[Reviews - 69]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 3096 times

- Text Size +




Despite misgivings, Spike slept well enough in the comfort of Wolfram and Hart’s luxurious bed. He woke slowly, relishing the feel of the fresh, white linen against his skin. The sun was high, filtering through the curtains at the necro-tempered windows and casting dapples of light over the sumptuous furnishings. Although the same basic design, this room was a world away from the austerity of Angel’s LA apartment. Had to say, though, all the cherubs and religious doodads weren’t exactly to his taste. He got out of bed and wandered over to a framed, red chalk sketch of a female nude on the wall. This was nice, though, and somehow, given where he was, he didn’t doubt for one moment he was looking at a genuine Michelangelo. It made him wonder what exactly Wolfram and Hart had done for that particular grateful client.

There was a soft knock at the door. Spike looked around for his clothes. In vain. A thick, white towelling robe lay on the end of the bed, where he was damned sure he’d left… Frowning, he put on the robe, fastening it tightly around his waist.

Spike flung open the door with a growl. “Where the hell are my clothes?” he demanded of a startled Pietro, who was standing in the corridor holding a large, cloth covered silver tray.

Pietro smiled blithely and walked past Spike into the room. “Buon giorno, Signor Spike. Is a beautiful day! Your clothes, we are having them cleaned.” He placed the tray down on a small table and whisked away the linen cloth. “Here is breakfast.” He shrugged. “Or maybe lunch. La Signora, she say bring you blood. Human blood. But I say, no, I hear rumours. So, I check first with your office. With ‘armony. She is very nice girl, ‘armony. Very sexy, huh?” He gave Spike a knowing wink. “She say, no, no! Blondie Bear, he do not drink the human blood no more. He like a leetle otter…” Pietro shrugged. “Is not easy in Italy, the otter’s blood. We had to go to the zoo…” He fussed around the tray.

“You… what?” Spike began.

“Ecco.” Pietro ignored him and carried on. “We get you just what you want. La Signora, she say, we must get you whatever you want. We must keep up the strength.” He stood back with a grin. “So – here is otter. Or partly otter. Otters – they not so big. Not so much blood…” he shrugged. “And also good espresso – I make it myself, no-one makes espresso like Pietro – bread, a little cheese, e dolce… cakes. Very nice cakes. We have good bakery. Now you eat. You have shower. We bring you clothes. You meet with La Signora in one hour. Si? Is OK? Va bene. Anything you need, you call. Grazie. Ciao.” With a bow, Pietro left the room.

“Do you lot ever bloody well SHUT UP!” Spike shouted after him.

“Buon appetito.” Pietro closed the door behind him with a smile.

Spike glared at the door. “And who the hell stole my clothes!” he shouted. There was no reply. He grabbed the warm mug angrily from the tray and took a deep swallow. He paused and looked at it appraisingly. Actually, it wasn’t half bad. With a resigned sigh he sat down to eat.

*******

A little later, after he had taken on and defeated the fiendishly complicated shower system – how many independently controlled jets does a shower need, for god’s sake? – and sneered at the wide range of expensive-smelling toiletries arrayed on the shower-room shelves, Spike wandered back into the bedroom, vigorously toweling his hair. Ilona sat cross legged in a chair by the bed.

“Bloody hell!” Spike rapidly wrapped the towel around his waist, cursing the fact he’d picked up a hand towel rather than a bath towel.

“Oh, so sorry! I did not want to disturb your shower.” She ran her eyes appreciatively down his body. “Bello. Beautiful like the David, yes?” She stood up and walked over to Spike. “’Ow are you today? Did you sleep well? Is nice, comfy bed, huh? But maybe a leetle large for one alone?”

“No! No… just… perfect…” Spike tried to resist the urge to back away. “Ilona… what are you doing here? I mean, in here? Now?”

“Clothes.”

“Clothes?” Spike was thrown by the unexpectedly brief reply.

“Clothes!” Ilona gestured towards the bed. “See? ‘andsome as you are, you cannot go around all the day wearing nothing but a small towel!” She picked up a soft black tee-shirt and held it up to Spike’s chest, casting an appraising eye over the fit. “Bene! I ‘ave a good eye for ‘ow… big… a man is. Your own clothes…” she wrinkled her nose, “American! Pah! They will be returned later, but meanwhile you take these. Here are trousers.” She put down the tee-shirt and tried a pair of beautifully tailored black trousers against Spike’s waist. “Perfetto! No underwear. You do not wear them.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “I ‘ave a good eye for that, too.”

“Ilona…”

“Is no problem!” She put down the clothes and rested her hands on Spike’s shoulders. “As I say, my home is your home! My clothes would be your clothes, but I think maybe you prefer something a leetle less…” She looked down at her chest and laughed. “We are good friends and colleagues, yes? Nothing is too much trouble!” She watched her hands as she ran them down his chest, then raised an eyebrow. “Very nice.” She patted his chest, dropped her hands and turned to go. “OK – you dress, then you come to my office and we talk the business.” She looked back over her shoulder. “And maybe later…” she smiled “… we have time for some fun.”

As she closed the door behind her, Spike sincerely hoped not.

*******

Spike’s days spent haunting the corridors of the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart meant he had no problem finding his way around its Roman twin. The layout and basic décor were identical, but there were enough Italian influences on show in the artwork and in the stylishly dressed people walking purposefully along the corridors to make it disconcertingly different.

As he approached Ilona’s office, a young woman, tall and slim with long dark hair, emerged from behind Pietro’s desk and stopped him. “Spike?”

“Yeah?” He turned towards her with a frown. The woman’s brown eyes locked with his. Spike’s frown deepened. There was something… She broke eye contact with a small smile and a shake of her head. “Signora Costa Bianchi is waiting for you. Please, go straight in.”

Spike watched her settle back behind the desk, unsettled but unsure why. Whatever memory the woman stirred had been fleeting. He looked at her closely. No, nothing. He shook his head, set his shoulders and went to face Ilona.

******

Ilona was sitting at her desk looking businesslike, despite the dangerously low neckline of her scarlet dress. She smiled up at Spike. “Oh, very nice! You look perfetto! Show me! Do a leetle turn.”

“A what?” He looked at her in disbelief.

“Show! Show!” Ilona gestured at him to raise his arms. “No need to be shy!”

Spike sighed resignedly and held out his arms with a shrug while Ilona watched him appraisingly. “You should take off the coat. Those trousers, they fit you so well! In the coat you cannot see how well. It hides your… assets, no? You have very nice ass. Now to business.” The sudden change in tone disconcerted Spike every time. He pulled his duster closed around him as Ilona went on. “I think you know – Angel, he has had one of our men to watch the slayer…”

“Buffy.”

“Boofy. Pah! Is such a silly name! Boofy? It ‘ardly strikes fear and trembling!”

“It would if you knew her.”

Ilona shrugged. “As you say. So – Angel he have her watched. I think maybe you both did not like what he found, huh?”

“Is this to do with The Immortal? Is he causing problems for Buffy? Because if he hurts her…”

“No, no! Calm yourself! The Immortal. I have had dealings with The Immortal many times, and, as I tell you, the outcome is always... most satisfactory. He is…” she purred “A very nice man with who to do the business…”

Spike snorted and Ilona grinned. “You have not been so lucky, huh? Ah, yes, I remember. The leetle tax problem.”

“You know about that?”

“We handle all of The Immortal’s affairs.” She shrugged. “But your friend… this Boofy… she has nothing to fear from The Immortal. She and he, they are innamorati, no?”

“Still say it’s some sort of spell…” Spike muttered under his breath.

“No. We think the danger comes from another place.” Ilona frowned. “In the past few days, we ‘ave lost two of our people - two of our people who were watching your Buffy. Each one killed by a vampire. Now, ‘ere at Wolfram and Hart, we keep a very careful check on who is in Roma, and what it is they are up to. It is our business to know. So – these people, they die same time we hear rumours of a new vampire in the town.”

“Dru?”

“Si. Drusilla. We hear she come to town at the same time as our men are killed by an unknown vampire. We know she and this slayer, they have a history.” Ilona shrugged “We added together the two and the two…”

“You think Dru is stalking Buffy?” Spike frowned. “I don’t buy it. Dru… she’s not one for vendettas. Besides...” He paused. “Have you met Drusilla?”

“No. But we know she is, as you say, not with a complete set of the marbles.” Ilona frowned in thought. “Our informant was quite clear.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “OK. Here is what I suggest. Tonight, you watch the man we send to watch Buffy. Maybe Drusilla, she turn up – then we know for sure.” She shrugged. “Is a pity we will not be able to continue with our conversation, but no matter – another night.” She stood up. “So, you will be needing a car, for travelling around. I ‘ave asked Pietro to organise a special car just for you, with the necro-glass. I tell him find you something sexy!” She pressed a button on the intercom and Pietro appeared in the doorway in seconds. Ilona glanced at her watch. “Is almost dark. Your slayer is a woman of habit. The Immortal will collect her in an hour from her apartment. You should start there. Pietro will show you your car.” Ilona walked around her desk to take Spike’s face in her hands. “You must be careful, yes? Any problems, you call me. Then you will ‘ave no more problems.” She dropped her hands and kissed his cheek. “We will meet again at dawn.” she turned to Pietro. “You have the car? Bene.”

“I ‘ave found the perfect model.” Pietro nodded to Ilona and then turned to Spike with a smile. “Please to follow me.” Spike wasn’t convinced he liked that smile.

*******

Down in the underground garage, Pietro proudly pointed out the shinning red car parked waiting for Spike.

“You have got to be joking!” Spike said, staring at the Mini in disbelief.





You must login (register) to review.