Revenant

by Mel Odom

  Angel ignored the guilt being dished his way and focused on getting to the truth because Buffy’s life was on the line. “What did those men back in the warehouse want from you?”

  Collins shrugged.

  Maybe he was cool enough that it would have fooled a jury, but Angel smelled the fear on him. “You’re lying.”

  “You got there too soon. They were only starting—”

  “No,” Angel said quietly, and the heaviness of his tone shut the lawyer down at once. “Someone very close to me is caught near the eye of this storm. You’re not going to lie to me and you’re not going to stall me. Otherwise I’ll take you back to those demons myself and take whatever they offer in trade. Either way, you’re going to be worth something to me.”

  “All right, all right.” Collins took a deep breath. “I do legal work, you know that. And I’m good at it. But I’ve got alimony, child support, college tuition for a couple kids and a secretary who threatened to tell everybody she was having my baby. I personally think she was lying because the baby didn’t look anything like—”

  “Move on.”

  “I need money,” Collins said. “That’s what I’m getting at. I just need money.”

  “I don’t need the why, I need the what,” Angel said. “What’s the business you’re running on the side?”

  “I’m a go-between. There are people out there who need . . . certain things that can’t be gotten through regular channels. Things that—”

  “What kinds of things?” Angel demanded, slamming his hand against the wall beside the lawyer.

  Collins jumped. “Things like a right hand cut fresh from a corpse. A virgin’s eyeballs. Dried blood. A twoheaded calf, and you’ll never believe how hard it is to come up with one of those. Objets d’art that are contraband in a dozen countries because people believe they’re haunted or possessed or cursed. Things that—”

  “Enough,” Angel said. It was easy to figure that Collins was a go-between for witches and warlocks and demons needing hard-to-get ingredients for spells.

  “I’m not the only person who does things like this, you know,” Collins said defensively. “There’s a law office in L. A. that specializes—”

  “The demons wanted your list of clients?” Angel asked.

  Collins nodded. “Either they were planning on taking it over, or they meant it when they said they would be the new suppliers.”

  Angel turned the information over in his head, trying to find an area that he could turn to their benefit. Maybe Giles could make something of it.

  “That’s really all I know,” Collins said. “Except for one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “My great-great-grandfather practiced law in Sunnydale back during the gold strike days,” Collins said. “He handled a lot of business for the city’s founding fathers. And he covered up a lot of bad things they did that they didn’t want anyone to know about, paying off judges, victims, witnesses, or hiring people to threaten or harm the ones he couldn’t buy off. I’ve never done that.”

  Angel waited.

  “The thing that Chengxian Zhiyong seemed most interested in was a mine shaft that collapsed in 1853. . . .”

  Chapter 16

  BUFFY WATCHED THE VAMPIRES OPEN THE BACK OF HER mom’s SUV and yank the crate from inside. The crate smacked down on the blacktop in the alley, and the sound echoed between the buildings and mixed with the street noises. Okay, so we’re not into gentle right now, Buffy thought.

  One of the vampires hooked his fingers under the top of the crate and yanked. The nails shrilled as they pulled from the wood. The vampire shoved both hands into the Styrofoam peanuts and lifted the dragon statue from the crate.

  “Is this it?” he asked, turning the dragon around for everyone to look at.

  “Looks like it,” another vampire said.

  “Unless they decided to mess with us,” a young vampire put in. He wore a Grateful Dead concert tee shirt. He gazed at Buffy and licked his lips. “Maybe it’s a fake.”

  A fake what? Buffy wondered. She studied the dragon more closely. Now that she saw the whole body, she realized the statue exhibited some very human characteristics. The dragon stood very erect and its front claws looked more like human hands with elongated fingers. Even though it was a statue, intelligence seemed to gleam in the dark eyes.

  “Nah,” the first vampire said. “This has got to be the real deal. Why make a fake one?”

  “To fool us.”

  The first vampire shook his head. He traced the statue’s lines with his fingers. “You haven’t been around long enough to know something that has power when you see it. When you touch it.” He grinned, baring his fangs. “This is what we came looking for.”

  “Then,” the young vampire said, “maybe we deserve a little reward.” He stepped toward Buffy. A sinister smile curved his lips. No one followed him.

  As the vampire closed on her, Buffy turned so that her left side was to him.

  The vampire stopped. A puzzled expression filled his face. “Move aside, babe. I’ll do the old lady first and save you for dessert.”

  “Maybe you need to figure on biting something that would be healthier for you,” Buffy said.

  “Buffy,” Joyce called in a small voice.

  Buffy heard the fear in her mom and it made her a little-madder. Her mom had brushed up against Sunnydale’s undead underbelly a few times and knew it existed, and Buffy hated that. Some things about a teenager’s life were just supposed to remain unknown from their parents—for their own good.

  “That wasn’t at all polite,” Buffy said.

  “Sue me,” the young vampire entreated, grinning mockingly. “And where the hell does polite get you these days?” He reached for her.

  Buffy uncoiled like a snapped spring. She lashed out with her left foot and drove it into the vampire’s face. As he stumbled back, she kicked again and knocked him up against the SUV.

  His vampiric nature enabled him to recover quickly. He raked a hand at her, trying to grab her hair.

  Buffy ducked beneath the attempt and spun to the right. Staying low, she brought Mr. Pointy up in a backhand strike. The wooden stake broke through the vampire’s rib cage and angled up into the heart.

  A sick look filled the young vampire’s features as he gazed down. The stake had punched through the grinning skull face on the front of his shirt. “Shit!”

  Buffy looked up into his eyes and twisted the stake. “Being impolite,” she stated clearly, “especially to my mom—kills.”

  The vampire turned to dust.

  “Now that’s grateful,” Buffy quipped as she turned to face the other vampires. “Anybody else feel like showing a little gratitude?” Before anyone could answer, a chill wind suddenly swept through the alley, prickling Buffy’s skin.

  Then young Asians with green and white striped hair rushed into the alley. Some of them jumped on top of the vans and the SUV as they made their way toward the vampires clustered around the statue.

  One of the gang members leaped at Buffy.

  The Slayer spun and dove below the attack. She caught herself on her free hand and shoved herself back up. The vampires and the gang members closed on each other immediately. The yells and growling filled the alley at once.

  Two gang members grabbed hold of the statue the vampire held. All three of them yanked on it, breaking it into dozens of pieces that fell at their feet.

  By then Buffy was up and racing toward her mother. She took Joyce by the elbow and ran along the apartment building toward the door that led inside the structure. Gunfire cracked in the alley and ricocheted off walls.

  Buffy didn’t hesitate when she found the apartment building door locked. She stepped back and kicked it open, then pulled her mom inside. A few people stuck their heads out of their apartments on the lower floor.

  “Get back inside your homes!” Joyce warned. “There’s a gang fight in the alley!”

  Buffy paused and glanced back at the doorway. No one wa
s following them. Which might usually be considered a good thing, she told herself. Only now she knew it was because the gang members considered the statue more important than she. And why is it?

  “Buffy!” her mom called urgently. “Come on!”

  “Can’t,” Buffy apologized. “Slayer things to do. You keep going.” She turned and ran back to the door before her mom could argue.

  By the time she reached the alley, the fight was nearly over. The vampires had lost—big-time. The ones who hadn’t been killed were fleeing and the gang members seemed happy to see them go.

  Two of the gang members packed the last of the pieces of the statue back into the crate. Then they ran back out into the street to be picked up by vehicles that screeched to halts.

  Buffy sprinted toward the van blocking her mom’s SUV. She stepped inside and dropped behind the steering wheel. The keys dangled from the ignition. She gave them a twist, shoved the transmission into reverse, put her foot down on the accelerator, and turned to look out the back glass. She watched the cars picking up the Asian gang members and wondered if she’d be able to follow one of them before anyone noticed her.

  “—exploded,” the radio DJ said as the set blared to life. “Before Sunnydale fire department teams could contain the blaze, the warehouse burned. There are several reports of—”

  Buffy cut the steering wheel hard as she roared out of the alley. Driving was never her thing. She slewed wildly, rocking the van from side to side as she tried desperately to control the vehicle.

  Then a vampire who had evidently taken refuge in the van during the battle rose up from the empty cargo area behind her and reached for her.

  Buffy ducked, then slammed back in the seat as the van collided with something behind it. The vampire flew backward and smashed against the rear doors. The engine shuddered and died.

  Glancing around as she scrambled out of the van, Buffy saw that she’d barely steered the vehicle from the mouth of the alley. The rear wheels rested on the sidewalk. The van’s rear bumper partially wrapped a street sign posting COMMERCIAL UNLOADING ONLY.

  The vampire rushed from the van and came straight at Buffy. His mouth was open wide, revealing the big fangs.

  Too late, Buffy realized she was still in the shade of the alley, covered by the shadow of the apartment building. Before the vampire reached her, a horn blared. Startled, the Slayer turned and watched as her mom drove the wagon from the alley, tires spinning. Buffy dodged out of the way just as the SUV’s front grille smashed into the vampire.

  Joyce drove out onto the street. As soon as the sun’s ray’s touched the vampire, he caught on fire and burned to death on the front of the SUV. Buffy watched in disbelief as Joyce braked to a stop and threw the passenger door open.

  “Come on,” Joyce said as flaming bits of the vampire fell to the pavement.

  Buffy joined her and glanced up the street, hoping to catch some sign of the fleeing gang members. But they were already gone. She turned to her mom. “What do you know about the statue? Don’t you usually work up some kind of history on things that you import?”

  “Yes,” Joyce answered. “But only on pieces that I’m going to sell. Mr. Zhiyong only made arrangements to ship that piece through my contacts. I wasn’t going to sell it, so I didn’t ask for any documentation on it.” She continued driving.

  Buffy worked hard to recall the details of the dragon statue. Maybe Giles could figure something out about it from the description. She hoped. Because for the moment she was clueless about what was going on in Sunnydale and she hated it.

  “Willow Rosenberg, I’m shocked!”

  Eeep! Recognizing the voice, Willow came to a frantic halt, looking up from trying to juggle her books and her laptop and not look like she’d been speeding through the halls. She turned and smiled. “Hello.”

  Cordelia Chase had just stepped from the school library, one eyebrow raised in total rebuke.

  Okay, what choices do I have? Fake surprise that I was running? Mortification that I was caught? Willow chose a medium path. She approached Cordelia. “I really needed to talk to Giles. I had to hurry.”

  Cordelia crossed her arms and shook her head. “You know as well as I do that there is no excuse for running in the halls. You didn’t used to be such a rule-breaker, Willow. Once upon a time, I thought I could count on you to be pretty much perfect. A real goody-two-shoes. You were dependable. Then. Of course, that was before you and Xander had your little fling and revealed the true you to me.”

  Willow glanced at her watch and tried not to feel guilty. I really don’t have time for this. Jia Li had agreed to meet her in the parking lot, but the girl was also in a hurry to get home. If Willow didn’t get there soon, she knew Jia Li would probably take the bus.

  “Is Giles inside?” Willow asked.

  “Yes. He’s going over monographs regarding,” Cordelia lowered her voice as a group of students walked by and pretended not to be talking to Willow, “Licharnian demons. ” She returned to her normal speaking voice. “I think he’s on the wrong track. What you guys are looking for is the Saggitautan demons.”

  Willow’s immediate thought was to defend Giles. Luckily, she curbed her impulse. She also wasn’t too terribly surprised that the Watcher had recruited Cordelia to help out with the research. Or maybe Cordy had noticed last night’s weirdness all on her own and decided to ask questions. “I need to check in with Giles.”

  “Of course,” Cordelia said, walking away and dismissing Willow all in one move. “But when this turns out to be about Saggitautan demons, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Willow chose discretion as the better part of valor and scooted on inside the library.

  Giles stood behind the book-littered desk. Huge tomes filled with drawings of demons—insides as well as outsides, some of them looking totally gross and gooey— lay open everywhere. Books were stacked on top of books till they threatened a paper avalanche.

  “There you are, Willow,” Giles said, smiling at her. “I was wondering when you might wander by. I wanted your opinion regarding the demon I spoke to last night.” He swung one of the books around to her as she approached. “Cordelia is of the opinion, mistakenly, I assure you, that the demon was a Saggitautan. Myself, I believe it was a—”

  “Licharnian,” Willow interrupted.

  Giles looked up from his book. “You agree?”

  “Don’t know. Talked to Cordelia at the door. I don’t really have a lot of time to talk right now. Gotta hurry.”

  “Hurry where?”

  Stepping around the counter, Willow pulled out the phone cord for her laptop, and hooked it into the jack under the counter. “Going over to Jia Li’s.”

  “The girl you went to the graveyard with last night? Whatever for?”

  “Because she really needs a friend, Giles. And I’m her friend. I take friendship issues very seriously.” She flipped her laptop open. She’d turned it on in the hall. She clicked on the newspaper morgue icon and got entry to the site.

  “We really need you here tonight,” Giles said.

  “I’m not going to be lying fallow,” Willow explained, checking the computer to make sure the files she wanted were downloading. Luckily, all the newspaper files were zipped, making them much smaller than they normally were. However, they were in graphic format and took a little longer to download than simple text files. It was helpful that her earlier search hadn’t loaded many hits, but it was disheartening, too. She added two thick books from the counter to the stack she was already lugging around. “I’m taking Lucien’s Guide to Demon Talents and Traits, and Jubal Foster’s Demonic Anatomy. Neither of those is a picnic.”

  “True,” Giles said.

  Finished with the download, Willow unhooked her laptop and shut it down. She took a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Giles. “That’s Jia Li’s number. In case you need me.” She gathered her things in a firmer grip. “Wish me luck.”

  “Why?”

  “In case Jia
Li’s brother really can call up demons with his flute and candle.”

  Giles paused. “Given the vision you had, visiting that house isn’t exactly the safest course of action you could follow.”

  “Maybe. But the vision I saw was of Lok in a cave. As long as I stay in the Rong house, everything should be all right.” Willow hesitated and glanced at Giles. “If I turn something up, I’ll call. Or you can get me at the Rong number.”

  Giles nodded.

  Willow hurried for the door, on the verge of pure frantic. Looking at the newspaper morgue files while Jia Li was in the house at the same time wasn’t going to be easy. And then there was the whole Lok demonsummoning/mysterious voice/vision dynamic going on. So much for homework.

  Xander came down the steps in front of the school three at a time, immediately spotting Oz’s van idling at the curb. Oz had the door open by the time Xander got there. Xander had tracked Oz down at lunch and asked for the favor.

  Excitement flared again within Xander as he pulled himself into the van’s passenger seat. He felt the yin/yang necklace through the material of his pants pocket. “I really appreciate this, Oz. Walking downtown before the market closed would be tough.”

  “There’s always a cab.” Oz checked his mirrors and pulled out into the heavy traffic inching out away from the high school.

  Xander checked his reflection in the mirror, seeing the bruises on his face. Scrapes and more bruises decorated his knuckles. “Not for me. I made twenty bucks the hard way last night and I’m not going to blow it on a cab.”

  Oz looked at him with raised eyebrows. “ ‘The hard way.’ Wait, I don’t even want to know.”

  “Playing basketball,” Xander explained. “That’s how I picked up all these cuts and bruises.”

  “I thought it was from the vampires and Black Wind gang members.”

  Xander shook his head. “Man, those guys got nothing on street basketball hustlers.”

  “So maybe you want to clue me in on what we’re doing here,” Oz said.