FROM CHILDHOOD'S HOUR Part 12

She was late. Lilah didn't like it. Which, all things considered, was fairly ironic.

Lilah decided to relax while she waited. The furniture was comfortable as well as ornate. Choosing the most throne-like chair, she sat down. It faced the elevator. Not really a coincidence.

She took out an atomizer and quietly applied a mist of scent. Best to be prepared.

The apartment was one often used for visiting dignatories, hence some of its more unusual features. For example, the walk-in freezer contained shackles built into the wall (although calling a freezer wasn't really accurate seeing how the cooling elements were never--to Lilah's knowledge--used). Likewise, the walls were thoroughly sound-proofed. Anyone investigating the apartment (and getting back alive, their memories intact) might report various paraphenalia, which most would take as evidence of kinky sex. Actually, those specific tools involved feeding rather than procreation, according to the files. Even stranger, to some, would be the security arrangements. Bullet-proof glass seemed normal enough, but the elaborate precautions against sunlight would be a tip-off to anyone familiar with the genuinely supernatural, as would a title search of properties within a ten-block radius. Saint Michael's had been a perfectly ordinary--in other words, consecrated--church until this apartment was acquired by the firm. Now, an elaborate foreclosure and business deal later, it was a nightclub that catered to some particularly violent, antireligious types. And just in case that proved insufficient to thoroughly desanctify the ground, a basement had been "lent" to another client. What had taken place afterwards would have desecrated Gandhi's hut.

And the tapes made proved a nice bit of insurance. Just in case.

Best to be very, very prepared. Oh, yes.

Idly, Lilah wondered what the vampiric version of Willow Rosenberg might have spent her time doing in the last few hours. Some thoughts came immediately to mind--the equivalent of summer break, she supposed, for predatory blood-drinking demons. That would actually be rather comforting, all things considered. It would mean she was little more than a typical vampire, smarter than most, stronger as well, but not in any sense genuinely different. Which would make her more predictable, easier to handle. Less dangerous.

Wouldn't that be nice? And Lilah didn't think the world was nice. Parts of it, maybe, but not in general. She strongly suspected Willow was a vampire more like Drusilla--potent in surprising and atypical ways.

But, then, so was Lilah. Holland had suggested taking back-up to this meeting, and had been genuinely surprised when she politely refused. Lindsay and Gavin had each lifted their eyebrows at this exchange. She'd seen it through the corner of her eye, and very nearly laughed out loud. No doubt they'd been pleased, positive she's be losing weight before long--several liters worth--leaving a nice hole in the power structure of the Special Projects Division.

The elevator's engine rumbled to life. She was here. Good. Or--well, the waiting was over anyway. Taking out her atomizer, Lilah gave herself a thorough dose. The files on Willow Rosenberg included lists of what scents she found most appealing. Becoming a vampire shouldn't have affected that.

Barely seconds later, the doors slid open.

Willow's vampiric twin didn't walk into the room. She slinked into it. Copper tresses fell to her shoulders like a mane, her pale face neatly framed by them and by the high black collar of her outfit. The open coat nearly reached the floor, but it was open enough to reveal black leather that might as well have been thick latex paint. It hugged every single curve. Slung around her hips was a chain belt, from which hung...tools. And above, a diamond-shaped opening revealed more cleavage than one would expect in such a slender figure.

Of course, it was the eyes and the smile that really grabbed Lilah's attention. Bright emeralds of vicious glee, almost identical to those of certain snakes Lilah had seen.

And the mouth. Its tips were curled up, the lips parted, and a red tongue played against the teeth as the vampire named Willow spoke.

"I wasn't expecting a visitor."

Lilah rose, eyes never leaving the young vampire. She even approached a few steps, but not too many. The idea was to demonstrate courage, not a suicidal urge. "We were a little worried when you didn't return hours ago. Your summoning represents a considerable investment."

"Oh. And I'm supposed to...care?"

"We can be very useful," Lilah answered. "And we make formidable enemies. For now our interests are the same, and it is best for everyone if that's how matters remain.

Exactly like a cat, Willow began slowly circling Lilah. The tapping of her boots on the hardwood floor made a steady rhythm as she made a full circuit all the way around. And another. Just a trace of an echo followed each step, bouncing against the walls and back. She managed to keep the same slow, steady speed throughout--just as Lilah managed not to move, not to turn and watch Willow's every move. Neither said a thing until Willow nearly finished her third orbit. She stopped suddenly, bringing a foot down onto the floor hard! Behind Lilah she stood--behind and to the left. Perfectly placed for feeding. Which she must have known Lilah realized.

"You're alone," murmured Willow.

"If I had any security, you'd certainly be able to detect them."

"That's right." She said it with a kind of sing-song note. "I would."

Lilah said nothing. Backing down or cowering--any sign of weakness--would be fatal at this point, even if she managed to survive the actual encounter. Predators only respected strength, she knew that. Show yourself a fellow predator and they will deign to respect your territory, you space. Show weakness, and any predator will rightly think "prey" and sooner or later "lunch."

"So what did you want to tell me?" Test the waters, good. Even, dare she say it, hopeful?

"Actually, I was sent to ask you something. Did everything go as planned?" Careful, don't rub her nose in the fact she was given orders. Don't ask if she obeyed them. It was a subtle point, but from such tiny details wars were won. And lost.

"Pretty much," said Willow. She took a couple of more steps. These were not in a circle around Lilah, but towards her. Lilah made herself not turn and look, even though she could sense the vampire less than a foot from her left shoulder--and the exposed neck above that. "Followed him to the hotel, blah blah blah, waited till the cop left, blah blah blah, went up to his room..."

"What about the security cameras?"

She didn't answer for a moment, but stepped even closer. A cold finger began running up Lilah's arm. "Worried about me?"

"The plan called for you to be seen." Neutral. Don't invite anything. Or reject it.

"Oh, I was," she purred, "everybody in the lobby saw me. More, " she leaned in and lowered her voice to a husky whisper, "they noticed me. I made sure of that."

"How..." Lilah almost caught her voice cracking but controlled it by an effort of will. She could feel those emerald eyes on her neck. "How did you get him to let you into his room?"

Willow's chuckle was so low Lilah could barely hear it. "Just walked in. He couldn't stop me. Hotels are no protection. Fact is, he didn't have any protection. None at all. That's just" she almost giggled "unsafe, you know? And in this day and age, too." Her laugh was nothing like Drusilla's, other than being equally feminine and in at least some ways equally cruel. Willow came across as a tremendously able sadist, one who in time could be a true artist of pain. Drusilla, on the other hand, laughed as an evil godchild might--seeing humor few could fully grasp, and fewer still would wish to.

But now Willow nearly laughed outright. "I let him scream," she confided, "cause when I bit, he didn't die right out. We can do that, you know--bite to kill, bite to weaken so we can play, and sometimes we just bite to hurt." Now her face was even closer. As she spoke, cold breath moved some of the hairs on Lilah's neck. "There's one other way we can bite, have you ever heard? We can bite in a way to seduce, to give pleasure. That's how we bite each other."

"Really." Stillness. Do not bolt and run. That isn't the plan. It would not work. Remain still. Calm.

"Oh yes," this last was practically a hiss. Willow's hand was practically on her shoulder now. It rested there, clearly waiting for a reaction--and enjoying the wait.

Then, hand on the should grabbed! And the other hand wrapped around Lilah's head, yanking her back in a smooth motion that put Lilah exactly where she clearly preferred. "Wanna see what its like?" Willow purred. A long, cool tongue traced the length of Lilah's artery.

And Willow jumped back with a cry of pain! The acrid smell of burned flesh reached Lilah's nose, but she paid it no mind. Her own motion was not as smooth as Willow's, but it sufficed. A cross was no longer in her pocket but in the air between them--and a good thing, too, for Willow's face was now that of an enraged demon. A demon in pain! Golden eyes blazed in feral rage, and her fanged mouth snarled!

"Did you like my perfume?" Lilah asked. "Its a fine art, the designing of scents. But you know what's interesting? It doesn't matter whether the perfume itself costs a king's ransom or goes for a couple of bucks a gallon--over ninety nine percent of every perfume is water." She strolled over to the exit, the one to the hallway flooded in sunlight this time of day. "Distilled water, tap water, doesn't really matter. You can even use--for example--holy water."

Willow's eyes burned no less fiercely, but now there was a wariness as well. Good. For all practical purposes that even counted as respect.

"As something of a bonus, to make our gratitude for all your efforts clear, we'll be sending over a courier later today. He should be here around five o'clock. As he'll explain, your signature is needed before he can hand over the package. What you do with the package itself, of course, is up to you. Its just an old shoe box. But we did screen the courier very carefully." The door. Good. "We'll talk later, shall we?" Lilah chose to take the vampire's snarl as a consent. And left.

***

Faith frowned, listening to every word out of Kate Lockley's mouth. On some level she realized she hadn't blinked in a long time, but didn't care. She welcomed the soreness, used it to help her focus--to ignore the hustle and bustle of the police station.

"Willow was with me," said Tara.

"I'm sure she was," Lockley said, her voice flat. All around her, other police officers walked by, mostly carrying paperwork. Lockley herself sat at a desk as if it were a gun turret. Of course she couldn't say anything about what she knew. All these other cops considered her one of them. Until she started using words like "vampire" and "demon." Then it'd be time for the tranq darts and coats with the long, long sleeves. "I doubt any single human being could be responsible for the wounds on your father's body."

Right. Lots of hidden meanings in those words. Well, not that hidden. Both Tara and Faith got it--the ones who counted.

"You haven't asked very much about that, how your father died."

"Dad and I didn't get along."

"I noticed. But you're not even curious." Every word was an indictment. Tara didn't blink.

"And we were at Faith's apartment from the time you left, until you returned."

"Have witnesses, do you?"

"Matter of fact, Katey," said Faith, "they do." Bitch.

Lockley looked at Faith without flinching. Her eyes said she was equal to any challenge. Welcomed it. "You were with them all night?"

Faith waited a split second. "Not every single second. But I'd've heard either one of them leave."

"Not the most convincing of arguments." Oh, yeah--she was enjoying this. "For the record, Orin Mclay died of shock due to extreme blood loss and massive trauma to the throat and caratid artery. Sound familiar?" Now she glanced at Tara. "How about you?"

"Yes," Tara said calmly. "It seems we have something in common. That is how your father died too, wasn't it?"

Ouch. That hurt. Faith was if anything even more impressed at how Tara punctured Lockley. She'd known the detective long enough to recognize signs of controlled shock, even pain. Then again, maybe she didn't need that much time. Lockley's face froze, not even blinking, and a light in her eyes recoiled then flared. In anything, her face then grew stiffer. Much as Faith enjoyed Tara's barb, she figured it hadn't made things any better.

"My father's killers ended up really dead." No longer undead, was what Lockley didn't have to say.

"I know," noted Faith, reminding the detective exactly who it was who dispatched that pair of vampires, and in the process saved Lockley herself. As expected, she didn't really answer.

Instead Lockley altered her stance. She turned to the paperwork at the desk, no longer even glancing at her guests but all business. "Your friend is being questioned. We'll let you know when she can have visitors. If I were you, I'd be looking to get her a lawyer." Gone was the bitter avenger, in her place a workmanlike public employee doing her job. There was still an edge to her voice, but the self-righteous fury had been put away. Not gone, merely supressed. For now.

Faith was about to grudgingly suggest they leave, but something about Tara's stance made her wait. Not any of her attention had wavered, but remained focussed on Lockley. It grew and grew, until after several more seconds Lockley herself looked up.

"What?" Both eyebrows rose in an almost elaborate show of politeness.

"You arrested Willow."

Lockley's expression didn't change. "So?"

"Not bring her in for questioning, not even interview her at the apartment. You just arrested her. Why?"

Faith's first reaction was to say that was just Lockley over-reacting, as usual. But in moments she saw the point Tara was making. An arrest just to make trouble would have included Faith and Tara herself. In fact, given the latter's nature, that would have been more than just an annoyance. Depending on where she was taken, and how, that could have hurt or even killed the beautiful vampire. Contemplating that even for a moment made Faith feel dizzy. Somewhere--probably in her bones--she knew that blow would prove more than she could possible handle. Bee, then Gunn. The death of Tara would send her spiralling into a darkness she once thought put behind her forever. For starters, Lockley herself would die. Exactly how Faith didn't know, but she did realize it would be as long and as painful as possible. No member of the LAPD would be safe. All the details of the room seemed shrinking, suddenly much further from the Slayer than was really possible. Could Tara really be yards and yards from Faith when moments ago they'd been separeted by mere inches? Lockley's desk looked a quarter mile distant. The walls shouldn't even be visible at all. Faith took half a step back in confusion, half-expecting herself to fall endlessly as her foot tried to reach the floor a football-field's length from her. That was impossible. So what? It was how she felt. And in that split second the implications sank into every cell of her body.

She loved Tara. For real. Or was it? Did it matter? Whatever it was she felt for Tara was certainly more than an idle sex dream or mild fantasy about having the kind of love Red clearly enjoyed. Even the mild thought of Tara's death make Faith's blood boil, and her ears ring.

Wasn't that love?

If it wasn't, what was it?

"You're right," Lockley was saying. About what? "There is evidence. You managed to hide your own entry into the hotel, along with your exit. But that poor girl you used, she walked right past the security cameras. Twice. Over a dozen witnesses, too. That was clumsy of her--or was it?" Lockley's voice lowered as she leaned forward. "Myself, I'm pretty sure she was following orders. Your orders. After all, I can't go after you, can I, when there's such a good and obvious suspect captured on tape? Clever." She sneered this last, then caught Faith's eye. "Better watch out. After all, look how she treats friends. Even her really, really good friends."

"I believe," said a familiar voice from behind, "your comments are irrelevent to the case, Detective."

Faith and Tara looked behind them, even as Lockley sat up straighter, her face turning more guarded.

"My firm is offering my services as counsel to Miss Willow Rosenberg," explained Lindsay McDonald. He looked at Faith. "You're looking good, Faith." Then at Tara. "You too, Miss Mclay. Nice to see you again."

What the hell?

TO BE CONTINUED