REPOST FIC: Dance of Light I: Through a Glass Darkly (Chapter 5-End)
Title: Through a Glass Darkly
Series: Dance of Light
Rating: PG-13
Universe: Xover Merry Gentry / Angel
Spoilers: AtS:3-11 (Birthday), MG:2 (Caress of Twilight)
Disclaimer: Cordy and the AI crew belong to Joss and David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy Productions. Merry Gentry and the Sidhe belong to Laurel K. Hamilton.
Summary: While playing bait, Cordy accidentally summons a certain Unseelie Sidhe through the mirror and learns more about her new demon self than she ever thought possible.
Prologue - Chapter 4
~~~Through a Glass Darkly~~~
~~~Chapter 5: Out for Recess~~~
The five exterminators piled out of Wes’s SUV into the dingy, run down playground. Several of the swings were broken, the slide was down on one leg, and the sandbox was full of… things other than sand. There was only a bare fringe of green on the side of the yard, struggling to come up with even weeds in the concrete jungle. The playground was deserted, no weekend visitors this early in the morning. The cracked black top looked as if it got a lot of use, but the rims had long since lost their nets.
Cordelia’s heart ached strangely at the impersonal modernization of it all, suddenly longing for wide green fields and softly burbling creeks. The detritus of everyday life littered the corners of the chain link fence, but throughout the decay, there were signs of life and hope. One slender stem rose delicately from a tangle of brownish weeds, topped with a crimson bloom. It waved gently, seeming to wink at Cordy, and she breathed a little easier.
Fred looked around and murmured, “Wow, those bugs musta done a number on the place.”
Just as softly, Gunn said back, “No, not the bugs. It’s been like this for years…”
They stood in silence, lost in their thoughts. After a moment, Wes shook himself and motioned everyone forward again. They walked cautiously into the yard, stepping over bottles and litter. Cordy wrinkled her nose and walked gingerly, but Doyle had what appeared to be his usual expression on his face, stony quiet, and made no outward notice of the chaos. He almost seemed to ripple over the ground with a grace found only in the very old, the not quite tame, the not quite human. Cordy wondered whether she would ever move that way, or whether that grace belonged to him alone. Was Doyle even average for a sidhe, or was his beauty, for he was beautiful, as unique as the rainbows that sometimes danced in his eyes? Shaking herself, she turned to watch Wes as he scuffled around, looking for a nest or hive.
“Now, remember, this is reconnaissance first, and we may have to come back later.” Poking around under a sad looking wooden fort, Wesley suddenly jumped. “Good Lord! There must be hundreds of them,” he exclaimed, ducking for cover. Out of a hole in the side of the wooden structure, a swarm of brightly glowing, foot long, flying demon insects buzzed out.
The ladies stood with their mouths open briefly, until dive-bombed by nuclear-hued, very pissed off, cockroaches of doom. They fled, shrieking softly, behind the slide, and exchanged exasperated glances.
“This is ridiculous! What the hell are we supposed to do with them?” Cordy peeked around the edge of the slide to see Gunn attempting to slice through the swarm with his axe, having moderate success if the spurts of neon green goo were any indication. Wes was hiding under an upturned playpen of some sort, and was rapidly leafing through one of his newer looking texts; this one was from the seventeen hundreds.
Doyle had a look of horror on his face as he brought his hands up, a sulfurous flame erupting from the middle of the palms. Whenever one of the roaches landed on him, the flame would rush over his skin, annihilating the creatures into dust.
Fred tried unsuccessfully to hit something with the crossbow, and Cordy rolled her eyes. “We are getting nowhere. He’s given me an idea. Come on,” she whispered, sneaking around the other side of the swing set. Unfortunately, the swarm noticed them, and in a matter of seconds, they were both covered by a blanked of hissing, clicking bugs that seemed far more intelligent than your average insect.
When three got tangled in her hair, Cordy decided she’d had enough. She brought her palms together as she had in the office, and concentrated. Soon, the glow spread rapidly over her body, and she outstretched her hands, snagging one of the creatures from the air. She gave it a squish, hearing the outer shell of whatever it was crackle. She smiled grimly, and muttered, “Alright Powers… let’s see what this glow stuff can really do.”
A feeling of intense electricity flowed through her, sparking off her skin, humming through every fiber of her being. She felt new magic build through her body, and relaxed, letting it wash over her in waves of burning hot and icy cold. She closed her eyes and shouted wordlessly.
The glow spread outward, leaving the confines of her body. It flowed throughout the playground, rippling and ebbing, bathing everyone within with unholy light, highlighting every imperfection, every flaw, and burning them all away. Small nicks and cuts on her friends bodies healed instantly, while some of the worst grime and rust sizzled off of the playground objects. Now alarmed, the bugs attempted to swirl away, but the light caught them, and with barely audible screams, they flashed away into nothingness.
Fred and Gunn both staggered under the invisible weight of the light, and Wes tried not to breathe in the curiously swirling dust particles. Doyle, however, stood still; face upraised he sighed, a blissful expression on his face as the pulse washed over him, touching him, caressing him, filling him with the familiar magic of his world, the magic of the sidhe.
When the light faded, the seer crumpled to the ground holding the charred and crispy remains of the cockroach in her hand. Very slowly she unclenched her fingers, wincing at the small aches and pains in each finger joint. Her skin felt tight and itched, small frissions of static ruffled her tiny golden arm hairs, reminding her of thousands of small spiders running over her skin. She shivered involuntarily, and opened her eyes to see everyone staring at her in shock- not a demon bug in sight.
As one they rushed to her, Wes laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Cordy? Cordelia? Are you alright? And what… what happened?”
Nodding heavily, she looked up, searching first for the ebony eyes of the other sidhe. They glittered with some strong emotion, the rainbows faintly whirling in the dark depths. He had a bemused smile on his face, and not a small look of awe. “I am most impressed Princess Cordelia. You’ve exceeded my expectations immensely.”
“Great,” she grumbled, “But what did I do?”
“It seems, my dear, that you are a Princess of Purity, and most likely a Seelie Sidhe, one of the glittering throng. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you hold the power of purification, and can defend yourself against supernatural evil by your mere thoughts, though touch will help in the beginning.”
He reached down a long thin hand, deceptively strong, and pulled her to her feet, much as he had the night before. He released her hand immediately, but held her immobile with his gaze, impressing on her a feeling of great weight. “It is a wondrous gift, and very unusual. It will make you nearly invulnerable to the innate magic that sets apart other Fey and supernatural creatures, should they choose to use their own gifts against you. More man made harm, though, is still a danger. A dagger in the back will be just as deadly…”
Cordy blinked at him, the amber whirls in her own eyes calming and fading away with the glow of her skin. “I’m a what? And I can do what?”
Doyle chucked, “A Princess of Purity, and Seelie Sidhe.”
Clearing his throat, Wesley interrupted. “Yes, you mentioned that before, Seelie Sidhe. And did you say to Cordelia before that you were an Unseelie Sidhe? What’s the difference?”
The dark sidhe frowned. “A long time ago, the fey of my world divided into two camps, if you will. The glittering throng, or Seelie Sidhe, were considered the good and, well, friendly gods and goddesses- the fey were once worshipped as gods as we’re nigh immortal and most have unusual powers beyond human conception. The ‘good guys’, or so those ridiculous movies Rhys favors would call them, were these sidhe.”
“But there were others,” Fred prompted.
He smiled a twisted smile. “Yes, and those were called the darkling throng, the nightmares of the Fey world, to the human way of thinking. Originally this did not include sidhe and was made up the Slaugh, the wild hunt, the most feared of the creatures of the dark. Over time, however, the sidhe… split, for lack of a better word, where those of a darker bent joined the Slaugh and became the Unseelie Sidhe. We are not worse than the other sidhe, though humans often times feared us where they did not our Seelie counterparts. Maeve Reed, as I mentioned last night, was a fertility goddess and a Seelie Sidhe. Rhys, who I spoke of before, was a god of death. He, I, as well as my Princess and her guards are Unseelie. The king of the Seelie is the King of Light and Illusion, and our queen is the Queen of Air and Darkness, but there is little to separate their cruelty.” He trailed off softly, and didn’t seem to notice his companions watching him closely.
Cordy shook herself and mused, “But what makes me Seelie, and you Unseelie?”
“Well, it is some matter of choice. You don’t have to join either court right off the bat when you return-“
“I am not going with you.”
He ignored her interjection. “But it is up to you. The Unseelie court takes all fey, the broken, the abandoned, the deformed… it is our way, and not the way of the Seelie. For them, all things must be beautiful and breathtaking. Luckily, you would fit in well on those qualifications.” Cordy snorted, but was pleased. He continued, “The gifts however, such as the hand of purity, are often found more in one court than the other, and the more powerful gifts often do not show up for many hundreds of years. The last time I saw your particular power was in the middle ages, though that sidhe was killed in a war between the courts.”
Cordy frowned, “So, I’ve got the ability to, um, annihilate enemies with my thoughts? Will they disintegrate like the bug thingies did, or will bigger things stand up better? How do I prevent triggering on people I like? I don’t want to accidentally crispy fry my boss… Does it work for any enemies, or only supernatural ones? Do I have to be attacked first? How does this work at all? And why would the Powers give me this power? What’s in it for them?”
A bit overwhelmed at the barrage of questions, Doyle looked at her, bewilderment marring the usual serenity of his features. Wes picked up his book and carryall and motioned them back toward the car. “Perhaps they need you alive, and this was the best way to guarantee you a long existence. It appears that this is primarily a defensive power, is it not?” He looked to Doyle who nodded, eyes narrowed. “Well, they didn’t make you into a warrior per se, unless you have more tricks up your sleeve, so my guess is this was a protective measure. Especially as we have no idea what’s in your future, or in the future of Angel, your champion.”
Cordy was silent, absorbing his words. She opened the car door, sitting shotgun, which left Fred between Doyle and Gunn in the back. She didn’t seem to mind, and Cordy wondered whether she was right thinking Fred preferred Wesley. She shut the door firmly behind her and frowned. If the Powers did have something in store for her, they certainly gave her a pretty impressive arsenal to defend herself. Which begged the question, what was she defending herself from?
~~~End Chapter 5~~~
~~~Through a Glass Darkly~~~
~~~Chapter 6: Visions Calling ~~~
The Jeep rolled to a stop in the small parking lot behind the Hyperion. The occupants were still silent, and Cordy slowly opened the door with a sigh. She sat for a moment, watching her reflection ripple in the window glass as the car door swung slowly back and forth on its hinges. The ever fluctuating image slid in and out of focus, and Cordelia couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic to her reflection.
Snapping herself out of the mini-pity-party, she spoke briskly, “Well, come on. I’m sure Wes has to make some fascinating notes about the demon bugs.”
The rest of the car had moved just as slowly out of the car, and Doyle looked faintly motion sick. Wes rubbed his hand over his chin contemplatively, and murmured, “Erm, well, I would hazard demon, though it might have been nice to have a sample to make sure they weren’t an experiment gone awry. I remember a town in Massachusetts- was it?- that a bunch of irradiated cockroaches were poisoned after the experiment was done, bagged, left for dead in the dumpster, revived themselves, and got out in the town.” The former watcher fidgeted under Cordy’s repulsed glare. “But these were probably demon bugs. Really.”
The group wandered into the lobby, restoring the clean weapons to the weapons closet, dirty and soiled ones went to a small table covered with rags and other cleaning supplies. Gunn pulled at the green splotches on his clothes and grumbled, heading up to his room to change. Cordy pretended not to see Doyle watching her closely and went to rock Connor in his bassinet. Lorne came out of the kitchen wearing and apron and holding a warmed bottle.
“Why the long face, gorgeous? Anything I can do to help?”
Cordy smiled wearily. “No Lorne, it just appears that I’m some sort of destructo-girl now. Evil exterminator extraordinaire.”
“I’d have thought that was a good thing?” He handed Cordy the bottle and she gently picked the infant up, cradling him in her arms.
Fred and Wes headed into the office, eager to catalog and investigate that morning’s adventure, discussing softly amongst themselves. Doyle stood silently behind Cordy, his arms crossed. She tickled Connor under the chin and wiped up a bit of spilled milk.
“Yeah, I guess it is… but it makes me wonder. I mean, why me? What’s so special about me? I know I chose all this and all, but I sort of expected fur or wings or a tail or something, not the death glow. It’s… worrisome.”
“Wanna sing for me? Maybe that’ll help.” Lorne spread his arms wide, as if to embrace Cordy, but held back. “Or maybe not. Rather not know, precious?”
She sighed again, sitting on the ottoman. “I don’t know. What if all of this is some colossal joke on my behalf… what if-“
“Ah, ah, ah. No what ifs. Those are bad things, and you know better.” The green demon smoothed his hair and ran an even greener nail over his horns. “I don’t get a doomy sort of vibe from you though. So whatever’s in your future can’t be that dire.”
The dark sidhe nodded almost imperceptibly causing the tip of his braid to bob slightly over his ankles. “I concur with the demon, as much as it pains me to say. It’s hardly likely that the Powers, whatever they may be, would have gifted you with such an extraordinary hand of power if you weren’t needed or valued.” Cordy was surprised at the tone of almost warmth and concern in his voice, and she wondered briefly what finding out about his own powers would have meant to him. She wasn’t entirely thrilled.
“Thanks guys, I mean it. It’s just what with my brain nearly exploding, taking a walk through the what could have beens, and making the choice to keep the visions no matter what, I’m a bit frazzled.” She jiggled Connor slightly, smiling fondly down at him when he gave a little burp, eyes wide.
“I beg your pardon, but your head nearly exploded?” Doyle uncrossed his arms and sat down across from the unlikely pair of seers.
Not looking at him, Cordy spoke softly. “Yeah, humans aren’t meant to carry these visions. I got them sort of as an accident; seems love will do tricky things. Doyle, Francis Doyle not you- loomy, dark Doyle, was Angel’s seer first. He sacrificed himself to save a boatload of people, and right before he was burned to a crisp, he kissed me. Voila, Cordelia the Link.” She leaned back, deep thoughts evidently on her mind. “But each vision, each person that needed to be saved, destroyed a bit more of my brain. I was dying, but even when I had a chance to get rid of the visions, I wouldn’t. So when a vision put me in a coma of sorts, I was given a choice. Get rid of the visions, lead a perfect life knowing my friends would suffer, or keep them and stop being human. It really wasn’t much of a choice…” she trailed off.
Doyle had a look of surprising compassion on his face, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it with a head shake. Lorne sighed. He stood and straightened his canary yellow suit pants and smoothed the front of his aqua silk shirt. He laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what to tell you, muffin, but you have to think everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to. Fate and all that.” She smiled wanly, and he took Connor and the bottle back, heading to change him in the bathroom.
Cordy turned her head to look at Doyle, almost daring him to speak. He regarded her for a moment, and said softly, “Princess, you were right this morning; you would be a valuable ally to Meredith, should you choose to aid her. She has many enemies at court, and is currently in a struggle for the throne. I do believe she would be a great queen of the Fey, and you could do worse than to help her.” Cordy’s gaze hardened, but the dark sidhe held up his hand to stall her comments. “But I was also serious about you needing to be around other Fey, particularly other sidhe. Your… status… is new upon you, and you’ve had no way to learn what being sidhe means. We, the Fey, need the contact of others of our kind, or we can whither and fade. Do you feel different here in your city since you became sidhe? Do you feel called to the natural in life, away from the glitter and mechanics of the city?”
Cordelia nodded, uncomfortable. She had noticed a difference, even just this morning. She felt drawn to the ocean, to the green, and it was not a negative feeling. Could he be right? Could she need other Fey around? “What happens when a sidhe fades?”
Doyle leaned back, relaxing his stance slightly. “The sidhe, though it can happen to any of the Fey, loses his or her will to live and simply cease to be. It is a painful thing to watch happen to someone you care about.” He creased his brow, as if debating continuing. “The princess almost lost one of her guards recently, Kitto. He is part goblin, part sidhe, and did not thrive here in the shine of Los Angeles.”
“I am so sorry.”
Doyle waved a hand, sharply. “It is fine now; he has accepted his sidhe side as well, and is in no more danger of fading. But it is a concern for you, should you choose to stay here. I cannot remain, as my duty lies with my own Princess, and I fear what would happen to you given time.”
Frowning, Cordy scraped her hair back into a ponytail and groaned, “Way to make the decision easy, Doyle. You know I can’t leave Angel, not without a seer.” She frowned, and continued in a softer voice, “No matter the consequences.”
He nodded. “I understand, and I do not envy you the choice.”
They watched Lorne in the other room, cooing to Connor and chatting with Wes and Fred. It was a scene of such normalcy, Cordelia’s heart ached. She couldn’t leave this, couldn’t leave Angel and Connor, the family she always wanted. She had found a real family in Angel Investigations, and so some of the members were a bit odd, but they were home. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
Gunn came down the stairs, humming to himself, freshly outfitted in a new polo shirt and jeans. “Passed the Broody one on the stairs; he’ll be down in a bit. Want to go over some new moves, Cordy?”
“Moves?” Doyle tilted his head quizzically.
Gunn grinned and moved to the weapons cupboard. “Yup, our little Pylean Princess is getting to be pretty wicked with a short sword. Angel’s taught her all the basics, and we spar some. I’m more an axe man myself, but it’s good to know all sorts of weapons. Never know when we’ll come up against some guy that’s been dead since the dark ages and thinks swords are the way to go.”
Doyle couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment, and said so. Cordelia stood, forcing herself to be excited, and took the sword from Gunn. They stood opposite each other in the lobby, mimicking thrusts and parries.
Suddenly, Cordy’s sword clattered to the floor, and she gasped, glowing, as she slowly levitated off the tile floor. Her eyes swirled with light and she clenched her fists by her side. “A young woman with hair the color of fresh blood is asleep with a man with hair like Christmas tinsel- wouldn’t want to see the styling bill for that upkeep. There’s someone on the other side of the window- why is it daylight? Can’t they see him?- and he blows powder through the opening- oh god! The skin, their skin, it melts! They’re screaming and the man shape comes in, shooting them through the head! Oh god! Angel!!!!”
She dropped to the floor. Gunn picked her up, setting her on the couch. “Angel! Yo, Angel! Get your undead ass down here!” The vampire in question clattered down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the seer. The rest of AI came crowding around, but Doyle stayed back, frozen.
“We probably have till night fall to find them, since it was daylight in the vision and isn’t even noon yet. And boy do the Powers want them saved. Like, really saved. I don’t know what the powder stuff was, but it ate them up, paralyzed them maybe? They couldn’t even defend themselves when that guy, I think it was a guy, came through the window. We have to find them!” She clutched at Angel’s arm, shaking it slightly.
The vampire nodded sharply. “Fred, see if you can check with any salons around here, see if anyone’s done hair like that recently. Silver tinsel? Is that what I heard you yell? That shouldn’t be too hard to track.”
“No, no it’s not.” Doyle was trembling and everyone stared at him. “That man is Frost, my second in command, and the woman… the woman is my princess, Princess Meredith.”
~~~End Chapter Six~~~
~~~Through a Glass Darkly~~~
~~~Chapter 7: Finality~~~
Cordy gaped at Doyle, her mouth hanging open. “That can’t be! I get visions for Angel, but that one must have been meant for you? I- I-“
Angel stood with a growl, glaring at Doyle. “What did you do?”
“I do?!? I didn’t do anything! We have to get back; we have to save her!” Doyle had unconsciously drawn his sword, and it hung loosely in his hand. He stared around in near panic and almost bolted to the mirror in the other room. Faint tremors ran through his hands, and despite his outwardly calm appearance, everyone knew that Doyle was becoming greatly alarmed. For the first time since he’d walked through the mirror in the dingy hotel room, Doyle himself began glowing. Instead of the sunrise of Cordelia’s skin, he shone with the light of night, starlight on water, moonlight on polished stone.
If she hadn’t been so wound up, Cordelia might have stopped to appreciate the view. Instead, she pushed herself off the couch and made a rude gesture to the ceiling. “Alright, you pansy-ass Powers. Get down here! You can’t possibly think I’m supposed to go with him, do you?!?!?” She shouted loud enough that Angel and Doyle both winced.
There was a loud pop, and the company jumped back as a large, bronze demon appeared in the middle of the lobby. He was covered in metal plates and adorned with spikes and knobs with a ring through his chin. He waved, smiling. “Hi guys!”
Cordy and Angel said in unison, “Skip?”
The demon in question nodded and jumped to sit on the check-in counter. “So, Cordy, seems you wanted a little chat?”
“You?”
He preened, smoothing his fingers over his chin ring. “Me. Powers sent a messenger, just like you asked. Though I suppose we should be grateful they didn’t send Joan of Arc… that was terrible flick.” He shook his head. “Messenger: good concept, poor execution. Sure, Milla Jovovich is as delicious as they come, but more with the crazy voices than the helpful information. Now, did you have a question for me?”
“Do I have a question? Of course, you bozo! Do you mean to tell me I’m his seer now?” She pointed rudely in Doyle’s direction. Skip followed her gaze.
“No, not at all.” She slumped in relief, only to tense up when the balancing demon continued. “I mean you are your own seer now.” Now her eyes went wide. “The Powers have a new job for you to do, and it means working with this lovely sidhe here, as well as some of his companions. The fey of his world are loosing strength and vitality because of their ties to a corrupt royalty. Their numbers and magic are fading, as is deemed by the Powers, but they’re fading at too fast a rate. Things have not been allowed to run their full course and the Powers need the sidhe in that reality. You were chosen to help their cause.”
Angel slid into game face and stalked over to Skip, poking him in the chest. “She. Is. My. Seer.”
The demon sighed, and patiently continued. “Not any more, ducks. That’s been taken care of.” He pushed himself off the counter and strode to the group of thoroughly confused people and demons on the other side of the lobby. He stopped in front of Lorne and clapped him on the back. “Meet your new link.” He chuckled to himself. “Too bad I didn’t get to demote anyone; I’ve always wanted to do that bit: ‘You are the weakest link. Goodbye!’”
Lorne choked and staggered to the couch, sinking on it heavily. He made a few strangled noises, and fell silent. Angel looked from Lorne, to Skip, to Cordy and back to Skip again. “You’re serious.”
“Don’t let the guy’s fashion sense put you off. He’s your link alright, and a darned good one too. His prognosticating ability will be slightly different for visions than his usual aura readings, so it’ll be much the same as Doyle’s and Cordy’s visions.” He grinned. “See? The Powers have everything under control.”
Cordy stalked over to Skip, fury evident on her face. The lights in her eyes flickered and danced, and she began to glow. “You knew! You knew when I made my choice what would happen, and you let me think it would be fine. You let me believe that all that would happen is a bit of demon in me, that’s it!”
“Well, of course I did. Though I did warn you it would be difficult, if you recall.” He grabbed Cordy’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. Though easily dwarfed by his size, she stood up to him with a fury that made her seem his equal. His lined and grooved face softened for a moment. “I am sorry, if that means anything. But I also know what a fantastic champion you will be in your own right.”
The brunette couldn’t help it. The anger evaporated, and in its wake came tears. She turned to Angel who walked forward and embraced her, holding her tightly. “I can’t, I just… these are my family, how can I leave them?”
Angel murmured gently into her hair, “You can because you’re a champion, as over used as that word is. You have amazing strength Cordy, and you will do wonderful things. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll come back.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t want you to go, we don’t want you to go, but we’ve all lived our lives for the greater good for some time now. As much as it kills me, I have to agree with Skip. You will knock their socks off. Hey, do you think you can keep in touch with that mirror trick?”
They both looked to a still distressed Doyle, who shrugged. Skip cleared his throat. “I think we can be convinced to look the other way if she wants to call home every so often. We’re not monsters, you know.” The glares that Angel Investigations sent definitely showed that they thought otherwise.
Still sniffling slight, Cordy whispered, “Can I not go? I mean, is there a way out of this?”
Skip shook his massive head. “No. We thought sending Doyle here would be enough to convince you, but it seems that your ties here were stronger than we appreciated. As his princess really is in danger, we then felt a vision would be proper motivation. You have great compassion and willingness to aide others, and we did not believe that you would leave her to suffer and die. No choice is an easy one, but we would not have chosen you if you weren’t up to the task. Consider yourself elevated, if you prefer. Not everyone has what it takes to be an instrument of the Powers. As it was an honor to be your guide, so it is an honor to deliver this information.”
“Will we save her?” Doyle asked, worry coloring his tone.
“We believe so, though we’ve sent a warning with enough time for Cordy to fetch some things from home and say goodbye to her friends. As I said, we’re not monsters.”
Cordy straightened her shoulders and shook back her hair. “Fine. If I’m going to do this thing, I’m going to leave from home. I’ve got a full length mirror there, and you did say I could bring some things with me. Oh god, I don’t even know what I’ll live on there! I don’t have any of their money; I don’t even know if it’s the same!”
Doyle, now that they were definitely leaving, relaxed a bit and said, “I’m fairly sure that you will be hired on at the same detective agency that Meredith works at. Jeremy Gray hired all of us when we showed up, and I know he won’t say no to another sidhe on the staff since Meredith’s had to… retire until the threats on her life are resolved. As for a place to stay, there’s more than enough room in Maeve’s guest house, and you may wish to stay with at least somewhat familiar faces for a while at least.”
Cordy nodded numbly. Angel retrieved Connor from his bassinette and handed him gently to her. “Here, we’ll take him with us. We’ll drive to your apartment, and say goodbye there.” Snuggling the baby close, Cordy followed Angel through the back of the Hyperion to the covered parking area. She paid no attention to the others, including Skip, who filed out after them, not noticing as they exchanged looks and picked up a few items from the hotel, placing them in a duffle.
The ride back to her apartment was silent, and while the tension was high, no one wanted to speak. Doyle watched Cordy like a hawk eyeing a mouse, and wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She cooed and cuddled Connor, trying to work into a few minutes all the love and attention that he’d miss out on in the time to come. Angel’s hands were white on the steering wheel as he clutched it tightly.
All too soon, they arrived, and were met by an incorporeal Dennis at the door. The ghost responded to the anxiety in the room by fluttering around and waving a dish towel erratically. Cordy gave Connor one last kiss and handed him back to his father. She almost smiled a bit as Dennis floated a blanked over her shoulders in concern.
“It’s OK, Dennis. I have to go away… like really away. We need to pack; want to help?” She trailed off down the hallway to her room, talking to the air, filling him in on the situation.
The rest of Angel Investigations exchanged glances with each other and glares with Skip, who seemed utterly unperturbed. He poked through the movie collection on Cordy’s shelf, making comments under his breath. Doyle paced in front of the mirror in the living room, ignoring everyone. Fred sat on the couch, flanked by Gunn and Wes, and Lorne walked straight to Cordy’s liquor cabinet and made himself a sea breeze. Angel called out, “Bourbon on the rocks,” and Lorne complied with a double.
Finally, Cordy came back down the hallway carrying two suitcases. She opened one and stuffed all the pictures she could find from the apartment inside, as well as a few knickknacks. She looked around at her beloved apartment and sighed. “Well, I guess this is it.”
“Not quite.” Wes stood, handing her a third duffle. “We thought you may wish to take these with you.” Curious, Cordy opened the bag. Inside were her favorite crossbow with extra bolts, the short sword she regularly used with a lovely leather scabbard, and a set of beautifully carved daggers. She held the knives up, winking them in the light.
Smiling sadly, Wes walked to her, kneeling beside her. “Those were mine, a gift from my father upon graduation from the Watcher’s Academy. I guess, in a way, this is you’re your graduation. They’ve been blessed by several holy men and women, and were forged by the Anatari. It’s said they will never miss a target.” He grabbed her hands in his own. “We will miss you, Cordelia, more than you will ever know. Be safe.” He embraced her fully, drawing her close. She squeezed back just as intensely.
One by one, the group said their goodbyes, even Skip. Cordy held her tears back, but inside, something was breaking. Coming to LA on her own the first time hadn’t been nearly so hard. She didn’t then have the love that these people had given her; she didn’t have the calling either. And now? She was starting over again, where the only moderately familiar thing was a tall, dark and handsome type that promised to help her. She decided it was definitely better than nothing and took one last look around, hurrying so she wouldn’t loose her courage and throw a true Queen C temper tantrum and refuse to leave.
“Okay, let’s charge it up or whatever.” She placed her palms on the mirror, smoothing them over the glass almost reverently. An unseen wind ruffled her hair and she frowned. “No Dennis, you can’t come. You’re tied to the house, remember?” The wind only intensified and the ghost fogged up the mirror, tracing with an unseen hand, ‘Don’t Go!’
Cordy shook slightly as she responded, “I’m sure the next person to live here will be fine, Dennis. We really have to leave; we don’t know how much time we have.” With that, she took Doyle’s hand and with her other hand grasped the bags. They faced the mirror after giving the assembled group one last look and the dark sidhe made the complicated passes over the glass once more. It rippled and flowed, and he gripped the seer’s hand tightly.
Cordy whispered goodbye, meeting Angel’s eyes, and followed Doyle as he stepped into the mirror without looking back. The wind ruffled their hair as they disappeared from sight, and when they were gone, the silence echoed painfully though the flat.
~~~End Chapter Seven~~~
~~~End Through a Glass Darkly~~~
To be continued in the next book in the series: Lifting the Veil.
Series: Dance of Light
Rating: PG-13
Universe: Xover Merry Gentry / Angel
Spoilers: AtS:3-11 (Birthday), MG:2 (Caress of Twilight)
Disclaimer: Cordy and the AI crew belong to Joss and David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy Productions. Merry Gentry and the Sidhe belong to Laurel K. Hamilton.
Summary: While playing bait, Cordy accidentally summons a certain Unseelie Sidhe through the mirror and learns more about her new demon self than she ever thought possible.
Prologue - Chapter 4
~~~Through a Glass Darkly~~~
~~~Chapter 5: Out for Recess~~~
The five exterminators piled out of Wes’s SUV into the dingy, run down playground. Several of the swings were broken, the slide was down on one leg, and the sandbox was full of… things other than sand. There was only a bare fringe of green on the side of the yard, struggling to come up with even weeds in the concrete jungle. The playground was deserted, no weekend visitors this early in the morning. The cracked black top looked as if it got a lot of use, but the rims had long since lost their nets.
Cordelia’s heart ached strangely at the impersonal modernization of it all, suddenly longing for wide green fields and softly burbling creeks. The detritus of everyday life littered the corners of the chain link fence, but throughout the decay, there were signs of life and hope. One slender stem rose delicately from a tangle of brownish weeds, topped with a crimson bloom. It waved gently, seeming to wink at Cordy, and she breathed a little easier.
Fred looked around and murmured, “Wow, those bugs musta done a number on the place.”
Just as softly, Gunn said back, “No, not the bugs. It’s been like this for years…”
They stood in silence, lost in their thoughts. After a moment, Wes shook himself and motioned everyone forward again. They walked cautiously into the yard, stepping over bottles and litter. Cordy wrinkled her nose and walked gingerly, but Doyle had what appeared to be his usual expression on his face, stony quiet, and made no outward notice of the chaos. He almost seemed to ripple over the ground with a grace found only in the very old, the not quite tame, the not quite human. Cordy wondered whether she would ever move that way, or whether that grace belonged to him alone. Was Doyle even average for a sidhe, or was his beauty, for he was beautiful, as unique as the rainbows that sometimes danced in his eyes? Shaking herself, she turned to watch Wes as he scuffled around, looking for a nest or hive.
“Now, remember, this is reconnaissance first, and we may have to come back later.” Poking around under a sad looking wooden fort, Wesley suddenly jumped. “Good Lord! There must be hundreds of them,” he exclaimed, ducking for cover. Out of a hole in the side of the wooden structure, a swarm of brightly glowing, foot long, flying demon insects buzzed out.
The ladies stood with their mouths open briefly, until dive-bombed by nuclear-hued, very pissed off, cockroaches of doom. They fled, shrieking softly, behind the slide, and exchanged exasperated glances.
“This is ridiculous! What the hell are we supposed to do with them?” Cordy peeked around the edge of the slide to see Gunn attempting to slice through the swarm with his axe, having moderate success if the spurts of neon green goo were any indication. Wes was hiding under an upturned playpen of some sort, and was rapidly leafing through one of his newer looking texts; this one was from the seventeen hundreds.
Doyle had a look of horror on his face as he brought his hands up, a sulfurous flame erupting from the middle of the palms. Whenever one of the roaches landed on him, the flame would rush over his skin, annihilating the creatures into dust.
Fred tried unsuccessfully to hit something with the crossbow, and Cordy rolled her eyes. “We are getting nowhere. He’s given me an idea. Come on,” she whispered, sneaking around the other side of the swing set. Unfortunately, the swarm noticed them, and in a matter of seconds, they were both covered by a blanked of hissing, clicking bugs that seemed far more intelligent than your average insect.
When three got tangled in her hair, Cordy decided she’d had enough. She brought her palms together as she had in the office, and concentrated. Soon, the glow spread rapidly over her body, and she outstretched her hands, snagging one of the creatures from the air. She gave it a squish, hearing the outer shell of whatever it was crackle. She smiled grimly, and muttered, “Alright Powers… let’s see what this glow stuff can really do.”
A feeling of intense electricity flowed through her, sparking off her skin, humming through every fiber of her being. She felt new magic build through her body, and relaxed, letting it wash over her in waves of burning hot and icy cold. She closed her eyes and shouted wordlessly.
The glow spread outward, leaving the confines of her body. It flowed throughout the playground, rippling and ebbing, bathing everyone within with unholy light, highlighting every imperfection, every flaw, and burning them all away. Small nicks and cuts on her friends bodies healed instantly, while some of the worst grime and rust sizzled off of the playground objects. Now alarmed, the bugs attempted to swirl away, but the light caught them, and with barely audible screams, they flashed away into nothingness.
Fred and Gunn both staggered under the invisible weight of the light, and Wes tried not to breathe in the curiously swirling dust particles. Doyle, however, stood still; face upraised he sighed, a blissful expression on his face as the pulse washed over him, touching him, caressing him, filling him with the familiar magic of his world, the magic of the sidhe.
When the light faded, the seer crumpled to the ground holding the charred and crispy remains of the cockroach in her hand. Very slowly she unclenched her fingers, wincing at the small aches and pains in each finger joint. Her skin felt tight and itched, small frissions of static ruffled her tiny golden arm hairs, reminding her of thousands of small spiders running over her skin. She shivered involuntarily, and opened her eyes to see everyone staring at her in shock- not a demon bug in sight.
As one they rushed to her, Wes laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Cordy? Cordelia? Are you alright? And what… what happened?”
Nodding heavily, she looked up, searching first for the ebony eyes of the other sidhe. They glittered with some strong emotion, the rainbows faintly whirling in the dark depths. He had a bemused smile on his face, and not a small look of awe. “I am most impressed Princess Cordelia. You’ve exceeded my expectations immensely.”
“Great,” she grumbled, “But what did I do?”
“It seems, my dear, that you are a Princess of Purity, and most likely a Seelie Sidhe, one of the glittering throng. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you hold the power of purification, and can defend yourself against supernatural evil by your mere thoughts, though touch will help in the beginning.”
He reached down a long thin hand, deceptively strong, and pulled her to her feet, much as he had the night before. He released her hand immediately, but held her immobile with his gaze, impressing on her a feeling of great weight. “It is a wondrous gift, and very unusual. It will make you nearly invulnerable to the innate magic that sets apart other Fey and supernatural creatures, should they choose to use their own gifts against you. More man made harm, though, is still a danger. A dagger in the back will be just as deadly…”
Cordy blinked at him, the amber whirls in her own eyes calming and fading away with the glow of her skin. “I’m a what? And I can do what?”
Doyle chucked, “A Princess of Purity, and Seelie Sidhe.”
Clearing his throat, Wesley interrupted. “Yes, you mentioned that before, Seelie Sidhe. And did you say to Cordelia before that you were an Unseelie Sidhe? What’s the difference?”
The dark sidhe frowned. “A long time ago, the fey of my world divided into two camps, if you will. The glittering throng, or Seelie Sidhe, were considered the good and, well, friendly gods and goddesses- the fey were once worshipped as gods as we’re nigh immortal and most have unusual powers beyond human conception. The ‘good guys’, or so those ridiculous movies Rhys favors would call them, were these sidhe.”
“But there were others,” Fred prompted.
He smiled a twisted smile. “Yes, and those were called the darkling throng, the nightmares of the Fey world, to the human way of thinking. Originally this did not include sidhe and was made up the Slaugh, the wild hunt, the most feared of the creatures of the dark. Over time, however, the sidhe… split, for lack of a better word, where those of a darker bent joined the Slaugh and became the Unseelie Sidhe. We are not worse than the other sidhe, though humans often times feared us where they did not our Seelie counterparts. Maeve Reed, as I mentioned last night, was a fertility goddess and a Seelie Sidhe. Rhys, who I spoke of before, was a god of death. He, I, as well as my Princess and her guards are Unseelie. The king of the Seelie is the King of Light and Illusion, and our queen is the Queen of Air and Darkness, but there is little to separate their cruelty.” He trailed off softly, and didn’t seem to notice his companions watching him closely.
Cordy shook herself and mused, “But what makes me Seelie, and you Unseelie?”
“Well, it is some matter of choice. You don’t have to join either court right off the bat when you return-“
“I am not going with you.”
He ignored her interjection. “But it is up to you. The Unseelie court takes all fey, the broken, the abandoned, the deformed… it is our way, and not the way of the Seelie. For them, all things must be beautiful and breathtaking. Luckily, you would fit in well on those qualifications.” Cordy snorted, but was pleased. He continued, “The gifts however, such as the hand of purity, are often found more in one court than the other, and the more powerful gifts often do not show up for many hundreds of years. The last time I saw your particular power was in the middle ages, though that sidhe was killed in a war between the courts.”
Cordy frowned, “So, I’ve got the ability to, um, annihilate enemies with my thoughts? Will they disintegrate like the bug thingies did, or will bigger things stand up better? How do I prevent triggering on people I like? I don’t want to accidentally crispy fry my boss… Does it work for any enemies, or only supernatural ones? Do I have to be attacked first? How does this work at all? And why would the Powers give me this power? What’s in it for them?”
A bit overwhelmed at the barrage of questions, Doyle looked at her, bewilderment marring the usual serenity of his features. Wes picked up his book and carryall and motioned them back toward the car. “Perhaps they need you alive, and this was the best way to guarantee you a long existence. It appears that this is primarily a defensive power, is it not?” He looked to Doyle who nodded, eyes narrowed. “Well, they didn’t make you into a warrior per se, unless you have more tricks up your sleeve, so my guess is this was a protective measure. Especially as we have no idea what’s in your future, or in the future of Angel, your champion.”
Cordy was silent, absorbing his words. She opened the car door, sitting shotgun, which left Fred between Doyle and Gunn in the back. She didn’t seem to mind, and Cordy wondered whether she was right thinking Fred preferred Wesley. She shut the door firmly behind her and frowned. If the Powers did have something in store for her, they certainly gave her a pretty impressive arsenal to defend herself. Which begged the question, what was she defending herself from?
~~~End Chapter 5~~~
~~~Through a Glass Darkly~~~
~~~Chapter 6: Visions Calling ~~~
The Jeep rolled to a stop in the small parking lot behind the Hyperion. The occupants were still silent, and Cordy slowly opened the door with a sigh. She sat for a moment, watching her reflection ripple in the window glass as the car door swung slowly back and forth on its hinges. The ever fluctuating image slid in and out of focus, and Cordelia couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic to her reflection.
Snapping herself out of the mini-pity-party, she spoke briskly, “Well, come on. I’m sure Wes has to make some fascinating notes about the demon bugs.”
The rest of the car had moved just as slowly out of the car, and Doyle looked faintly motion sick. Wes rubbed his hand over his chin contemplatively, and murmured, “Erm, well, I would hazard demon, though it might have been nice to have a sample to make sure they weren’t an experiment gone awry. I remember a town in Massachusetts- was it?- that a bunch of irradiated cockroaches were poisoned after the experiment was done, bagged, left for dead in the dumpster, revived themselves, and got out in the town.” The former watcher fidgeted under Cordy’s repulsed glare. “But these were probably demon bugs. Really.”
The group wandered into the lobby, restoring the clean weapons to the weapons closet, dirty and soiled ones went to a small table covered with rags and other cleaning supplies. Gunn pulled at the green splotches on his clothes and grumbled, heading up to his room to change. Cordy pretended not to see Doyle watching her closely and went to rock Connor in his bassinet. Lorne came out of the kitchen wearing and apron and holding a warmed bottle.
“Why the long face, gorgeous? Anything I can do to help?”
Cordy smiled wearily. “No Lorne, it just appears that I’m some sort of destructo-girl now. Evil exterminator extraordinaire.”
“I’d have thought that was a good thing?” He handed Cordy the bottle and she gently picked the infant up, cradling him in her arms.
Fred and Wes headed into the office, eager to catalog and investigate that morning’s adventure, discussing softly amongst themselves. Doyle stood silently behind Cordy, his arms crossed. She tickled Connor under the chin and wiped up a bit of spilled milk.
“Yeah, I guess it is… but it makes me wonder. I mean, why me? What’s so special about me? I know I chose all this and all, but I sort of expected fur or wings or a tail or something, not the death glow. It’s… worrisome.”
“Wanna sing for me? Maybe that’ll help.” Lorne spread his arms wide, as if to embrace Cordy, but held back. “Or maybe not. Rather not know, precious?”
She sighed again, sitting on the ottoman. “I don’t know. What if all of this is some colossal joke on my behalf… what if-“
“Ah, ah, ah. No what ifs. Those are bad things, and you know better.” The green demon smoothed his hair and ran an even greener nail over his horns. “I don’t get a doomy sort of vibe from you though. So whatever’s in your future can’t be that dire.”
The dark sidhe nodded almost imperceptibly causing the tip of his braid to bob slightly over his ankles. “I concur with the demon, as much as it pains me to say. It’s hardly likely that the Powers, whatever they may be, would have gifted you with such an extraordinary hand of power if you weren’t needed or valued.” Cordy was surprised at the tone of almost warmth and concern in his voice, and she wondered briefly what finding out about his own powers would have meant to him. She wasn’t entirely thrilled.
“Thanks guys, I mean it. It’s just what with my brain nearly exploding, taking a walk through the what could have beens, and making the choice to keep the visions no matter what, I’m a bit frazzled.” She jiggled Connor slightly, smiling fondly down at him when he gave a little burp, eyes wide.
“I beg your pardon, but your head nearly exploded?” Doyle uncrossed his arms and sat down across from the unlikely pair of seers.
Not looking at him, Cordy spoke softly. “Yeah, humans aren’t meant to carry these visions. I got them sort of as an accident; seems love will do tricky things. Doyle, Francis Doyle not you- loomy, dark Doyle, was Angel’s seer first. He sacrificed himself to save a boatload of people, and right before he was burned to a crisp, he kissed me. Voila, Cordelia the Link.” She leaned back, deep thoughts evidently on her mind. “But each vision, each person that needed to be saved, destroyed a bit more of my brain. I was dying, but even when I had a chance to get rid of the visions, I wouldn’t. So when a vision put me in a coma of sorts, I was given a choice. Get rid of the visions, lead a perfect life knowing my friends would suffer, or keep them and stop being human. It really wasn’t much of a choice…” she trailed off.
Doyle had a look of surprising compassion on his face, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but shut it with a head shake. Lorne sighed. He stood and straightened his canary yellow suit pants and smoothed the front of his aqua silk shirt. He laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what to tell you, muffin, but you have to think everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to. Fate and all that.” She smiled wanly, and he took Connor and the bottle back, heading to change him in the bathroom.
Cordy turned her head to look at Doyle, almost daring him to speak. He regarded her for a moment, and said softly, “Princess, you were right this morning; you would be a valuable ally to Meredith, should you choose to aid her. She has many enemies at court, and is currently in a struggle for the throne. I do believe she would be a great queen of the Fey, and you could do worse than to help her.” Cordy’s gaze hardened, but the dark sidhe held up his hand to stall her comments. “But I was also serious about you needing to be around other Fey, particularly other sidhe. Your… status… is new upon you, and you’ve had no way to learn what being sidhe means. We, the Fey, need the contact of others of our kind, or we can whither and fade. Do you feel different here in your city since you became sidhe? Do you feel called to the natural in life, away from the glitter and mechanics of the city?”
Cordelia nodded, uncomfortable. She had noticed a difference, even just this morning. She felt drawn to the ocean, to the green, and it was not a negative feeling. Could he be right? Could she need other Fey around? “What happens when a sidhe fades?”
Doyle leaned back, relaxing his stance slightly. “The sidhe, though it can happen to any of the Fey, loses his or her will to live and simply cease to be. It is a painful thing to watch happen to someone you care about.” He creased his brow, as if debating continuing. “The princess almost lost one of her guards recently, Kitto. He is part goblin, part sidhe, and did not thrive here in the shine of Los Angeles.”
“I am so sorry.”
Doyle waved a hand, sharply. “It is fine now; he has accepted his sidhe side as well, and is in no more danger of fading. But it is a concern for you, should you choose to stay here. I cannot remain, as my duty lies with my own Princess, and I fear what would happen to you given time.”
Frowning, Cordy scraped her hair back into a ponytail and groaned, “Way to make the decision easy, Doyle. You know I can’t leave Angel, not without a seer.” She frowned, and continued in a softer voice, “No matter the consequences.”
He nodded. “I understand, and I do not envy you the choice.”
They watched Lorne in the other room, cooing to Connor and chatting with Wes and Fred. It was a scene of such normalcy, Cordelia’s heart ached. She couldn’t leave this, couldn’t leave Angel and Connor, the family she always wanted. She had found a real family in Angel Investigations, and so some of the members were a bit odd, but they were home. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
Gunn came down the stairs, humming to himself, freshly outfitted in a new polo shirt and jeans. “Passed the Broody one on the stairs; he’ll be down in a bit. Want to go over some new moves, Cordy?”
“Moves?” Doyle tilted his head quizzically.
Gunn grinned and moved to the weapons cupboard. “Yup, our little Pylean Princess is getting to be pretty wicked with a short sword. Angel’s taught her all the basics, and we spar some. I’m more an axe man myself, but it’s good to know all sorts of weapons. Never know when we’ll come up against some guy that’s been dead since the dark ages and thinks swords are the way to go.”
Doyle couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment, and said so. Cordelia stood, forcing herself to be excited, and took the sword from Gunn. They stood opposite each other in the lobby, mimicking thrusts and parries.
Suddenly, Cordy’s sword clattered to the floor, and she gasped, glowing, as she slowly levitated off the tile floor. Her eyes swirled with light and she clenched her fists by her side. “A young woman with hair the color of fresh blood is asleep with a man with hair like Christmas tinsel- wouldn’t want to see the styling bill for that upkeep. There’s someone on the other side of the window- why is it daylight? Can’t they see him?- and he blows powder through the opening- oh god! The skin, their skin, it melts! They’re screaming and the man shape comes in, shooting them through the head! Oh god! Angel!!!!”
She dropped to the floor. Gunn picked her up, setting her on the couch. “Angel! Yo, Angel! Get your undead ass down here!” The vampire in question clattered down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the seer. The rest of AI came crowding around, but Doyle stayed back, frozen.
“We probably have till night fall to find them, since it was daylight in the vision and isn’t even noon yet. And boy do the Powers want them saved. Like, really saved. I don’t know what the powder stuff was, but it ate them up, paralyzed them maybe? They couldn’t even defend themselves when that guy, I think it was a guy, came through the window. We have to find them!” She clutched at Angel’s arm, shaking it slightly.
The vampire nodded sharply. “Fred, see if you can check with any salons around here, see if anyone’s done hair like that recently. Silver tinsel? Is that what I heard you yell? That shouldn’t be too hard to track.”
“No, no it’s not.” Doyle was trembling and everyone stared at him. “That man is Frost, my second in command, and the woman… the woman is my princess, Princess Meredith.”
~~~End Chapter Six~~~
~~~Through a Glass Darkly~~~
~~~Chapter 7: Finality~~~
Cordy gaped at Doyle, her mouth hanging open. “That can’t be! I get visions for Angel, but that one must have been meant for you? I- I-“
Angel stood with a growl, glaring at Doyle. “What did you do?”
“I do?!? I didn’t do anything! We have to get back; we have to save her!” Doyle had unconsciously drawn his sword, and it hung loosely in his hand. He stared around in near panic and almost bolted to the mirror in the other room. Faint tremors ran through his hands, and despite his outwardly calm appearance, everyone knew that Doyle was becoming greatly alarmed. For the first time since he’d walked through the mirror in the dingy hotel room, Doyle himself began glowing. Instead of the sunrise of Cordelia’s skin, he shone with the light of night, starlight on water, moonlight on polished stone.
If she hadn’t been so wound up, Cordelia might have stopped to appreciate the view. Instead, she pushed herself off the couch and made a rude gesture to the ceiling. “Alright, you pansy-ass Powers. Get down here! You can’t possibly think I’m supposed to go with him, do you?!?!?” She shouted loud enough that Angel and Doyle both winced.
There was a loud pop, and the company jumped back as a large, bronze demon appeared in the middle of the lobby. He was covered in metal plates and adorned with spikes and knobs with a ring through his chin. He waved, smiling. “Hi guys!”
Cordy and Angel said in unison, “Skip?”
The demon in question nodded and jumped to sit on the check-in counter. “So, Cordy, seems you wanted a little chat?”
“You?”
He preened, smoothing his fingers over his chin ring. “Me. Powers sent a messenger, just like you asked. Though I suppose we should be grateful they didn’t send Joan of Arc… that was terrible flick.” He shook his head. “Messenger: good concept, poor execution. Sure, Milla Jovovich is as delicious as they come, but more with the crazy voices than the helpful information. Now, did you have a question for me?”
“Do I have a question? Of course, you bozo! Do you mean to tell me I’m his seer now?” She pointed rudely in Doyle’s direction. Skip followed her gaze.
“No, not at all.” She slumped in relief, only to tense up when the balancing demon continued. “I mean you are your own seer now.” Now her eyes went wide. “The Powers have a new job for you to do, and it means working with this lovely sidhe here, as well as some of his companions. The fey of his world are loosing strength and vitality because of their ties to a corrupt royalty. Their numbers and magic are fading, as is deemed by the Powers, but they’re fading at too fast a rate. Things have not been allowed to run their full course and the Powers need the sidhe in that reality. You were chosen to help their cause.”
Angel slid into game face and stalked over to Skip, poking him in the chest. “She. Is. My. Seer.”
The demon sighed, and patiently continued. “Not any more, ducks. That’s been taken care of.” He pushed himself off the counter and strode to the group of thoroughly confused people and demons on the other side of the lobby. He stopped in front of Lorne and clapped him on the back. “Meet your new link.” He chuckled to himself. “Too bad I didn’t get to demote anyone; I’ve always wanted to do that bit: ‘You are the weakest link. Goodbye!’”
Lorne choked and staggered to the couch, sinking on it heavily. He made a few strangled noises, and fell silent. Angel looked from Lorne, to Skip, to Cordy and back to Skip again. “You’re serious.”
“Don’t let the guy’s fashion sense put you off. He’s your link alright, and a darned good one too. His prognosticating ability will be slightly different for visions than his usual aura readings, so it’ll be much the same as Doyle’s and Cordy’s visions.” He grinned. “See? The Powers have everything under control.”
Cordy stalked over to Skip, fury evident on her face. The lights in her eyes flickered and danced, and she began to glow. “You knew! You knew when I made my choice what would happen, and you let me think it would be fine. You let me believe that all that would happen is a bit of demon in me, that’s it!”
“Well, of course I did. Though I did warn you it would be difficult, if you recall.” He grabbed Cordy’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. Though easily dwarfed by his size, she stood up to him with a fury that made her seem his equal. His lined and grooved face softened for a moment. “I am sorry, if that means anything. But I also know what a fantastic champion you will be in your own right.”
The brunette couldn’t help it. The anger evaporated, and in its wake came tears. She turned to Angel who walked forward and embraced her, holding her tightly. “I can’t, I just… these are my family, how can I leave them?”
Angel murmured gently into her hair, “You can because you’re a champion, as over used as that word is. You have amazing strength Cordy, and you will do wonderful things. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll come back.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t want you to go, we don’t want you to go, but we’ve all lived our lives for the greater good for some time now. As much as it kills me, I have to agree with Skip. You will knock their socks off. Hey, do you think you can keep in touch with that mirror trick?”
They both looked to a still distressed Doyle, who shrugged. Skip cleared his throat. “I think we can be convinced to look the other way if she wants to call home every so often. We’re not monsters, you know.” The glares that Angel Investigations sent definitely showed that they thought otherwise.
Still sniffling slight, Cordy whispered, “Can I not go? I mean, is there a way out of this?”
Skip shook his massive head. “No. We thought sending Doyle here would be enough to convince you, but it seems that your ties here were stronger than we appreciated. As his princess really is in danger, we then felt a vision would be proper motivation. You have great compassion and willingness to aide others, and we did not believe that you would leave her to suffer and die. No choice is an easy one, but we would not have chosen you if you weren’t up to the task. Consider yourself elevated, if you prefer. Not everyone has what it takes to be an instrument of the Powers. As it was an honor to be your guide, so it is an honor to deliver this information.”
“Will we save her?” Doyle asked, worry coloring his tone.
“We believe so, though we’ve sent a warning with enough time for Cordy to fetch some things from home and say goodbye to her friends. As I said, we’re not monsters.”
Cordy straightened her shoulders and shook back her hair. “Fine. If I’m going to do this thing, I’m going to leave from home. I’ve got a full length mirror there, and you did say I could bring some things with me. Oh god, I don’t even know what I’ll live on there! I don’t have any of their money; I don’t even know if it’s the same!”
Doyle, now that they were definitely leaving, relaxed a bit and said, “I’m fairly sure that you will be hired on at the same detective agency that Meredith works at. Jeremy Gray hired all of us when we showed up, and I know he won’t say no to another sidhe on the staff since Meredith’s had to… retire until the threats on her life are resolved. As for a place to stay, there’s more than enough room in Maeve’s guest house, and you may wish to stay with at least somewhat familiar faces for a while at least.”
Cordy nodded numbly. Angel retrieved Connor from his bassinette and handed him gently to her. “Here, we’ll take him with us. We’ll drive to your apartment, and say goodbye there.” Snuggling the baby close, Cordy followed Angel through the back of the Hyperion to the covered parking area. She paid no attention to the others, including Skip, who filed out after them, not noticing as they exchanged looks and picked up a few items from the hotel, placing them in a duffle.
The ride back to her apartment was silent, and while the tension was high, no one wanted to speak. Doyle watched Cordy like a hawk eyeing a mouse, and wouldn’t let her out of his sight. She cooed and cuddled Connor, trying to work into a few minutes all the love and attention that he’d miss out on in the time to come. Angel’s hands were white on the steering wheel as he clutched it tightly.
All too soon, they arrived, and were met by an incorporeal Dennis at the door. The ghost responded to the anxiety in the room by fluttering around and waving a dish towel erratically. Cordy gave Connor one last kiss and handed him back to his father. She almost smiled a bit as Dennis floated a blanked over her shoulders in concern.
“It’s OK, Dennis. I have to go away… like really away. We need to pack; want to help?” She trailed off down the hallway to her room, talking to the air, filling him in on the situation.
The rest of Angel Investigations exchanged glances with each other and glares with Skip, who seemed utterly unperturbed. He poked through the movie collection on Cordy’s shelf, making comments under his breath. Doyle paced in front of the mirror in the living room, ignoring everyone. Fred sat on the couch, flanked by Gunn and Wes, and Lorne walked straight to Cordy’s liquor cabinet and made himself a sea breeze. Angel called out, “Bourbon on the rocks,” and Lorne complied with a double.
Finally, Cordy came back down the hallway carrying two suitcases. She opened one and stuffed all the pictures she could find from the apartment inside, as well as a few knickknacks. She looked around at her beloved apartment and sighed. “Well, I guess this is it.”
“Not quite.” Wes stood, handing her a third duffle. “We thought you may wish to take these with you.” Curious, Cordy opened the bag. Inside were her favorite crossbow with extra bolts, the short sword she regularly used with a lovely leather scabbard, and a set of beautifully carved daggers. She held the knives up, winking them in the light.
Smiling sadly, Wes walked to her, kneeling beside her. “Those were mine, a gift from my father upon graduation from the Watcher’s Academy. I guess, in a way, this is you’re your graduation. They’ve been blessed by several holy men and women, and were forged by the Anatari. It’s said they will never miss a target.” He grabbed her hands in his own. “We will miss you, Cordelia, more than you will ever know. Be safe.” He embraced her fully, drawing her close. She squeezed back just as intensely.
One by one, the group said their goodbyes, even Skip. Cordy held her tears back, but inside, something was breaking. Coming to LA on her own the first time hadn’t been nearly so hard. She didn’t then have the love that these people had given her; she didn’t have the calling either. And now? She was starting over again, where the only moderately familiar thing was a tall, dark and handsome type that promised to help her. She decided it was definitely better than nothing and took one last look around, hurrying so she wouldn’t loose her courage and throw a true Queen C temper tantrum and refuse to leave.
“Okay, let’s charge it up or whatever.” She placed her palms on the mirror, smoothing them over the glass almost reverently. An unseen wind ruffled her hair and she frowned. “No Dennis, you can’t come. You’re tied to the house, remember?” The wind only intensified and the ghost fogged up the mirror, tracing with an unseen hand, ‘Don’t Go!’
Cordy shook slightly as she responded, “I’m sure the next person to live here will be fine, Dennis. We really have to leave; we don’t know how much time we have.” With that, she took Doyle’s hand and with her other hand grasped the bags. They faced the mirror after giving the assembled group one last look and the dark sidhe made the complicated passes over the glass once more. It rippled and flowed, and he gripped the seer’s hand tightly.
Cordy whispered goodbye, meeting Angel’s eyes, and followed Doyle as he stepped into the mirror without looking back. The wind ruffled their hair as they disappeared from sight, and when they were gone, the silence echoed painfully though the flat.
~~~End Chapter Seven~~~
~~~End Through a Glass Darkly~~~
To be continued in the next book in the series: Lifting the Veil.