Impressions (16 page)

“I’
m thinking I hope Gunn goes another way.” Cordelia looked out over the chaos of the Golden State Freeway. The dark trees of Elysian Park lined the southwest side of the freeway…as did too many cars to count. It had turned into a group experience, this pulling over to the far lane to stop and say
Did you see that?
to people you didn’t know…people who on another evening would honk and shout and make rude gestures but on this day merely contributed to the mess.

Although, of course, the honkers and shouters were out in force as well.

“Take heart,” Wesley said, raising his voice. “Lutkin and the faux Angel had to come this way too. Even if they made it off Academy Drive to the Pasadena Freeway ahead of us, they can’t be too far ahead. Not in this.”

•  •  •

Demon blood turned the streets red.

And orange, and sticky green, and one color Gunn didn’t care to describe.

He drove up Alvarado, eyeing pavement that looked like a paintball battle had taken place—and knowing that most people would believe that to be the case. Gunn himself only truly understood since Cordy’s quick phone data dump.
What a mess.
He’d already rolled over one demon himself. It had been so enraged by the deathstone emanations that it had apparently been unable to perceive the basic flaw in playing chicken with a full-sized pickup truck, and Gunn doubted it would have any opportunity to apply its new knowledge to future encounters. It had, if he recalled correctly, bled yellow, an ugly stain under the streetlights as seen in his rearview mirror.

He switched the radio on, tuning to KFWB—“All News, All the Time.” Not his usual fare, but they had good traffic reports—
as if anyone could keep up with this
—and, given the circumstances…still, jabber jabber jabber…. He turned the radio down and concentrated on making time, not the least bit concerned that the overworked cops would tag him for speeding.

They were already plenty busy tonight. Mostly getting there too late, puzzling over the inexplicable aftermath of a drive-by demoning, trying to take reports, comfort witnesses, grab up the still-living and get them to medical help. Gunn passed a handful of stopped patrol cars with flashers going and muttered, “Give it up, guys. You’re in
waaay
over your head.”

He wondered if the same might not be said of him.

Here he was, racing to help someone who not so long ago had made an aborted attempt to kill him. He could have stayed where he was, supervising the youthful and barely prepared neighborhood watch. He could have gone back to his gang—they didn’t pretend to understand his new focus with Angel Investigations, but then again, sometimes neither did he. And they would have welcomed the extra hands on a night like this, along with the wealth of experience on which he could draw.

Extra hands.
Maybe that’s what it came down to. Honorable as it was, he didn’t want to fight these battles as a foot soldier. He didn’t want to be an extra hand. He wanted to be in the center of the action, making a difference. He’d understood from the start that it meant working with Angel, and he’d adjusted to that fact.

But every now and then something happened to remind him just who Angel was. Just
what
he was.

And just what lurked within him.

But the bottom line remained the same: He wanted to be in the center of it all, combating L.A.’s problems at the source. He wanted to be at the zoo tonight, and not prowling the streets ignorant of the larger picture. And it still meant working with Angel.

So yes, here he was, racing to help someone who not so long ago had made an aborted attempt to kill him. Because when it came down to it, he was racing to help everyone under siege in L.A.

“Aim high,” he muttered to himself. Though he couldn’t let the dry amusement distract him from another bottom line…that the phrase
know thy enemy
sometimes potentially applied to Angel.

Tonight—in a violence-riddled city inundated with deathstone emanations that also targeted Angel—held more potential for it than most.

So. Don’t forget it…

He took the entrance ramp from Allesandro to the Golden State fast enough to make the outside wheels taste air, checking behind him to see that he’d come in ahead of the big, slow glob of headlights…the area beside Elysian Park, where the trees crowded the freeway and who-knows-what could come crawling up the steep park slope. Wouldn’t even have to be a violent who-knows-what—just something driven out of hiding; the way people rubbernecked at the simplest fender bender, a single exposed demon could snarl traffic for miles.

Gunn was betting there’d been more than one.

“…zoo,” said the radio broadcaster, a puzzled note in his voice—as if he wasn’t sure why he was reading puff headlines in the middle of demon wars, no doubt already being labeled gang activity of some bizarre sort. “The Aussie Auction fund-raiser is being held in Koala Corner, where many of the creatures from Down Under will be available for viewing, some of them up close and personal. This invitation-only auction is limited to three hundred people, all of whom will be bringing their checkbooks….”

Great. Big do at the zoo.
Innocent, clueless civilians, with no idea of the crisis that darkness and an unstable deathstone had wrought. And Lutkin creeping around in the dark, with his own personal fund-raiser in motion.

Angel gave the parking lot a baffled glance. The zoo should be long closed, the lot empty, the gates locked.

“We’re going to have a hard time finding Lutkin in this,” Cordelia observed with disapproval, her mouth curled down on one side to match her tone of voice.

“Hell, we’re going to have a hard time finding Gunn in this,” Angel said, cruising slowly between rows of parked cars, fighting the impulse to jam his foot on the accelerator and zoom through the rows at the kind of speed his reflexes could handle. Fast, tire-squealing, hair-raising speed that would fulfill some dark corner of his—

Not his. Just feedback from the stone they were here to liberate.

In the next row over, several people disembarked from a zoo tram, after which the tram slowly puttered back toward the entrance and eased to a stop. “They’re starting to leave,” Wesley said. “We should hurry. This may be our best way into the zoo.”

“
What
might be our best way in?” Cordelia asked, looking a little wary.

Wesley waved a vague hand at the parking lot, at the leaving visitors. “This,” he said.

The man and woman walking to their silver Lexus wore formal evening attire, chic without being overdressed, expensive without being gaudy. Angel looked down at himself. Black leather jacket, black leather pants. Black T-shirt—or at least a black Pima cotton pullover that pretended to be more than a T-shirt but really wasn’t. Stark and unadorned. Wesley had a three-button henley over slacks, and Cordelia—looking great as usual—wore a totally funky halter top under a hooded knit jacket and over low-slung jeans, and carried a big canvas weapons bag. “We aren’t exactly going to blend in.”

“And we shouldn’t try,” Wesley replied. Then, startled, he pointed out to the empty end of the parking lot. “Is that—?”

Angel let the car idle, following Wesley’s gesture.

Gunn. Standing atop his pickup truck. Not in the truck bed, but on top of the cab itself. Also not blending in. When he spotted them spotting him, he waved in an arm-crossing signal flag gesture and hopped down from the truck.

With a glance at the gate, Angel reluctantly drove to the open area, parking alongside Gunn.

Gunn didn’t even wait for them to pile out of the car. “Did you spot them? I haven’t seen them—which is just a little strange, considering they were in a taxi.”

Angel surveyed a parking lot full of sleek cars in sleek colors as they gathered between the vehicles. Nothing so obvious or garish as a taxi service sign sitting on the roof of any of them. “This is where he said they were coming.”

“It’s close to midnight,” Wesley observed. “Even if they made it here ahead of us, they should be in there somewhere. And I think it’s reasonable to assume that the traffic obstacles and the situation here has slowed them down.”

“Aussie Auction,” said Gunn.

Cordelia said, “What’s that? And what does it have to do with finding the deathstone?”

“It’s a big moneymaking deal in Koala Corner, wherever that is. And it’s in our way. Invitation only, so we can’t just pretend we’re with the program.”

“Not at all,” Wesley said with satisfaction. “The people from the tram are leaving the event, which must be just about over. And people who’re leaving aren’t nearly as careful with their invitations as people who are entering. This could well be much easier than trying to get in when the zoo is otherwise empty.”

Cordelia sighed. “Search the parking lot?”

“More than that,” Angel said. “Watch the people coming out. If Lutkin made it in there, so did the fake Angel…and so did Lutkin’s buyer. Even if we didn’t get here in time to stop the buy, they’ve all got to come back out.”

“Divide and conquer,” Wesley said. “Angel, your night vision would serve us best if you act as lookout in case they
do
come back out. The rest of us will take a quick look for dropped invitations—not to mention that taxi. It would be nice to have confirmation that they were here at all.”

Angel opened his mouth…closed it again. Wesley was in charge now. That’s the way it had to be for the gang to deal with their recent conflict…
his
recent behavior as he tried to deal with Darla’s presence and what she and Wolfram and Hart had planned for him. That’s the way it had been since they’d come together again. Why it should raise such resentment at this point, such an intense impulse to go fang-face and—

Because of the bad mojo, to quote a certain Host.

He suddenly realized the others had hesitated, were watching him, doubt and suspicion on their faces. That his every thought had probably been reflected on his face.

On the other hand, there was the night vision thing. Maybe they were just waiting for him to say something stunningly wise.

Or not.

“Okay,” he said simply, and headed for a vantage point closer to the pennant-lined walkway that led to the round, modular entrance gate, well aware that he’d both surprised them and that they weren’t entirely satisfied by the exchange. He stood in a pool of shadow, taking up his post unseen by the tram driver as the woman finished her coffee break, stuffed a thermos in the pouch beside her seat, and put the tram back in motion. Even as she entered the zoo, several patrons exited, on foot and cheery in their conversation. They probably didn’t even know there was a vampire lurking within striking distance, and wouldn’t have had the faintest idea what to do if—

Stop that.

Bad vampire. Bad. Count to ten, ignore the pulse and swell of someone else’s emotion battering him from the outside in. Watch for Lutkin and a version of Angel who really didn’t look anything like him at all and, above all, keep control of that part within that felt such kinship with the dark emotions of this night and ceaselessly battered at him from the inside out.
Angelus.

“Get lost,” he muttered to that part of himself.

He thought he heard the faint sound of laughter.

Cordelia immediately found the halves of an invitation, figured it would look torn in half and unconvincing no matter what she did with it, and tucked the halves into her pocket to throw away later. “Really,” she said out loud. “Some people are such pigs.”
Ripping up a perfectly good invitation like that…

She heard voices, and ducked down between cars, staring steadfastly at the ground to make herself feel invisible. There was no point in trying to look casual in this parking lot, underdressed as she was and lurking as she so obviously was. So of course the voices drew closer, and closer, and…stopped.

With much trepidation, she surreptitiously peered upward. An exquisitely dressed man and his exquisitely dressed male escort looked down at her, extreme disapproval and suspicion not the least bit hidden on their faces. “Honey,” Cordelia said loudly, “did you find it yet?”

From the next row over and coming closer, Gunn said, “What are you—,” and then switched gears so obviously that Cordelia wanted to smack her own forehead. “No, dear, still looking.” Where’d he learn his delivery, from watching
Leave It to Beaver
reruns?
Whatever
. She was the actress here; she’d have to save the scene.

She allowed herself to discover the couple. “Oh—hi! This must be your car. Nice car. I lost a ring around here somewhere earlier today….” She moved out of the way so one of the men could open the front passenger door, and they eyed her with identical, barely mollified expressions, interrupting only to eye Gunn with the very same doubt.

She smiled like someone preoccupied with finding a ring and thought she’d carried it off quite well, too, until the fellow getting into the car muttered at her, “A flashlight might have helped.”

“Dead batteries,” she chirped ruefully, trying to keep her eye-rolling expression from manifesting itself. She returned to looking under cars as they watched, exchanging words within the car until she thought they were going to change their minds and find someone to report her to. Finally the driver started the engine and slowly backed out of the parking spot. Cordelia heaved a sigh of relief, snatched up the invitation the driver had dropped when he fished out his car key, and went to join Gunn. “Boy, did that suck. I thought they were going to…,” but she trailed off, for he was paying no attention whatsoever. Stung, she squelched an impulse to skewer his Ward Cleaver imitation and instead followed his gaze.

The taxi. Checker Cab, located right on Alvarado, along with the Alvarado Palms Hotel, where Lutkin had made his temporary home.
The sign had been torn off the roof—deliberately,
Cordelia thought, so the car wouldn’t stand out in the parking lot. As if it weren’t covered with deep claw scratches, unidentifiable goo, and distinct tooth marks. And as if it weren’t yellow and several years old, unlike any other car in the lot.