REPOST FIC: Dance of Light II: Lifting the Veil (Chapters 1-3)
Title: Lifting the Veil
Series: Dance of Light
Rating: R
Universe: Xover Merry Gentry / Angel
Spoilers: AtS:3-11 (Birthday), MG:2 (Caress of Twilight), my story Through a Glass Darkly
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: Following the directions from the Powers That Be, Cordelia leaps into Doyle’s world, learning all about the world of the sidhe and the role she has to play to save the Fey.
~~~Chapter 1: Here she comes to save the day~~~
Cordelia: "I get it, you're a ghost. You're dead. Big accomplishment, move on. You see a light anywhere? Go towards it okay?"
Cordelia: "I'm not a sniveling, whinny, little cry-Buffy. I'm the nastiest girl in Sunnydale history. I take crap from no one!"
Cordelia: "Back off polygrip! You think you're bad? All mean and haunty? Picking on poor, pathetic Cordy. Well, get ready to haul your wrinkly, translucent ass out of the place. Cause the bitch is back!"
From Rm w/a Vu, AtS1:5
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Comparatively, Cordelia Chase wasn’t impressed. Sure, the concept of dimension hopping was pretty neat the first time it happened, if you disregarded the whole enslaved and tortured aspect and skipped right to bejeweled princess part, but round two was decidedly less entertaining.
The trip to Pylea was brief, flashy, and over before she knew what happened. The passage through the mirror back to Doyle’s LA, on the other hand, did indeed feel like she was being pushed through molten glass. Her skin burned, melted, fizzled and she couldn’t help a silent scream of agony. She kept a tight grip on Doyle’s dark hand and her trio of bags, desperately hoping that nothing would get knocked off to tumble around in an inter-dimensional nightmare like that awful Stephen King short story Xander had tried to creep her out with, successfully, back in high school- the one where the boy woke up and got trapped somewhere between earth and Mars or some such.
And then it was over. They tumbled over each other, falling out of a wall sized mirror into a sitting room done in shades of pale pink, burgundy, and gold with matching carpets, upholstery and decorations. It was very classy and obviously cost a lot of money to decorate. If Cordy had been in slightly less of a hurry, she’d have taken the time to happily fondle the exquisite tapestry on the mahogany running board.
As it was, however, she was a bit pressed for time. She dumped her bags, barely noticing a pair of startled faces in the doorway, one ringed by a fringe of spring green hair, the other with dark hair and blue eyes, standing about four feet tall. She yanked the short sword from the bag and ran after Doyle, still glowing like a nightlight.
He’d pushed the duo from the doorway and was sprinting down the hallway to a closed door. Paying no attention to the calls of greeting and concern, the duo burst through the door and sprang into the room.
On the bed were the two figures from Cordelia’s vision. The petite redhead was wrapped up in the arms of a delicious looking man with silver tinsel hair. He was curled around her protectively, and she had a small smile on her face. Doyle looked once at them, and then to the window, but Cordelia was already moving.
She leapt over the end of the bed, managing not to snag her feet on the rumpled covers. The silvery man woke up, startled, as Doyle pounced on top of him, dragging him, and the woman, roughly to the floor. Cordy grabbed a hold of the window sill, eyes widening as a dark figure loomed up from the bushes just outside.
She gave a small shriek, slamming the window closed as the man-like shape blew a palm full of sparkling powder at the glass. Where it touched, the glass began to bubble and ripple, melting rapidly, the hole growing larger by the mirco-second. Staring her down, the not-quite-a-man raised a long barreled gun and pointed it at her face. Not wanting to see just how indestructible her new form was, Cordy ducked, yelling aloud for Doyle.
The dark sidhe raised to his knees, pulling his own gun from heaven only knows where, leveling it at the intruder. An exchange of shots later, the interloper slumped to the ground outside and a small porcelain vase from a shelf across the room exploded.
The silence after the attack was intense, only the harsh breathing of Cordy and Doyle echoing around the room. Carefully, the seer stood, gripping the sword tightly. She inched closer to the window, peering down at the trampled zinnias and roses with a frown.
The rumpled form of the attacker, in clear light, was definitely not human. With curling tusks and a wide jaw, pale greenish skin, and more muscles than an entire body building convention, Cordy could happily classify him as ‘demon’. She leaned out of the shattered window, careful around the glass shards, and sniffed.
“Oh, ugh. This guy smells terrible. Aren’t dead guys traditionally supposed to sit for a while before decomposing?” She turned to the rest of the room with a wide smile on her face. “So, who do we call for corpse removal around here? Is there a service, or is it do it yourself? Cause, I gotta say, I’m so over burial detail. Besides, just fixed my nails and it’d be a pain to do have to do it again.”
It was then that she noticed that the short redhead and the silver man were completely naked. And staring at her. Doyle had a bemused expression on his face, arms loosely crossed. In the doorway, she could see more than just the two faces that greeted her in the sitting room, and all of them were alight with curiosity.
She raised her eyebrows. “Not that I don’t appreciate the view, but did you know you were nude? I’m Cordelia Chase, by the way. I’ll be playing your rescuer today.” She winked and dropped the sword to the abandoned bed, stretching her tight fingers.
The woman blinked. “Meredith. Um, thanks.” She distractedly pulled the loose top sheet from the floor, wrapping it around her body like a toga. She poked the man lightly in the ribs.
He jumped slightly and nodded, pulling on a dark grey robe. “We are grateful. I am Frost.”
Doyle snorted. “Perhaps we should do all of the introductions. Shall we move back to the sitting room?”
The group in the doorway scattered back down the hall, followed by Meredith and Frost. Cordy took one more look out the window, shaking her head. She started when she noticed Doyle peering over her shoulder. He laid a hand on her arm, smiling that enigmatic smile of his.
“That was nicely done Princess Cordelia. I think you’ll fit in well here.”
She let out a shaky breath. Now that the adrenaline was gone and the panic of potential failure evaporated into the ether, she couldn’t help a flash of nervousness. These people were to be her… co-workers… family… friends… for the next however long. She had no idea what to expect. Then she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She was Cordelia and everyone loved Cordelia, more or less.
She smiled. “Yeah, well, kill a few people, make a few friends. It’s just like home.”
He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound, and steered her back the way they’d come. It had only been a few minutes since they’d arrived, but it already felt like eternity. Doyle moved to her right side, as if setting a stage.
The sitting room was full of people, no-not quite people: sidhe, when they returned; Cordy looked around with interest. The other princess, Meredith, was sitting in the center couch with Frost on one side and the green fellow on the other. And he was green, or greenish, even his skin. His hair was shorter than the other men in the room, with the exception of one long braid that curled over his shoulder and trailed almost to the floor. On a second couch were two men, one with wildly curling, waist length white hair and one blue eye shining from a pale face, the other eye covered by a pearly beaded eye patch, and a second man with milk chocolate brown skin and slightly darker hair, silky smooth and very long. She could barely make out the smaller man- boy?- from before, crouched on the floor, hiding under Meredith’s legs. There was a high humming sound and Cordy looked to her left, startled to see a miniature winged man about eye height with butter yellow shaggy hair and rapidly beating wings wearing only a kilt.
She blinked and said crisply. “Hello, I’m Cordelia.”
The flying creature buzzed back a few inches, as if started by her casual introduction. “Sage.” His voice was bell like, bright and hard, and while not very loud, commanded the attention of someone much larger.
She nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sage. Um, I don’t want to be awkward, but what exactly are you?” He buzzed closer, and Cordelia held up her hand, palm flat.
Sage landed, the wings stilling to stained glass perfection. He laughed, harshly, and said depreciatively, “I am a demi-fey.”
Cordy frowned. “Oh. Is that different from regular fey?”
Now he laughed for real, and a small smile graced his tiny, perfect features. “Only in stature, lady, only in stature.”
“Sage.” Meredith glared at him, eyes hard. The demi-fey sighed and flew from Cordy’s hand to a potted gardenia near the sofa. “You musn’t mind, Sage, Princess Cordelia.”
Cordy shook her head. “It’s Cordy, really. And I don’t mind. I’ve never seen a demi-fey before.” She looked around the room again and smiled. “Actually, I’ve only ever seen one other fey at all- Doyle. And, um, me I guess.”
Meredith smiled. “And now us. As I said before, I’m Meredith, and you can call me Merry. You’ve met Doyle, obviously, and Frost. This is Galen.” The green man smiled widely, innocently, and Cordy was struck with a strange sense of familiarity, though couldn’t place where.
Finally relaxing, her glow faded away to nothing and the whirls of amber and caramel in her irises slowed. Meredith widened her eyes. “How did you do that?”
Cordy looked around, catching Doyle’s smug eyes, though he said nothing. “Um, do what?”
“Mask yourself completely?” She stood then, and walked to the brunette, bright green, triple iris eyes bright with interest. “I can’t feel even a whisper of your magic, though it was definitely there earlier.”
“Princess Cordelia has many unexpected talents. I believe her ability to completely mask her sidheness is related to her original existence as human.”
Someone coughed across the room and Cordy got the distinct impression not everyone was completely filled in on the situation. She rolled her eyes. “Doyle’s right. Used to be human, now I’m not. No biggie. And the glow thing? It just does what it wants. He seems to think I’ll learn how to control it eventually. Till then, pfft. Whatever.”
If she was surprised by the casual dismissal of what was apparently a unique ability, Meredith didn’t show it. She merely nodded, tightened her toga and waved her hand at the rest of the room. “This is Kitto.”
The tiny fellow on the floor nodded shyly, and Cordelia remembered Doyle saying Kitto, half goblin-half sidhe, had nearly faded away to death not too long ago. His wide blue eyes looked up at her tentatively, as if afraid of rejection. She smiled warmly at him. He smiled slightly wider back.
Meredith continued the introductions. “The sidhe with dark hair is Nicca, and to his left is Rhys. They, along with Doyle, Frost and Galen, constitute my formal guards. Sage is here on leave from Queen Niceven, the queen of the demi-fey, and Kitto is my liaison with the goblin court of King Kurag.”
Cordy nodded slowly, processing the information. There was obviously considerably more going on with the relationships between these fey than appeared on the surface. She could almost taste the hostilities between Sage and some of the others, as well as a strange tension between Frost and Doyle. Meredith had sat a little bit closer to Frost than Galen, the green sidhe, and Galen didn’t seem happy about it. Though neither Rhys nor Nicca had said much, she couldn’t possibly believe they were free from the potentially soap opera connections of the others. She couldn’t help the bright grin that spread across her face. This was going to be just like high school, and she ruled high school.
Doyle gestured to the bags on the floor, haphazardly dumped in front of the mirror. “Nicca, would you take Princess Cordelia’s bags to one of the guest rooms? If we’ve finished with the introductions, I’d like to fill Merry in on what she’s missed, as well try to figure out why someone attempted to kill her in broad daylight.”
Nicca nodded obediently, and stood. Rhys cocked his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “But the introductions are not finished.”
Doyle arched a perfect, black eyebrow. “Oh?”
Rhys waved his hand at a spot about two feet in front of Cordelia. “What about him?”
“Him?” Doyle was frowning now, squinting at the carpet in front of the seer.
“Young, brunette, medium build, looking extremely guilty.” The pale sidhe smirked, rubbing his hands together slightly, and leaned forward.
Cordelia put her hands on her hips, glared straight ahead, and practically yelled, “Dennis?!? What the hell are you doing here?”
~~~Chapter Two: Friendly Ghosts~~~
For a heartbeat no one spoke. Cordy remained glaring straight ahead and Rhys cocked his white blonde head to one side, as if listening.
Doyle looked back and forth between the two before asking, “Dennis? From your home?”
Cordy nodded, and her glare relented a bit- after all, she wasn’t angry he was there, only confused. She sighed, “Yeah, Dennis is my ghost.”
“You have a ghost?” Merry raised her eyebrows in disbelief, walking closer, circling the area on the floor that both Rhys and Cordy seemed to fixate on. She waved her hand in front of her tentatively.
“Not a ghost of me, silly, my roommate.”
Merry stopped her inspection of the empty space and swiveled to face the brunette, her ruby red hair just brushing her shoulders. “You have a ghost for a roommate?”
“And how did you know he was there? He’s invisible to everyone I know…” Cordy scrunched up her nose and frowned at Rhys.
Doyle rumbled softly from behind her, “Rhys has power over the dead, and that includes ghosts. As disconcerting as it may seem, it’s not uncommon to hear him having conversations with what appears to be nothing.”
Cordelia arched an eyebrow and sniffed. “So Rhys can see Dennis and talk to him. Right, you did say something about being a God of Death. Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Dennis?”
After a moment in which Rhys shook his head and eventually gestured back towards the seer, the sidhe responded, “He says he has no idea how he got here. One minute he’s fluttering around you in your living room, trying to keep you there, the next he got himself sucked through the mirror.” Rhys paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “He says it was most unpleasant a trip, but he’s relieved to be out of that apartment.”
Cordelia looked a bit put out at the limited explanation, crossing her arms and tapping her nails on her elbows. Merry nodded at the empty space and said thoughtfully, “I take it that Dennis was tied to your apartment, then? A traditional haunting of a building or space limits the freedom of movement for the phantom, right Rhys?”
Rhys nodded, still listening to Dennis. “He says he’s never been out of Princess Cordelia’s home. The apartment used to belong to his mother, but I get the sense there’s a lot more to the haunting.”
“A world of yes. It’s heaps messier than that. Dennis’ mom had some apron string issues, and when he told her he was getting engaged, she flipped. Sealed him all Poe style into the wall in the foyer to my flat then keeled over dead from a heart attack. She didn’t give up on inflicting misery though, and haunted the apartment for years, convincing every girl she could to commit suicide.” Cordy had a distant look on her face, as if she were remembering something unpleasant.
Frost spoke for the first time, moving to stand at Meredith’s shoulder. He peered at the newcomer and said, “And how do you come into this story?”
Cordy relaxed her stance and thought for a moment before speaking. The fates may have had plans for her here, but she still didn’t know how much to trust these new sidhe. Doyle was a somewhat known quantity, but the others… She decided to keep her background a bit vague. “Long story short: moved to LA to make it big, big not happening right away, crappy apartment with creepy antlered cockroaches, Doyle knew this guy who could get me the place for cheap, Dennis’ mom met the biggest bitch from Sunnydale, exorcised mommy dearest, let Dennis out of his wall.” She beamed, finally realizing what having Dennis there could mean for her. Here he was, a little bit of home, invisible home, but still… and he came for her. “He makes a wonderful roommate.”
The rest of the room, excluding Rhys, gave her skeptical looks, but she ignored them, whispering softly to the air, “And I’m awfully glad you’re here.” A light breeze ruffled her hair, flipping it around her ears and she sighed, suddenly concerned. “It’s not a problem is it? That he’s here?”
“Oh, no; not at all. It’s not like he’ll take up much space… and you said he’s a good roommate?”
“He’s fantastic. Makes the best eggs benedict I’ve ever eaten and he’s a whiz with the loofa.” Suddenly Cordelia blushed. Doyle arched an eyebrow and Rhys snickered. Merry rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, as if you guys don’t live weirder lives. Maybe he’d like to help Galen with the cooking.”
The green sidhe smiled widely. “It’d be nice to have someone else who doesn’t think burned toast is an acceptable meal.” He walked out of the room, gesturing to the empty space. “If you’ll just follow me, Dennis, I’ll show you the kitchen. It’s so much better than the one at Merry’s old apartment. Couldn’t even turn around in there.”
“Hey! It’s not like I’m a gourmet or something.” Merry shook her head and waved her hand at Nicca. “I’m going to want to talk to Cordy and Doyle, if you would…”
Nicca nodded shortly, picking up the bags. Sage flew from his plant down the hall after Galen, Kitto and Rhys, still talking to the empty air. Frost, Doyle and Meredith exchanged looks, gesturing to a small table by a bay window. There were four chairs around it, and they each took a seat. Cordy settled herself smoothly, crossing long legs with an unconscious elegance. She could see the other sidhe watching her carefully, but didn’t let it faze her. She’s spent most of her life as the center of attention and a part of her relished it.
“So, not that we’re not happy you showed up when you did, but how did you know what to do?” Finally, the question that Cordelia had been expecting was out in the open. Meredith didn’t seem hostile, merely concerned. Doyle was back to being unreadable, but Frost had an undercurrent of tension that seemed to flow under his flawless skin. He leaned close to Merry, probably without realizing it, and Cordelia couldn’t help smiling slightly.
“How much did Doyle tell you about me and my situation?”
“Only that he’d found a sidhe Princess in that new world, your world, and that he thought you could be an asset here, as well as needing to be near your own kind. He also said something about a detective agency, but wasn’t overly clear on why it was unusual.”
“Ah. Well, as I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t always sidhe. I was pretty much the stereotypical California girl, but after I moved to LA, I started working for Angel, an ex-boyfriend of a- well, I suppose you could call her a friend- of mine from back in Sunnydale.”
“The vampire.” Doyle grumbled and the sound resonated in his chest, deep and low.
“You worked for a vampire?!?” Frost’s eyes were wide, and he drew back from the table.
With an eye roll, Cordy made a few placating motions with her hands. “Why does everyone react that way? Yes, vampire, but he also had a soul, so not really with the killing and maiming anymore. Anyway, we ran a detective agency with a few other people that specialized in supernatural crimes that the police couldn’t handle.”
“Oh, so the police didn’t have a supernatural task force?” Merry nodded, and Cordy wondered if she’d had run in with the police before with her own detective agency.
“Um, no. As in, the police, and just about everyone else, had no idea that the supernatural existed. I told you I grew up in Sunnydale- what I forgot to mention was that Sunnydale is actually a Hellmouth, which is about as friendly as it sounds. Mouths of hell bring all sorts of nasties, and I guess I got a crash course on what goes bump in the night. So when I came to LA, working with Angel was a natural fit. We did do some regular detective work as well, and helped the police out on normal crimes, particularly when a detective named Kate Lockley worked there, but mostly, it was the creepy crawlies. You know: possessions, hauntings, demon infestations, inter-dimensional problems. It was mostly word of mouth stuff.”
“And you were human? How did a human handle this work?” Frost looked genuinely interested, overcoming the hostility about working for the undead.
“Well, Angel was a vampire, but the rest of us, besides Lorne, were human. Wes did magical stuff, Gunn is fantastic muscle, Fred is a brilliant scientist, and well… me.”
“What did you bring to the group?”
She sighed, looking at the table top. “I’m the link to the Powers That Be.”
“Powers That Be?”
“You have to have something like them here- like deities, but not the typical Christian God or the like.” Cordy looked around the room, searching for evidence for any sort of worship, not that she expected to see anything. The closest such arrangement was a small shrine by the far wall with incense and a few small statues and a low bowl of smooth water below.
“Perhaps she means the Lord and Lady,” Merry offered.
Cordelia shrugged. “Sounds about right. Anyway, they need certain things to happen in the world, and to combat the forces of evil, they have a few champions all around the world. These champions need a conduit to the powers, and I’m it for Angel. Or I was.”
“Now you are a champion in your own right, so the bronze demon said.”
“Demon?!” Merry couldn’t keep the horror from her voice or the shivers that ran down her arms.
“I suppose we should get this out of the way: when I say demon, I don’t mean your kind of demons. Where I’m from, demon just means something non-human. All of us are classified as demons in my world. Anyway, Skip, that’s the demon Doyle mentioned, came down from his high and mighty perch to tell me that I was slated to be a champion, god I’m starting to hate that word, and what’s more- a champion for the Fey. Go figure.”
The foursome sat in shocked silence. Tentatively, as if she were still processing the information, Merry said, “But how did you know? About the jack outside the window?”
“Vision. Here I was, thinking I’d get to stay with my family and friends, live what passed for a normal life for me, maybe get that part I’d auditioned for last week, but no. Technicolor vision of you and Frost being melted away and finally shot. Guess the Powers knew exactly what buttons to push.” The bitterness in her tone surprised even Cordelia. She’d thought that she had a better control on her emotions, but it seemed that exhaustion and portal travel had a way of unraveling things. “I’m sorry… it’s just, well, this is new. I didn’t even know what I was until yesterday when Doyle jumped into my life.”
Doyle regarded her levelly. “We do not fault you, Princess Cordelia.”
“Cordy,” the seer replied automatically, though she didn’t think Doyle was the type to drop titles.
“Perhaps with rest…”
Cordy looked around at the table, looking at each sidhe and idly taking in the décor of the room behind them. It was spacious, elegant, peaceful, formal, and reminded her too much of her childhood. Her mother had a receiving room similar to this, and when she was younger, Cordelia had often snuck in to leaf through the books on the coffee table. Several times, she’d fallen asleep under the teak table, only to be woken and carried away by one of the servants to prevent her mother finding her there… Remembering those illicit naps, she suddenly felt how bone tired she was.
With a weary nod, she smiled at Meredith. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d love a chance to freshen up. Should I find Nicca?” The name of the cocoa colored sidhe came easily to her lips.
Doyle nodded, offering a hand to help her stand. “I’ll be happy to fill Merry and Frost in on anything else they find relevant, though they may have questions later.”
As if by magic, Nicca appeared in the doorway. He offered his arm to Cordelia and she smiled at the formality as he led her down the all. She could get used to gentlemen like this.
~~~Chapter 3: Nattering and Naps ~~~
The room Nicca showed her to was lovely, if impersonal. A large four poster bed of rich cherry wood was covered in a fluffy comforter in gold, cream, and white. A mountain of pillows tumbled off the bed to the floor on the far side, with a few scattered on a low window seat. Her bags were stacked in at the foot of the bed, neatly laid in a line.
An old fashioned armoire, also made of cherry with complicated whorls of vines carved into the veneer, sat against the left wall. A low dressing table sat empty except for a small potted plant of an indeterminate nature. Cordelia could see a bathroom done in gold flecked, pale granite tile beyond, counter top heaped with expansive white towels.
She took a deep breath, regaining her calm, and turned to the sidhe who accompanied her. “Thanks, Nicca.”
He smiled shyly and nodded. “You are most welcome.” Immaculately dressed in soft brown tailored pants and pale gold shirt, he stood a few steps behind her. There was a slim dagger attached at his belt, but no other visible weapons.
A movement outside the window drew her attention away from Nicca’s attire, and she walked forward, lightly touching her fingers to the glass. A large swimming pool glittered in the afternoon sun. Several chairs and tables littered the patio area, though none were occupied. On the far side of the pool, she could see a mansion of stucco and glass. Off to one side was a broad grassy lawn decorated with flower beds and fountains, arching trees woven throughout with glass balls like year round Christmas decorations. The lawn was lush and verdant, and Cordelia couldn’t help but cringe at the water bill.
On a blanket in the middle of the expanse of green sat a golden haired woman-a pregnant golden haired woman whom Cordelia was beginning to think might not be woman at all.
She turned questioning eyes to her escort, and Nicca nodded. “Maeve. She owns the house and the grounds. She allows us to live here as compensation for services rendered by Merry recently.”
“Another sidhe?”
“An exiled seelie sidhe, she came here to make a name for herself in Hollywood.”
Cordy couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Like minds, eh? I know the feeling.”
“You are an actress as well?”
“Hardly. Wanted to be, but it just…didn’t work out. Besides, it doesn’t exactly mesh with the whole fighting evil thing I’ve got going on.”
“Ah.”
Maeve sat up and gathered the blanket to her. Out of the shadows of the trees a young woman, human this time, came forward, helping Maeve to her feet and taking the blanket and book. The assistant lightly grasped Maeve’s elbow and began to escort her back to the house.
Cordelia turned away, heart clenching. It was too close a reminder of Connor now. She’d only just left him, but the possibility of never being able to watch him grow up, to never hold him close as he fell asleep again, to never see him turn to her with love in his eyes hurt too much. She had given up her life for these people, her friends, her family, her future. And she knew almost nothing about them.
“Are there many sidhe here? Or faeries? Is it faeries, or fey or what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to call what I am, really.”
Nicca blinked those lovely dark eyes and frowned a bit. “No, princess, there are almost no sidhe here. They reside in Cahokia.”
“Forgive me, but huh?”
Tilting a quizzical head, Nicca said slowly, “Cahokia, Illinois. Do they not have Illinois where you are from?”
“Oh, we have Illinois. Cahokia too, actually, but I’m just surprised that the…er…sidhe live there. I would have thought they’d settle somewhere flashy like New York or even Washington D.C.”
“All of faerie lives there now, all courts from sidhe to demi-dey to goblin. Those that came over from Europe and accepted Jefferson’s offer that is.”
Cordy raised her eyebrows. “So why Cahokia? It seems a bit…hokey.”
“The mounds are there. Sithen mounds held magic of their own, and when we came over, we displaced the…residents…and took the mounds for ourselves.”
Distracted from the beautiful scene outside, Cordelia turned to Nicca. “I think I remember something about those mounds, but in my version of history, most of them were destroyed by archeologists.”
“Didn’t they sense the magic there?!?” Nicca seemed horrified, standing stiffly.
Cordy shrugged. “Probably not. Not many people even know magic is real, so I doubt anyone noticed something funny, and that’s presuming that whatever lived in your mounds lived in my mounds.”
“Is it so very different, your home?” The dark sidhe looked almost afraid to ask the question, shifting a bit to semi-hide behind that glorious hair. Cordelia had a sudden vision of sliding the dark mass over her bare skin like a veil, but shook the feeling off.
She looked out the window again, squinting at the bright sun, clear blue sky, and very ordinary looking lawn furniture. “It looks pretty much the same to me. Granted, we don’t have anything that looks like you there, but nowhere’s perfect, right?”
“But you do have vampires?”
“You heard that?” The seer pursed her lips a bit, giving her hair a toss.
A distinct chill ran through Nicca, and Cordy was taken aback by the haunted look in his eyes. “It is always best to assume that someone is listening-since someone usually is. Someone always is…”
With a mildly annoyed and thoroughly unconcerned snort, Cordelia answered the original question. “Yes, we have vampires. It’s like the whole magic thing, though, since most people don’t know they exist. Even people in my home town brushed off all the deaths as either PCP gang-related activity, deadly barbeque fork incidents, or wild animal attacks.”
“But not you?”
“No. Why is it that you all seem so unnerved by the concept of me working for a vampire? I keep telling you, he’s a good vampire.”
“It is not a matter of good or bad, princess, rather imaginary or real. In our world, vampires are merely nursery tale boogey men, not actual creatures of the dark. We have horrors far worse for that.”
She thought for a second, remembering Doyle’s reaction to the book of fictional creatures. “So vampires are imaginary here, and you fey types are imaginary in my world. Fair enough trade.”
She sighed, kneeling to open one of the duffels. “It’s hard to believe my whole life is in here-or all the life I could take with me. It seems so…”
“Insignificant?” Nicca said it with a smile, but Cordelia could hear the empathy in his tone.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m Queen C. It’s absurd that everything fits in three bags with a ghost on the side.”
Her brave front wilted a bit as she drew out a series of pictures. First came a picture of the whole gang: Angel, Wesley, Gunn, Lorne and Fred. It was taken not long after Angel returned from his brood over Buffy’s death, and though he looked gloomy, they looked like a family. Next came a picture of Connor wrapped in fluffy blue blankets, cradled in the outline of Angel’s arms. Another picture of Angel and Connor, this time with a smiling Cordelia hanging over his shoulder. There were some from her high school years, a few with Harmony and the Cordettes, a few with the Scoobies and one of her and Xander from their broom closet days. There was even one of Doyle from the very beginning of it all.
She gripped the pictures tight in her hand before slamming them down on the cherry dressing table. The brunette slid onto the fabric covered stool and faced herself in the mirror. She could see the outline of Nicca over her shoulder, standing still as death. The color of his shirt complemented the bedding, and Cordy wondered whether he’d done that on purpose-dressed to fit the house.
She refocused her eyes so the glass showed a young woman with chestnut hair to her shoulders, lightly streaked with gold, and caramel colored eyes. There was nothing there that said she was special-that said she was the one to do whatever it was that the Powers wanted. She just looked like Cordelia.
Tracing the outline of her body with her gaze, she reached one hand out to lay it flat against the mirror. When nothing happened, she balled it into a fist and thumped the frame lightly.
“Why? Why me?”
The mirror had no answer for her. It sat there as silent as the sidhe at her back. Still she looked, hands clenching into tight balls.
“I’m not a hero! Hell, I’m not even nice! Heroes are blonde cheerleaders or brooding vampires. Not me…” she trailed off.
A slow movement at her side snapped her attention back to the reality of her room rather than the reflection of what her life had become. Nicca smiled faintly at her and nodded at the plant. He touched the end of one stem, and in an instant Cordelia watched a flower grow and bloom. The bright red of the hibiscus blossom clashed with the room, but strangely, that made her feel even better.
“For you-please feel welcome here, even if it is not the world you’re used to.”
With another soft, shy smile and nod he turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Pushing herself away from the vanity, Cordy stood and walked to the bed. It was so invitingly fluffy and comfortable looking that she took a small hop and flopped into the middle, knocking most of the pillows to the floor.
The ceiling looked like most ceilings, white and smooth, but she could almost see a shape move across it the moment before Dennis’ icy touch slid over her shoulder.
“Hey.”
A chenille throw levitated out of the wardrobe and settled over her shoulders as she rolled over to lie on her side.
“Thanks Dennis.” She sighed deeply, snuggling down in the feathers. “Did you like the kitchen? How were the other guys?”
A noncommittal wave of a tubular pillow indicated Dennis’ only moderately enthusiastic response.
“Yeah. I get that. I so get that. But I guess we’re stuck.”
The pillow jiggled up and down before flopping on the bed.
“I know it could be worse. It could be a lot worse-still stuck as a cow in Pylea shoveling out real cow crap from stinky stables worse, but…”
Another comforting chilly caress and she closed her eyes.
“You’re right. Maybe it will look better after a nap. Lord knows that always helped Angel when he got into a brood. Er, not the Darla style naps, but the regular ones.” She breathed deep. “I guess we’ll see.”
A moment or two later and the only sound in the room was the soft snore of one very exhausted sidhe princess.
To be continued in Chapters 4-5
Series: Dance of Light
Rating: R
Universe: Xover Merry Gentry / Angel
Spoilers: AtS:3-11 (Birthday), MG:2 (Caress of Twilight), my story Through a Glass Darkly
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: Following the directions from the Powers That Be, Cordelia leaps into Doyle’s world, learning all about the world of the sidhe and the role she has to play to save the Fey.
~~~Chapter 1: Here she comes to save the day~~~
Cordelia: "I get it, you're a ghost. You're dead. Big accomplishment, move on. You see a light anywhere? Go towards it okay?"
Cordelia: "I'm not a sniveling, whinny, little cry-Buffy. I'm the nastiest girl in Sunnydale history. I take crap from no one!"
Cordelia: "Back off polygrip! You think you're bad? All mean and haunty? Picking on poor, pathetic Cordy. Well, get ready to haul your wrinkly, translucent ass out of the place. Cause the bitch is back!"
From Rm w/a Vu, AtS1:5
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Comparatively, Cordelia Chase wasn’t impressed. Sure, the concept of dimension hopping was pretty neat the first time it happened, if you disregarded the whole enslaved and tortured aspect and skipped right to bejeweled princess part, but round two was decidedly less entertaining.
The trip to Pylea was brief, flashy, and over before she knew what happened. The passage through the mirror back to Doyle’s LA, on the other hand, did indeed feel like she was being pushed through molten glass. Her skin burned, melted, fizzled and she couldn’t help a silent scream of agony. She kept a tight grip on Doyle’s dark hand and her trio of bags, desperately hoping that nothing would get knocked off to tumble around in an inter-dimensional nightmare like that awful Stephen King short story Xander had tried to creep her out with, successfully, back in high school- the one where the boy woke up and got trapped somewhere between earth and Mars or some such.
And then it was over. They tumbled over each other, falling out of a wall sized mirror into a sitting room done in shades of pale pink, burgundy, and gold with matching carpets, upholstery and decorations. It was very classy and obviously cost a lot of money to decorate. If Cordy had been in slightly less of a hurry, she’d have taken the time to happily fondle the exquisite tapestry on the mahogany running board.
As it was, however, she was a bit pressed for time. She dumped her bags, barely noticing a pair of startled faces in the doorway, one ringed by a fringe of spring green hair, the other with dark hair and blue eyes, standing about four feet tall. She yanked the short sword from the bag and ran after Doyle, still glowing like a nightlight.
He’d pushed the duo from the doorway and was sprinting down the hallway to a closed door. Paying no attention to the calls of greeting and concern, the duo burst through the door and sprang into the room.
On the bed were the two figures from Cordelia’s vision. The petite redhead was wrapped up in the arms of a delicious looking man with silver tinsel hair. He was curled around her protectively, and she had a small smile on her face. Doyle looked once at them, and then to the window, but Cordelia was already moving.
She leapt over the end of the bed, managing not to snag her feet on the rumpled covers. The silvery man woke up, startled, as Doyle pounced on top of him, dragging him, and the woman, roughly to the floor. Cordy grabbed a hold of the window sill, eyes widening as a dark figure loomed up from the bushes just outside.
She gave a small shriek, slamming the window closed as the man-like shape blew a palm full of sparkling powder at the glass. Where it touched, the glass began to bubble and ripple, melting rapidly, the hole growing larger by the mirco-second. Staring her down, the not-quite-a-man raised a long barreled gun and pointed it at her face. Not wanting to see just how indestructible her new form was, Cordy ducked, yelling aloud for Doyle.
The dark sidhe raised to his knees, pulling his own gun from heaven only knows where, leveling it at the intruder. An exchange of shots later, the interloper slumped to the ground outside and a small porcelain vase from a shelf across the room exploded.
The silence after the attack was intense, only the harsh breathing of Cordy and Doyle echoing around the room. Carefully, the seer stood, gripping the sword tightly. She inched closer to the window, peering down at the trampled zinnias and roses with a frown.
The rumpled form of the attacker, in clear light, was definitely not human. With curling tusks and a wide jaw, pale greenish skin, and more muscles than an entire body building convention, Cordy could happily classify him as ‘demon’. She leaned out of the shattered window, careful around the glass shards, and sniffed.
“Oh, ugh. This guy smells terrible. Aren’t dead guys traditionally supposed to sit for a while before decomposing?” She turned to the rest of the room with a wide smile on her face. “So, who do we call for corpse removal around here? Is there a service, or is it do it yourself? Cause, I gotta say, I’m so over burial detail. Besides, just fixed my nails and it’d be a pain to do have to do it again.”
It was then that she noticed that the short redhead and the silver man were completely naked. And staring at her. Doyle had a bemused expression on his face, arms loosely crossed. In the doorway, she could see more than just the two faces that greeted her in the sitting room, and all of them were alight with curiosity.
She raised her eyebrows. “Not that I don’t appreciate the view, but did you know you were nude? I’m Cordelia Chase, by the way. I’ll be playing your rescuer today.” She winked and dropped the sword to the abandoned bed, stretching her tight fingers.
The woman blinked. “Meredith. Um, thanks.” She distractedly pulled the loose top sheet from the floor, wrapping it around her body like a toga. She poked the man lightly in the ribs.
He jumped slightly and nodded, pulling on a dark grey robe. “We are grateful. I am Frost.”
Doyle snorted. “Perhaps we should do all of the introductions. Shall we move back to the sitting room?”
The group in the doorway scattered back down the hall, followed by Meredith and Frost. Cordy took one more look out the window, shaking her head. She started when she noticed Doyle peering over her shoulder. He laid a hand on her arm, smiling that enigmatic smile of his.
“That was nicely done Princess Cordelia. I think you’ll fit in well here.”
She let out a shaky breath. Now that the adrenaline was gone and the panic of potential failure evaporated into the ether, she couldn’t help a flash of nervousness. These people were to be her… co-workers… family… friends… for the next however long. She had no idea what to expect. Then she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She was Cordelia and everyone loved Cordelia, more or less.
She smiled. “Yeah, well, kill a few people, make a few friends. It’s just like home.”
He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound, and steered her back the way they’d come. It had only been a few minutes since they’d arrived, but it already felt like eternity. Doyle moved to her right side, as if setting a stage.
The sitting room was full of people, no-not quite people: sidhe, when they returned; Cordy looked around with interest. The other princess, Meredith, was sitting in the center couch with Frost on one side and the green fellow on the other. And he was green, or greenish, even his skin. His hair was shorter than the other men in the room, with the exception of one long braid that curled over his shoulder and trailed almost to the floor. On a second couch were two men, one with wildly curling, waist length white hair and one blue eye shining from a pale face, the other eye covered by a pearly beaded eye patch, and a second man with milk chocolate brown skin and slightly darker hair, silky smooth and very long. She could barely make out the smaller man- boy?- from before, crouched on the floor, hiding under Meredith’s legs. There was a high humming sound and Cordy looked to her left, startled to see a miniature winged man about eye height with butter yellow shaggy hair and rapidly beating wings wearing only a kilt.
She blinked and said crisply. “Hello, I’m Cordelia.”
The flying creature buzzed back a few inches, as if started by her casual introduction. “Sage.” His voice was bell like, bright and hard, and while not very loud, commanded the attention of someone much larger.
She nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sage. Um, I don’t want to be awkward, but what exactly are you?” He buzzed closer, and Cordelia held up her hand, palm flat.
Sage landed, the wings stilling to stained glass perfection. He laughed, harshly, and said depreciatively, “I am a demi-fey.”
Cordy frowned. “Oh. Is that different from regular fey?”
Now he laughed for real, and a small smile graced his tiny, perfect features. “Only in stature, lady, only in stature.”
“Sage.” Meredith glared at him, eyes hard. The demi-fey sighed and flew from Cordy’s hand to a potted gardenia near the sofa. “You musn’t mind, Sage, Princess Cordelia.”
Cordy shook her head. “It’s Cordy, really. And I don’t mind. I’ve never seen a demi-fey before.” She looked around the room again and smiled. “Actually, I’ve only ever seen one other fey at all- Doyle. And, um, me I guess.”
Meredith smiled. “And now us. As I said before, I’m Meredith, and you can call me Merry. You’ve met Doyle, obviously, and Frost. This is Galen.” The green man smiled widely, innocently, and Cordy was struck with a strange sense of familiarity, though couldn’t place where.
Finally relaxing, her glow faded away to nothing and the whirls of amber and caramel in her irises slowed. Meredith widened her eyes. “How did you do that?”
Cordy looked around, catching Doyle’s smug eyes, though he said nothing. “Um, do what?”
“Mask yourself completely?” She stood then, and walked to the brunette, bright green, triple iris eyes bright with interest. “I can’t feel even a whisper of your magic, though it was definitely there earlier.”
“Princess Cordelia has many unexpected talents. I believe her ability to completely mask her sidheness is related to her original existence as human.”
Someone coughed across the room and Cordy got the distinct impression not everyone was completely filled in on the situation. She rolled her eyes. “Doyle’s right. Used to be human, now I’m not. No biggie. And the glow thing? It just does what it wants. He seems to think I’ll learn how to control it eventually. Till then, pfft. Whatever.”
If she was surprised by the casual dismissal of what was apparently a unique ability, Meredith didn’t show it. She merely nodded, tightened her toga and waved her hand at the rest of the room. “This is Kitto.”
The tiny fellow on the floor nodded shyly, and Cordelia remembered Doyle saying Kitto, half goblin-half sidhe, had nearly faded away to death not too long ago. His wide blue eyes looked up at her tentatively, as if afraid of rejection. She smiled warmly at him. He smiled slightly wider back.
Meredith continued the introductions. “The sidhe with dark hair is Nicca, and to his left is Rhys. They, along with Doyle, Frost and Galen, constitute my formal guards. Sage is here on leave from Queen Niceven, the queen of the demi-fey, and Kitto is my liaison with the goblin court of King Kurag.”
Cordy nodded slowly, processing the information. There was obviously considerably more going on with the relationships between these fey than appeared on the surface. She could almost taste the hostilities between Sage and some of the others, as well as a strange tension between Frost and Doyle. Meredith had sat a little bit closer to Frost than Galen, the green sidhe, and Galen didn’t seem happy about it. Though neither Rhys nor Nicca had said much, she couldn’t possibly believe they were free from the potentially soap opera connections of the others. She couldn’t help the bright grin that spread across her face. This was going to be just like high school, and she ruled high school.
Doyle gestured to the bags on the floor, haphazardly dumped in front of the mirror. “Nicca, would you take Princess Cordelia’s bags to one of the guest rooms? If we’ve finished with the introductions, I’d like to fill Merry in on what she’s missed, as well try to figure out why someone attempted to kill her in broad daylight.”
Nicca nodded obediently, and stood. Rhys cocked his head, a puzzled expression on his face. “But the introductions are not finished.”
Doyle arched a perfect, black eyebrow. “Oh?”
Rhys waved his hand at a spot about two feet in front of Cordelia. “What about him?”
“Him?” Doyle was frowning now, squinting at the carpet in front of the seer.
“Young, brunette, medium build, looking extremely guilty.” The pale sidhe smirked, rubbing his hands together slightly, and leaned forward.
Cordelia put her hands on her hips, glared straight ahead, and practically yelled, “Dennis?!? What the hell are you doing here?”
~~~Chapter Two: Friendly Ghosts~~~
For a heartbeat no one spoke. Cordy remained glaring straight ahead and Rhys cocked his white blonde head to one side, as if listening.
Doyle looked back and forth between the two before asking, “Dennis? From your home?”
Cordy nodded, and her glare relented a bit- after all, she wasn’t angry he was there, only confused. She sighed, “Yeah, Dennis is my ghost.”
“You have a ghost?” Merry raised her eyebrows in disbelief, walking closer, circling the area on the floor that both Rhys and Cordy seemed to fixate on. She waved her hand in front of her tentatively.
“Not a ghost of me, silly, my roommate.”
Merry stopped her inspection of the empty space and swiveled to face the brunette, her ruby red hair just brushing her shoulders. “You have a ghost for a roommate?”
“And how did you know he was there? He’s invisible to everyone I know…” Cordy scrunched up her nose and frowned at Rhys.
Doyle rumbled softly from behind her, “Rhys has power over the dead, and that includes ghosts. As disconcerting as it may seem, it’s not uncommon to hear him having conversations with what appears to be nothing.”
Cordelia arched an eyebrow and sniffed. “So Rhys can see Dennis and talk to him. Right, you did say something about being a God of Death. Well? What do you have to say for yourself, Dennis?”
After a moment in which Rhys shook his head and eventually gestured back towards the seer, the sidhe responded, “He says he has no idea how he got here. One minute he’s fluttering around you in your living room, trying to keep you there, the next he got himself sucked through the mirror.” Rhys paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “He says it was most unpleasant a trip, but he’s relieved to be out of that apartment.”
Cordelia looked a bit put out at the limited explanation, crossing her arms and tapping her nails on her elbows. Merry nodded at the empty space and said thoughtfully, “I take it that Dennis was tied to your apartment, then? A traditional haunting of a building or space limits the freedom of movement for the phantom, right Rhys?”
Rhys nodded, still listening to Dennis. “He says he’s never been out of Princess Cordelia’s home. The apartment used to belong to his mother, but I get the sense there’s a lot more to the haunting.”
“A world of yes. It’s heaps messier than that. Dennis’ mom had some apron string issues, and when he told her he was getting engaged, she flipped. Sealed him all Poe style into the wall in the foyer to my flat then keeled over dead from a heart attack. She didn’t give up on inflicting misery though, and haunted the apartment for years, convincing every girl she could to commit suicide.” Cordy had a distant look on her face, as if she were remembering something unpleasant.
Frost spoke for the first time, moving to stand at Meredith’s shoulder. He peered at the newcomer and said, “And how do you come into this story?”
Cordy relaxed her stance and thought for a moment before speaking. The fates may have had plans for her here, but she still didn’t know how much to trust these new sidhe. Doyle was a somewhat known quantity, but the others… She decided to keep her background a bit vague. “Long story short: moved to LA to make it big, big not happening right away, crappy apartment with creepy antlered cockroaches, Doyle knew this guy who could get me the place for cheap, Dennis’ mom met the biggest bitch from Sunnydale, exorcised mommy dearest, let Dennis out of his wall.” She beamed, finally realizing what having Dennis there could mean for her. Here he was, a little bit of home, invisible home, but still… and he came for her. “He makes a wonderful roommate.”
The rest of the room, excluding Rhys, gave her skeptical looks, but she ignored them, whispering softly to the air, “And I’m awfully glad you’re here.” A light breeze ruffled her hair, flipping it around her ears and she sighed, suddenly concerned. “It’s not a problem is it? That he’s here?”
“Oh, no; not at all. It’s not like he’ll take up much space… and you said he’s a good roommate?”
“He’s fantastic. Makes the best eggs benedict I’ve ever eaten and he’s a whiz with the loofa.” Suddenly Cordelia blushed. Doyle arched an eyebrow and Rhys snickered. Merry rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, as if you guys don’t live weirder lives. Maybe he’d like to help Galen with the cooking.”
The green sidhe smiled widely. “It’d be nice to have someone else who doesn’t think burned toast is an acceptable meal.” He walked out of the room, gesturing to the empty space. “If you’ll just follow me, Dennis, I’ll show you the kitchen. It’s so much better than the one at Merry’s old apartment. Couldn’t even turn around in there.”
“Hey! It’s not like I’m a gourmet or something.” Merry shook her head and waved her hand at Nicca. “I’m going to want to talk to Cordy and Doyle, if you would…”
Nicca nodded shortly, picking up the bags. Sage flew from his plant down the hall after Galen, Kitto and Rhys, still talking to the empty air. Frost, Doyle and Meredith exchanged looks, gesturing to a small table by a bay window. There were four chairs around it, and they each took a seat. Cordy settled herself smoothly, crossing long legs with an unconscious elegance. She could see the other sidhe watching her carefully, but didn’t let it faze her. She’s spent most of her life as the center of attention and a part of her relished it.
“So, not that we’re not happy you showed up when you did, but how did you know what to do?” Finally, the question that Cordelia had been expecting was out in the open. Meredith didn’t seem hostile, merely concerned. Doyle was back to being unreadable, but Frost had an undercurrent of tension that seemed to flow under his flawless skin. He leaned close to Merry, probably without realizing it, and Cordelia couldn’t help smiling slightly.
“How much did Doyle tell you about me and my situation?”
“Only that he’d found a sidhe Princess in that new world, your world, and that he thought you could be an asset here, as well as needing to be near your own kind. He also said something about a detective agency, but wasn’t overly clear on why it was unusual.”
“Ah. Well, as I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t always sidhe. I was pretty much the stereotypical California girl, but after I moved to LA, I started working for Angel, an ex-boyfriend of a- well, I suppose you could call her a friend- of mine from back in Sunnydale.”
“The vampire.” Doyle grumbled and the sound resonated in his chest, deep and low.
“You worked for a vampire?!?” Frost’s eyes were wide, and he drew back from the table.
With an eye roll, Cordy made a few placating motions with her hands. “Why does everyone react that way? Yes, vampire, but he also had a soul, so not really with the killing and maiming anymore. Anyway, we ran a detective agency with a few other people that specialized in supernatural crimes that the police couldn’t handle.”
“Oh, so the police didn’t have a supernatural task force?” Merry nodded, and Cordy wondered if she’d had run in with the police before with her own detective agency.
“Um, no. As in, the police, and just about everyone else, had no idea that the supernatural existed. I told you I grew up in Sunnydale- what I forgot to mention was that Sunnydale is actually a Hellmouth, which is about as friendly as it sounds. Mouths of hell bring all sorts of nasties, and I guess I got a crash course on what goes bump in the night. So when I came to LA, working with Angel was a natural fit. We did do some regular detective work as well, and helped the police out on normal crimes, particularly when a detective named Kate Lockley worked there, but mostly, it was the creepy crawlies. You know: possessions, hauntings, demon infestations, inter-dimensional problems. It was mostly word of mouth stuff.”
“And you were human? How did a human handle this work?” Frost looked genuinely interested, overcoming the hostility about working for the undead.
“Well, Angel was a vampire, but the rest of us, besides Lorne, were human. Wes did magical stuff, Gunn is fantastic muscle, Fred is a brilliant scientist, and well… me.”
“What did you bring to the group?”
She sighed, looking at the table top. “I’m the link to the Powers That Be.”
“Powers That Be?”
“You have to have something like them here- like deities, but not the typical Christian God or the like.” Cordy looked around the room, searching for evidence for any sort of worship, not that she expected to see anything. The closest such arrangement was a small shrine by the far wall with incense and a few small statues and a low bowl of smooth water below.
“Perhaps she means the Lord and Lady,” Merry offered.
Cordelia shrugged. “Sounds about right. Anyway, they need certain things to happen in the world, and to combat the forces of evil, they have a few champions all around the world. These champions need a conduit to the powers, and I’m it for Angel. Or I was.”
“Now you are a champion in your own right, so the bronze demon said.”
“Demon?!” Merry couldn’t keep the horror from her voice or the shivers that ran down her arms.
“I suppose we should get this out of the way: when I say demon, I don’t mean your kind of demons. Where I’m from, demon just means something non-human. All of us are classified as demons in my world. Anyway, Skip, that’s the demon Doyle mentioned, came down from his high and mighty perch to tell me that I was slated to be a champion, god I’m starting to hate that word, and what’s more- a champion for the Fey. Go figure.”
The foursome sat in shocked silence. Tentatively, as if she were still processing the information, Merry said, “But how did you know? About the jack outside the window?”
“Vision. Here I was, thinking I’d get to stay with my family and friends, live what passed for a normal life for me, maybe get that part I’d auditioned for last week, but no. Technicolor vision of you and Frost being melted away and finally shot. Guess the Powers knew exactly what buttons to push.” The bitterness in her tone surprised even Cordelia. She’d thought that she had a better control on her emotions, but it seemed that exhaustion and portal travel had a way of unraveling things. “I’m sorry… it’s just, well, this is new. I didn’t even know what I was until yesterday when Doyle jumped into my life.”
Doyle regarded her levelly. “We do not fault you, Princess Cordelia.”
“Cordy,” the seer replied automatically, though she didn’t think Doyle was the type to drop titles.
“Perhaps with rest…”
Cordy looked around at the table, looking at each sidhe and idly taking in the décor of the room behind them. It was spacious, elegant, peaceful, formal, and reminded her too much of her childhood. Her mother had a receiving room similar to this, and when she was younger, Cordelia had often snuck in to leaf through the books on the coffee table. Several times, she’d fallen asleep under the teak table, only to be woken and carried away by one of the servants to prevent her mother finding her there… Remembering those illicit naps, she suddenly felt how bone tired she was.
With a weary nod, she smiled at Meredith. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d love a chance to freshen up. Should I find Nicca?” The name of the cocoa colored sidhe came easily to her lips.
Doyle nodded, offering a hand to help her stand. “I’ll be happy to fill Merry and Frost in on anything else they find relevant, though they may have questions later.”
As if by magic, Nicca appeared in the doorway. He offered his arm to Cordelia and she smiled at the formality as he led her down the all. She could get used to gentlemen like this.
~~~Chapter 3: Nattering and Naps ~~~
The room Nicca showed her to was lovely, if impersonal. A large four poster bed of rich cherry wood was covered in a fluffy comforter in gold, cream, and white. A mountain of pillows tumbled off the bed to the floor on the far side, with a few scattered on a low window seat. Her bags were stacked in at the foot of the bed, neatly laid in a line.
An old fashioned armoire, also made of cherry with complicated whorls of vines carved into the veneer, sat against the left wall. A low dressing table sat empty except for a small potted plant of an indeterminate nature. Cordelia could see a bathroom done in gold flecked, pale granite tile beyond, counter top heaped with expansive white towels.
She took a deep breath, regaining her calm, and turned to the sidhe who accompanied her. “Thanks, Nicca.”
He smiled shyly and nodded. “You are most welcome.” Immaculately dressed in soft brown tailored pants and pale gold shirt, he stood a few steps behind her. There was a slim dagger attached at his belt, but no other visible weapons.
A movement outside the window drew her attention away from Nicca’s attire, and she walked forward, lightly touching her fingers to the glass. A large swimming pool glittered in the afternoon sun. Several chairs and tables littered the patio area, though none were occupied. On the far side of the pool, she could see a mansion of stucco and glass. Off to one side was a broad grassy lawn decorated with flower beds and fountains, arching trees woven throughout with glass balls like year round Christmas decorations. The lawn was lush and verdant, and Cordelia couldn’t help but cringe at the water bill.
On a blanket in the middle of the expanse of green sat a golden haired woman-a pregnant golden haired woman whom Cordelia was beginning to think might not be woman at all.
She turned questioning eyes to her escort, and Nicca nodded. “Maeve. She owns the house and the grounds. She allows us to live here as compensation for services rendered by Merry recently.”
“Another sidhe?”
“An exiled seelie sidhe, she came here to make a name for herself in Hollywood.”
Cordy couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Like minds, eh? I know the feeling.”
“You are an actress as well?”
“Hardly. Wanted to be, but it just…didn’t work out. Besides, it doesn’t exactly mesh with the whole fighting evil thing I’ve got going on.”
“Ah.”
Maeve sat up and gathered the blanket to her. Out of the shadows of the trees a young woman, human this time, came forward, helping Maeve to her feet and taking the blanket and book. The assistant lightly grasped Maeve’s elbow and began to escort her back to the house.
Cordelia turned away, heart clenching. It was too close a reminder of Connor now. She’d only just left him, but the possibility of never being able to watch him grow up, to never hold him close as he fell asleep again, to never see him turn to her with love in his eyes hurt too much. She had given up her life for these people, her friends, her family, her future. And she knew almost nothing about them.
“Are there many sidhe here? Or faeries? Is it faeries, or fey or what? I don’t even know what I’m supposed to call what I am, really.”
Nicca blinked those lovely dark eyes and frowned a bit. “No, princess, there are almost no sidhe here. They reside in Cahokia.”
“Forgive me, but huh?”
Tilting a quizzical head, Nicca said slowly, “Cahokia, Illinois. Do they not have Illinois where you are from?”
“Oh, we have Illinois. Cahokia too, actually, but I’m just surprised that the…er…sidhe live there. I would have thought they’d settle somewhere flashy like New York or even Washington D.C.”
“All of faerie lives there now, all courts from sidhe to demi-dey to goblin. Those that came over from Europe and accepted Jefferson’s offer that is.”
Cordy raised her eyebrows. “So why Cahokia? It seems a bit…hokey.”
“The mounds are there. Sithen mounds held magic of their own, and when we came over, we displaced the…residents…and took the mounds for ourselves.”
Distracted from the beautiful scene outside, Cordelia turned to Nicca. “I think I remember something about those mounds, but in my version of history, most of them were destroyed by archeologists.”
“Didn’t they sense the magic there?!?” Nicca seemed horrified, standing stiffly.
Cordy shrugged. “Probably not. Not many people even know magic is real, so I doubt anyone noticed something funny, and that’s presuming that whatever lived in your mounds lived in my mounds.”
“Is it so very different, your home?” The dark sidhe looked almost afraid to ask the question, shifting a bit to semi-hide behind that glorious hair. Cordelia had a sudden vision of sliding the dark mass over her bare skin like a veil, but shook the feeling off.
She looked out the window again, squinting at the bright sun, clear blue sky, and very ordinary looking lawn furniture. “It looks pretty much the same to me. Granted, we don’t have anything that looks like you there, but nowhere’s perfect, right?”
“But you do have vampires?”
“You heard that?” The seer pursed her lips a bit, giving her hair a toss.
A distinct chill ran through Nicca, and Cordy was taken aback by the haunted look in his eyes. “It is always best to assume that someone is listening-since someone usually is. Someone always is…”
With a mildly annoyed and thoroughly unconcerned snort, Cordelia answered the original question. “Yes, we have vampires. It’s like the whole magic thing, though, since most people don’t know they exist. Even people in my home town brushed off all the deaths as either PCP gang-related activity, deadly barbeque fork incidents, or wild animal attacks.”
“But not you?”
“No. Why is it that you all seem so unnerved by the concept of me working for a vampire? I keep telling you, he’s a good vampire.”
“It is not a matter of good or bad, princess, rather imaginary or real. In our world, vampires are merely nursery tale boogey men, not actual creatures of the dark. We have horrors far worse for that.”
She thought for a second, remembering Doyle’s reaction to the book of fictional creatures. “So vampires are imaginary here, and you fey types are imaginary in my world. Fair enough trade.”
She sighed, kneeling to open one of the duffels. “It’s hard to believe my whole life is in here-or all the life I could take with me. It seems so…”
“Insignificant?” Nicca said it with a smile, but Cordelia could hear the empathy in his tone.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m Queen C. It’s absurd that everything fits in three bags with a ghost on the side.”
Her brave front wilted a bit as she drew out a series of pictures. First came a picture of the whole gang: Angel, Wesley, Gunn, Lorne and Fred. It was taken not long after Angel returned from his brood over Buffy’s death, and though he looked gloomy, they looked like a family. Next came a picture of Connor wrapped in fluffy blue blankets, cradled in the outline of Angel’s arms. Another picture of Angel and Connor, this time with a smiling Cordelia hanging over his shoulder. There were some from her high school years, a few with Harmony and the Cordettes, a few with the Scoobies and one of her and Xander from their broom closet days. There was even one of Doyle from the very beginning of it all.
She gripped the pictures tight in her hand before slamming them down on the cherry dressing table. The brunette slid onto the fabric covered stool and faced herself in the mirror. She could see the outline of Nicca over her shoulder, standing still as death. The color of his shirt complemented the bedding, and Cordy wondered whether he’d done that on purpose-dressed to fit the house.
She refocused her eyes so the glass showed a young woman with chestnut hair to her shoulders, lightly streaked with gold, and caramel colored eyes. There was nothing there that said she was special-that said she was the one to do whatever it was that the Powers wanted. She just looked like Cordelia.
Tracing the outline of her body with her gaze, she reached one hand out to lay it flat against the mirror. When nothing happened, she balled it into a fist and thumped the frame lightly.
“Why? Why me?”
The mirror had no answer for her. It sat there as silent as the sidhe at her back. Still she looked, hands clenching into tight balls.
“I’m not a hero! Hell, I’m not even nice! Heroes are blonde cheerleaders or brooding vampires. Not me…” she trailed off.
A slow movement at her side snapped her attention back to the reality of her room rather than the reflection of what her life had become. Nicca smiled faintly at her and nodded at the plant. He touched the end of one stem, and in an instant Cordelia watched a flower grow and bloom. The bright red of the hibiscus blossom clashed with the room, but strangely, that made her feel even better.
“For you-please feel welcome here, even if it is not the world you’re used to.”
With another soft, shy smile and nod he turned and left, shutting the door behind him. Pushing herself away from the vanity, Cordy stood and walked to the bed. It was so invitingly fluffy and comfortable looking that she took a small hop and flopped into the middle, knocking most of the pillows to the floor.
The ceiling looked like most ceilings, white and smooth, but she could almost see a shape move across it the moment before Dennis’ icy touch slid over her shoulder.
“Hey.”
A chenille throw levitated out of the wardrobe and settled over her shoulders as she rolled over to lie on her side.
“Thanks Dennis.” She sighed deeply, snuggling down in the feathers. “Did you like the kitchen? How were the other guys?”
A noncommittal wave of a tubular pillow indicated Dennis’ only moderately enthusiastic response.
“Yeah. I get that. I so get that. But I guess we’re stuck.”
The pillow jiggled up and down before flopping on the bed.
“I know it could be worse. It could be a lot worse-still stuck as a cow in Pylea shoveling out real cow crap from stinky stables worse, but…”
Another comforting chilly caress and she closed her eyes.
“You’re right. Maybe it will look better after a nap. Lord knows that always helped Angel when he got into a brood. Er, not the Darla style naps, but the regular ones.” She breathed deep. “I guess we’ll see.”
A moment or two later and the only sound in the room was the soft snore of one very exhausted sidhe princess.
To be continued in Chapters 4-5