have to trust his take on this for now."
*For now?*
"For now," Tara said. Angel wasn't the only one she had been making plans with. Angel had an agenda that mostly coincided with hers. She also knew how he worked. If he thought for a moment that it was necessary he would leave Eliot dangling in the breeze. Angel was also impulsive. Which lead to bad judgment calls. Not his fault. She blamed it on Irish Genetics. Nate was much the same way after all.
She made his coffee and picked out a couple of pastries for him as well. She smiled and nodded to the other secretaries as she left the room and made the long slow walk back to Eliot's office. "Here's the plan so far," She said and began to fill him in once more.
The more Eliot heard the less in control he felt; which was saying something since he was pretty sure he hadn't been in control of anything, including his own breathing for days now. He had suddenly gone from being Lilah's pawn to being Angel's. To add insult to injury he was also sure he was coming down with the flu. He ached all over, for no discernible reason.
He sat down in the chair behind his new desk and buried his head in his hands for a moment then straightened. He pulled his hair back, put on his glasses, and straightened his tie. Next was the dreaded suit jacket.
This was just a preliminary meeting. The negotiations didn't start until tomorrow. He could get through this meeting. It was just a job like any other. At least that was what he told himself.
"I need to change coms. Going offline," He said and pulled out the earbud and tucked it into his pants pocket. Lilah's com link had been returned to him when he had been taken from his cell that morning. It was sitting on his desk when the bitch queen herself strode into his office.
"What the hell are you doing?" She asked sharply. "You don't have room to screw up this morning. This has to be flawless. "Lilah picked up the com and held it out in front of his face.
Eliot winced seeing two of them wavering in front of him. He reached out to take it, just to get it out of his face. "I have a headache. Do you mind yelling in a quieter voice?"
Tara entered the room with Eliot's coffee and danish. "Oh, Good morning Ms. Morgan," She said setting things down on the desk, "Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all," Lilah said. "Call extension twenty-eight and have them bring something up for Mr. McDonald's headache."
"Aspirin is fine," Eliot said, not sure he wanted to take anything they offered.
"Go make the call, Miss Chapel," Lilah said in a tone that would take no argument.
Tara was left with little choice.
A few minutes later the pills arrived. "We have an in-house dispensary," Lilah told him. "That will take care of your headache," She said with a faint laugh. "It's not a request or a suggestion, take them now."
"You," Eliot started and fell silent shaking his head in frustration, but he took the pills as ordered. He reached for the coffee to get the taste out of his mouth, "Are a bitch. You know that?"
"It has been pointed out a time or two, by far better men than you." Just one man really, the only one whose opinion mattered to her.
"Good, I'd hate to have you go through life without knowing," growled. "So, are you in here for a reason?"
"Keep that earbud in place," Lilah said, ignoring his question. She watched for a minute longer and when Eliot's features relaxed she left the room.
Eliot could feel the effects of the drug the moment they hit his system. Not only did he no longer hurt, anywhere, but he was suddenly calm. No anger, no frustration, just. calm, which was something no drug he had ever been given before had ever done. People had shoved a lot of things down his throat. Usually, they were forcing them on him, because most captors didn't want Eliot in full control of his faculties for some reason.
He didn't like the effect. He liked the anger, liked being on edge because it kept him alive.
Ten am arrived and Eliot rose from his chair, a smile on his face and an outstretched hand to greet Rasa as she entered the room.