Year of Grace


Chapter Four
See introduction for disclaimers

DOYLE

o:p>

She couldn’t give me back the visions, no matter how hard she tried.  Anyway,  I still know an excuse when I see one.

 

Even without enhanced senses, I could tell that what was happening between us in that kiss didn’t have much to do with the visions at all.

 

Cordelia was trying not to hurt me, I know.  She was being gentle, for Cordelia. But it was the tenderness in her kiss that hurt me most of all.

 

 

ANGEL

 

“You actually had a vision?”  I stared at Cordelia, not really believing this.

 

She was sitting next to Doyle’s bed.  She looked up at me with a sullen, rebellious expression, and her fingers kept sliding over to touch his hand, as if she didn’t notice what they were doing.

 

“Yeah, and I don’t have the slightest idea what it was so don’t bother me about it, okay?  Just some gray blobby thing.   You weren’t in the office when I came in, and I know now that you were taking Doyle to the hospital but I didn’t know that then, for all I knew you could have gone off somewhere and staked yourself or something, and I had absolutely nobody to talk to, and I couldn’t even find anything of Doyle’s in the whole office, and I was going to give you what-for about it when I came back from the audition, but then I found your note and, well, you know the rest.”

 

Trying to get through all that took me a moment.  Finally, I said, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed to talk, but now you do know why.  And I need to know about the vision.  Somebody could be getting killed right now because you didn’t tell me.”

 

“Well, pardon me for living, but it just so happens that we had something more important to do than talk about some lame vision that didn’t make any sense anyway.”

 

Doyle said gently, “We both understand that, ‘Delia, but you still need to tell him what you saw.”

 

She cast him a quick glance, then squared her shoulders with a sigh, and I could see her making an obvious effort for his sake.  That worried me.  Doyle wasn’t going to take too kindly to being patronized by anyone.

 

“All right,” she said, still looking at him, not at me.  “Maybe I could try to draw the thing, but I don’t think it’s going to do us any good.  I have absolutely no idea what it is.  So, does this luxury hotel of yours come with a pen and paper?”

 

I ended up having to go to the nurses’ station to get it, but I came back with a pencil and paper for Cordelia.   She started sketching, biting her lip a little in annoyance as she worked.

 

“Okay,  it looked like this.  It didn’t move, just kind of stood there like….”

 

“Like a statue?” Doyle asked, looking over her shoulder at the drawing.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this before,” I said slowly.  “I think it’s a sculpture.  Van Gieson, Maiden With Urn.  Of course, it’s hard to be sure from this.”

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” Cordelia protested.  “The Powers sent me a Doyle special migraine in the middle of an audition to show me some statue?  What’s it gonna do, come alive and start killing people?”

 

“I don’t know, but we’ve all seen stranger things than that.”  I looked at the drawing again.  “I’ll try to locate the sculpture.  It could be that we’re being warned of a museum robbery or something like that.”

 

“Wouldn’t a phone call to the cops be good enough?  Why do they need to do the vision thing?”

 

“If they sent a vision, it must have something to do with demonic activity of some kind, something that the police couldn’t handle.  Maybe there’s something being taken from a museum for more than just money, I don’t know.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Doyle said thoughtfully.  “I might know where that sculpture is.  There’s a hotel in town where some of the less than upright citizens of this fine city have been known to hold auctions.  One of the Ramsey hotels,  I believe.  Most of the merchandise is stolen, and some of it is  actually still alive when it’s sold.  Not usually human though,” he added as both Cordelia and I stared at him.

 

“What, then?”

 

“There’s actually a fairly brisk local slave trade in demons, as well as demon artifacts of various kinds.   Some of the demons get sold to a local fight club, and I’m not sure what happens to the others.  They generally steer clear of trading in humans, so they don’t attract police attention.  But I’ve heard they’ve been known to make some exceptions, when the price is right.”

 

“So, you think maybe they’re expanding their operations into selling humans?”

 

“Could be.  Or somebody in particular we’re supposed to be gettin’ out of there, maybe.   Borrow the pencil and paper from you, ‘Delia?”

 

Doyle took the paper with the drawing, and jotted down the information about the hotel.  He handed it back to me.

 

“I suppose you’d better check it out,” he said.  “Wish I could come along, but….”

 

“You have a previous engagement.  No problem.”  I took the paper.  “I’ll see what’s happening there.  Catch you both later, then.”

 

“Sure.”

 

When I left them, she was still sitting beside his bed.  I knew there was trouble brewing there, but there was nothing I could do about it.

 

I would have to leave the two of them to sort it out for themselves.

 

The hotel didn’t look like any hotbed of demonic activity.  It looked much like any other overpriced, ostentatious hotel in L.A.   I looked at Doyle’s note.

 

“Excuse me, where are the convention halls?”

 

I followed the directions, still not seeing anything out of the ordinary.  I asked the next employee,  “Where’s the auction?”

 

“No auction here.”

 

On a hunch, I shifted to game-face, and asked again.  “Where’s the auction?”

 

This time, he was only too happy to point me in the right direction.  “T-Tulip Room, down that way.”

 

All right, definitely something to this.  I kept going.

 

Then I heard what sounded like a struggle, and moved faster.

 

I burst into the room where the sounds came from.  A couple of demons were holding a struggling human, while another demon stood in front of the prisoner.  I couldn’t see the human’s face, but the short demon who was speaking wasn’t hard to figure out.

 

“You’ve been following me since Phoenix.  Aren’t you glad you’ve finally caught up with me?  I am.  It’s going to be a great pleasure to let Hank here take you apart, little by little, and I’m going to be right here enjoying every minute of it.  Shall we start with the right hand, or the left?”

 

“Why don’t we start with a foot?”  I suggested as I got to work with mine.

 

It wasn’t much of a challenge.  I disposed of the muscle holding the human without any trouble.  The short demon who had been making the threats escaped, but I wasn’t too worried about that, either.  I’d seen his face and heard his voice, and I had no doubt that I could find him again if necessary.

 

It was only after the demons had hit the floor and stopped moving that I saw the human prisoner’s face for the first time.

 

He stared at me,  and I stared back.

 

“Wesley?”

 

 

*********

 

 

“You mean I got that vision so you could save Wesley?”  Cordelia squeaked in disbelief.

 

“So it seems.”

 

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce,  not looking much the worse for wear for his recent close encounter,   greeted Cordelia with a nod and a smile.  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Chase.”

 

“I thought you’d gone back to England.”

 

“I did, actually.  But my duties called upon me to return to the States.”

 

“Watcher duties?”

 

“In point of fact I no longer work for the Council.  I came to the conclusion that I would be of greater value working autonomously.”

 

“Sounds like ya got fired,”  said Doyle.  “By the way, since nobody has bothered to introduce us,  I gather you’re, ah, Wesley?”

 

“Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.”

 

“Doyle.  I work with Angel, when I’m not vacationing at this fine establishment.”

 

Cordelia asked,  “So, why are you in L.A.?”

 

“I was tracking a demon.  I’d been following him for quite some time.  The trail led to the Ramsey Hotel, where there is apparently an illegal auction trade of some sort.”

 

“And you got yourself nabbed, eh?”

 

“I was outnumbered.”

 

“Well, if I had to suffer through a splitting headache with a vision that I totally couldn’t understand,  I’m glad it was at least for somebody I know.”

 

“Er, a vision?”  Wesley queried.

 

“Long story.  And it’s past visiting hours, so I’m sure the hospital will be throwing us all out of here soon.”

 

“Just let them try to throw me out,” Cordelia said.  “I’m staying here until I’m good and ready to leave.”

 

Doyle responded,  “Well, I am a bit tired.  Why don’t you come back tomorrow?  They say I’ll have the bandages off by then.”

 

“I gather that working for Angel can be somewhat hazardous to one’s health,”  Wesley ventured.  “Having spent some time in hospital myself after recent events in Sunnydale,  I’m all too familiar with such experiences.”

 

“You could try saying thank-you, Wesley.  Not only did Angel save you from a demony death, but I had to put up with …. “ and Cordelia looked at Doyle with a smile.

 

“A brain-splittin’ mind-numbin’ headache,”  the two of them said, almost in unison, and she grinned delightedly at him.

 

“See you tomorrow,” she told Doyle, and as she stood up to leave, she bent down swiftly to give him a quick kiss goodbye.  Wesley stared, and I put a firm hand on his arm, guiding him out the door.


“Cordelia and this Doyle are….  ah…. involved?”

 

“Well, it’s complicated, but more or less, yes.”

 

“I see,” said Wesley, sounding disappointed.  “Ah, well.  She is right, however,  I do owe you a debt of gratitude.   Perhaps while your other assistant is temporarily indisposed,  I could fill in for awhile, just to show my appreciation.  Without compensation, of course, since you were kind enough to intervene on my behalf.”

 

“Maybe,”  I said noncommittally.  “I’ll let you know.”

 

The last thing I wanted to do was to give Doyle the idea that I was in any kind of hurry to replace him.

 

And with Wesley, of all people?  Maybe I should have ignored that vision of Cordelia’s, after all.

 

 

 

Year of Grace, Chapter Five