Gunn was betting there’d been more than one.
“…zoo,” said the radio broadcaster, a puzzled note in his voice—as if he wasn’t sure why he was reading puff headlines in the middle of demon wars, no doubt already being labeled gang activity of some bizarre sort. “The Aussie Auction fund-raiser is being held in Koala Corner, where many of the creatures from Down Under will be available for viewing, some of them up close and personal. This invitation-only auction is limited to three hundred people, all of whom will be bringing their checkbooks….”
Great. Big do at the zoo. Innocent, clueless civilians, with no idea of the crisis that darkness and an unstable deathstone had wrought. And Lutkin creeping around in the dark, with his own personal fund-raiser in motion.
Angel gave the parking lot a baffled glance. The zoo should be long closed, the lot empty, the gates locked.
“We’re going to have a hard time finding Lutkin in this,” Cordelia observed with disapproval, her mouth curled down on one side to match her tone of voice.
“Hell, we’re going to have a hard time finding Gunn in this,” Angel said, cruising slowly between rows of parked cars, fighting the impulse to jam his foot on the accelerator and zoom through the rows at the kind of speed his reflexes could handle. Fast, tire-squealing, hair-raising speed that would fulfill some dark corner of his—
Not his. Just feedback from the stone they were here to liberate.
In the next row over, several people disembarked from a zoo tram, after which the tram slowly puttered back toward the entrance and eased to a stop. “They’re starting to leave,” Wesley said. “We should hurry. This may be our best way into the zoo.”
“What might be our best way in?” Cordelia asked, looking a little wary.
Wesley waved a vague hand at the parking lot, at the leaving visitors. “This,” he said.
The man and woman walking to their silver Lexus wore formal evening attire, chic without being overdressed, expensive without being gaudy. Angel looked down at himself. Black leather jacket, black leather pants. Black T-shirt—or at least a black Pima cotton pullover that pretended to be more than a T-shirt but really wasn’t. Stark and unadorned. Wesley had a three-button henley over slacks, and Cordelia—looking great as usual—wore a totally funky halter top under a hooded knit jacket and over low-slung jeans, and carried a big canvas weapons bag. “We aren’t exactly going to blend in.”
“And we shouldn’t try,” Wesley replied. Then, startled, he pointed out to the empty end of the parking lot. “Is that—?”
Angel let the car idle, following Wesley’s gesture.
Gunn. Standing atop his pickup truck. Not in the truck bed, but on top of the cab itself. Also not blending in. When he spotted them spotting him, he waved in an arm-crossing signal flag gesture and hopped down from the truck.
With a glance at the gate, Angel reluctantly drove to the open area, parking alongside Gunn.
Gunn didn’t even wait for them to pile out of the car. “Did you spot them? I haven’t seen them—which is just a little strange, considering they were in a taxi.”
Angel surveyed a parking lot full of sleek cars in sleek colors as they gathered between the vehicles. Nothing so obvious or garish as a taxi service sign sitting on the roof of any of them. “This is where he said they were coming.”
“It’s close to midnight,” Wesley observed. “Even if they made it here ahead of us, they should be in there somewhere. And I think it’s reasonable to assume that the traffic obstacles and the situation here has slowed them down.”
“Aussie Auction,” said Gunn.
Cordelia said, “What’s that? And what does it have to do with finding the deathstone?”
“It’s a big moneymaking deal in Koala Corner, wherever that is. And it’s in our way. Invitation only, so we can’t just pretend we’re with the program.”
“Not at all,” Wesley said with satisfaction. “The people from the tram are leaving the event, which must be just about over. And people who’re leaving aren’t nearly as careful with their invitations as people who are entering. This could well be much easier than trying to get in when the zoo is otherwise empty.”
Cordelia sighed. “Search the parking lot?”
“More than that,” Angel said. “Watch the people coming out. If Lutkin made it in there, so did the fake Angel…and so did Lutkin’s buyer. Even if we didn’t get here in time to stop the buy, they’ve all got to come back out.”
“Divide and conquer,” Wesley said. “Angel, your night vision would serve us best if you act as lookout in case they do come back out. The rest of us will take a quick look for dropped invitations—not to mention that taxi. It would be nice to have confirmation that they were here at all.”
Angel opened his mouth…closed it again. Wesley was in charge now. That’s the way it had to be for the gang to deal with their recent conflict…his recent behavior as he tried to deal with Darla’s presence and what she and Wolfram and Hart had planned for him. That’s the way it had been since they’d come together again. Why it should raise such resentment at this point, such an intense impulse to go fang-face and—
Because of the bad mojo, to quote a certain Host.
He suddenly realized the others had hesitated, were watching him, doubt and suspicion on their faces. That his every thought had probably been reflected on his face.
On the other hand, there was the night vision thing. Maybe they were just waiting for him to say something stunningly wise.
Or not.
“Okay,” he said simply, and headed for a vantage point closer to the pennant-lined walkway that led to the round, modular entrance gate, well aware that he’d both surprised them and that they weren’t entirely satisfied by the exchange. He stood in a pool of shadow, taking up his post unseen by the tram driver as the woman finished her coffee break, stuffed a thermos in the pouch beside her seat, and put the tram back in motion. Even as she entered the zoo, several patrons exited, on foot and cheery in their conversation. They probably didn’t even know there was a vampire lurking within striking distance, and wouldn’t have had the faintest idea what to do if—
Stop that.
Bad vampire. Bad. Count to ten, ignore the pulse and swell of someone else’s emotion battering him from the outside in. Watch for Lutkin and a version of Angel who really didn’t look anything like him at all and, above all, keep control of that part within that felt such kinship with the dark emotions of this night and ceaselessly battered at him from the inside out. Angelus.
“Get lost,” he muttered to that part of himself.
He thought he heard the faint sound of laughter.
Cordelia immediately found the halves of an invitation, figured it would look torn in half and unconvincing no matter what she did with it, and tucked the halves into her pocket to throw away later. “Really,” she said out loud. “Some people are such pigs.” Ripping up a perfectly good invitation like that…
She heard voices, and ducked down between cars, staring steadfastly at the ground to make herself feel invisible. There was no point in trying to look casual in this parking lot, underdressed as she was and lurking as she so obviously was. So of course the voices drew closer, and closer, and…stopped.
With much trepidation, she surreptitiously peered upward. An exquisitely dressed man and his exquisitely dressed male escort looked down at her, extreme disapproval and suspicion not the least bit hidden on their faces. “Honey,” Cordelia said loudly, “did you find it yet?”
From the next row over and coming closer, Gunn said, “What are you—,” and then switched gears so obviously that Cordelia wanted to smack her own forehead. “No, dear, still looking.” Where’d he learn his delivery, from watching Leave It to Beaver reruns? Whatever. She was the actress here; she’d have to save the scene.
She allowed herself to discover the couple. “Oh—hi! This must be your car. Nice car. I lost a ring around here somewhere earlier today….” She moved out of the way so one of the men c
ould open the front passenger door, and they eyed her with identical, barely mollified expressions, interrupting only to eye Gunn with the very same doubt.
She smiled like someone preoccupied with finding a ring and thought she’d carried it off quite well, too, until the fellow getting into the car muttered at her, “A flashlight might have helped.”
“Dead batteries,” she chirped ruefully, trying to keep her eye-rolling expression from manifesting itself. She returned to looking under cars as they watched, exchanging words within the car until she thought they were going to change their minds and find someone to report her to. Finally the driver started the engine and slowly backed out of the parking spot. Cordelia heaved a sigh of relief, snatched up the invitation the driver had dropped when he fished out his car key, and went to join Gunn. “Boy, did that suck. I thought they were going to…,” but she trailed off, for he was paying no attention whatsoever. Stung, she squelched an impulse to skewer his Ward Cleaver imitation and instead followed his gaze.
The taxi. Checker Cab, located right on Alvarado, along with the Alvarado Palms Hotel, where Lutkin had made his temporary home. The sign had been torn off the roof—deliberately, Cordelia thought, so the car wouldn’t stand out in the parking lot. As if it weren’t covered with deep claw scratches, unidentifiable goo, and distinct tooth marks. And as if it weren’t yellow and several years old, unlike any other car in the lot.
“So they are here,” Wesley said, coming up to join them.
“Unless they snuck out past Angel since we got here,” Gunn said.
Wesley glanced back toward the entry walk. “In his present mood, I’m thinking that’s not likely. He’s rather…alert.”
“He’ll be okay,” Cordelia said, mostly because someone had to say it. She held out her scavenged invitation. “Here’s one that’ll get two of us in.”
Wesley gave a short shake of his head. “Forget the invitations.”
“After what I just went through—?”
“Because of what you just went through. We were lucky—those two were obviously suspicious, and might just as well have chosen to cause trouble for us. And there will be more people leaving the auction with every passing moment. No, it was a good idea, but I think we’ll have to try something else.”
“Like?” Gunn said, with the challenging tone of someone who doesn’t expect there to be an answer.
“Like a more straightforward bluff.” Wesley headed for the nook where Cordelia had last seen Angel lurking. She couldn’t see him now, of course, not when he had no intention of being seen. Where a human would have been drawn out of the shadows in order to see those he observed, Angel could see just fine from whatever dark corner he chose.
He came out to meet them, his head cocked at the zoo entry in such a way to make it obvious he was listening—that the tram was on its way back out. “Any particular straightforward bluff?” he asked, having of course heard that as well, along with any comment made about his present mood. Cordelia would have blushed if she hadn’t been distracted by circumstances. Or if she’d cared what he heard. That was the nice thing about speaking your mind: When you did it out of habit, the things you said behind someone’s back were simply the very same things you’d say to their face.
“This one,” Wes said as the tram hummed along out of the zoo and stopped to disgorge several couples. He strode for the tram like one who’d been waiting impatiently all along, leaving the others to rush to catch up. Cordelia arrived at the vehicle’s broad step-up in time to hear the woman driver say in a bored sort of voice, “Zoo’s closed, buddy. And I don’t even have a change purse.”
“We’re here to break down the event lighting,” Wesley said. “The Burns Foundation sent us along…a last-minute gesture.”
Cordelia inwardly raised an eyebrow, impressed. On the exterior she contrived to look like someone who might know how to break down event lighting. No doubt it involved unplugging. She could fake it if she had to.
Though she doubted Wesley meant for things to go that far.
The woman shrugged, flipping a thin, straw-blond ponytail back over her shoulder with an absent gesture. She nodded at the clipboard jammed into the holder beside the steering column, a move she surely wouldn’t make if she knew how many chins it gave her. “No one said anything about it to me.”
“I hate it when that happens,” Gunn said, though it was more like the growl of someone who just wanted to pull the driver out of her seat, take over control, and drive on into the zoo to ditch the vehicle and find the bad guys. Or at least, find the deathstone.
Wesley gave him an entirely ineffective glare. “Yes,” he said, “annoying, isn’t it? I had a ball game planned with my son, and then the phone rang, and…” He shrugged.
“Well,” said the driver, not particularly caring, “you gotta sign off on this sheet, then. And you gotta get out just before we reach Koala Corner, so the tram is empty for the guests.”
“Certainly,” said Wesley, and he took the proffered clipboard to scrawl a meaningless signature as they hopped aboard.
“Burns Foundation,” Gunn muttered to Wesley as he took his seat and the tram lurched into motion. “Good one. Did you get that from The Simpsons?”
“No,” Wesley said. “I got it from the zoo newsletter. The foundation is one of their most generous benefactors.”
Gunn made an expression of patent surprise that Wesley should know such a thing, but it was bait Wesley didn’t rise to with anything more than the smallest lift of an eyebrow. Just as well, Cordelia thought. This was serious now. They were here in the zoo at night, with the sounds of the outdoor auction trickling through the night, and glimpses of the festive lighting as the tram moved along the curvy pathway. The open-air design of the tram made it easy to take in the dark grounds they hummed through. Though all the animals were in for the night, the late hour and the essentially abandoned state of the grounds somehow made the place all the more theirs, turning Cordelia and Wesley and Angel and Gunn into intruders and the auction itself into a patiently tolerated anomaly. Snap out of it, she told herself. We’re here for a reason.
Because Lutkin was here, and he and his buyer. Because the Tuingas would no doubt be close behind, and not at all concerned with the niceties of getting in the zoo. It occurred to her that the buyer had probably been invited to the auction, and had simply walked right in through the front gate. Perhaps he’d even gained Lutkin’s entrance as his guest.
From the corner of her eye, she saw something flit between tree and bush, make a strafing run at the tram, and disappear behind them. “Uh-oh,” she said. “We’re not the only ones visiting after-hours.”
“Yes,” Wesley said grimly. “I’ve seen a thing or two myself. I think we can assume the stone is drawing them.”
“The question is, does David Arnnette know that?” Lutkin, she didn’t care about. Lutkin had known what he was getting into. Enough to run the other way instead of take the greedy side of the force. But Arnnette, annoying and wrong-headed as he was, hadn’t really earned himself center of attention in a monster melee.
“We’re going the wrong direction,” Angel said abruptly as the tram made a sweeping left turn through the beautifully landscaped area, putting the administration building and shops of the entrance behind them to pass the alligators on one side and a deeply shadowed line of trees on the other. He gazed off to the right with an odd look on his face. A strained look, full of shadow and flickering between anger and determination.
“How do you—,” Wesley started, stopping as he glanced over, as if the very sight of Angel was answer enough.
Angel didn’t seem to notice. “I can feel it,” he said. “Before, it was just here. In the zoo. But now…we’re going away from it.”
“Not far,” Gunn said, looking ahead through the framework of the huge glassless tram windows. “If we get off here, we’ll have the zoo people hunting for us—”
“If you get off here,” Angel said. And before Cordelia could cry out, No, wai
t, he was on the seat and out the window, one of those seamless moves that only a man with hundreds of years of familiarity with his body could make.
Cordelia glanced at the driver, who had not surprisingly failed to notice, and closed her mouth. Angel was on his own, now.
At least for a while. She patted the big floppy bag by her side.
It gave her the reassuring clank of metal in return.
Chapter Fourteen
Angel landed in a crouch, a swirl of leather and the gentle thump of soft soles against manicured ground. The tram moved on, carrying the others away from him for now; as its quiet engine noise faded, other noises moved in. The faint human chatter of the auction…restless animals behind closed doors, well aware that this was no normal night at the zoo. Polar bears, seals…from across the zoo came the sound of a frustrated tiger, and from another quarter altogether, a lion. Not sounds that wholly human ears could hear.
And there were other noises. Creatures from outside the zoo, having invited themselves in. Demons of various shapes and sizes and intelligence, easing across the zoo grounds, making a wide berth around the noise and light of the Aussie Auction because now, here, their only focus was the stone that tormented them.
Tormented him.
It pulled him, it dragged him…it slapped against him in waves of pitched fury that threatened to overwhelm his humanity. He felt himself slipping into fang-face and fought it; his hand, newly healed, did nothing to distract him when he clenched it. The night closed in around him—
“Good evening,” said a tux-clad man walking the path from the auction, his date on his arm and his expression jovial and self-assured. He held an auction receipt loosely in one hand like a trophy, and was preoccupied enough with his date that he didn’t notice the odd jerk with which Angel looked away.
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