The House of Usher
No tragedy, however serious, could hamper the unspoken temperament of the Wolfram and Hart estate. Business went about as usual, and that was all there was to it. No melodramatic boohooing, no survivor’s story, no interview with CNN—nothing. Because this was an establishment built on causing catastrophe, and while unusual, it was no more glanced upon when it happened at home.
It simply happened.
The only truly bizarre thing about the entire ordeal was the selection of those left alive. The two left alive. Two. Just two. Lindsey McDonald and Lilah Morgan, each found under a pile of bodies. Each pulled out by the belated rescuers who responded to an equally belated 911 call issued by the now late Mrs. Holland Manners.
It was just as well. Her husband was dead, too. And without him there was no one to protect her.
Just as well.
Lindsey McDonald had just verified that he had no messages when Lilah approached; spurned by the burnout they were receiving from the wealth of Wolfram and Hart staff. The only two to walk out alive, and they were coated in misgiving. She went on for a few minutes, pausing once when her companion scoffed at a vampire being escorted down a corridor, before returning to her more-than-likely self-aimed tangent.
“No phone calls, no flowers. If I were the nervous type, I’d be nervous. But as it is, I’m just pissed.”
Lindsey rolled his eyes. So typical of her. Thinking the entire grand scheme of things revolved around her and her precious steps to self-promotion. “What did you expect, Lilah?” he demanded. “We’re the only survivors of the massacre. It’s natural that we’re under suspicion.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “You know what I don’t like about suspicion? The part where they find us two weeks from now, dead in some freak accident.”
She had a point there. The firm had its less-than-orthodox ways of dealing with…suspicious associates.
Still, he had to remain optimistic, even if it was ultimately the most foolish thing he could do. “We did nothing wrong.”
Not true, his subconscious warned. Your very existence is wrong. Look at you. At this. This is wrong.
That voice was becoming a real nuisance.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” Lilah demanded sardonically. “Because I work for Wolfram and Hart. Responsibility has nothing to do with it. If they’re looking for a scapegoat, we might as well grow horns and start eating garbage.”
He blinked incredulously, resentment growing. “Scapegoat. Scapegoat, Lilah?! They’re the one…”
The rise in his voice was dangerous and she immediately called him on it, sealing the space between them to place a neutral hand on his chest as another lawyer walked by. Once more, they were not spared a guilt-inducing glare. Once more, the feeling of strained camaraderie between the two people in the building that had the most reputable rivalry soared to new depths. Lindsey quieted instantly and likewise hated himself for it. Because he was right. They had done nothing wrong.
For once.
When he continued, his tone was reasonably lower. “They’re the ones that wanted Drusilla brought in. I was just following orders.” A pause. “And I was never supportive of the entire ‘let’s Angelus-ize Angel’ idea. If memory serves, that was you and Holland. Of all your endeavors, how would you compare this failure to the rest?”
“Don’t you dare try to blame me.”
“I’m not. And they shouldn’t either.”
She balked. “And you honestly think that matters? Fine. Indulge your denial. Don’t doubt for a minute someone’s going to pay, Lindsey. And we’re the only ones left.”
He steered them both into his office and stopped dead within two steps.
“Not the only ones.”
The most vampire-ready building in California, perhaps the world, and no one had made mention of how three of the most notorious demons had waltzed through security and, more importantly, into his office. Drusilla had assumed his chair, Darla seated comfortably on top of the desk. Angelus was in the corner, arms crossed and notably bored. Upon first glance, it was more than obvious that being here was not his idea. Just as leaving them alive hadn’t been.
Angel hated Lindsey; Angelus wanted to convey that message personally.
Darla had to sense the tension rolling off her lover—(it was obvious even to the most ignorant observer that they had spent the past day becoming reacquainted in the biblical sense, aside murdering anyone who crossed their path)—and ignored it. Instead, she lolled her head to the side and smiled pleasantly at the fresh face before her. “Lindsey,” she greeted conversationally. “I’ve missed you. Close the door.”
Neither Lindsey nor Lilah budged an inch.
The blonde vampire rolled her eyes and grinned. “Sweetpea, if we wanted you dead, you'd have never have made it out of the wine cellar. Now close the door.”
There was no contesting that. He complied.
“He’s got cow eyes,” Drusilla stated. “Big and black.” She grinned kittenishly and draped an arm across the back of the rotating chair. “Moo...”
Lindsey sighed and decided to aim for the throat. The presence of his most loathed adversary was slightly disconcerting, especially considering Angel’s seeming willingness to end his life when he bore a conscience.
“You spared me,” he said softly. “Why did you spare me, Darla?”
“Being dead for any period of time can impair someone’s judgment,” Angelus answered, eyes glowering. “Of course, if you’re complaining about your current state of non-dead, why, I could rectify that in a blink.”
The vampire in question grinned at his words but did not turn to face him. She was walking toward her intended, a coy look overwhelming her features. “Don’t mind Angelus. He’s always grumpy if he doesn’t get a decent kill in before sunrise, and unfortunately, we’ve been rather preoccupied. And Lindsey, Lindsey, do you really need to ask?” She leaned inward and drew in his scent. “Hmm. I’m in love with you.”
It was foolish sentiment, he knew, but for a minute he believed her. Looking into the depths of her murderous eyes. Imagining that the words were true. That she felt something for him other than a convenient meal ticket. The fantasy ended abruptly when she burst out laughing. Angelus’s chuckles reverberated from his corner, and Drusilla and Lilah were practically cackling.
The laughter ended as abruptly as it started. Darla tossed the other woman a semi-irritated glance. “Shut up, Lilah.”
“Shh!” Drusilla hissed.
“Wouldn’t waste your lack of breath, darling,” Angelus forewarned. “Lilah has a knack for never shutting up.”
Everyone decided to ignore that.
“You’ve put us in a difficult position, Darla.”
“Hmmm, have I? I could have sworn it was the three of us.” She turned back and sashayed to Angelus, grinning wildly and running her hands up his chest. “You played a hand you couldn’t afford, Lindsey. We don’t like being controlled. Although…had I known that Holland was going to give me such a lovely treat, I might have allowed him some leeway.”
“I wouldn’t,” Angelus told her.
“I know, lover. You can be so generous.” She turned back to her audience, resting her back against the other vampire’s chest. “I suppose this is a bit of a dilemma. Choices, choices. Such smart, young lawyers, hungry for their big break and—whups—boss gets eaten. Someone has to step in. Someone promising, pretty, with questionable ethics and twelve-hundred dollar suits that look good on the six o’clock news.”
Lilah’s brow perked. “You think they’ll promote him?”
She made a face of distaste. “Or you. In any case, that’s why you’re here. I’ve decided to keep the line of communication open between us and Wolfram and Hart.”
“What for?”
“I believe we can help each other.” She took one of Angelus’s hands in her own and wrapped it around her middle, smiling at something he murmured into her ear. “And before you ask, it’s power I want. We want. See, during my stint as Wolfram and Hart’s puppet, something occurred to me. I loathe being used. If I recall, there was a fifteen-body-memo to that effect. We plan on being big players in this town, my boy and I. And while you can’t give me what I want, you have the things I need to get it. Money. Connections. And a face to die for.”
Lilah shook her head. “We’re no good to you dead, Darla. The Senior Partners are looking for someone to blame for your massacre.”
“Our massacre,” Angelus corrected with a growl. He yanked the blonde vampire against him tightly, thrusting his hips tellingly into her backside. She mewled a strangled cry of pleasure that everyone decided to ignore.
“Yes, yes,” the woman complied, rolling her eyes. “Your massacre. As in, all of you. Sorry about the ambiguity.”
“Just want to make sure we’re on the same page, here.” He cocked his head curiously. “Which begs the question, and please…stop me if I sound ungrateful.” With a turn, he released Darla and started walking forward, eyes blazing without the added need of vampiric hindsight. He could be just as frightening in his human façade. “Why exactly was the firm so keen on releasing the big bad me? You thought that just because I have a hard-on for anything bloody, I’d bend over backwards and play a second fiddle for your ever-industrious Senior Partners? Please.”
His blonde companion flashed a grin. “As I believe I have clarified, we do not advocate being used.”
“The firm was interested in piecing back together the Order of Aurelius,” Lindsey said. “Though, I must say, you’ve thoroughly dismissed all notion of that brilliant idea.”
Darla frowned quizzically. “Meaning?”
“There was going to a committee…namely you and Drusilla,” Lilah offered, nodding in the aforementioned direction. “Holland was going to have you go to Sunnydale to pick up the last member of your Order…rather, the last of the infamous in your order. William the—”
“My Spike,” the raven-haired vampire murmured. “Our happy family.”
“Hmmm, now that would have been interesting,” Angelus mused. “Last I heard, though, Spike was playing the part of the Slayer’s lapdog.”
“Wouldn’t throw stones, dear,” Darla observed with a smirk.
“A phase I have thankfully outgrown,” he added, tossing her a somewhat irritated glance. “Furthermore, and here’s the really funny part, he has some government chip in his head that doesn’t let him kill. Isn’t that tragically…hilarious?”
Drusilla did not share his humor. She was pouting slightly, arms crossing as she played with the spin-option of Lindsey’s chair. “Not fair,” she complained. “Lock him up and take all his toys away. Naughty Slayer. Stealing him away from me.” She glanced up. “Can we get him, grandmum? Can we go and rescue my William from that nasty, nasty Buffy girl? I won’t abide it.”
“The Slayer was part of the deal,” Lindsey continued. “We wanted her as leverage.”
Darla’s brow quirked. “You were going to bring the Slayer here? How very foolish.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Angelus mused thoughtfully, a wicked glint in his eyes. “I might like to see old Buff. Give her a big, messy, and assuredly bloody kiss for sending me to Hell.” He flashed a grin at Darla. “Not that I’m one to hold grudges, but that does irk me in a way I wouldn’t advocate. And if she’s here—all the better.”
“There’s also word of an impending apocalypse,” Lilah added, ignoring Lindsey’s inquisitive glance. “Holland was interested in its success, and what it could mean for the firm. If the Slayer is in Sunnydale at the time that the Key is activated, she will stop—”
“Okay,” the other lawyer interrupted sharply, blinking. “…what? What Key?”
“Nothing. The specifics are not important. More to the fact that there is more than one reason that the Slayer was wanted in Los Angeles.”
Darla grinned. “You see? I knew that your precious Senior Partners wouldn’t act rashly. To kill both of you would be such a waste, especially with such…colorful ideas floating in the midst. Oh, Dru. I smell a plan.”
“Mmmm…” she agreed. “Tastes like lemon-drops.”
Angelus sighed and rolled his eyes. “Please tell me we’re not really going with the ‘snatch up Spike’ idea? I really, really can’t stand that boy. Last time we met up, he decided to take to me with a crowbar.”
Lindsey snickered. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”
The vampire’s gaze flickered. “We could always make the decision for the Senior Partners right now.”
“Down boy,” Darla said shortly. “Wouldn’t want to do anything that might stink of regret come morning.”
“Believe me,” he replied, eyes never leaving the other man’s. “I would never regret a kill this anticipated.” He paused. “Well, let’s just say, I’d never regret a kill. At least one that doesn’t involve some sappy Romanian gypsy virgin.”
“What’s your deal with Spike, then?” Lindsey asked, brows perked. His gaze traveled intently to Darla. “Afraid of a little competition?”
She snickered. “Please. I never supported the siring of that buffoon. Oh no, dear. He was made solely for one purpose.” The elder vampires glanced back to Drusilla, who looked to be having a very animated conversation with an invisible pixie. “To keep our resident lunatic…shall we say…occupied?”
“When I wasn’t taking liberties, that is,” Angelus added with a smirk.
“He’s fun…” Drusilla murmured, clinching her momentary distraction and licking her lips. “Bumpy in all the right places. Oh yeah. Oohhhh…but all alone. Watching and weeping his girl walk on by. Pshhh…” She leaned forward, grasping Angelus by the lapels of his jacket and dragging his ear down to her mouth. “He’s taken.”
The elder vampire’s brows perked at that. “Taken?”
“Dancing. They’re dancing.” At that, she drew to her feet and began swaying to something unheard, eyes closed and an almost euphoric expression on her face. “My Spike loves the dance, but the nasty Slayer isn’t interested. She’s had her supper and is too full for dessert. She doesn’t want to go to bed with an upset stomach.”
Angelus glanced up excitedly, meeting Darla’s eyes. “Did you just hear what I just heard?”
“Spike’s in love with a Slayer.” The blonde vampire snickered and turned away. “Honestly, what is it about this girl that makes the men of our Order slobber themselves silly?”
He shrugged. “She’s got spunk, what can I say?”
“And somehow, Spike’s involvement with a Slayer doesn’t surprise me at all,” Darla concluded, shaking her head. “He always was obsessed with them. Figured it was only a matter of time before he wanted to screw his meal before making it his…well…meal. And the fact that she was one of yours, Liam…”
“I must get him out of the hole. So dark. It’s so dark in the hole.” Drusilla turned sharply back to Lindsey. “Shall we go to Sunnydale, then? Collect my boy and bring him home?”
“Collect the Slayer to make sure home’s where he wants to go,” Darla added snidely. “Come to think of it, there are some things I’d like to say to that vapid cheerleader…before I rip her throat out, that is.”
Lindsey frowned. “Our motive is not for the Slayer’s death…” He turned inquisitively to Lilah. “Is it?”
“Honey, I don’t think you understand,” the blonde vampire answered for him. “If I want the Slayer dead, she’s dead. Wolfram and Hart following us won’t make an itty bitty bit of difference. You’re chasing a tail that won’t end. And anyway, Holland is dead. His vision has been permanently disrupted—”
“No,” Lilah intervened, “it really hasn’t. The contract with Wolfram and Hart goes far beyond the mortal coil. Holland’s association with the firm—”
The vampiress waved her hand dismissively. “Be that as it may, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not here, and you are. Therefore, I’m thinking that as far as so-called ‘special-projects’, the two of you have more say. Though, really, I do thank you for the idea. Seeing little Mousy Buffy again will be…well, I can’t really think of a word.” She turned to Angelus. “And there will be no—”
“Jealous?”
“More like disgusted.”
He chuckled. “Trust me.”
“Angelus, unless I’m wrong, Hell hasn’t frozen over.”
Lindsey smiled quietly to himself. “I believe that we can work together,” he said cordially, stepping forward with an air of diplomacy. “Though I must stress the importance of not underestimating the resources of our firm. Despite however powerful the Order was in the day, Wolfram and Hart is connected to powers that should not be taken lightly.”
“Oh, honey,” Darla retorted, turning to meet him halfway. “Was I not clear enough?” She ran her hands up his mortal chest, playing the fine silk of his tie and tugging him down so that her mouth grazed his. “I have absolutely no intention of taking anything lightly…ever…again.”
And all at once, he was terrified. Not of what she would do—the wine cellar had more than proven that he was no good to her dead. No, the fear that blossomed in his chest had nothing to do with him.
“In the meantime,” Angelus was saying, moving for the door with chipperness that looked altogether unusual on his broad figure. “I think it would be rude if I didn’t visit some friends who are long overdue for a good…talking to. Drop in. Say hello. Rip out their innards. The usual treatment amongst colleagues, wouldn’t you say, darling?”
Darla smirked at him wickedly, and Lindsey’s blood chilled even more. “Oh yes,” she agreed. “In fact…a trip to Angel Investigations is just what the doctor ordered. Just to pass the time, of course.”
“Of course.”
It was her. Her power. The power that she absolved. The power that she flaunted. The power that she held over Angelus, despite his attempts to look the part controllably. There was no denying that she held him around her little finger as tightly as he liked, and more probably tighter. What she was going to do was no longer the question. That, Lindsey knew.
What frightened him was what remained unanswered.
More like, where her line of reasonability ended.
He somehow wagered that he didn’t want to know.
To be continued in Chapter Four: The Man of the Crowd…