Chapter Six
"So Doctor, do you still think we can be friends?" Angelus asked, looking down at his handiwork.
The Doctor lay curled on the floor next to the bed, cradling his right hand. When he had hours, Angelus liked to start with less consequential injuries, but adjustments needed to be made. After all, the Doctor had (probably) been tortured before and he put on a good act about not being bothered outside of the pain. Angel wanted to take the mask of indifferent competence away from him as quickly as possible and to do that, he needed to make the Doctor genuinely afraid. Pain could get rid of indifference. As for competence, taking away some of his powers of observation by damaging the eyes was a good start, and damaging his nimble fingers made an excellent follow up.
The beautiful emerald earrings had caught Angelus's eye in the loose jumble of items from the Doctor's pockets. He'd liked how delicate they were in his hand, but had a sharp point that could be jammed under fingernails. The idea of the Doctor trying to build some imaginative invention with fingers that caused him pain each time he touched something just felt right to Angelus. Artfully practical.
Because the Doctor was a problem just as much as he was a fun new toy. As much as Angelus had been doing his best to hiss sweet little nothings into the Doctor's ear that he was powerless now and that his mind couldn't save him, his own fear lingered deep inside him. The Doctor was powerful. But was he too powerful to keep alive or too powerful a tool to dispose of? Worst of all, was he too powerful for Angelus to know how to dispose of him effectively?
Angelus had met a future version of the Doctor in Angel's past. Several future versions. Did that mean he lost this fight? Was the past changeable? If he chose to kill the Doctor would he simply fail to block the regeneration and have to contend with a different Doctor? Frustratingly, the Doctor was the person most likely to have the answers to these questions and most likely to lie about the answers to reach his own ends.
"Really starting to question my taste," the Doctor coughed. Tears leaked from under his swollen eyes, Angelus noted. He hadn't destroyed the tear ducts. Vacuum fluid was a bit disappointing in the end, but Angelus was pretty sure he'd broken a rib, at least. There had been a pleasant noise when he'd thrown the Doctor to the floor and the Doctor's breathing had a nice hitching that meant it hurt.
Angelus had to grin. The artist inside him was honored to be able to break someone so challenging. It was like being presented with a perfect block of marble to chisel. Between the screams, the Doctor fought back with a mixture of displaced good humor, righteous anger, and weathered optimism. By now most people were cursing Angelus's name. Or at least crying. Angelus was practically salivating to see just what it would take to make the Doctor hate him with the same hopeless anger that had destroyed planets and then crush what remained of his spirit into dust.
"Come on now, Doctor, we already have so much in common," Angelus said. He crouched down between the Doctor's curled body and the heavy window curtains.
The Doctor stayed on the floor, probably trying to mimic despair, but his pride wouldn't allow him not to reply. "Ha!" the Doctor scoffed, wincing when he had to take him more air.
"Like that," Angelus said. "Pride. Smart enough to play at being more hurt than you are, too proud to sell yourself as defeated." He reached down and took the Doctor's injured hand. He did it slow enough for the Doctor to try and fail at pulling the hand away from Angelus's much stronger grip. Let the Doctor wait for pain so all of his senses were tingling when Angel licked the blood from his wounded fingers instead. He could feel the shiver of revulsion ripple through the Doctor.
Angelus sighed like an addict getting a fix. The blood was powerful. He wanted to bite down, but Angelus needed his wits about him. He needed to make a decision on his next steps and not get distracted by his art. Or chasing the first high available to him.
"Easily distracted," the Doctor added to their list of commonalities. "As fun as this is, and as proud as I am, I can't believe that torturing me is at the top of your to-do list."
"Don't sell yourself short," Angelus said, although the Doctor was probably right. "I love spending quality time with my friends."
"Ah, right. I remember," the Doctor said. He tried to push himself up with his free hand.
"Ready for more?" Angelus asked.
"Is there a right answer to that question?" the Doctor asked.
Angelus let go of the Doctor's hand and watched the Doctor curl it back to his chest.
"There's the truth," Angelus suggested. "I'm a big fan of the truth."
The Doctor fumbled at the bed behind him and Angelus regretted closing his eyes with acid. He lacked that little window into the Doctor's soul and Angelus worried about what the Doctor's mind was calculating. He had very few clues as to what thought brought a hint of a smile to the Doctor's lips, but he liked that there was something cruel about it.
"We can do truth," the Doctor said. "You still feel all that love for them, don't you? Your family."
Angelus punched his fist next to the Doctor's head, and leaned forward to say, "You want to know what I feel for them? Hatred. Pure, unadulterated. They made me feel love once, and that is unforgivable." Angelus paused, staring at the Doctor's blistered face. "Love and hate are funny things, Doctor: the only way to let them go is to see them through to the end. Whatever that end may be."
"Hatred wouldn't make you this upset," the Doctor wheezed, fighting against pain for every breath he took. His head turned, like he wanted to see what exactly was next to his face, but he flinched away again when his cheek touched Angelus's hand.
"You say I'm upset," Angelus replied, leaning in a little bit closer, "I call it passionate. But I haven't seen it through to the end with them yet. With Calder, William…Judith. Don't worry, they're on the list. You're just foreplay."
The Doctor lifted his chin, probably pleased with Angelus's outburst. The bastard. They'd been going back and forth like this for an hour: one of them landing a nice punch only to turn around and land his own moments later. It was both infuriating and exhilarating, but Angelus wanted to end up on top.
"I know," the Doctor said, "because it was the same for me. You think if you kill them you get to stop loving them. But you don't. You're not going to stop loving them. And then they'll be gone and you'll have nothing to do with all of that love that you don't want."
Angelus's blood boiled at the insinuation that there was any love he could possibly be left with, but he didn't want the Doctor to see that he'd hit a mark. So he calmly sat up, taking the Doctor's injured hand tenderly - almost lovingly - in his. He caressed the bleeding fingertips with his own, drawing his fingers down the back of the Doctor's hand to his wrist, positioning his fingers just…right.
With a satisfying snap, he broke the Doctor's wrist joint. The resulting scream soothed his frustration.
"I guess," the Doctor choked out eventually, "I struck a nerve." He managed half a smile at his own joke.
"I guess," Angelus replied, dropping the Doctor's hand, "I struck several." He stood up, gripping the Doctor's elbow as he did. "Let's change the scenery," he said. "Screaming in the bedroom is a little too suggestive for my taste."
Half-dragging the Doctor, Angelus pulled him back toward the living room, effectively breaking the hold that the Doctor had gotten on the conversation. Instead, the Doctor had to grab onto Angelus's coat with his good hand just to keep his balance, placing him back where Angelus wanted him; dependent and broken.
He dropped the Doctor off at the couch, pleased that the Doctor had managed to knock his broken wrist on the apothecary table in the process, and left the Doctor to collect himself while Angel went to his liquor cabinet, wondering which of his whiskeys would pair well with Time Lord blood.
"You'll have to forgive me," Angelus said in his most gentlemanly tone, "I haven't offered you anything to drink. Vaulted Dell? Higher Haven? Wait, I can't remember if you like whiskeys in this body."
The Doctor started to struggle back to his feet and it told Angelus so much about him. This was why torture could be so effective. He'd known that the Doctor didn't like stillness, but now he knew that the Doctor would willingly push through quite a bit of pain just to move. He'd suffer just for the show of holding his head up high and pushing his shoulders back.
"I haven't tried either," the Doctor said. He swayed by the couch and he barely opened one eye, squinting in Angelus's direction. "You don't seem like the poisoning type. Are you? How embarrassing for both of us that would be."
Angelus's mouth twisted briefly into a smile. "I'm not the poisoning type," he confirmed. "It's a well-known psychological technique: intersperse the pain with reprieve to make the next round of pain seem worse. But also, since we're being honest…you interest me. And I enjoy interesting topics over a fine whiskey. Do you want a glass or not?"
The Doctor cradled his wrist, contemplating his options. "I'm going to have a hard time fixing that lock like this," he admitted quietly to himself. "Yes," he concluded to Angelus, "with ice, if you don't mind."
While Angelus went into the kitchen to get a cube of ice from the freezer, his mind cataloged all the possible damaging things that the Doctor could do with a glass of whiskey and ice and decided they were all acceptable risks for the grand effect of the gesture. He took a little longer than he would have liked in the kitchen (the floor was cluttered and he had to step carefully), but he'd made sure to smash the Doctor's sonic screwdriver earlier and there wasn't a whole lot the Doctor could reach in the few extra seconds that Angelus was out of sight.
He returned with the ice in the glass and poured each of them some of his favorite highland scotch.
"You know," Angelus said as he returned with the drinks, the one on the rocks outstretched toward the Doctor, "most people crack even at the mention of pain. And here you are, bleeding and literally broken in places, having drinks with me and taking stabs every chance you get. It's different. And I think I like it, even if you're also a pain in the ass."
"Pain isn't different," the Doctor said, moving the glass a bit and slowly opening one eye. "I've been here before. If I was going to crack because of a couple of burns I'd be...well, I guess that's up for discussion." The Doctor smiled weakly. "Maybe someone already broke me. You're too late."
Angelus returned the smile. "Not completely," he replied. "There's still plenty more that can break in you." He offered his glass to clink together. "Make eye contact as we toast, now," he instructed, fully aware that the Doctor's eyes must still be burning. "Or we'll each have seven years of bad sex."
The Doctor blinked a few times. Angel caught a glimpse of his red eye, but the Doctor looked away when he clinked their glasses. "I think that'll hurt you more than me," he said.
"Been a while since you've gotten any?" Angelus asked faux-sympathetically.
The Doctor sipped from the glass, swallowed thoughtfully and then casually rested the glass near his swelling wrist. "Alien," he said with a shrug. "We're weird." He took a few steps away toward the door. "But I have to ask, since we're taking a break, what's the point of all this? You know I'm not going to break."
"Doctor," Angelus said evenly, wandering over to one of the armchairs and sprawling casually across it, "it's been a very long time since I've gotten to properly torture anyone. Believe me, there's a point. It's called, 'Causing Pain.'" He paused to sip and savor his scotch. "There is an aspect to pain that will never get old because pain is one of the oldest things there is. It's pure and beautiful. And yet...fresh, at the same time. I'm sure you know what I mean."
"I'm sure I don't," the Doctor said. He approached the door to look at the broken lock. "Not that I haven't heard a sadistic monologue before."
"You were a soldier," Angel replied softly. "A rogue soldier who ended a war and destroyed two species. That you don't know the purity and atavism of pain is a lie that's honestly kind of insulting. Come on, Doctor, you don't have to pretend to walk the high road with me. This is a judgment-free zone."
"Oh, I'm judging you a great deal," the Doctor said, turning back around.
"Hm, fair," Angelus allowed lightly, sipping his drink again.
"Torturing me gets you nothing."
"Aroused doesn't count?" Angelus murmured into his glass.
The Doctor clearly didn't seem to think so. He continued on without even acknowledging Angel's comment. "You're better than this. Not as a friend, but as someone who introduced himself as dangerous. I've destroyed my own home. You think breaking my wrist gets near that? You can't hurt me, Angel. You don't have the reach."
The only thing more infuriating than the comment itself was that he was right. Angelus had known he was right from the start. The Doctor had always been a mysterious figure with an aura of danger as profound as his ability to be annoying. He was a murderer on a massive scale, and one with a soul at that. Angelus knew that soul-wrending pain firsthand; there was no physical pain that Angelus could inflict that could be worse. The physical torture had been lovely for Angelus, but there wasn't much further that he could go that would be just as satisfying. The surprise had gone. The Doctor now knew from experience that Angelus would do anything to him that he thought of, if he wanted. And the Doctor could take it.
Time for a pivot. An escalation. Physical pain was wearing out in novelty and the emotional pain was proving to be a slippery challenge with mere conversation. Time to drive in an emotional spike that the Doctor wouldn't be able to slither away from.
Angelus took another sip of his scotch, savoring the taste and the moment to come. He reeled in from his sprawl and stood up in a smooth motion. He locked his gaze with the Doctor's blistered face as he stepped forward, watching the Doctor watching his movements. He noted by the way the Doctor's eyes widened and the scent of fear that the Doctor had lied about being impervious to pain.
Halfway toward the Doctor, Angelus adjusted course, stepping sideways toward the kitchen door. He set his scotch on the edge of a bookshelf as he passed it and paused at the doorway before entering the kitchen. He gave the Doctor a look that clearly said that the Doctor should be curious enough to follow him, and went in.
Angelus picked his way across the small room, careful to step over the arms and the head and avoid the slippery pool of blood, and then turned, waiting to watch the Doctor's reaction when he realized there had been a man's dying (now dead) body in the kitchen this whole time.
The Doctor had to follow. Curiosity tended to run as a constant in the Doctor, and this version was no different. He followed hesitantly into the kitchen until his watering eyes found the pool of blood. His face shifted to the look of horror and hopelessness that Angelus had been waiting for. He rushed the next few steps and sank to the floor with a gasp of pain.
The Doctor quickly checked the man for life signs. He'd have to. Angelus was pretty sure the man was still warm. Finally the Doctor turned the man's head to reveal the bite wound on his neck. Angelus had ripped out a chunk of flesh in his enthusiasm. All the more to make sure the man didn't survive.
He was rewarded for his efforts with a small gasp of true pain from the Doctor as he tried to swallow his reaction and choked on it. When he looked up, he gave Angelus that look of hatred that he'd been waiting for. Now they were playing.
"You didn't have to do this," the Doctor said.
"No I didn't," Angelus agreed. "But I was hungry and you took a long time waking up. The leftovers wouldn't fit in my fridge, so I hope you'll excuse the mess in here."
The Doctor continued to look at the body, his hand resting on the chest of the stranger. "Who was he?" he asked.
Angelus shrugged just to see the spark of anger. He didn't understand why the Doctor cared so much for people he never met but damn, he wasn't talking about reach now, was he?
The Doctor could see him now. While his eyes remained red and swollen half closed, the Doctor was no longer looking through the rose tinted glasses of optimism. He didn't see Angel. He didn't see the shadow of a soul. He saw Angelus and Angelus was everything the Doctor didn't let himself believe about the universe.
Angelus remembered a different Doctor in a different body telling him that he wanted to be the person who would never blow up a planet to save the universe. And Angelus was here to strip that hope away. "If you were a little more invested," Angelus told the Doctor, "I wouldn't get bored and eat people."
"I didn't do this!" the Doctor shouted.
"But I bet it feels like you did," Angelus said. He remembered the stab of guilt and it made him want to kill something. He settled for watching the growing horror on the Doctor's face as Angelus prowled around the pool of blood. He crouched down next to the body and looked the Doctor in the eyes. "And I'll make sure the next one is your fault. Or do you want to go back to the other room and pick my next tool?" He grinned. "If we're still friends, I'd be happy to stay here getting to know you instead of killing innocent-" Angelus looked down at the body, seriously doubting any man of his age was innocent, "-ish bystanders."
The Doctor gaped, his breath coming fast and ragged, his choices narrowing down to pinpricks of pain. "Stop," he said. "You can stop."
"But I won't," Angelus said sweetly. "Are we still friends, Doctor?"
The Doctor tried to back away, his foot slipping in the blood. He cried out when the fall caught his wrist. "Stop. Just stop," he cried.
It was so sweet to hear. Angelus stood up to step over the body, looming over the Doctor, waiting for him to beg. He just had to let the Doctor's mind come around to the horror. "Say please while you're at it," Angelus said.
The Doctor gulped in quick breaths, his hearts jumping in pace as he struggled to find an alternative that didn't exist. The Doctor was very good at figuring ways out of complicated situations, but Angelus was very good at simplifying situations down to their bare, unavoidable reality.
Angelus was winning and damn, it felt good.
He heard a click and for a brief, insane moment, Angelus wondered if the Doctor had a gun. He didn't. He was still on the floor with blood seeping into that brown suit. Angelus would have to point out that the Doctor was already bloodsoaked. He'd also maybe have to put down a sheet so he didn't ruin the furniture.
The Doctor tried to look toward the kitchen doorway and then tried to look back at Angelus. His hearts regained some level of control.
That click, was it the door? Had the Doctor actually managed to unlock it? In front of Angelus's face with a broken wrist and wounded fingers? Angelus looked down at the Doctor, incredulous, but he clearly didn't know what was happening. Only that something was happening and something at this particular moment, was good news for the Doctor. Angelus stood up. Maybe Calder had been stupid enough to come face him. Or Judith. Wouldn't that be sweet? He could torture someone else in front of the Doctor. Two birds...multiple torture devices. Angelus held a finger up to his lips, shushing the Doctor, although they had both been making quite a bit of noise. "Angel," the Doctor called after him.
Angelus could see the open door to his apartment as he crept toward the kitchen doorway. He pounced the rest of the way, looking into the room for his next victim.
The fae girl from the alley stood with her hand buried up to her elbow in one of the Doctor's coat pockets.
She wiggled her fingers at Angelus. "Don't let me interrupt you," she said. "What the fuck?" Angelus said.
There was a thump and a whimper in the kitchen.
"Is this a bad time?" the fae asked.
"Yes, this is a fucking bad time!"
The Doctor made a rush for the open door and Angelus had to lurch to the side to grab him by the collar. He held on as the Doctor twisted furiously.
The fae pulled her hand from the coat, something glinting in her small hand-
The Doctor kicked Angelus's leg and they both tumbled to the ground. The Doctor screamed again; broken bones were a fun gift that kept on giving, but Angelus twisted to keep his eyes on the fae. What had she grabbed? She was already dashing for the door.
Shoving the Doctor off of him, Angelus jumped to his feet, his instincts acting faster than his senses could piece together what he had seen.
His soul.
She had taken his soul.
Seth Aisner could be found late at night on the top floor in one of the office buildings near the hospital. Finding his location was not the issue. Getting to him was.
Alejandro left Judith and Claire standing in the vast lobby while he went to have a soft conversation with the receptionist. Judith shivered. It was late and she was tired and the building offered little warmth in color or atmosphere. The floor was a cool grey tile that melted into grey pillars that drew the attention up to an elaborate and probably expensive light fixture. Judith hesitated to call it a chandelier. It looked as though someone had scribbled pure light in the air and hung it to dangle and turn in the empty space.
None of it particularly said Vampire to Judith, but then, Angel liked opulence. Perhaps this vampire was younger with more modern taste.
"Is it weird," Claire whispered to Judith as she also took in the lobby, "that I've never been here before? I mean, this guy is apparently basically my husband's boss and, like, he's never invited us to a dinner party."
"You might consider that a...professional courtesy," Judith said, crossing her arms against the cold. "I haven't heard pleasant things about vampire dinner parties."
Claire was deeply quiet for a moment, which was unusual for her. Judith knew that she was remembering the dinner party in France that past May, when they had both experienced a sort of ghostly version of a vampire dinner party; where the ghosts were looking for vengeance on said vampires. With a coolness to match the room, Claire finally replied, "No, me neither."
"I know I'm not one to talk, given my current…situation," Judith said slowly. It wasn't a relationship that she had with Angel; not in that sense. Although the word technically fit since they knew each other and were having relations, she couldn't bring herself to use that word and all the romantic connotations that came with it. "But I am concerned for Alejandro. Most vampires are dangerous."
Claire sucked in a breath and shrugged. "You and Alejandro both say that," she replied, "and yet…" She shrugged, looking tired at figuring it out.
"And yet," Judith agreed. "They do have a way of drawing us in. And I have to hope Alejandro's…situation will help me survive the danger of mine."
Claire turned to Judith, her eyes shining and a smile emerging onto her face, particularly bright in the cloudy-grey room. "Oh Judy," she said with relish, "that is such a romantic perspective! I'm so proud of you!" And she threw her arms around Judith in a hug.
Judith patted Claire's back, unsure how to respond appropriately to the outburst. Fortunately, by the time Claire pulled away, Judith could see Alejandro was smiling and stepping away from the desk. "There he is," Judith pointed out, heading to meet Alejandro halfway.
"We have guest passes," Alejandro said, waving his Palm Ring to transfer the passes to Judith and Claire. "We'll need to make it quick. He doesn't technically have an opening, so we won't have a lot of time."
"We don't have too many questions," Judith said. Although, that wasn't as accurate as she liked to be. "At least, we don't need to bother him with all of our questions."
"Agreed," Alejandro said, leading them toward the lifts. "In fact, I think it would be best if you ladies allowed me to do most of the talking. I have known Mr. Aisner quite a long time and I can read his cues. Such as they are."
He pressed the button to call the lifts and one opened immediately. As they entered, Judith replied, "I'm happy to let you do most of the talking. And to remind Claire to let you do most of the talking." She sent a semi-teasing smile to her friend.
"Judy! You are positively riled up tonight," Claire said.
Judith thought she had a very good reason to be riled up. She reached out and lightly hit Claire's arm with the back of her hand, mostly because she knew Claire would appreciate it.
"Here we go," Alejandro said, pressing his ring to the elevator controls. The light for the second to the top floor lit up. It had no button, so the pass must have been the only way to reach the upper floors.
They shot up through the building in nervous silence and stepped off onto soft carpet with three dimensional square designs that made Judith slightly dizzy if she looked at them too long.
Alejandro turned immediately to the left and took them down a short hallway to a waiting area with another reception desk manned by what Judith thought might be an imp. She was small enough in proportion to be a child, but her skin had a deep red hue and horns curled from her forehead. "I don't have an appointment for you, Alejandro," the receptionist said blandly. "Can I help you?"
Alejandro waved his Palm ring at a small stand on the desk. "I have a quick and urgent matter to discuss for Seth. We got permission to see if he'll admit us between appointments."
Permission to see if they could speak to him. Judith smoothed her skirt with her hand, hoping to look ready for the queen. Or possibly just not like someone that would have a lot of questions.
The imp looked unimpressed by the permission that dinged onto her device. She held Alejandro's gaze while she pressed an intercom. "Mr. Aisner, I have Alejandro here with an 'urgent matter' to discuss. What would you like done with him?"
Judith and Claire shared a look. It was not the same look. On Judith, it was an appropriate glance of concern. On Claire, it was wild excitement.
No voice came back through the intercom that Judith could hear, but a moment later the imp nodded curtly. "Have a seat," she said, looking disappointed.
Claire patted Judith's hand quickly, clearly excited by their progress. Judith had to admit that a disappointed imp was probably a good sign.
Alejandro nodded and smiled at the imp. "Gracias, Sara, you're a darling."
"Uh-huh," the imp said dismissively. She looked back down and started typing at her computer.
They made their way over to the plush waiting area and settled themselves in. Alejandro looked at home and unconcerned about his surroundings, but he tended to be that way. He was the calm and collected counterpart to Claire's excitability, and Claire was not disappointing tonight. She thrived on tension and stress - so long as it wasn't hers - and Judith supposed that a soulless Angel was just far enough removed from Claire's influence that she felt secure enough to see this all as a grand adventure.
It shouldn't surprise Judith. When they had all been in mortal danger last May, Claire had been the first to recover from the post-traumatic stress, having turned it into a dark fairy tale with a happy ending in her mind.
Judith's mind wasn't so imaginative or versatile. It was much too rooted in reality, and that was usually intentional. Reality was truth, and it was better to react to truth than fiction. Even if that meant gripping one's hands together with anxiety that a truly evil and dangerous vampire was currently out there planning their destruction (that wasn't dramatic exaggeration, it was cold fact), and Calder was also out there actively trying to stop him.
And they were sitting in yet another vampire's office (not evil, so they said) on the mere hope that he knew something about a soul-extracting gun that had been sold on the supernatural black market.
A door opened and a short man with dirty blond hair stepped out into the room. He wore a well tailored grey suit and Judith guessed that he was an accountant until he approached Alejandro and nodded to him.
"I hope this has nothing to do with the Gentlefolk," he said, reaching out to shake Alejandro's hand. "We've been taking care to make sure there was as little disruption as possible during the confluence."
"To be honest," Alejandro replied as they all rose to their feet, "we do suspect some Gentlefolk broke into our home not long ago. But that's not our chief concern. I'll get right to the point: a friend of ours-" (Judith thought the phrase "friend of ours" was very generous of Alejandro) "-has had his soul stolen tonight. Extracted through some sort of gun. We think the gun is the only way to put the soul back, and it's broken. Quite literally smashed. Would you happen to know of devices like these? If there might be a replacement or someone who could repair it?"
"My condolences," Seth replied. "Are you hoping that returning the soul will revive the body? There are easier ways to make zombies."
Judith swallowed back her frown. She didn't think she cared for Mr. Seth Aisner.
"Oh, no," Alejandro replied, sounding somewhat amused. "No, the body is- He's a vampire, in fact. Actually, I just realized that you must know of Angel."
Seth looked concerned for a moment and then cleared his throat. "We've met, although the circumstances were...nevermind." He waved the distraction away. "You're saying that Angel lost his soul?" He asked with a certain intensity that Judith couldn't quite pinpoint as positive or negative. But Seth was certainly interested in the news.
"I'm afraid so," Alejandro replied. "And given his reputation without it, we're trying to put it back as quickly as possible. We're quite concerned that Judith, here," he held his hand out to Judith and beckoned her closer, touching her shoulder affectionately when she did, "is in particular danger."
Seth inhaled through his nose in a way that Judith recognized from spending time with a vampire as picking up additional information from scent.
There had been a few moments over the past several months where the fact that Judith was sleeping with a well-known, well-...was respected the right word? Infamous vampire landed like stones in her gut. Knowing that this particular well-known, successful vampire in front of her now knew this fact from her scent dropped the stones again and Judith tried her best to stand completely still and collected as they rattled around within her.
"I didn't know you were friends with Angel," Seth said to Alejandro. For some reason, it felt like a slight that he didn't address Judith. She couldn't say why it felt like a slight except that the body language cues she got were that she'd been brushed off and should be insulted.
Alejandro gave his shy-charming smile and shook his head. "It's really Judith who's the connection here," he admitted. "Although Angel has promised to attend one of our social gatherings one of these days, so… But we would like to make sure he can attend - we certainly can't invite him without a soul!" He chuckled as if they were chatting over cocktails.
"Not that not having a soul is bad for some vampires," Claire cut in.
"Of course not," Seth coughed. "Of course. Sorry," he addressed this part more to Judith. "The gun was broken?"
Judith nodded. "Yes."
"Right." Seth adjusted his tie with a frown. "I was aware of that particular piece being on the market. But it was one-of-a-kind. Of course, his soul was granted by way of a curse, no? Have you explored that particular direction?"
Alejandro nodded. "That's the break-in we had earlier. We had two Orbs of Thessulah and both were smashed by a supernatural force. On the way over I called Reginald over at Genius in a Bottle and Ferguson at the Occultte Shop, and they both say their orbs have been smashed as well. Angel's doing, we assume, somehow."
Seth frowned and turned back toward the reception desk. "Sara, please call down to records and find out if we have an Orb of Thessulah on file."
Sara went to work and Seth turned back to them. "I'm a fan of order," he explained to Judith, like she had objected to his help. "And if the stories are true, Angelus tried to suck the world into hell."
Judith nodded. "Yes, he's told me that story," she confirmed. The rocks in her stomach rattled again.
"Well, hell doesn't suit my sense of aesthetics," Seth said.
"Nor mine," Judith agreed.
"Sir," Sara said, "Records says that there was a storage issue. The orb was broken at some point. Want me to have someone fired?"
"Maybe tomorrow," Seth said, holding up a hand. "In the meantime, someone has been casting very powerful spells." Seth crossed his arms for a long moment, frowning down at them.
"So there's nothing to be done?" Claire exclaimed, gripping Judith's shoulder. "Oh, Judy!"
Alenjandro turned to comfort his wife. At this point in their relationship, it was a reflex for him.
Seth shifted. "It is a predicament," he said. He checked his watch. "I have a ritual to attend," he observed. "Listen, Alejandro, I appreciate your predicament and you do good work; it would be a shame for you and your friends to get brutally murdered."
"Thank you," Alejandro said. Claire nodded in agreement.
"But I really don't have what you need." He pulled up his Palm and typed at it. "If I might suggest a direction," he said, waving the information over. It pinged onto Alejandro's Palm. "Ladies," he said to Judith and Claire. There was an awkward pause where he didn't quite seem to know what to say to two people he suspected would be murdered in the near future. "Nice meeting you," he finished. He shook Alejandro's hand and walked away back toward Sara. "Is the car downstairs?"
"Waiting for you. It's white. Can you believe people these days? I'm going to eat someone."
Seth patted the desk affectionately and waved to her before he let himself out of the room.
"What did he send you?" Claire asked Alejandro eagerly while Judith was still trying to puzzle the strange man out. She shook herself a little and turned back to Alejandro to hear his answer.
"I believe we've taken up enough of Sara's time," Alejandro said, like Sara was currently waiting on them instead of typing at her computer again.
But Judith understood that if it was sent in secret, then it was probably best to keep it secret. "Yes, let's go back to the lifts," she agreed.
So they retreated down the hall and back to the lifts. They waited for the doors to close before Alejandro pulled up his Palm. "It's a name," he said, "Ivy. It says she's the one who purchased the gun."
"But what does that get us?" Claire asked.
"A clue," Alejandro replied, giving Claire a look like the answer was a flirtation instead of a response.
Claire grinned at him.
Judith, meanwhile, pulled out her own Palm. "More than that," she said, "we know what this Ivy looks like. Or at least, Calder and Martha do." She opened Calder's contact and called him, slipping the slim ear piece from the Palm's case and putting it in her ear so she wouldn't be broadcasting their conversation to anyone in the lobby when they reached it.
After a few tense rings, Calder answered. From the background it looked like they had made it to his apartment.
"Are you alright?" Judith asked before he could say anything else.
"We're fine," Calder replied. "You?"
"We're well," Judith replied. The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. Judith followed Alejandro to a far corner of the grey lobby to have their conversation as privately as possible. "Did you find his soul?"
"No," Calder replied, shaking his head. "I mean, the place is a mess, but the thing kind of glows, you know? It'd be hard to miss. Any luck on your end?"
"We have a name for the woman with the soul-gun," Judith replied. She glanced at Alejandro. "I'm not sure if I should say it out loud. Alejandro can send it to you."
Alejandro nodded in agreement.
Martha's voice asked off screen, "Just a name? What's that going to do for us?"
Calder was biting his lower lip and his gaze was drifting. Judith let him think. "She's fae," Calder said slowly. "With her name…we could potentially do a lot. Summon her, if nothing else."
"That sounds dangerous," Judith said.
"Yeah," Calder agreed. "Last resort. But I could go to Decade; ask around there first. Maybe we can find out where she'd be."
Decade was a nightclub owned by a vampire. A soulless one. She ran a lucrative back room for vampire clientele, an even more lucrative dungeon downstairs (also for her vampire clientele), and an upstairs bar for the Gentlefolk. Judith had actually been there once. Not as a patron, of course. It was one of those stories that had been extremely frightening and stressful at the time but had turned out alright in the end. She hoped this story would turn out similarly.
Judith nodded, "I think that's a good idea. What should we do in the meantime?"
Martha immediately appeared on the screen, leaning over Calder's arm. "I'm going to find the Doctor," she said. "I'm on board with getting Angel's soul back and everything, but we've left the Doctor to fend for himself for too long."
"You don't even know where they are," Calder protested.
"I'm going to go on a hunch and say they're probably at Angel's place," Martha replied.
Unfortunately, it was probably a very good guess. It was Angel's domain; he had what he needed there. He didn't exactly need to hide from them if they couldn't put his soul back remotely, so why would he go anywhere else? "Also," Martha continued, "my bet's on the Doctor having the soul-cylinder. Even fighting for his life, if he saw an opportunity to grab it, he would."
Calder frowned, clearly not liking her conclusions. Judith didn't either.
"Martha," Judith said calmly. She had a very good Calm voice. It was her job to sit with bereaved and scared family members at the hospital. Calm was one of her sharpest tools. "You make very good points. I think you're probably right on all counts. But we can't let you go alone. Angelus should not be underestimated."
"Neither should I," Martha replied.
"Touché," Judith allowed because it was true. She didn't know enough about Martha to estimate her either way. "But please listen to us. We can't allow you to go alone, and Calder can't go with you. He's the only one of us who will be able to get into Decade to ask about I- the fae woman." She stopped herself just short of saying Ivy's name.
Martha shook her head, but instead of becoming more defiant, she softened. "I'm sorry," she said, truly sounding it. "But I'm at my limit. The Doctor never would have waited this long before coming after me. He's not like that. He would be there and we would handle the situation together and- I need to go to him so we can handle this situation together."
It was also Judith's job to pick up on subtle body language, and she picked up on quite a bit with Martha's speech. She understood the kind of love that powered Martha, and she wouldn't fight it.
She also wouldn't just let Martha go without back up. She looked up at Alejandro. "I hate to ask-" she started, but Alejandro nodded and interrupted with,
"Of course I will. Where should I meet her?"
Judith smiled at him. He couldn't even hear Martha's side of the conversation but he'd pieced it together. Claire had chosen a noble man, indeed. "Outside Angel's building, I think. I'll give you the address."
Claire asked, "What about us?"
Judith hesitated. They couldn't stay there. And now that they were out, she didn't exactly want to go back to the relative safety of Claire's house. There was a love that drove her, too. It wasn't the same as Martha's love, but it was still powerful. She wanted to be part of the solution, if she could. "Calder," she said, turning back to the screen, "do you think you could get Claire and me into Decade with you?"
Calder looked surprised, but nodded. "I think so," he said. "You've already been - Phil might even recognize you, he's got the memory of an elephant. Either way I'm sure you could wait for me in the foyer if he won't let you up. There's a no-harassment policy which…you know, is a vampire no-harassment policy, but…" He shrugged.
"We'll take the chance," Judith said, knowing that's what Claire would have said if she had heard Calder's response. "We'll be there soon."
"Be careful," Calder said as a way of goodbye, and hung up.
Judith pulled the earpiece from her ear and slid it back in the case. "Thank you, Alejandro," she said. She pulled up Alejandro's contact on her Palm to send him Angel's address and flat number.
"Not at all," Alejandro replied. "I have several protection spells prepared. I should be there to help. But where is it that you two are going?"
"Haven't you heard of Decade?" Judith asked, surprised.
Alejandro frowned and shook his head.
Judith and Alejandro's experiences of the occult world of Galway were very different, and it was sometimes easy to forget that. While Judith's experiences had all been…well, experiential, Alejandro's had mostly been scholarly. He and his friends had gathered their knowledge safely behind thick, enchanted walls, and Judith- Well, Judith had tended her son's wounds when he'd come home from saving someone's life. Judith had been cursed, had drinks with demons, and had regular sex with a vampire.
It probably shouldn't have been surprising that she had been to a fairy bar/sex dungeon and Alejandro had not.
"It's a nightclub," Judith told him. She started heading for the front door, not wanting to waste time. "In Uptown. It's owned and run by a vampire, and while there is a human front, it's mostly for the vampires in the back. And the Fae upstairs. Angel and Calder have connections there; we should be able to get in to ask some questions about our…name."
Alejandro looked impressed while Claire looked first delighted and then horrified. "But I'm not dressed for a night club!"
"That's a very good thing in this case," Judith told her. "You don't want to be marked as Food."
Claire thought about this. "No I guess I don't," she admitted. They reached the automatic front doors and stepped outside into the chilly autumn air.
"Take care of my dear wife," Alejandro told Judith as they all paused to rebutton their coats. "I'm afraid she may be in more danger than me." It was only half a joke.
Judith gave him half a smile. "I will," she promised. "Keep in touch when you can."
"You do the same," Alejandro replied. Then he and Claire shared a brief but passionate kiss that said all the farewell either of them needed, and then Alejandro turned and strode toward his expensive town car by the curb and got in.
Judith and Claire turned and went the other way toward the nearest tram stop. Where Alejandro was heading west toward Angel's apartment, Judith and Claire were destined north, to Uptown. There was no hurry to get there, as Calder's flat was even further west than Angel's, and it would take him longer to meet them at Decade.
Claire's arm snaked through Judith's and she squeezed it comfortingly. "Are you okay, babe?" she asked.
That was the term of endearment that Claire used when she was being more affectionate than consoling. It meant that the gravity of the situation was still eluding her (or she was ignoring it; equally likely), and Judith didn't have the energy or the heart to make her face it.
"I don't know," Judith replied truthfully. "I'm scared. Worried out of my mind. Feeling helpless and a little bit glad I can't go with Alejandro and Martha." She swallowed. "And I'm so grateful that Will isn't in town for-" she gasped. "Oh lord, I forgot to call William! What if something happened to all of us and-"
"-And he tries to come down here to help?" Claire asked. "No, let him sleep. Unless you want his help."
Judith rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "God, I don't know," she admitted. "He gave up that job, that life. But I'm his mother. He would want to know."
"It's only a few hours until morning," Claire said. "Wait until then, at least."
Judith was tired enough to give into the argument. Or at least pretend to while she continued to waffle on the decision.
Never one for letting things so easily, though, Claire could be counted on to distract Judith away from her ruminations. "Okay," she said, squeezing Judith's arm tighter. "And now, you have to tell me the story behind this fairy nightclub you've apparently been going to all these years."