Sanctuary

by Jeff Mariotte

  She had no intention of revealing anything—she was utterly terrified of what she’d seen, and in Doyle’s vision she’d been hiding out under a freeway overpass, afraid to go home, afraid to return to the bar, even afraid to draw money out of her bank account. Angel had found her, listened to her story, then had gone to the Korvitak and persuaded him to leave her alone. The persuasion had involved a few broken bones, but an agreement had been reached.

  So that Korvitak might still hold a grudge, Angel reasoned. Maybe it’s time to pay him another visit. He got back into the car, still jingling because he hadn’t yet called Wesley and Gunn, or Lorne, and still had a pocket full of change. He’d have to call them soon, but first he wanted to check out the Korvitak lair since he was so close.

  As he covered the blocks to the demon lair, he thought about how terrified Fred must be. She had managed to get through five years in Pylea, but not without serious damage to her mental and emotional stability. Obviously, he hadn’t known her before Pylea, but anyone who spent most of her time back here in her room, writing on the walls, had to have some issues. She was a sweet young lady with a good heart and a brilliant mind—maybe the smartest person Angel had ever known, in a very long lifetime. But she had been left damaged by the experience, frail, he thought. Being kidnapped by demons wouldn’t help her at all, and might even set back her progress. She had been starting to get better, willing to go out more, hoping to be a full-fledged member of the team. He wondered what state she’d be in when he found her this time.

  Because I will find her, he vowed. Before the sun rises, I’ll have her back.

  There had been seven Korvitaks living in the bungalow when Angel had last dropped by. He couldn’t remember the name of the one who had frightened the waitress, and had never known the names of the others. But he thought he’d recognize them again when he saw them, assuming, of course, that they were wearing their natural forms and hadn’t shape-shifted into something else.

  It was a smallish house, screened from the road by a hedge of oleander, with a narrow, rutted dirt driveway leading to it. The neighborhood was all residential, single-family detached homes, most with garages and long drives. Angel parked on the street and hiked up the driveway, listening. Just the usual night noises: crickets; somewhere a TV set on; cars passing on nearby streets. The windows of the bungalow were all dark.

  Angel tried to reason the best way to go into the house. If Fred was imprisoned somewhere inside and he just charged in, her captors might panic and hurt her. On the other hand, if they were using Fred to draw him in, they might be waiting for him and he could be walking into a trap. What he should have done, he knew, was call the rest of the team together and gone into every entrance simultaneously, increasing the chances of finding her in a hurry and reducing the risk.

  But he hadn’t done that, and he was here now.

  He went to the front door and rang the bell.

  And he waited. He rang it again.

  This time, he heard shuffling sounds inside. Someone approaching the door, feet thumping down the hall, claws clicking on the floor, tail dragging behind. A light over his head went on, and the peephole set into the door went dark. Then the door opened.

  The Korvitak stared at him, an expression of sleepy annoyance on its long, hangdog face. Its yellow eyes, heavy-lidded with sleep, were the size of golf balls, its snout horselike, with drooping jowls that bracketed a disturbingly human-looking mouth. Its skin was a bright orange, like California poppies. An enormous robe, of something that looked like silk, covered its body. Angel was pretty sure this was the one he had fought before.

  He was also pretty sure he’d woken the demon up.

  “What are you doing here?” the Korvitak demanded in a voice that Angel instantly remembered, high-pitched and whiny. One of its clawed hands scratched its enormous belly, beneath the robe. “Do you know what time it is? Do you know my wrist still hurts when it’s going to rain? What is it, you want to punch me around some more? I haven’t been near Stella since that night.”

  That’s right, Angel thought. Her name was Stella, and the Korvitak’s was… he groped for it…Frank!

  The greeting didn’t seem like the kind of welcome he’d get if Fred had indeed been kidnapped by this clan, though.

  “Hi, Frank,” he said, trying to sound casual, like he’d just dropped by for a friendly chat. “What’s new?”

  Frank just stared at him.

  Angel shook his head, shrugged, scratched the end of his nose. “I, uhh…just thought I’d drop by, you know. See how you’re doing. All that old business with Stella, no hard feelings about that, right? Ancient history, water under the bridge.”

  Frank stared some more.

  “Angel, you know we dream, right?”

  “Sorry, what?” Angel asked, confused.

  “Korvitaks dream. Some demons, they don’t dream. They go to sleep and it’s like they’re dead, until they wake up. But Korvitaks dream, like people do, maybe even more intense. Stories, pictures, words, the whole bit. It’s like watching a movie in your head, in Technicolor with Sensurround and Dolby. Do you know what I was doing when you rang the doorbell?”

  “Dreaming?” Angel guessed.

  “I was with the most beautiful Korvitak in all of creation. We were on a grassy hill, with the sun setting in front of us, the sky all indigo and rose and gold the way it gets sometimes, little puffs of cloud picking up pink highlights. A warm breeze wafting the scent of flowers. She was holding my hand and making certain suggestions that I won’t go into. And then there was this horrible bonging noise, which I eventually realized was my doorbell, and I figured I had to come and answer it, even if it meant walking out of the dream, because at this time of night it just might be important.”

  “I, uhh…,” Angel stammered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Is it?”

  “Is it what?”

  Frank raised his hands, questioningly. “Is it important?”

  “I thought so, for a minute,” Angel said. “Have you seen Fred?”

  “Who’s Fred?”

  “Part of my team. She was kidnapped, outside Caritas tonight. I thought maybe you—”

  The Korvitak shook his head, which caused his jowls to sway like miniature sandbags on strings. “We’ve been home all night. We don’t really get out much anymore, tell you the truth. Too much trouble out there in the world.”

  “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Frank,” Angel said sincerely. This was a bad idea, he decided. But if I hadn’t done it, I wouldn’t have known that. “I had to check,” he said, by way of explanation. “I was in the neighborhood, you know.”

  “You checked. Satisfied?”

  “I’m sorry,” Angel repeated.

  “Then you don’t mind if I go back to bed.”

  “Sure.” Angel started to turn away, then had another stray thought. “Oh, one more thing. Do you have a cell phone?”

  “Now you want to use my cell?”

  “No, I just need one of those car charger cords, you know, that stick into the lighter. If it’s compatible with this.” He fished his phone out of his coat pocket.

  Frank glanced at it. “Hold on,” he said. He vanished into the dark house and came back a minute later with a coiled cable. “Here, take it.”

  “I’ll bring it back tomorrow,” Angel promised.

  “You know what?” Frank said. “Mail it. If I never see you again it’ll be too soon.” He turned, his heavy tail swishing behind him, and shut the door in Angel’s face.

  Well, at least that’s one suspect eliminated, Angel thought. He hadn’t smelled Fred’s scent on Frank, and really didn’t think the demon had been lying to him. If he’d taken Fred to get back at Angel, he didn’t show it.

  As he walked back to his car, twisting the cable in his hands, he wondered what it mattered if a given Korvitak wasn’t the most beautiful one in all creation, since they could take virtually any form they wanted. But he guessed if one had to ask another to assume a certai
n appearance, it wouldn’t be the same.

  Back in the GTX, he plugged the cable into his phone and shoved the other end into the lighter socket. He started the car and pulled away from the curb, running through the other demon types Cordelia had mentioned in his head. Klakivan, Bovissle, Divik, Skander…and there had been a Skander at the club, he remembered. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to figure out where they hung out.

  He had only gone a couple of blocks when his phone trilled at him. He snatched it up off the passenger seat. “Yeah?”

  “Angel?” The voice was unfamiliar. Deep and masculine, a little gravelly. He couldn’t tell if it was human.

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “We have a friend of yours. If you want to see her again, listen up.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Who is this?” Angel demanded again. He jerked the wheel of his convertible, pulling it up to the curb at an awkward angle. A car speeding down the street behind him had to swerve out of the lane, and the driver leaned on his horn as he passed. Angel ignored the blare, focused on his cell phone.

  “Don’t ask questions, Angel,” the voice warned him.

  “If you’ve hurt Fred, the world isn’t big enough for you to hide from me,” Angel said darkly.

  “She’s fine. Now listen—”

  “No, you listen,” Angel interrupted, reflexively making a fist of his free hand. Fury threatened to engulf him, a volcano of anger inside him that, once it began to erupt, couldn’t be halted. “You can still save your own life. Release her, and have her call me at this number as soon as she’s free. Once I know she’s okay, I’ll stop looking for you. If that doesn’t happen, you’re dead.”

  “You’re not really in a position to be dictating to anybody,” the voice replied calmly. “We could snap her neck in a second. Maybe you’d find us, maybe not—it doesn’t really matter to me. We’re working for a cause bigger than my life, vampire.”

  Great, Angel thought with a frown. Idealists. He’d lived long enough to know that people with an emotional attachment to a specific idea or ideology could accomplish marvelous things—but they could also be extremely dangerous because they really did consider their lives secondary to their mission.

  “What cause could Fred possibly have anything to do with?” he asked.

  “She has nothing to do with it. She’s just a tool, that’s all. A way of getting your attention.”

  “Okay, you’ve got it,” Angel admitted. “What do you want?”

  “We’ll happily let the girl go if you agree to our demands,” the voice told him. “She means nothing to us.”

  Angel’s mind churned with possibilities. What could they be after? Money? That didn’t make sense—kidnappers looking for a big payoff could pick plenty of targets in Los Angeles with more to spend than Angel had. No, it had to be something more germane to Angel, to his ongoing struggle against the evil that targeted innocents. Maybe this was some new scheme of Wolfram and Hart, the law firm that he’d gone up against so many times in the past.

  There’s only one way to find out, he thought. Listen, but agree to nothing. “Okay, keep talking. What are your demands?”

  “Do you know Pershing Square?”

  Angel didn’t even have to think about it. Everybody in L.A. knew Pershing Square. It was a downtown park between 5th and 6th Streets, and Olive and Hill. Once, it had been overgrown, drug-infested, and crime-filled, but the city had remade it, filling it with modern art sculptures. Now it was one of L.A.’s loveliest landmarks. “Of course,” he said, trying to disguise the rage he felt.

  “If you want the girl back safe, meet us there. The very center of the park.”

  Angel pictured the spot in his mind, wide open, very little to hide behind except some of the sculptures. “When?” he asked.

  “Sunrise.”

  Angel choked back a laugh. “You do understand that I can’t do that, right? Sunlight and I don’t exactly get along.”

  “We understand that,” the voice said, still composed. Angel hadn’t detected any real emotion in it—the speaker’s tone remained flat and expressionless no matter what he said. “That’s kind of the point.”

  And, like the sun coming up over the horizon, the real plan dawned on Angel. They’ll turn Fred loose, he realized, but only if I sacrifice myself for her. I stand in the park, with no cover, no escape, and let the sun come up. Once I burst into flames and burn to a crisp, then they have no reason to hold Fred anymore. Simple.

  And, in its own sick way, brilliant.

  At the center of Pershing Square, Angel would be exposed. They’d be able to watch from any number of vantage points, on the ground or in buildings, to make sure he wasn’t pulling any tricks. There’d be no way he could have a secret underground exit route ready, because it was a public park. Even if he’d known farther in advance where the meet was to be held, there wouldn’t have been a chance to dig any escape route.

  They held all the cards, in this case. Well, almost all, he corrected himself.

  Dawn was still hours away. Which gave him time to keep looking for them, to locate them and free Fred himself before he had to face the sun. “What assurance do I have that you’d let Fred go free after I flame on?” he demanded. “How do I know you’ll follow through?”

  “I guess you just have to trust us.”

  Now Angel did laugh. “Because you’ve proven so trustworthy so far?”

  “That’s the deal, Angel. Take it or leave it. You for Fred.”

  “I need some time to think about it.”

  “There isn’t any time,” the voice countered, still calm. “What’ll it be?”

  “There’s time,” Angel said. “Dawn is still a ways off. Remember, the other option is I let you kill her and then I kill you. One at a time, slowly. I don’t know how many of you there are, but I’ll save you for last, because I’m developing a personal hatred for you.”

  “You won’t let us kill her,” the voice said. “That’s not the way you work. You’re not put together that way.”

  “You think you know me?” Angel said with a wry edge. “You don’t. You don’t have any idea of what I’ve done. I already have plenty of lives on my conscience, one more wouldn’t really make a difference one way or another.”

  “Somehow I don’t think I believe you.”

  “Believe whatever you want,” Angel said. He had to keep the caller on the phone, try to get him to give some sort of clue to his identity or whereabouts. He had been listening for any background noises that might help, but the cell phone connection was not great, and the caller seemed to be in a very quiet place. “Maybe you want to take a look in my eyes and then tell me what you believe. Although I’ll be tearing your throat out at the same time, so you might not like that part.”

  “Sadly for you, you won’t get the chance,” the voice said. “Unless you sacrifice Fred, of course. And I just can’t see that happening.”

  “You keep saying that,” Angel replied. Have they been watching me? Studying me? He tried to run through any demons he’d encountered recently, or anyone he’d seen who might have been following him, putting him under some kind of surveillance. None came to mind. Few of his enemies survived, and not many of those would intentionally tick him off again. Except Wolfram and Hart, he thought again. They would definitely bear looking into. “Do you know me?” he asked. “Have we met?”

  “I’m surprised at you, Angel,” the voice answered. “Haven’t I already proven I’m too smart to answer such a stupid question?”

  “You haven’t proven you’re anything except suicidal.” He’d have Cordy hack into the cell phone company’s computers, to see if she could locate the phone that was being used by the caller. He would turn over every rock in Los Angeles and see what scampered out. One way or another, he would find Fred, and those who had taken her.

  “You going to answer, Angel? Or don’t—it’s all the same to me as long as you show up. We’re wasting time here. Morning will be around sooner than you think. And i
f you’re not dead at sunup, Fred will be.”

  Angel glanced at his watch. It was after one in the morning. Still plenty of time, but the caller was right: The hours would pass quickly.

  He tried to remember what it was that professional hostage negotiators demanded. Proof of life, he thought. That’s it. If the hostage isn’t really alive, then there’s no point to any discussion at all. And if these people—or whatever—expected Angel not to survive the morning, they might have already killed her.

  “I need to know that she’s still alive and unhurt,” Angel insisted. “Without that, there’s no deal.”

  “You’ll just have to take my word for that,” the caller said.

  “No!” Angel shouted, the anger taking him again. “Not for that. I need to talk to her. I need to have her tell me she’s okay. If she is, then we have a deal. If she’s not, then you’re walking dead.”

  The voice didn’t respond right away. Does that mean they’ve already done it? he wondered, fear rising in him. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to face that.

  “I’ll have to call you back,” the voice said finally. “I’ll need a few minutes to set it up.”

  “Make it fast,” Angel warned. “If I find you before you get it done, you’ll be very sorry.”

  “You’re just full of empty threats tonight, Angel. Let me just remind you that I’m not afraid to die. Stay close to the phone.”