The Longest Night Vol. 1

by Various

  “This is that place you’re always talking about,” Cordelia said as they stepped out of the car and started toward the shop. “Run by the Houdini guy.”

  Angel paused at the door. “His name’s Elijah Carnegie. And don’t mention Houdini. He hates the comparison.”

  “Why?” Cordelia sniffed. “Wasn’t Houdini, like the greatest?”

  “According to Elijah, Houdini was a poseur.”

  “So you got Wesley a book?” she asked. “That’s original.”

  But Angel ignored the jibe, opening the door and stepping inside. A bell rang overhead as Cordelia followed him in. She wondered if Cobwebs was always open this late or if Angel’s friend had kept the bookshop open just to accommodate a faithful customer who had a hard time shopping during the day.

  Inside, Cordelia paused and glanced around appreciatively. Cobwebs was bigger inside than it looked from the street. The rear of the store was jammed tight with floor-to-ceiling shelves of used books. In the front the walls were lined with locked cabinets, with glass faces through which she could see hundreds of leather-bound volumes she assumed were “antiquarian,” a word she doubted she had ever used in conversation. They were old and rare. Why fancy it up? On the other hand, she had heard Wesley use the word in casual conversation, so Angel had probably made the right choice for a gift.

  Given all the old books Cordelia was surprised that the store did not have the musty odor that usually permeated such places. There was a strange, sort of unpleasant odor, but nothing that made her need to breathe through her mouth.

  The store seemed empty. The checkout counter was on the wall to the right as they walked in, but no one stood behind it. Above the counter she noticed a trio of antique—or maybe antiquarian—theatrical posters advertising performances by Carnegie the Great. The garishly painted posters promised that the mysteries of the underworld would be revealed and that the audience would thrill to feats of mental and physical magick the likes of which had never been seen before. Upon one of the posters was the image of a man in a tuxedo and white gloves with a dove seated upon one shoulder. The magician was gesturing toward a lethal-looking guillotine.

  “Elijah?” Angel called, his voice muffled as though the sound had been absorbed by the books.

  Cordelia stood at the front counter and tapped her fingers impatiently. She had agreed to come along and help Angel, but that did not mean she wanted to hang out in some musty old bookstore waiting for one of his early twentieth-century running buddies to show up.

  “Elijah?” Angel called again, and he began to walk deeper into the store.

  “I’m here,” came a strangled voice from the back.

  Angel froze. Cordelia looked up anxiously. She did not like the sound of that voice. Her fears were substantiated a moment later when a white-haired, white-bearded old Santa Claus of a man stumbled out from a rear aisle. His beard was spattered with his own blood, from a cut on his forehead, and even in the gloomily lit store she could see the gravity in his eyes.

  A long, muscular arm shot from the shadows of that aisle and snatched the back of the aged magician’s shirt. Angel quickly glanced back at Cordelia; then he moved closer to his friend, and to whatever lurked in among the books.

  “What’s going on, Elijah?” Angel asked.

  The old magician chuckled, despite the blood on his face and the malign intent of whatever it was that had hold of him. Cordelia liked him right away for that, and she silently urged Angel to save him.

  “You wanted The Book of Wu Ch’ang Kuei,” Elijah reminded him. “I got it for you. Bought it from a dealer in Shanghai. But the dealer did not bother to mention that there were others who wanted it, and they weren’t interested in paying.”

  Cordelia looked around for a weapon, anything solid she could use if it came to that. But this was a bookstore, and unless she wanted to hit someone with a hardcover copy of War and Peace or a cash register, she was out of luck. Her heart raced as she watched Angel crouch like a predator and begin to creep toward Elijah.

  “Come out,” Angel growled.

  The sound of his voice alone was enough to tell her that his face had changed, and when he glanced at her again she saw that she was correct. His forehead was ridged and his entire face more feral, like an animal. In the dim light, his fangs gleamed and his eyes glowed yellow.

  The wooden floor trembled under massive hooves as the thing came out from behind the shelf of books. The demon was humanoid, but towered at least two feet above Elijah, and its body was covered with brown hair that was like a horse’s coat. It had the head of an ox, and it snorted dangerously as it glared at Angel, tugging the old magician even closer to itself with one huge hand that was clamped down on Elijah’s shoulder.

  “You are the one who desires The Book of Wu Ch’ang Kuei?” the demon asked, voice rumbling low in its chest, heavy with an accent Cordelia could not identify.

  “Actually, it’s a Christmas present for a friend. But, yes. I’m the one who desired it.”

  “It does not belong to you,” the ox-headed demon noted, a warning in his tone.

  Angel held up his palms in a placating gesture but his face was still that of the vampire. “Difference of opinion. I actually paid for the book in advance. So I’m going to have to insist that it does. And, did I mention Christmas present?”

  The ox-headed demon snorted again, its fingers slipping around the aged magician’s throat. “I am Niu T’ou, chief attendant of her highness Yen Lo, empress of Hell.”

  “And, hey, that’s serious resume material,” Cordelia noted. “Ever considered working in Hollywood?”

  Niu T’ou ignored her. “The Book of Wu Ch’ang Kuei was stolen from her highness. I have been instructed to retrieve it, and to destroy whatever soul desired it.”

  Angel nodded toward Elijah. “I’ve already told you I’m the one who bought it, but I didn’t steal it, and neither did Elijah there. So what do you want with him?”

  “The book is in his possession but he will not tell me where it is,” Niu T’ou sniffed, obviously distressed at the lack of cooperation.

  “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Angel said. He smiled and his face reverted to his human countenance, his eyes wide and guileless. “Look, you just pay me back what I paid for the book and you can take it. Elijah was just holding on to it for me.”

  The massive demon lowered its huge ox head and studied Angel with damp, stupid eyes. Cordelia did not know what her friend was playing at, but she had a feeling the manservant of the empress of Hell had not brought his Visa card.

  “You taunt me,” Niu T’ou said.

  So maybe he’s not as stupid as he looks, Cordelia thought.

  “Actually you’ll find I’m not much for the taunting,” Angel replied. “Watch. A gesture of good faith.” He focused on the old shopkeeper. “Elijah, is the book where you always keep your special orders?”

  The magician nodded.

  Angel moved to the counter, hoisted himself up, and slid across to drop behind it. He bent, reached underneath, and rifled around a moment. Then he stood up, brandishing a slim leather-bound volume. A rubber band held a store receipt tight against it.

  “Here we go.”

  Niu T’ou’s gaze locked onto the book like the eyes of a dog mesmerized by a ball in a game of fetch. The demon shoved Elijah to one side, and the old man crashed into a cart loaded with new purchases to be shelved, knocking it over in a tumble of books and limbs.

  Angel leaped up onto the counter and walked along the top of it, casual, unconcerned. “So what do you say? Can we work something out?”

  The demon’s hooves scarred the wooden floor as it started across the shop toward Angel. “Yen Lo would not agree to pay for what is rightfully hers.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Angel sighed.

  With a roar, the ox-headed demon charged toward the counter where Angel stood. The vampire’s face changed, becoming hideous and feral again.

  “Cordelia!” he snarled, and he flipped the
book to her.

  Her eyes went wide as she caught it, staring first at the book in her hands and then at the enormous, hirsute demon-beast that stopped short, caught off guard by Angel’s action. The thing was fifteen feet away from her, no more. It faltered, hesitating.

  Angel kicked it in the face.

  Niu T’ou grunted deep in its chest as its head rocked back from the blow. As the demon turned to face him, its huge, powerful hands clenching, Angel shot his foot out again, his boot striking solidly beneath the demon’s chin. Its jaws clacked together, and blood spattered the wood floor.

  “That one looked like it hurt,” Angel said.

  The demon’s eyes were clouded with rage as it lunged at him. Angel leaped up, reaching over his head to grab the top of a shelf behind the counter, and he dangled there as the huge, ox-headed demon brought its fists down and shattered the counter with a single blow. The cash register collapsed into the debris and popped open with a jangle of loose change.

  Niu T’ou’s hooves crunched bits of broken counter as it moved toward Angel. The demon cocked back its right arm and shot a sledgehammer blow toward Angel’s midsection, but the vampire hauled himself up and out of the way, and Niu T’ou’s fist tore a hole in the wall.

  “Hey, handsome!” Cordelia shouted at the demon. “Remember this?”

  It glanced up, fuming, and she raised the book and waved it in the air. Angel dropped, landed amid the debris, and fired a trio of rapid punches at the demon’s midriff. Niu T’ou barely flinched. With a furious utterance like a loud bark it drove a piledriver fist into Angel’s face.

  The vampire crashed backward against the wall, hitting just beneath the hole Niu T’ou had made seconds before, and collapsed into the remains of the bookstore’s checkout counter.

  At the back of the shop, Elijah Carnegie regained his footing. His face and beard were still smeared with blood, and he shouted angrily at Angel, “Just give him the damned book!”

  Angel scowled at him even as Niu T’ou grabbed him by his shirtfront and hauled him up off the ground. The demon cocked back its huge fist again.

  “Maybe instead of criticizing, you could find me a weapon?” Angel growled at the aged magician.

  Niu T’ou struck him in the face again but did not let go, and this time it was Angel who was spitting blood. The demon went to hit him once more and Angel brought both of his own hands up and jabbed, stiff-fingered, at Niu T’ou’s throat. The ox-headed demon rasped in pain and dropped the vampire, staggering backward.

  “I don’t keep any weapons here,” Elijah protested.

  “Then, hello, maybe some magick!” Cordelia suggested. “Carnegie the Great! What’s up with that?”

  The old man paled and looked at her sorrowfully. “It’s not that kind of magick, young lady.”

  But Cordelia wasn’t listening to him anymore. The ox-headed demon had focused on her once again, and despite its bloody maw and the hand clamped over its throat where Angel had jabbed it, it started toward her. Panicked, Cordelia glanced around, trying to figure out where she could toss the book to keep the demon away. She took several steps backward, and then the thing roared and began to charge, hooves splitting the planks of the floor.

  “Angel!” Cordelia shouted.

  As if summoned, Angel rose up behind the demon. She could not at first see what he was up to, but then he raised the cash register over his head and lunged at Niu T’ou from behind, bringing the heavy metal register down on the demon’s skull with a crack that echoed through the store.

  Its eyes rolled up in its head, and it staggered two steps nearer to Cordelia before collapsing at her feet, its weight making the floor shake. She stared at it. She was tempted to poke it with her toe to be certain it was unconscious, but instead she stepped over it and walked to where Angel stood beside the ruins of the counter.

  “You all right?” he asked, his face now human again.

  “Oh, just peachy.”

  Elijah looked angry as he joined them. “Angel, why did you have to do it the hard way? You should just have given him the book.”

  Angel shrugged, a bit sheepish. “It’s a Christmas present. I don’t have time to figure out another gift.”

  The old man sighed. He lifted his hands, palms upward, and closed his eyes before whispering something beneath his breath. Cordelia felt an electric crackle inside the shop, like the static in the air before a thunderstorm, and with a shudder, as though reality convulsed around them, all the damage the fight had caused was repaired.

  Cordelia stared at him. “Wait a second. I thought you said you couldn’t do magick.”

  “Not the kind you mean. And it isn’t that I can’t. I simply don’t,” Elijah informed her. “A very long time ago I vowed to perform only positive magick.”

  “Yeah,” Angel said, rubbing at his jaw where the demon had struck him. “And as much as I respect your pacifism, I wonder if maybe you could make an exception now and then.”

  The old magician gave him a grim stare. “Should you make exceptions as well, then? Drink human blood, take a human life, once in a while when it seems convenient?”

  Angel’s expression was grave. “Point taken.”

  “Okay, fine,” Cordelia said, “but do you hire out? ’Cause sometimes my apartment gets to be just as much a shambles as this place was, and some Mr. Clean magick would come in pretty handy.”

  The shopkeeper smiled and stepped toward her with his hand out. “We haven’t been properly introduced. Elijah Carnegie, at your service.”

  “Cordelia Chase,” she replied as she shook his hand. “Very nice to meet you. Angel says nice things about you.”

  “And you, my dear,” Elijah replied. “So I suggest we both presume he’s telling the truth.”

  Cordelia smiled warmly. Now that the chaos had settled, she could not help but like the old man. “Angel says you’ve known one another a long time.”

  “Longer than long,” Elijah replied, a mischievous glint in his eye as he glanced toward Angel. “I once sawed him in half onstage.”

  “You…I’m sorry?” Cordelia asked incredulously.

  Angel smiled. “Long story,” he said. “And we have other errands to do before the stores close. Elijah, we’re square on this, right?” he asked, holding up the book.

  “The shipping was more than I expected, but I quoted you what I quoted you, so I’ll just have to over-charge you on something else later to make up for it,” the old man said, his tone perfectly serious.

  “All right, then,” Angel replied. He glanced at Cordelia and then back at the shopkeeper. “Oh, listen, I want to get something else for another friend. Antique writing desk, maybe French. Something delicate. You know all the shops that deal in collectibles and antiques. Where would you go for something like that?”

  A loud snort startled them all. Cordelia let out a tiny cry of alarm and spun, ready to flee from Niu T’ou, but the demon still lay unconscious on the floor, chest rising and falling. Its breathing deepened, and it began to snore.

  “Are you going to be okay if we just leave him here?” Cordelia asked.

  “I think so,” Elijah said. “He doesn’t want me. He wants the book. That’s what Yen Lo sent him for. I’ll tell him it was destroyed in the fight, but if he doesn’t believe me, you should keep an eye out for him. He’s not too bright, but he might be able to track you.”

  “I’ll deal with him then,” Angel said. “No time now. Shopping to do.”

  “Hang on,” Elijah said. He went to the phone behind the newly restored counter and quickly dialed a number. “Hello, David? It’s Elijah Carnegie at Cobwebs. Yes, I just wanted to know what time you’ll be closing. I have a customer I’m sending over to you.”

  A moment later he hung up and turned his attention to them again. “Traeger’s Fine Antiques in Santa Monica, just up from the pier. He closes in half an hour. You’d better get going.”

  “I owe you,” Angel told him.

  “You always do,” Elijah replied.

/>   Cordelia and Angel stepped over the snoring demon, but at the door she paused and looked up at him. “So you’ve got Wesley and Fred covered—assuming this Traeger’s has the kind of thing you’re looking for—and we all know you’ve gotten me something spectacular, but what about Gunn? You went with the superoriginal arcane demon text for Wesley—don’t tell me you want to get Gunn an antique battle-ax or something, because then I would have to hit you with the cash register.”

  Angel glanced at the ground, brows knitting together. “Gunn loves classic weaponry.”

  “Boring!” Cordelia exclaimed. “Don’t be so predictable. It’s like me buying my father a tie for his birthday five years running. Like he needed more ties?”

  “You have a better idea?” Angel asked.

  Cordelia shot him a withering glance. “That is why you asked me to come with you, isn’t it? Because of me having better gift ideas than you?”

  “True.”

  “Gunn loves movies. Lately he’s been really getting into old movies, classic film noir stuff, a lot of Hitchcock. I bought him a bunch of DVDs. Not just Hitchcock, but Humphrey Bogart movies too, and other film noir with some of the best leading ladies, like Lauren Bacall and Grace McCandless.”

  Angel stared at her. “But that’s what you bought him. I can’t do the same thing.”

  Cordelia shook her head and sighed, then turned to look at Elijah, who stood behind the counter watching them like a spectator at a tennis match.

  “Elijah, do you know anyplace in L.A. that sells classic film posters? Not reprints, but the original lobby posters?” she asked.

  The old man smiled. “That’s easy. Tinseltown Galleries on South Sepulveda. They’re on your way if you’re going to Traeger’s.”

  “You really are a magician,” Cordelia told him. Then she turned to Angel. “See? It’s all over but the pain of newly incurred credit card debt. Can we go now? Before something else tries to kill us?”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “And I thought you’d enjoy the Christmas shopping.”