Scribes Of Angel

Anyone entering Jonathan King's office at five in the morning would had an extremely unpleasant surprise.

The man sat at his black wooden desk, rigid as a statue. A soft keening chant escaped his lips, as his eyelids flickered rapidly. Slowly, he drew a black-handled knife out from under his desk, still continuing the eerie chant. He pressed the cold steel blade against his tender palm and closed his hand tightly. Droplets of red blood ran down his hand, dropping into a ceramic dish already partly filled with the red fluid. The dish began to shiver slightly, as the blood began to bubble and roil ominously.

King's eyes rolled back in his head until the whites showed, as the blood began to boil.

Up in the office, the vampire made his bleary way to the coffee blender, his stomach growling uncomfortably. He stared at the brown-stained filters, and the few lonely granules in the coffee tin. Then he allowed a smirk to creep across his face. Angel reached under a desk and pulled a small box of quality Colombian coffee from its hiding place. It had been very expensive, and the vampire hoarded it fanatically, rotating its hiding places to avoid detection by Doyle or Cordelia.

" Hey, everyone needs an obsession," he rationalized as he began to fix the coffee.

As Angel rode back down the lift, he caught a whiff of faint tantalizing scent.

" Blood?" he asked curiously, his stomach rumbling at the thought. He sniffed, but could not pick up the scent again. Shrugging, Angel walked over to the small metal trapdoor that was his access to the sewers. Shopping time.

As Angel descended down the ladder into the sewers, a single drop of blood squeezed up the crack between the lift's bottom and the floor.

Doyle stared morosely at his watch.

" God, what kind of sicko would evict a man at four-thirty in the morning?" he complained to his watch, walking up the door to the office. "Still, as long as I pay Big Ricky by Friday, then I can collect on that debt Johnny the Hawk owes me - without Ricky ripping my arms and legs off - and *that* debt will pay my rent," he said, as he fumbled with his keys. "All I need is to find somewhere to stay for a couple of days, and to stay off solid foods for a while. Heck, Angel let Cordy stay over, didn't he?" the half-demon said, as the door swung open. "Angel?" he called, walking into the dark office. "Angel?" he called again, as he made his way over to the coffee machine. "Turn on some lights, would ya?" As he reached for a mug, he noticed something different. "Angel, old buddy," he chuckled, as he scooped up the box of Colombian coffee. "I *knew* you were holding out on me."

There was a muffled thud downstairs. Doyle looked up from his prize. "Angel? Hey, boss-man, hide and seek really isn't my favorite form of recreation, you know?" he called, as he stepped into the lift. Doyle's foot brushed over a pool of bubbling crimson blood on the lift floor, but the half-demon didn't notice it.

The lift grate rattled into place as the blood pool bubbled and grew.

The lift slid to a graceless halt. Doyle pulled the grate up, peering into Angel's ill-lit abode. "Come on, Angel, quit fooling around," the half-demon ordered sharply, walking into the room. His feet left bloody smears behind them, as he stepped slowly forward.

Behind him, the pool of blood, now covering half the lift floor, rose up into a smooth man-high pillar.

" Okay," Doyle sighed. "Funny vampire man wants to lurk where-ever the hell you are, then I don't have a problem with that. I've got enough problems of my own right now, thank y - gnngh!" A strong hand grabbed the back of his neck, needle-sharp claws digging into his skin.

Angel whistled quietly on his way to the butcher's, still sipping his mug of coffee. Around him, rats squeaked and twitched their whiskers, but the unconcerned vampire kept on walking, enjoying the exercise. All was right with the world.

Doyle drove his elbow back hard, hoping to knock the wind out of his attacker. Instead, he felt no resistance, as if he had struck air.

" What the - yaaaah!" Doyle yelled, as his unseen opponent sent him tumbling into a wall. The half-demon groaned woozily, feeling his own blood running down his neck from his wounds. A hand grabbed his shirt and Doyle was thrown brutally across the room. The half-demon landed hard on the floor, clutching bruised ribs. He felt a needle-like tingling across his skin, as his demon side emerged. "I'm guessing you're not here to sell life insurance," Doyle muttered, raising his arms in preparation for combat as he got to his feet. Halfway through the movement, he paused. His right elbow was drenched in blood, but it hadn't been cut. Then Doyle was on his feet, and he saw his attacker for the first time.

" Definitely not life insurance," he gulped.

Angel clambered down the ladder, dropping back into the sewer, a large paper cup of blood tucked carefully under his arm. He flicked the lid of the cup as he started walking, savoring the heavenly, dark scent of the blood.

" Nothing like a good cup of blood to fix all your ailments," he said dryly, taking his first sip.

The creature was a head taller than Doyle, and had no face or legs to speak of. Vaguely man-shaped, its only constant features were its two clawed arms. The rest of its crimson body rippled and shifted constantly, shimmering oddly as Doyle stared at it. Slowly it moved forward, flowing over the ground towards the stunned half-demon. The creature made no attempt to dodge, as Doyle drove a green-skinned fist into its chest. His hand punched clean through its rippling surface with no effect, and Doyle's red eyes widened with disbelief.

" Huh?" he asked the creature. "You're what, made of blood? Not solid?"

The creature did not respond, except to send a clawed hand sweeping for his head. Doyle tried to dodge - too slowly - and the monster's claws tore across his cheek. The force of the blow spun him to the side, and the half-demon struggled to maintain consciousness.

" Okay, you can hit me, but when I hit you, you go all mushy," Doyle muttered, wiping blood away from his jaw. "I never was an academic type, but I'm fairly certain something in the laws of physics says you're not allowed to do that."

The blood-creature gave a eerie hissing scream, clenching and unclenching its clawed fists.

" I get the hint," Doyle yelped. "I'm gone." Shielding his head with his arms, the half-demon charged straight for the monster's torso. He burst through in a shower of crimson, dashing for the stairs. The creature snarled and moved to follow.

A blood-covered Doyle dashed up the steps, heart hammering. Behind him, he could hear the soft watery sound of the creature advancing with surprising speed. He burst into the dark office, dashing for the door. Before he could reach it, the creature was on him in a burst of red. Strong arms lifted him off the ground and sent him crashing hard into a wall, his spikes gouging holes in the plaster. Doyle staggered to his feet and red hands snapped around his throat. The half-demon struggled desperately, lashing out wildly, but it was like fighting fog. His bloody fists swung uselessly through the air, as spots gathered across his vision. The creature lifted him up by his throat and slammed him flat against the wall. Against the light switch on the wall.

White light chased the darkness and shadows away. The monster howled in shock and surprise, dropping the half-dead Doyle. In a flash of crimson, it dove across the room, back into the relative darkness of the stairs. Doyle leaned thankfully against the wall, his hand clutching his blood-soaked throat. He didn't know why it had let him live, and frankly he didn't care. The creature hissed once more from the dark stairwell, and then vanished into the shadows.

Doyle's skin prickled, as his spikes retracted and his face returned to normal. But the haunted look in his eyes didn't leave with the change from red to gray.

" You look really icky," Cordelia observed, handing Doyle a cup of coffee. The half-demon accepted the hot drink gratefully, wincing as Angel prodded at his ribs.

Glancing down at his red-splattered clothes, Doyle smiled weakly. "I'd have to agree with you there, princess."

" You might have a cracked rib or two, and I won't advise going to sleep with that bump on your head, but you'll live. And wash those cuts," Angel instructed him.

" Yes, mommy," the half-demon mocked him.

" Good boy," Angel said, standing up hastily and brushing the blood from his hands.

" Jeez, Angel," Cordy muttered. "Squeamish much?"

" Not exactly," Doyle explained, noticing the hungry look in Angel's eyes. "I can change my clothes if you're finding them a bit...distracting."

" What's that supposed to - ew," Cordelia grimaced. "Why couldn't vampires drink something else, like fruit juice?"

" Because then we wouldn't be vampires," Angel said dryly, "we'd be health fanatics with bad teeth."

" Yeah, and I for one find fitness nuts even scary than demons," Doyle quipped, the corners of his mouth turning up, "so let's just be thankful we work for a blood-sucking fiend instead." When Angel did not react, Doyle frowned. "What, not even a smile? I admit, I'm hardly at my best, but still, that was funny, I know it was."

" Just as long as you believe that," Cordelia replied, "and Angel, cease the broody. We can't have random disgusting monsters made of blood just running around the office - it'll mess up the carpets. So get with the planning!"

Ignoring her ineffective pep talk, Angel moved closer to Doyle once more, trying to ignore the seductive scent of blood that hung on his clothes. "So, it was made of liquid - blood - and seemed solid, but when you hit it, you couldn't make contact - "

" - and when it hit me, it sure as hell made contact," Doyle confirmed ruefully. "It was like punching fog. Fog stuffed with rocks, that is."

" And it was scared of the light when you turned it on."

" Uh-huh, it was like me after a four-day bender, just screamed and dove for the shadows," the half-demon responded.

This time, Angel did smile. But not much.

Angel wrapped his hands around the warm cup of coffee, as his dark eyes examined the coffee spot in minute detail. He sipped the brown liquid, reveling in the warmth it brought his eternally chilled flesh, as the customers bustled around him. He'd set Doyle and Cordelia to researching, and quite frankly, he was worried about his books. The last time Cordelia had looked up something up, about a dangerous fire demon, he'd found all the books on fire magic dog-eared...

" Mr Angel?"

" Just Angel," he said, turning in his chair.

The man who sat down in front of him was slightly overweight, his skin a soapy shade of white. "Life on the streets and too many cigarettes," he grunted in response to Angel's questioning glance. "You're Kate's boy, aren't you? I've seen you around the station."

" I sometimes work with her."

" Uh-huh. So what were we talking about last?"

" Being forthcoming."

Shepard smiled slightly. "Right. You want to start?"

" Lara came to me for help, she didn't say what, and then the sniper outside my office made sure she didn't get more specific," Angel answered.

" That's really all I got."

" And why I am talking to you instead of reporting to my lieutenant like a good little boy?"

" Because you're lieutenant will sigh, cluck sympathetically, and dump it a file to get lost. I won't."

" You don't have much faith in the LAPD," the detective observed.

" I don't. Can you give me a good reason why I should?"

Shepard leaned forward. "No. But I also can't disclose official information to just anyone. No policeman can."

" No. But you could, say, talk to yourself, working over the details in your mind, and I could just overhear," Angel suggested.

" That's unprofessional. Why would I be such a sloppy cop?"

" Because I can nail this bastard, and you can't give him a parking ticket without lawyers jumping all over you."

Shepard grinned. "Damn, I like you, Angel. Okay, I'm musing to myself, then." The playful look went out of his eyes. "Lara came to me, claiming she had evidence of criminal activities at a club she worked at."

" Whispering Silence."

" Uh-huh. She said girls were just disappearing, that her boss would just take them down into this basement and they would never come back. She thought the girls were being sold."

" Sold?"

" Yeah, like slaves."

" Doesn't sound much worse than their normal jobs," Angel said bitterly.

Shepard's cold eyes hit the vampire like a stake. "It is. At least the call girls can maybe earn enough to get out. Slave girls, they only get bought by the real sickos, because they can't find anyone who'll do what they want, money or not. But lately, Lara had changed her mind. She thought that the girls never made it out of the basement alive."

Angel's brows came together. "Murdered for fun." Just like all too many vampire victims, he thought. Many vampires, most even, killed just for the thrill, even if they weren't hungry. They were demons after all. But King wasn't. He was a human. Somehow that made it much worse.

" Exactly. She was trying to get something solid I could to take to get a warrant for the place, my guess is King finally figured her out."

" Why was she doing this?" Angel asked. "Why risk it?"

" She had a son, left over from a bad marriage. Looked over by some relatives in some hick town," Shepard explained. "I'd promised a reward if she could give me King. She needed the cash. For him, and for herself."

" She wanted out," Angel said softly, repeating Mandy's words.

" Yeah. She was really nice, sweet and all. Probably would have made a great mom," Shepard said, the ice in his eyes melting.

" Did you love her?"

Shepard looked shocked by the abruptness of the question."No. Maybe. I came on to her a little, but she always turned me down. She was really polite about it though. It was like a joke between us, me continually making passes at her, while she dodged them." He swallowed.

Angel stood up, draining his cup. "Thanks for musing."

Shepard studied the varnished table. "Yeah. Whatever." As the vampire turned to go, the detective spoke again. "Angel."

" Yes?"

" Take this."

Angel regarded the money the man offered. "I'm not a hit man."

" No. You're a P.I. Consider this a finder's fee. When you find something to prove King's guilt, call me. I'm the hit man."

" Killing doesn't make it easier," Angel advised.

" Well, it makes the useless feeling disappear a little," he said grimly.

" It's not worth it."

Shepard snorted. "Who am I kidding? Me and Lara tried to bust this guy for months. What says you can?"

" I've got a friend on the inside."

Mandy swore, as she stepped out of the club into the cold night. She nodded to Barry, the bouncer, as he pulled the door to the club closed and locked it behind him.

" Seeya tomorrow," she told the large man, walking away.

" Sure, Mand'," came the gravely reply, as the bouncer walked to his car.

Mandy sighed, pulling her coat tighter around her slender figure, as the car pulled away. Shit, she thought. LA streets at night. Smart move, girl. The wind ruffled her hair as she crossed the empty street, high-heeled shoes clacking on the pavement. In the distance a cat yowled, and Mandy flinched. Jumpy, she told herself. All that fucking non-cop's fault. The hair stood up on the back of her neck, and she spun around.

" Who's there!" Nothing. An empty alley. Feeling foolish, she turned around and came face to face with Angel. She started backwards violently.

" Damn, you walk like a cat!" she snarled.

" Sorry."

" And why exactly are you creeping around LA at night?" Mandy asked sardonically. "Isn't it past your bed time?"

Angel shrugged. "Not really," he answered honestly. "Besides, why are you wandering around so late yourself?"

Mandy rolled her eyes, pushing past him. "A client with stamina. I thought the numbskull would take forever to finish."

" Finish wha - never mind, I don't want to know," the man said, keeping pace with her.

" So what do you want to know? Any more of my co-workers turn up dead; you looking for more clues with your little magnifying glass?"

" No, nobody else is dead," Angel said grimly. "Not yet."

Mandy flashed him a false smile. "Great, then we can go our separate ways, and I don't get killed for talking to a cop."

" Private investigator."

" Whatever." Angel caught her shoulder, pale fingers wrapping around it. "Ow! Watch it!" she snapped, struggling to free herself.

The vampire held her still. "I need to get inside Whispering Silence."

" Great, we open at eight and close at twelve! Let go of me!"

" I need to get inside when no-one else is around. I need to get into the basement where King takes the girls."

The blood drained from Mandy's face. "The basement."

" The one no-one comes back from," Angel confirmed. "Can you get me in?"

Mandy bit her lip. "Why should I?"

" For Lara."

Mandy went absolutely still. "Fucking conscience," she swore, turning and walking back towards the club.

" Thanks," Angel said quietly.

" Fuck you, too."

The vampire's amused expression was captured perfectly in the center of the rifle scope. Randall lifted the smooth black cellphone to his ear.

" Sir? She's definitely trying to double-cross us. Do you want her...removed?" The assassin's thin lips caressed the last word.

The voice on the other end of the line sighed. "Mandy, a traitor. How sad...she could do the most amazing things with a pair of silk stockings..."

" Sir? Do I kill them?"

" No, no," King chided. "Why kill the flies when they'll walk into my web of their own free will? I need more blood, anyway."

The assassin remained silent. King paid well, and if listening to insane little mutterings about spiders was the price Randall had to pay to receive his large checks, then King could mutter all night, as far as he was concerned. "Follow them," King ordered. "Take no action until I tell you to."

" Sounds risky," Randall responded emotionlessly.

" No risk here. I already know where they're going."

Doyle pinched his brow, staring at the unfamiliar words in the book in front of him. "Okay, Cordy, try this one. Das uchnein stadht..."

The half-demon read off a series of German words, then raised his head. "Cordy?"

" Give me a second!" Cordelia snapped. "Jeez, you're as pushy as Angel sometimes..." She bent over the small German-English dictionary on her desk, while Doyle whistled pointedly and let his gaze wander around the office. Several minutes later, she finally spoke. "Uh...I like green cheese on my cats. Maybe I got the translation wrong."

" Ya think?"

" Hey, don't get snippy with me," she spat. "Uh...okay how about this..." She scanned a few words of the new interpretation. "Hmm, blood... death...dark spirit...yup, this sounds like our monster." Doyle was already moving for the phone.

Angel gently pushed the small window open. "What did you say this is used for again?" he asked Mandy, glancing into the shadows of the club.

" Some of the girls sneak their boyfriends in for a little private fun after hours," Mandy explained, "the window's an easy way in, so we make sure that King never closes it."

" Boyfriends? I wouldn't have figured - "

" - that hookers are capable of holding actual relationships, with love and trust and all the other things they talk about in the soap operas?" Mandy finished sharply.

" Well actually, I was going to say that any guy would be happy if his girlfriend had to sleep with other men for money."

" Well, welcome to the real world," she muttered. "Can we just get on with breaking and entering?"

Angel nodded, pushing the window fully open. He slid through the glass portal easily, landing on the floor at the back of the club. The eerie blue lights shone on his face as he stood up, while Mandy wormed her way through, cursing under her breath. As she pulled herself to her feet, he muttered, "Smells deserted."

" Smells? What are you, a bloodhound?" Angel opened his mouth to reply, but a soft ringing cut off his words. "Uh, Angel, you're beeping," Mandy noted.

Angel pulled the small cellphone from beneath his coat and flipped it open. "Doyle?"

" The one and only," the other's Irish voice said dryly across the line. "Demons 'R' Us."

" What have you got?"

" Uh, hang on," Doyle said. The sounds of scrabbling were heard and his voice, slightly muted, said, "Princess, give me the blasted book!"

Cutting off Cordelia's protests, Doyle's voice spoke again. "Here we go...our friendly liquid boy matched the description of a...Gunstagde...I think. Never got the hang of German..."

" Doyle. Evil blood demon? Get to the point."

" Okay, okay. It's not actually a demon, technically."

" I don't care if it's a politician, I just want to know what kills it!" Angel said, exasperation ringing in his voice.

" Well, not much that I can see. It's a magical construct, created from a source of blood imbued with a spirit of darkness. You need pretty good spell-casting credentials to make one of these, lots of fancy German blood magics. It needs to be constantly supplied with fresh blood, or else the dark spirit gets mad and goes home."

" Fresh blood," the vampire said grimly. "The girls."

" Yep, King's handy supply source," Doyle spat. "Very hard to maintain the spells, but it's worth it. Effectively indestructible, and capable of assuming almost any form. Kinda like that thingy in Terminator 2, but with red blood corpuscles instead of liquid metal."

" Great, it can't be killed," Angel snapped. "Not unless Arnold Schwarzenegger's on call."

" Well, it doesn't like light," Doyle suggested. "The dark spirit in it and all."

" No light. Just like me."

Doyle coughed. "Not exactly. You may have sunlight issues, but this thing doesn't like *any* light. Electric, fire, you name it." Cordelia's voice spoke in the background. "Uh, Cordelia has just suggested that we use floodlights to chase it. I don't really think that's very practical, though."

Angel grimaced. "Never mind. Maybe we can get to King before he summons it. Get down here, fast. There's a window round the back, we'll leave it open for you."

" Sure thing, man. We're only five minutes away." Doyle put the phone down and turned to Cordy. "Well, off we go to the club."

" Great," she returned. "Do the words 'into the line of fire' mean anything to you?"

" Actually, it's got claws, not guns."

" Oh, shut up! Let's just go and get killed already!"

" A pleasure, princess," Doyle returned, heading for the door. "We need to make one little stop-off first, though."

Angel glanced around King's office. The antique weapons shone unpleasantly in the light, and he got the unpleasant feeling that several of the jewels in their pommels were watching him, like beady eyes.

" Nobody here," he called.

" And no joy on the dance floor," Mandy yelled back.

" Guess we try the basement, then," he responded, walking out.

" Oh, goody."

As the door closed behind the vampire, a drawer in King's black desk began to shiver. Inside the drawer entombed in wood, a bowl of blood quivered angrily. A single bubble of blood rose up towards the surface.

Doyle squirmed through the window, clutching a package wrapped in brown paper under his arm. "Gnh," he grunted, collapsing on to the floor. Cordelia struggled through after him, and Doyle's pulse rose substantially at the sight of the tanned skin visible under her hiked-up top.

" Damn," she snapped, as he helped her to her feet. "I think I lost several pounds just getting through there."

" You could advertise it as a great weight-loss program," Doyle suggested, scanning the blue-lit room.

" Angel? Ang - yikes!" A pale face loomed out of the darkness. "Angel," the half-demon said dryly. "Could you *please* not loom like that?"

" I'm sorry," the vampire said. "I'm a natural loomer. Glad to see you could make it."

" Well, you know, I had to cancel a few wild parties, but I managed to fit it into my schedule," Doyle replied flippantly. "So, where's our basement o' evil magic?" The vampire led the two of them round a corner and down a short flight of stairs. "Wow. That's certainly a big door."

It certainly was. It was huge, black, metal and triple-locked. Oh, and twice the height of a man. The metal of the locks glinted mockingly at them.

" Yeah, well, Mr King doesn't believe in cutting costs in security," Mandy said irritably. "Fine, you've seen the basement. You've seen why no one but King ever gets inside. Can I get lost now?"

" Hold my coat." Angel shrugged off his jacket and placed his palms flat against the door. He tensed, groaning with effort.

Mandy chuckled with amusement. "Oh, you're kidding me..." Angel growled deep in his throat, pushing harder. A vein stood out on his forehead, pulsing angrily, as one of the locks gave with metallic pop. The second lock torn open. Snarling, Angel smashed his shoulder hard into the huge door. With a metallic screech, the door slowly ground open. Mandy stared with disbelief. "What does he eat for breakfast?" she asked Doyle and Cordelia, as Angel took his jacket back.

" You wouldn't want to know," Cordelia said firmly. "So, let's see what's behind door number 1..."

The room smelt of dust and blood. A lot of blood. Dim candles were placed on saucers in the corners, casting more shadow than light. The criss-crossing shadows covered everything like a dark net, making it hard to see the room its entirety. In bright daylight, the contents of that room would have been horrible. In those dark, murky shadows, it was much, much worse. Most of the floor was taken up by a circle, carefully engraved into the floor, with pale lines radiating from the center outwards.

It must have taken hours, Doyle thought, hours of sitting and carving, making the room perfect before the slaughtering began.

Dropping to one knee, the half-demon inspected the circle. Noticing dozens of small white scratches marring the floor, he turned to Angel.

" What do you think made those?"

" Fingernails," the vampire answered shortly.

" Oh." Doyle swallowed and rose to his feet.

" God," Mandy murmured, as she ran her fingers along a wall. "I knew King was a sick bastard, but this..." she whispered, staring at her red-stained fingertips.

" Overwhelming, isn't it?" a cold voice said from the doorway. The assassin leveled his silenced pistol at them, the silvery metal of the barrel shining wickedly in the light of the candles. "Yeah, I thought so too, first time I saw it. Still, the upside is I don't think anyone will notice a little bit of extra blood here, and it'll be yours if you don't put your hands where I can see them, right now."

" Put that down," Angel said calmly.

" Or what?" the man spat. "I remember you. Mr Hero, running out a second after I pulled the trigger on that girl. Standing over the body, all dramatic, like something out of a bad action movie." A muscle twitched in Angel's jaw. "What are you going to do, Mr Hero?" the killer snarled. "Make a move and I'll pop one of the pretty ladies, and you wouldn't want to see one of those nice faces all bloody, now would you?"

The man shifted his grip on the gun, leveling it at Cordelia's head.

" Hey, buddy," Angel began. For a second, the assassin started to shift his aim towards the vampire. That second was all it took for Angel to cover the five meters between them . His left hand bashed the pistol from the killer's grasp, while the right smashed up and across in a powerful uppercut. Randall's head snapped around and blood spewed from his mouth, as he slumped against the wall.

" You wanted to see my hands, there you go, a close-up view," Angel snarled, grabbing him by the shirt and hoisting him up.

" Please..." the man moaned. "Don't..."

" Feels different to be on the receiving end of the pain, doesn't it?" Angel ground out. "Not quite as *fun*, huh? Where's King? Where is he?"

Randall opened his mouth and his head exploded in a fountain of blood, his body slumping to one side.

" Here," King said coolly, standing where the assassin had stood only seconds ago, the killer's weapon in his grasp, pressed up against Mandy's neck. She struggled, then went limp with fear as he pressed the cold metal harder against her neck.

" Let her go," Angel ordered, eyes hardening with anger.

" Such a shame about poor Randall. I told him to stay back and watch, but he always was such a hands-on man..." King said, ignoring him. "If memory serves, this is the part where the bad guy...who I assume is supposed to be me, reveals his wicked plot, then gets killed."

" If you feel up to it," Cordelia responded sarcastically.

" No thanks," King answered. "Tactically unsound, you see. Did any of the great warriors of the past behave like that, running around with pointless dramatics? Did Alexander the Great? Did Hercules?"

" So, do you see yourself as one of those people?" Angel asked, letting the assassin's corpse fall with a wet thump. "A great hero?"

King chuckled. "Heavens, no, Ang. I'm just a businessman."

" Oh, really?" Doyle asked acidly. "Because last time I checked, businessmen made money. I didn't see anything about human sacrifices and blood spirits anywhere!"

" I never said I was a legal businessman, Mr Doyle. The fact is a...servant like the one I created has many uses in today's society."

" The perfect assassin," Angel said quietly. "Indestructible, relentless..."

King beamed. "Exactly. Plus, very good at getting into places which no normal human could get to. Bank vaults, for example. Much more efficient than poor Randall. Of course, there are certain disadvantages about summoning one..."

" Having to murder innocent people, for one?" Cordelia asked sarcastically.

" Well, actually I was going to say that my creature tends to leave stains on the carpets, but that too, I guess," King answered. "Now, if you excuse me, I'll be off. I have to get my beauty sleep, you know." The man took several quick steps backwards, gun tight against Mandy's neck. He cuffed her sharply and thrust her forwards, sending her crashing hard into Angel's arms.He darted for the door, slamming it shut behind him. They heard the scraping sound of something being wedged against it, as Angel lowered the semi-conscious woman to the ground.

" That won't hold me!" Angel warned, voice raised with anger.

" Really, Ang," King called through the thick door. "I don't know how you intend to force the door down...when you're being ripped into little pieces by my liquid friend." Blood began to well under the door, sliding out onto the floor, bubbling...

King whistled cheerfully, strolling up the passageway and into the dance room. He paused by the open window.

" Note to self: call locksmith."

The Gunstagde reared up in front of them, crimson claws unfolding.

" Uh-oh," Doyle said. "It's grown." Angel dove low, slamming into, and through, the spirit. "I could have told you that would happen!" the half-demon warned.

The Gunstagde wheeled around, hissing. "I think you made him mad," Cordy observed.

Angel grunted with pain as the monster's razor claws dug into his shoulders. It hauled him upwards and slammed him against the heavy door, again and again. "You...don't...say," he snarled, teeth jarring with every impact.

" What do we do? What do we do?" Cordelia asked, waving her hands around ineffectually. "The amazing Mr Liquid is beating Angel into a pulp!"

" Distract him," Doyle ordered, tearing desperately at the package under his arm.

The Gunstagde's claws tore across Angel's throat, and the vampire's own blood mixed with the magical creation's fluids. Furiously, he pounded blow after blow into its insubstantial torso.

" Hey!" Cordelia yelled. "Plasma-man! Yeah, that's right, you!"

The monster turned and screamed at her. Cordelia leaned backwards. "Have you considered a breath-freshener?"

" Cordelia..." Angel groaned, as the Gunstagde let him fall and charged the defenseless brunette.

" Doyle!" she shrieked. "Mission accomplished! *Do* something!"

" Done." A beam of light seared the monster, as Doyle tugged the last of the brown paper away from his brand-new flashlight. "Remember me?" the half-demon snarled. Howling in pain, the Gunstagde threw itself backwards, tearing through the steel door like it was paper. It bounded up the stairs, roaring its anguish at the heavens. "Gotcha," Doyle said with satisfaction.

Angel pulled himself to his feet, his torn throat already healing. "King's getting away."

" You take him," Doyle said confidently. "We'll handle blood-boy." The vampire was already moving for the wrecked door.

As he disappeared up the stairs, Cordelia turned to Doyle. "*We'll* handle blood-boy?"

King left through the front door, locking it carefully behind himself. You can't trust anybody, these days, he mused, opening his car door. As he settled into the driver's seat, he heard the click of a gun's hammer being cocked. He looked up. "Oh, hello."

The Gunstagde burst through the window, landing in an alleyway behind the club. Bounding along, its body reforming as it moved, it screamed with fury.

" It sounds pissed," Cordelia noted, as she and Doyle staggered after it, the flashlight's beam weaving uncertainly in front of them. "How exactly do we kill it, anyway?"

" Uh...."

King regarded the man in front of the car. More importantly, he regarded the 38. special leveled at him. At this range, the bullet would punch straight through the windscreen and into his forehead. King tried to smile.

" I don't believe we've met," he said politely, his hand picking up the black handled knife on the seat next to him.

" Ray Shepard," the pale, overweight man hissed. He unfolded a badge. "LAPD."

Slowly, King drew the knife across his palm, focusing on holding his features rigid against the sharp pain. "Ah, so you're here to arrest me. I must warn you, I have excellent lawyers. Wolfram and Hart, perhaps you've heard of them - "

Angel forced the club door open, effortlessly breaking the lock. Shepard's eyes flickered over to him.

" Angel."

" Shepard. You followed me?"

" Smart boy. Nice job, by the way."

King interrupted, clearing his throat. "I would really like to speak to a lawyer - "

" Shut up," Shepard snapped. "You'll get your lawyer. And then you'll get your prison sentence." He moved towards the car, pulling out his cuffs. "Okay, King. You know the drill. You have the right to remain silent..." King went suddenly rigid, chanting strange words loudly. "...and apparently you waive it," Shepard finished.

Angel leaned closer, noticing the cut on the man's hand and scenting the blood on the air. An electric tingle ran over his skin, as King's eyes rolled back in his head. "Uh-oh," the vampire muttered. The welling cut began to bubble.

Suddenly, King's eyes snapped back to normal. They widened, and then the man screamed, long and shrill. The cut began to bubble more fiercely, as his body jerked and arched spastically. "What the hell is wrong with him?" Shepard demanded. "Some kind of fit?"

" I don't know," Angel snapped, as King's arms began to shake violently. The veins in the man's forehead began to swell, and the vampire was struck with a horrible premonition. "Stand back."

With a last rending scream, Jonathan King exploded. Crimson blood splattered against the windscreen.

Angel met Shepard's shocked gaze. "Allergic reaction?" he suggested.

" So, how the hell do we kill it?" Cordelia asked, as the Gunstagde crouched in the shadows of an alleyway just ahead of them. "I don't much fancy just going in and getting eviscerated, thank you very much."

" I say we just go ahead and try and pin it down with the flashlight. Maybe prolonged exposure will kill it," Doyle suggested.

" That's a very lame plan."

" Any better ideas?"

Cordelia sighed. "No." Doyle crept forward, angling the flashlight beam so it shone onto the monster. As soon as the light touched it, it fell apart into a pool of motionless blood.

Doyle raised his eyebrows. "Well, that wasn't so bad."

The sun rose, bringing with it a touch of reality. King's death became a heart attack and the Gunstagde a man in a red costume. By the time it was about to set again, all had returned to relative normality.

" Yeah, that's great," Angel said into the phone. "Wonderful. I'm glad to hear it....sure, I will. Thanks for the check...bye, then." He lowered the phone and regarded his colleagues. "Well, it looks like Mandy has 'inherited' Whispering Silence. She plans to turn it into a hotel, bed and breakfast kind of deal. She's hiring most of the old girls on as maids and cooks."

" Lovely," Doyle said. "And I assume that some of the well-paying customers may find little 'surprises' waiting for them in their beds?"

" Old habits die hard," Angel agreed.

" So, no more Mr King, huh, 'Ang'?" Doyle asked mockingly.

" Not a chance. 'It was if every drop of blood in his body was heated to boiling point,' I believe the coroner said," Angel replied, smiling slightly.

" Why?" Cordelia asked. "People's blood doesn't boil spontaneously." She paused. "At least, not often."

" My guess is he tried to summon another Gunstagde, but there just wasn't enough blood for the spell," the vampire explained quietly.

" So it took his own blood," Doyle concluded. "Shows why you don't want to mess up your magic spells."

" Well, considering we've got a nice big check," Cordelia suggested, "I think we should stop this gross discussion and go out for dinner."

" What, and blow all our newly-earned cash on a nice meal, then spend the next day grousing about our bills?" Doyle asked with amusement.

" Pretty much."

" Sounds like a plan to me," he agreed. "You in, Angel?"

The vampire shrugged. "Why not? As long as we don't go somewhere they serve red wine...or tomato soup...or decorate the tables with red tablecloths..."

" Sounds like someone's getting a bit of a blood complex," Doyle suggested, his eyes glinting with amusement.

" I don't even want to eat a rare steak," Angel said firmly.

" Is it even *possible* for a vampire to get a complex about blood?" Cordelia asked, as they made their way to the door.

Angel smiled. "We'll find out when next I open my fridge."

And still chatting and bickering, they left.

End

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