Angel - Shakedown Part 5

"You know. Embarra.s.sing."

"Well, the striptease on top of the bar was a bit much, but I think y'redeemed yourself when you wouldn't go past your underwear. It's that kind of restraint that shows real cla.s.s."

"Doyle, I'm warning you-"

Doyle sighed, then shook his head and smiled. "Cordy, you didn't do anything . . . wrong. Nothin' you should be ashamed of. I swear."

She squinted at him suspiciously. "Well . . . okay."

Angel walked in from his office. He looked up from the open book in his hands. "Morning, Cordelia.

How's your head?"

"My head is fine. It's not currently firmly attached and is having a nasty little war with the rest of my body, but I can handle it. Just don't ask me to do anything loud, like work."

"Up to doing some research? Or would the crash of turning pages be too much?"

"You mean reading about demons? Descriptions of the horrible things they've done, the horrible things they plan on doing and the horrible things they do in their spare time? Boy oh boy, my stomach can hardly wait. Maybe I should just go throw up now."

"I was thinking more along the lines of checking the Serpentene's credentials in the business community-"

"No, I really meant the throwing up part. Excuse me." Cordelia hurried out of the room.

Angel stared after her for a second, then shrugged and went back to leafing through his book.

Doyle walked up to him. "I still can't believe it." "Get over it, Doyle," Angel said without looking up.

"But it's neverhappenedto me before."

"It happens."

"Has it ever happened to you?"

Angel looked up, considered it for a moment. "Having a girl pa.s.s out on my shoulder? Not . . . exactly."

"Yeah, well, havin' someone shuffle off to dreamland while you're drainin' the life out of 'em isn't the same thing, is it?"

"Look, Doyle, she had a lot to drink; it doesn't have anything to do with your . . .manhood. If anything, you should take it as a compliment."

"How d'you figure?"

"She obviously trusted you enough to let go."

Doyle thought for a moment, then nodded. "I guess that's one way of lookin' at it."

"And remember-she didn't vomit on you."

"Thereisthat . . ."

Cordelia returned from the bathroom. "There- fresh as a daisy. Anybody got a breath mint?"

Angel and Doyle hit the books, while Cordelia made some calls. By midafternoon they knew a little bit more about what they were dealing with.

Quake demons were also known as Tremblors. They were subterranean dwellers who rarely made an appearance on the surface; the only exception seemed to be when collecting victims for a ritual called the Crushing of Souls. The last time such a ritual was said to be performed was in j.a.pan in 1920, causing a devastating earthquake in Tokyo and Yokohama that killed a hundred and twenty thousand people.

The timing of the ritual was based on something called the Dance of the Sleeping Giants; unfortunately, the Tremblors seemed to be the only ones that understood what that meant. The ritual itself required four very specific victims: someone close to air, someone close to water, someone close to fire and someone close to earth.

"Someone close to earth-that would explain why they tried to kidnap one of the Serpentene," Angel said. "But not why they'd want to destroy their home."

"Maybe they're not after the Serpentene specifically," Cordelia said. "Could be they're just in thewrong place at the wrong time. Earthquakes are pretty nondiscriminating."

"True enough," Angel admitted. "But I think there's more to it than that."

"I'd say you were right," Doyle said. "Considering what I found last night."

"You found something?" Cordelia asked.

"Sorry, Cordy," Doyle said. "I forgot your memory is a bit spotty about the evenin's festivities."

"He found a room full of catalogued objects," Angel said.

"What kind of objects? Monkey's paws, heads in jars, that kind of thing?"

"That's the strange part," Doyle said. "They were really ordinary things. Kid's toys, old blue jeans, photo alb.u.ms. Nothin' ominous about them, except the fact that they were so carefully arranged and labeled."

"Maybe the Serpentene are just really a.n.a.l," Cordelia said. "I dated a guy like that once. He sewed little labels inside his socks."

"Or maybe the objects are cursed," Doyle said.

"Right," Cordelia said. "Don't put on those pants- they're thecursedpants! You'll look fat-forever!

Puh-leeze, Doyle-that's the kind of idea a TV executive would come up with."

"What about voodoo?" Angel suggested. "Snakes figure big in tropical mythologies. Maybe they're using the items for sympathetic magic."

"They want people to feel sorry for them?" Cordelia asked.

"No," Angel said patiently. "Sympathetic magic is when you use an object connected to a person- usually something they've owned, or a photo of them-in a mystic ritual. Whatever you do to the item has the same effect on the person."

"Or maybe they just have a hard time throwing anything away," Cordelia said. "For what it's worth, I didn't get a creepy evil vibe from them at all; I had a really good time. The part I remember, I mean."

"I don't know," Doyle said. "That's not the impression I got. I felt like somethin' was wrong."

"Doyle, you just felt out of place," Cordelia said. "Just because these people appreciate the finer things in life-and by that I donotmean cheap beer and pay-per-view wrestling-it doesn't necessarily follow that they're evil."

"Well now," Doyle said. "You sure went from 'forked-tongues-give-me-the-w.i.l.l.i.e.s' to 'Rah! Rah! Go Snakes!' pretty quick. Maybe Angel should take them up on their offer, too."

"What offer?" Cordelia asked.

"It's nothing," Angel muttered.

"Oh, that's right," Doyle said. "You'd already slipped into a coma by the time Angel mentioned it.

Seems that Galvin wants Angel around full-time;offered him an apartment if he'd take a job with them as a security guard."

"Securityconsultant,"Angel said. "And it wouldn't be full-time; I'd still work here . . . I'd just live there."

"So you're actuallyconsideringthis?" Cordelia asked.

"I didn't say that. I'm just telling you what the offer was-"

"I think you should take it," Cordelia said.

"-what?"

"Seriously," Cordelia said. "Think about it. I mean, after all, theyareyour kind."

"Just because they're demons doesn't mean-"

"I meant young and good-looking," Cordelia said. "Who knows, they might even convince you there are other colors besides black."

"He can't just move in with a client in the middle of a case," Doyle protested.

"Look," Cordelia said. "There is nothing worse than being an outsider. You have no idea how difficult it was for me in high school-it was almost impossible toavoidlosers like that."

"You think I need a group to belong to?" Angel asked.

"Well,duh-it's not like there's a vampire-with-asoulprivate-detective Web site."

"Actually, there's a few," Doyle said.

"Anyway," Cordelia continued, "this is probably as close as you're ever going to get to having drinking buddies-and rich friends are thebestfriends."

"Well, itwasnice having a conversation that didn't end with one of us crumbling into a pile of dust,"

Angel admitted. "But Doyle's right; it wouldn't be appropriate for me to involve myself that closely with a client, especially one we don't know the full story on. So-what have you found out?"

"About the Serpentene?" Cordelia said. "Not much. The building is owned by a corporation called Appletree. They own a few other concerns, all of which are members in good standing of the Better Business Bureau. No criminal investigations, no lawsuits, no horrible cult murder-suicides. Pretty clean for a bunch of salesdemons."

"Well, I haven't found out much more, but what I did find out isn't necessarily good," Doyle said.

"According to some texts, the snakes the Serpentene are descended from isthesnake-the one that tempted Adam and Eve."

"Half the demons in the San Fernando Valley make that claim," Angel said. "It's like saying your ancestors came across on theMayflower."

"Well, it's all I got so far," Doyle said. "But I do have a line on a potential gold mine of information.Guy by the name of Graedeker, trades in a lot of occult merchandise. If it has t'do with buying, selling, and black magic, he's the one t'talk to."

"Okay, you follow up on that. Now, getting back to the Quake demons-any possible weaknesses?"

"Well," Doyle said, "I found this: 'Only that which opposes it can oppose it.' It's definitely talkin' about the Tremblors, but d.a.m.ned if I know what it means."

"Sounds like it doesn't mean anything," Cordelia said. "It's like saying, 'that which you eat is eaten,' or 'that which you bought on sale was marked down.' "

"We'll keep it in mind," Angel said. "Now, if they need four victims, they may already have some or all of the others. I'll check with Kate on missing persons who might fit the bill."

"And I'll do some more up close and personal research on the Serpentene," Cordelia said. "Maureen and I made a date to go shopping-she's going to buy me a new outfit! See you guys later . . ."

"First things first," Angelus said. "Let's go check on our little trapped rat." He got out of bed and began pulling on clothes.

Darla frowned at him from where she reclined, nude. "I think I'm getting jealous. You actually care more about your little Maria thanthis?"She ran one hand down a perfect, creamy-white thigh.

"Not that it's not temptin', darlin'," Angelus said, flashing her a smile. "But I think you and I both know where my interests lie."

Darla shook her head and laughed. "Torment over s.e.x. You are a piece of work, my love."

"Some men are fighters, some are lovers. Me, now, I think my true callin' is somethin' else; I was born to be a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Well, youaregood at it. I've just never seen you draw one out quite this long."

"I know, I know. I think it's because I never had a pet as a child. It's just so enjoyableplayingwith her .

Darla stretched lazily and got out of bed. "So what games will we be playing today?"

"I figure she must be gettin' right hungry by now. Hunger can make you do terrible things-and those other bodies in there with her are just going to waste. . . ."

But when they got to the ruins of the church, they were not the first to arrive.

Four men were busy clearing rubble by lanternlight. They were obviously working to uncover the trapdoor in the west corner.

"Ah, Maria, Maria," Angelus said under his breath. "You bad, ungrateful girl. You've been talkin' to strangers-and after all the warnings I gave you, too."

He and Darla strode forward. One of the men, a dark-skinned Portuguese, looked up as they approached. "You there!" the man called out. "Can you give us a hand? There are people trapped under here!"

"The Devil you say," Angelus remarked. He put a hand on the man's shoulder in a comradely way. "I wouldn't be gettin' too worked up about it, meself."

Angelus's arm darted around the man's neck, his hand grabbing hold of the jaw. He broke the neck with one quick wrench and let the body slump to the ground.

"You're getting quite good at that," Darla commented.

"I had a good teacher," Angelus said.

The other men had stopped working and now stood with their shovels and picks raised in defense.

"Brigands!" one of them cried. "You'll not find us as easy pickings as the bodies of the dead!"

"Living, dead-it's all the same to us," Darla said. Her face transformed into a demonic visage of fangs, yellow eyes and distended bone. She leapt for the throat of the nearest worker.