Redemption

by Mel Odom

  “The homicide guys are going to be brutally thorough,” Kate said. “That may be something else she — and you — aren’t used to.”

  “I’ve been around policemen a lot,” Angel replied. “I know how they can be.”

  Kate stopped at the driver’s side of her car and took her keys from her jacket pocket. “If you need anything,” she said, “I can’t guarantee that I can help you.”

  Angel started to say that he understood, but he saw the man step from behind a nearby maroon van and nod to him.

  The man was tall and narrow, maybe twenty pounds too light for his frame. He wore a long, shiny black leather coat, a black shirt, and black pants. His black shoes held a high gloss. Short gray hair stood straight up, mirroring the close-cropped beard that covered his sunken cheeks. His eyes were glacial gray.

  He lifted his coat and pointed to the pistol at his belt. Then he nodded at Kate, who hadn’t seen him.

  “Uh, give me just a minute,” Angel said. “There’s a guy I need to talk to.”

  Kate crawled in behind the steering wheel. She looked at the man, but his coat again concealed the pistol. “Friend of yours?”

  “Not exactly. If you’re in a hurry, I can take a cab.” And if she left, Kate wouldn’t be there for the man to menace.

  “I don’t mind waiting.”

  Angel nodded and strode over to the man, putting himself in between Kate and a clear shot, blocking the view of each from the other.

  The gleam of silver on the man’s gloved hand drew Angel’s attention. Even at the distance he recognized the symbol the ring bore, knew it matched the one that had been found in Whitney’s apartment.

  And he remembered about the rings.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  North of Clifden, Ireland

  “Did you see them rings they wore? Did you see them rings the hellions wore back there?” Darius asked. “I’d bet you could get a good price for just one of them.”

  Huddled against a tree in the dark forest they’d run to in hopes of escaping the men who chased them, Angelus shook his head. The cave mouth they’d fled from after escaping the attack at the tavern lay two days back. But their pursuers were scarcely a half hour away, hindered by the night that surrounded them.

  The warriors had regrouped in Clifden and had tracked them within just hours. For part of the first day, they’d traveled to a logging camp to the north of the city and high in the verdant green hills. But they’d not gotten to rest there long. Aside from being ferocious warriors, the men were also good hunters, managing to find their trail through streams and across rocky, broken land.

  Angelus stared at the stream that ran bright and quick between the tall mountains around them. It reflected the harsh burn of the full moon’s light. The burbling sound it made as it rushed over the rocks between the banks filled the narrow valley between the high mountains. The slight spray of the water smashing up against the banks was cold and quickly dampened his clothes. “Maybe you should stay here and take them.”

  “Damn me,” Darius cursed as he looked at the white-capped water. “I ain’t no fool, and fording that stream between these mountains is going to take us longer than I thought.” He followed the course of it with his eyes. “If we had a good long-boat, we could be to sea afore them witchfinders could know where we’d gone.”

  The stream flowed up over the narrow banks in places, whitecaps coiling briefly around boulders and washing across their chosen trail. Fifty yards farther on, the stream twisted around a curve of the passage to the right and vanished from sight. There was no way to tell how much farther it ran.

  “We’re wasting time,” Angelus stated. “Lead us on or get the hell out of the way.”

  Darius started to say something, but they were all aware of the riders visible behind them now.

  Angelus glared at the bent grass they’d left behind them. Nearly as tall as a man, their passage could have been seen even by human vision. Another half-hour or hour at most and the grass would have sprung back up.

  But their lead was no longer that big. Once the trail had started heading straight for the valley, the warriors had turned and started directly for it, no longer fanning out to make sure they missed nothing in their pursuit.

  Darius ordered one of the men to take the lead along the narrow bank of the stream, and they proceeded in single file.

  Glancing at the white-capped water, Angelus guessed that the stream might be as much as three or four feet deep in most places, perhaps as much as six or eight feet in the deepest part of the channel. But the force of the rushing stream would have slowed them tremendously if they’d tried to fight it.

  Angelus followed Darla, watching to see where she stepped. She fell behind the captain and the pirates. At first Angelus thought it was because she couldn’t maintain the pace, something he’d never witnessed before. He grew concerned and tried to help her.

  Behind them, the mounted warriors steadily closed the distance, shearing away minutes.

  “We’re falling behind,” Angelus said.

  Moonlight touched Darla’s blond hair and ignited in golden fire. She spoke without turning around, keeping her voice low. “With reason, dear Angelus. This stream is harder to ford than we expected, more treacherous and much longer. There is no place to run, no place to hide. Not even a good place to make a stand. And make no mistake; those men are going to catch Darius and his pirates before they get clear of these mountains.”

  Ahead of them, one of Darius’s men slipped on the bank as loose earth twisted out from underfoot. The pirate landed in the stream, immediately caught in the rush of water and washed downstream before he could get his feet under him. Another of the pirates farther back waded in a short distance and grabbed the man by the shirt, hauling him safely to shore.

  “But they won’t catch us,” Darla promised. “I have a plan.”

  Long, anxious minutes later Angelus glanced back at the valley mouth they’d entered. The mounted warriors had reached the passage, bunching up to confer over the crash of the racing stream. They talked only a short time, then one of them took the lead and the others followed.

  Peering ahead, Angelus saw the fear-filled faces of the vampire pirates looking back to see the mounted warriors.

  Even when the horses slipped from the narrow, treacherous banks, the warrior band managed to gain ground. A man, even a vampire, couldn’t have stood easily against the current, but the heavier horses with their four legs instead of two, managed.

  The animals seemed as driven by the men. Still, one of them did slip and fall, buoyed by the stream and pushed back a dozen yards before it regained its feet. The rider never lost his hold on the horse’s mane and quickly pulled himself back into the saddle.

  The resilience of their pursuers was eerie. Angelus was beginning to believe for himself they were more than human.

  Angelus stared ahead and saw only the continuing wall of rock and scrub brush on either side of the stream. Even climbing with a vampire’s strength and agility wouldn’t put them out of reach of the warriors in time.

  Darla pointed at a short, gnarled tree that had somehow managed to grow on the steep mountainside. “There, Angelus. There is our salvation.”

  Twisted and warped, the tree still managed to flourish, providing a cluster of branches that made the bank hard to pass at that point. The pirates hacked at branches with their swords but still had to crawl under the main trunk to keep going forward.

  “The tree?” Angelus asked.

  “Yes.” When she reached the tree, Darla took Angelus by the hand and pulled him down to pass under the tree. Only she didn’t continue onto the bank. She stepped into the stream, up to her waist in the rushing water within the space of two quick strides. She picked up a stone twice as large as her head and held it within her arms. “Grab a stone. Quickly.” She looked back at the approaching warriors.

  Still puzzled over what Darla planned, Angelus picked up a rock. When he turned, he found she’d waded even farther o
ut into the stream, up to her chin now.

  “Come on,” she told him. “The shadow cast by the tree hides us from them for now. That won’t last long.”

  Angelus waded into the water after her. The weight of the massive stone took away the buoyancy that normally would have betrayed him. He didn’t stand easily in the current, but he stood. The ice-cold water chilled even him, making his jaws ache.

  “Hold on to the rock and go under,” Darla suggested. “See if you can walk to the other side of the stream. The water in the deepest part of the channel may be too fast, but get out there as far as you can. If we’re lucky, the river will hide us.”

  Angelus wasn’t happy with her plan at all. The water was too cold and too fast, and it was no place to be in a fight. “And if we’re not lucky?”

  “Drop the rock and leap into the current. It will carry us downstream too fast for them to follow.”

  “We could get broken and battered on those rocks,” Angelus protested.

  “Better than getting staked.” Following her own advice, Darla walked into the stream and disappeared underwater.

  Cursing, Angelus glanced back at the line of advancing warriors. Some of them had lit lanterns and the bull’s-eyes glowed like baby moons. Taking a tighter grip on the stone, he waded into the current and let it close over his head. As a vampire, he no longer needed to breathe.

  Underwater, he saw Darla before him. The night and the loss of moonlight reflected back on the water reduced her to a silhouette. The current raced across him, tugging at him like a spoiled child in a tantrum. The stream wrapped him in its cold embrace, driving sand and other flotsam into him with stinging force.

  The warriors remained vague shapes as they closed on the tree. The horses hesitated about stepping into the deeper water, but finally did.

  Darla continued across the stream and made it to the other side. Still, she remained underwater. Her eyes held green-blue luminosity as she watched him.

  In the deepest part of the channel Angelus momentarily lost traction. The stream swept him from his feet with hurried abandon, flinging him around effortlessly for a moment.

  Instinctively he curled around the stone he held and sank to the bottom. Once he had his feet under him, he steadied himself and looked for Darla. She was almost twenty feet farther upstream. Resolutely Angelus moved more slowly and gradually gained the shallows. He remained underwater, making his way back to Darla’s side.

  On the other side of the stream, the warriors continued to negotiate the tree-infested bank with relative ease. The lanterns marked their passage plainly, throwing their immense shadows against the high mountain wall behind them.

  Darius and his pirates won’t be getting away tonight, Angelus thought. The demon that dwelt inside him now laughed at the misfortune of the other vampires. It didn’t matter to him that if it hadn’t been for Darla’s quick thinking he’d have been in as much trouble as they were.

  The shadows of the mounted riders flickered and warred across the lamplit mountainside as the conflicting lantern lights shifted and changed. Silver light gleamed from the bands around their fingers, doubtless the rings that Darius had seen earlier.

  Then lantern light spilled across one of the riders, flashing on the red-gold hair pulled back over a shoulder. The rider was on the other side of the tree now, and his vision remained blocked. But the red-gold hair shone through for a moment more.

  Hatred and anger filled Angelus as he quietly surfaced. It took all of his strength not to go after the woman after everything she had done to him. But a tingle of fear ran through him, letting him know he wasn’t sure he could kill her.

  Darla surfaced beside him. “I put a ball into her chest,” she whispered insistently. “Anything human would have died.”

  Angelus watched the last pale yellow light of the warriors’ lanterns fade from sight. Once it was gone, he led Darla away, feeling the weight of his sodden clothes. Her words kept playing over again and again in his mind.

  Anything human would have died.

  But she wasn’t human anymore. Even from the distance he’d been able to see that in her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The tall man in black casually strolled across the parking area. His shoes clicked lightly against the pavement. He kept the pistol in his hand but crossed his wrists before him, shielding it with his coat. He appeared totally relaxed. His cold gray eyes never wavered from Angel.

  Angel glanced around the parking area.

  “No,” the gray-haired man said. “I didn’t come alone.”

  “Maybe not,” Angel said, “but I bet I can get to you before your friends can stop me.”

  A small smile twisted the man’s lips. “Is it Angelus? Or should I call you Angel now?”

  Angel didn’t answer.

  “However the case may be,” the man said in a harsher voice, “I give you the benefit of the doubt. I only today learned that you’d been given your soul back. Congratulations. I suggest that you hold on to it a little more carefully this time.”

  “Who are you?” Angel demanded.

  “You may call me Father Gannon.”

  “I don’t see any vestments, Father,” Angel said.

  “Nor do I see any evidence of this soul you’re reported to have.” Gannon shifted the pistol in his hands. “I suppose we’ll have to trust each other.”

  “You’re trying to kill Whitney Tyler.”

  “No,” Gannon said softly. “We strive to lay to rest the thing that masquerades itself as Whitney Tyler. She is not human.”

  Angel gave no indication that he already knew that. “Then what is she?”

  “None of your concern,” Gannon said. “That’s what I came here to tell you. That, and to meet with our brother who has been incarcerated in this dismal establishment.”

  “Perhaps he’s doing penance,” Angel suggested.

  The glacial gray eyes bored in on his like twin drills. “We know who you are, Angelus. We knew it shortly after Gunnar Schend contacted you. Over the centuries of your life, we’ve tried to find you.”

  Angel guessed that it was true. While he’d still been gripped by the vampire’s hunger, he’d been on several hunting lists, including the Council of Watchers.

  When he’d first gotten his soul back from the gypsy curse, he’d almost died. It was harder to live while trying not to kill those who attacked him. Whistler had taught him how to hide.

  “You’re still a vampire,” Gannon said. “Several members of my team would like nothing more than to see you staked.”

  Angel remained silent. He couldn’t blame them based on the things he’d done in his past.

  “But, at present, we choose to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Why are you after Whitney?” Angel asked.

  “We are responsible for her,” Gannon stated simply. “We want what is best.”

  “And the best thing for her is being dead?”

  “Yes.”

  Angel thought furiously, trying to find a weakness in the man’s confidence. “What makes you so sure she’s the monster you’re after?”

  “My . . . organization . . . has been after her for hundreds of years,” Gannon said. “That is very privileged information, by the way, and I give it to you now only because your actions since you’ve been involved in this thing have seemed honorable. We believe strongly in salvation and redemption ourselves. But if you step out of line, we know where you are.”

  “If your organization has been after her that long,” Angel challenged, “why have they only found her now?”

  “Because she is very good at hiding.” Gannon eyed him levelly. “We’ve found her a few times in the past, as well as the trail of bodies she left behind. Part of her is a cold-blooded killer, and that part thrives on the savagery that comes so naturally to her. She has succeeded in eluding most of those who followed her, and killing others. Her crimes against the higher power have continued to mount, as has the guilt my organization has assumed over
those years.”

  “What if you have the wrong woman?” Angel asked.

  Gannon shook his head. “We don’t.” He turned to go, then hesitated. “Angelus. Angel. I see more compassion in your eyes than I have in any of your kind — and trust me when I say I’ve staked my share of fiends over the years — but don’t let this newfound humanity of yours cloud your judgment. Right and wrong exist in this world. Don’t cover those things with moral ambiguity because your own history is cluttered and confusing.”

  “I’ve talked to Whitney,” Angel said in a more forceful voice. “She’s scared and she’s an innocent.”

  “An innocent?” Gannon seemed genuinely amused. “And how would you know innocence? As an appetizer or a main course?”

  “Whitney isn’t whatever it is you’re looking for,” Angel said.

  “Personal involvement isn’t professional,” Gannon said. “You’ve barely met her and already you believe in her.”

  “No,” Angel argued. “I believe in me, and right now everything in me is screaming out that woman’s innocence.”

  Gannon’s gray eyes glittered coldly. “Fascinating. A soul and conscience dialed directly in to guilt. At some later point, should you survive the resolution of your obvious course of action in this matter, I would like to talk to you.”

  “I’ll stop you,” Angel promised. “No matter what it takes, no matter what I have to do, I’ll stop you.”

  “Is it that easy to slip back into taking human life?”

  “In all species,” Angel said, “there are some that are easier to destroy because they act out of evil.”

  “Am I evil, then?”

  “Anyone who destroys innocence,” Angel said, “is evil by definition and design. It doesn’t matter if that person serves a devil or a god. Step up against Whitney Tyler and in my book you’re evil.”

  “I’m not,” Gannon said, “in mine.” He walked away without another word, moving unhurriedly to the elevator doors and stepping inside. The doors closed before he turned around.