Lindsey slid behind the wheel of his Lexus SC430.
Dropping the small brown paper bag in the passenger
seat, he opened the envelope the clerk handed him.
The page contained only two words: Prove it. “How the
hell am I supposed to prove it?” he grumbled as he
turned the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot.
****
Willow sat in the corner of the room and chewed on her
cuticle. Her eyes focused on the rent-a-cop as he set
a tray of food in the middle of the floor. He was a
skinny rail and Willow knew she could take him down
without breaking a sweat.
She could smell the fear on him like cheep
after-shave. In the hospital he would have been
fertilizer. Fortunately for him, the burly guard
standing in the open doorway gave her pause. The
woman was built like Chyna--the wrestler or the
country, take your pick--but was no where close to
being pretty. *This is your face on steroids,* she
mused with a giggle.
Ratzo startled at the foreign sound and scurried out
the door. The WWF champ glared at Willow. “Eat,” she
grunted before closing the door behind her.
“Eat,” Willow mimicked at the closed door. She
stretched out her leg and nudged the tray with her
foot. “You’d think a big swanky law firm would serve
better food than Oliver Twist,” she grumbled. “Not to
mention supply their ‘guests’ with a real bed,” she
said louder, in case the room was bugged.
She stared a the bowl for a few minutes hoping the
lumpy gray mass would transform into a Belgium waffle
with fresh whipped cream and strawberries.
“Rosenberg, it’s not gonna taste any better cold,” she
advised herself.
****
Holland Manners watched the video screen closely.
While at times the young woman paced her room
restlessly, she usually sat in the corner staring off
into space.
The buzz of his intercom sounded extremely loud in the
quiet office. “Yes, Mrs. Pruzan,” he said depressing
the button. “Your seven o’ clock appointment is here,
Mr. Manners,” she replied.
The office door opened just as he was about to inform
his assistant he didn’t have a seven o’ clock
appointment. The red head locked in a guarded room in
the sub-basement entered the office. Or at least the
woman wearing her face. Although he kept a pleasant
expression on his face, Holland was furious. He
waited until the door closed behind her. “What are
you doing here?” he demanded.
She sat in the comfortable chair across from his
massive desk. “I got bored.”
“Bored! I’m not paying you to be bored,” he
protested.
“You haven’t paid me anything yet,” she sneered.
His cold blue eyes glared at her. “Someone could have
seen you come in here.”
“Oh, don’t get your boxers in a bunch, Holland,” she
said. She closed her eyes and her features began to
shift. The short red hair lengthened and changed to a
bile green. Her milky complexion reddened and scaled
over. When her eyes opened Holland watched the pupils
explained until her eyes changed completely black. “I
don’t know how you humans can tolerate such soft
skin,” she said with a shutter.
“What do you want, B’squ?” he asked.
She examined her black claw-like nails and used one to
pick her jagged teeth. “I want the Fay crown,” she
replied.
“And you will get it,” Holland said through clenched
teeth. “Once the job is finished.”
“And why am I supposed to trust you again? I mean, you
are a lawyer.”
“I give you my word.”
“A human’s word is worth the paper it’s written on.”
Holland closed his eyes and tried to gather what
remained of his patience. “What would you like me to
do?”
“Show me the crown,” she answered slyly.
He chuckled. “As if I would keep such a valuable
relic here in the office.”
B’squ shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “It’s only
valuable to the Fay.” He smiled. “Fine. I want a
Fay blood oath that once this is done, I gain
possession of the crown.”
“Your blood or mine?” he asked.
She curled her lip in disgust.
Holland opened a desk drawer and removed an enamel
box. The lid contained thirteen mystical glyphs, one
for each royal house of the Fay. Opening the box,
Holland removed what looked like a thimble and a piece
of parchment. Setting the thimble aside he wrote out
the agreement. After B’squ read and approved the
statement, Holland set the small metal cup on his left
index finger and pressed the tip on the lower right
corner of the paper. Tiny pins pricked his finger tip
and blood oozed through tiny holes onto the parchment.
B’squ cut the pad of her right thumb and pressed it to
the opposite corner. A small glimmer washed over the
agreement and the Fay blood oath was sealed.
“Are you happy now?” Holland asked as he replaced the
items and wiped his finger clean.
“For now,” she answered.
“Good. Now go do what you were hired to do.” B’squ
stood and waked to the door. “Please change.” She
shifted her appearance to enter the building. “Damn
faeries,” he muttered.
****
Angel turned the page of his book. He re-read the
same sentence four times when the front door opened.
He glanced up and saw Willow enter. “Where have you
been?” he asked.
She paused a moment. “Out. Why was I supposed to be
somewhere?” she asked hesitantly.
He realized how harsh he sounded. “No. We were just
worried, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m fine.” She moved to take a seat on the
couch across from him. “It’s just after two years of
being locked, the freedom to go out whenever I wanted
is irresistible,” she replied with a laugh.
His dark eyes studied her carefully. “I can
understand that. Just remember to be careful.
There’s still a lot of evil things out there,” he
warned.
Willow reached over the coffee table and patted his
knees. “I don’t think it’s something I’ll forget for
a long time. Probably never.”
Angel nodded in agreement. “Oh, Spike was looking for
you earlier.”
“Okay. Where is she?”
“I believe he’s on the roof having a cigarette,” Angel
said.
B’squ wrinkled her nose. “He really should quite.
It’s such a nasty habit.”
“If there’s one thing Spike’s not, it’s a quitter,” he
chuckled.
B’squ shrugged and walked to the elevator.
Angel watched her over the edge of his book. He
noticed the differences Spike told him about: the way
she scratched her hand, her posture, and the subtle
awkwardness she had in her body.
****
B’squ stepped out onto the roof. “Spike?” she called.
“Over here.”
She turned towards the sound and saw the glowing tip
of his cigarette. She moved closer to him. “Angel
said you were looking for me.”
Spike reached out and caressed her cheek. “Yeah.
Haven’t spent much time together since you’ve been
back.”
B’squ had to force herself not to flinch at his cold
touch. If there was one thing the Fay hated with
every fiber of their being it was the dead. And she
had to live with two of them, but the crown was worth
it. Wasn’t it?
She moved away and stood at the low wall bordering the
roof. Resting her hands on the curved ledge, she
sighed. “I know. It’s just been kind of weird, you
know. Being out in the real world. After two years
of looking at the world through metal grating locked
in a ward with a dozen other women, I suppose I needed
to spend time by myself outside. In the sun.” She
bit her lip, uncertain of his reaction.
The blonde vampire wrapped his arms around her waist;
he rested his chin on her shoulder. “I understand,”
he whispered. “I really do. I’ve just missed
sleeping beside you every night.”
B’squ closed her eyes and swallowed back the bile
rising in her throat. She circled his wrists with her
small hands. “And I appreciate your restraint,” she
hedged.
*Don’t know as much as you think you do,* Spike
thought with a faint smile. He and his red witch
never had the luxury of spending an entire night
beside each other and they hadn’t wasted those
precious hours with sleep.
****
Lindsey sat at his desk nursing the scotch in his
hand. He stared at the amber liquid hoping for an
idea to come to him.
“Working late again, Lindsey?”
The young lawyer saw his boss standing in the open
doorway of his office. His thoughts were so
preoccupied that he didn’t hear the door open. “Only
way to get ahead,” he replied.
Holland nodded in agreement. “Very true. The senior
partners have their eye on you, Lindsey.”
*That’s not necessarily a good thing,* Lindsey
reminded himself while he smiled and nodded.
“I hope taking Lilah’s case load hasn’t hindered the
quality of work we’ve come to expect of you.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied.
“Good, good,” Holland said cheerfully. He grasped the
door knob and pulled the door close. “Don’t work too
hard,” he said just before the door clicked shut.
Lindsey tossed back the last of his scotch and
finished the briefing notes for his first case in the
morning.
****
The elevator doors parted on the fourth floor of the
sub-basement. Lindsey stepped out with purpose and
strode confidently down the barren corridor. When he
passed the Progothian demon sitting in the shadows, he
gave no notice. He reached the two guards at the end
and glared at them. “Well. Open the door,” he
snapped.
The smaller of the two guards hesitated. “Mr. Manners
didn’t say anything about visitors this late.”
Lindsey narrowed his blue eyes. “Mr. Manners is an
extremely busy man. I’m sure he does not have time to
keep you informed of every last detail,” he said
sarcastically. “Mr. Manners put me in charge of
seeing to Ms. Rosenberg’s comforts.”
Mutt and Jeff looked at each other, still hesitating
to open the door.
“What? Do you think I’m going to smuggle her out in
my briefcase? Please,” he snorted. The guards
chuckled at the idea. “It’s not as if she’s not under
24 hour video surveillance.”
“True,” the taller, bulkier guard agreed. He’d been
guessing at the surveillance but knowing Holland
Lindsey figured he’d be keeping an eye on their guest.
Lindsey took a step back and raised his arms in
defeat. “Call Mr. Manners on his cell phone. Ask him
yourself if it’s okay to let me in.”
“No, that’s okay. You’re right. She may be small but
she’s not going to fit in that brief case,” Shorty
said punching the keypad to the door.
The young lawyer stepped through the door and spotted
Willow sleeping on a mat shoved against one wall. She
looked so beautiful and peaceful curled into a loose
ball under the blanket. He was reluctant to wake her.
“You gonna stand there all day or are you coming in?”
she asked.
He smiled and moved farther inside the room. “I
didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized.
“You’ve never been in prison before,” she stated. “I
mean as an inmate, not a lawyer.”
Lindsey set his briefcase beside him on the floor.
“Can’t say that I have,” he replied.
“Neither have I, but I figured the loony bin is just
about the same thing,” she said with a sardonic smile.
“Anyway, you don’t actually sleep. It’s more like
resting your eyes until the sun comes up. If you
sleep you could wake up dead the next morning.”
“Really?” he asked surprised. IT was difficult to
imagine this delicate pixie living in such an
environment.
“Really. Usually it’s over some slight, real or
imagined. I had to beat the crap out of some new girl
who stole my matches.”
Lindsey started to laugh until he realized she was
serious. “Over matches?”
“I had to. She was bragging about it. I would have
appeared weak if I didn’t do something.” She patted
his knee. “It’s a different world on the inside.”
He thought about the assault and battery case he was
defending in the morning. “I’m not so sure about
that.” His blue eyes wandered around the empty room
and paused on his leather briefcase. “Oh, I have
something for you.”
“What is it?” she asked suspiciously.
He opened the latches and removed a carton of
cigarettes. “I hope the brand is okay.”
Her eyes grew large and bright at the sight of them.
She felt like she was going to cry. “Please tell me
you have matches,” she asked breathlessly.
Lindsey frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have any
matches.” He watched the light in her eyes fade as he
reached into his jacket pocket. “All I have is this.”
He held up a cheep plastic lighter.
Willow slugged him hard on the shoulder. “Oh, you!”
She opened the carton and unwrapped the plastic wrap
on a pack. Her first drag on a cigarette in two days
was almost orgasmic. “I don’t suppose you have an ash
tray in there, Mary Poppins.”
“Mary Poppins?” he asked.
“Yeah. She carried all the creature comforts in her
carpet bag. A coat rack, a lamp and what not. You
just use a briefcase.”
Lindsey laughed at the analogy and removed a plastic
ashtray from his “carpet bag”. “Watched a lot of
Disney movies?”
“They were considered safe movies to show the
patients. Or, at least, they were until Jessica tried
to fly like Peter Pan.”
“Fly?”
“Yep. Right out the fourth floor window. I guess her
thoughts weren’t happy enough cuz she went splat.”
She sucked down the last of her cigarette, burning it
to the filter. “Goddess that tasted good,” she
exclaimed.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He began straightening
some files in his briefcase. “Willow,” he whispered
without moving his lips. “The room is monitored by
video, possibly sound.”
“Figured as much,” she whispered back.
“I got a message to Angel. He wants me to prove that
you’re here.”
The red head lit up another cigarette; she blew the
smoke in front of her face to obscure the cameras. “I
take it a picture won’t work.”
“Too easy to doctor. Can you tell me something no one
else would know, except you and Angel?”
She stared at the red glow of her cherry. “Tell him
I’m not allowed to have boys in my room,” she said
with a faint smile.
“Huh?”
“Just tell him. He’ll know.”
Lindsey closed his briefcase and stood up. “I’m not
sure when I’ll be able to get back. My schedule’s
pretty tight now that I have to take Lilah’s case
load.”
Willow smiled at him. “How is Ms. Morgan recovering
from her ‘car accident’?” she asked sweetly.
“Slowly,” he replied with a grin.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she added sarcastically.
“Isn’t it though.” He knocked on the door and waited
for it to open. “Take care of yourself.”
“It’s what I do best and thanks for the smokes.”