Part Eight: Relic
Fangs, dripping blood. "Sweet Kathy. Ye are dead."
Her hands to her throat. Wet. Wounded. "No!"
Panting for air, she sat up in bed. The healing scar on her neck burned as if the wound were new. The darkness of the room pressed upon her like a tomb.
"I'm not dead," she whispered to herself. "I'm not dead."
The whisper seemed unnaturally loud in the late night stillness. With the thick curtains on the windows, she could have been alone in the universe. Irrational fear continued to lurk and build. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. And when she closed her eyes, she could still see the nightmare.
"I'm not dead," she said a little louder, trying to dispel the fear.
But ye should be her mind continued to taunt her.
She bit back a whimper and rose from the bed. Wrapping a robe around herself, she left the room and padded barefoot down the dark and silent hall.
'Tis like a tomb.
No matter how she tried to dispel it, that image would not go away. Unbidden, a sob rose in her throat and tears blurred her vision. I am not dead!
"Kathy?"
She jumped, startled. Liam - Angel - stood in one of the doorways, his hair disheveled. Kathy blushed to see that he was not wearing a shirt.
He took a cautious step towards her. "Are you alright?" he asked.
Kathy opened her mouth to answer, only to find her throat closed off by immanent tears. "Sweet Kathy. Ye are dead."
Moments later, cool, strong arms wrapped around her. "Shh," he whispered, reassuring nonsense, and she let the tears flow.
As her sobs finally began to calm, he led her gently back to her room. Sitting by her side, he did not let go of her until her tears had ceased flowing. At last, she pulled away slightly and he let her, pausing only to hand her a handkerchief.
"Thank ye," Kathy whispered.
He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head.
"Nightmare?"
"Aye," she whispered back. "I dinna mean to disturb ye."
"You didn't," Angel replied softly. He gave her a small, teasing smile. "I'm more of a night person, anyway."
"Ye always were," she agreed with a forced laugh.
"Kathy..."
She swallowed hard. "Am I alive?" she whispered after a moment.
Angel looked at her in shock. "What are you talking about?"
Kathy looked up into his dark, serious eyes, searching perhaps for a truth that only he knew. "Am I alive?"
"Of course you are," he was quick to reply.
"How do ye know?"
Angel touched her shoulder lightly. "Because I feel you. You're here. I can hear your heartbeat."
"But ye also killed me," she whispered.
Angel flinched, pulling his hand away. "Yes," he said hoarsely.
"Then how do ye know I'm alive?"
"Because you are," he said strongly.
"Well, I shouldna be!" Kathy replied, raising her voice.
If possible, Angel looked even more guilty. "Don't say that," he begged.
"'Tis true!" Kathy insisted. "I feel it in me heart."
"No. You're just confused. It's the time change..."
"Aye," she agreed, staring him in the eye once again. "'Tis. And I donna belong here."
"You do belong!" Angel objected.
Kathy just shook her head. After a moment she whispered, "I miss Mother and Father."
"I know," Angel replied in a tight voice. His expression was sullen and withdrawn.
"But you donna," she continued, looking at him seriously. "Ye have yer own family 'ere. Ye've become a part of this time, and I canna. I just canna."
Kathy could feel Angel take a deep, unnecessary breath beside her. "I wish I could help you feel otherwise," he said. "Please, tell me how I can help."
She shook her head. "Just give me time, Liam," she said. "I want me time back."
"I'm sorry."
Kathy nodded to herself. "I know."
At last Angel stood to leave her alone. "Goodnight, sweet Kathy," he said softly. "Sweet dreams this time, yes?"
"Aye," she agreed, though much of her found that unlikely. "I will try."
He turned in the doorway with a small, sad smile. "Kathy?"
"Aye?"
"You are alive."
She smiled ever so slightly in return, clinging to that shred of light. "Thank ye."
"No, no, no," Cordelia was saying, leaning over Angel's shoulder. "It was more curvy looking."
He glanced over at her, stopping his drawing for a moment. "Do you mind?" he asked gently, slightly annoyed.
Sitting across from him, he noticed Kathy stifling a grin.
He drew a couple more lines and then stopped. "There," he said, "I think that's it."
Wesley and Gunn glanced at the drawing once he held it up. "Looks pretty close," Gunn commented.
Angel handed the sketch over to Wesley.
"I'll see what I can do to interpret the symbolism," the ex-Watcher said, focusing on the image even as he walked over to one of the office chairs.
"I'll check for it anywhere else," Gunn said, pitching in.
Angel glanced at Cordelia.
"What?" she asked, looking up over her magazine at him.
Kathy stood abruptly. "I shall...get donuts," she offered.
He looked at her in surprise.
"I went with Cordelia the last time," she reminded him.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" Angel asked his sister gently.
Kathy looked a bit confused at his use of slang, but just as Angel was about to restate himself she smiled. "Ye said I should become more involved in this time, aye?" she asked.
"Well, yeah..."
"So I am tryin'." She grinned at him with a touch of mischief. "An' the store keeper said that he liked my accent," she teased.
Angel smiled slightly, and after another moment's pause handed her a twenty dollar bill. "Be careful," he said.
She shoved the money in a pocket. "Ye worry too much," she said, and practically bounced out the door.
For a long moment after she left, Angel just stood there.
"She'll be fine," Cordelia said loudly.
"I know."
"Besides, 'ye worry too much.'"
Cordelia's attempt to mimic Kathy's accent was laughable, and Angel wasn't the only one who thought so.
"That was terrible," Gunn commented.
"Yeah, well, I'd like to see you try."
Gunn sounded quite amused when he replied. "You don't hear me trying for a reason."
"If you don't mind..." Wesley interrupted.
Gunn shot one last smirk at Cordelia, and then Wesley had all of their attention.
"We had something we were going to try and accomplish," he reminded them all.
Gunn went for the computer and Angel for the bookshelf, even as Wesley tried to put his own prior knowledge to the task of interpretation. He scratched his thoughts on a pad of paper beside him, the sound of pen and flipping pages replacing the conversation of moments before.
Every once in a while, Wesley would speak his thoughts out loud. "Well, this one is simple enough," he'd muttered.
"Hmm?" Angel asked, looking up from a useless text.
Wesley looked up as if startled he'd spoken. "This part of the symbol," he said, gesturing at Angel's drawing, "is typically understood as signifying infinity. Though I am curious as to why it would be used in this combination."
Angel frowned. "Strange to use in a ritual for death."
"Perhaps there was more going on than we realized," Wesley suggested. "It is too bad that other woman ran off before we could speak to her."
"Yeah," Angel muttered, something else he could not name bothering him. "Too bad."
"Still, the combination of this with the scales..."
"Guys...?"
"...suggests some sort of attempt at balance...creating or maintaining...or perhaps, monetary scales..."
"Guys!" Cordelia interrupted loudly. Once she had their attention, she stood up and slapped her magazine down on the table in front of the two of them. "This what you're looking for?"
There, in a tiny classified ad in the corner of the page, was the symbol Angel had drawn. Next to it, in the simplest and vaguest words, was "LIFESPAN: Creating Life From Death" and a phone number.
Wesley looked at the advertisement with wide eyes. "It sounds like they're attempting resurrection," he said. "Or immortality."
"Which people in this town would pay a pretty penny for," Cordelia pointed out.
"...how much people will pay for a couple of years..." Angel muttered to himself.
"What was that?"
Angel looked at Wesley seriously. "Something the woman we 'saved' said," he explained. "She asked if I knew how much someone would pay for a couple of years." Suddenly, another piece of information clicked into place. "Isn't 'Lifespan' the company victim number three's family thanked for their donation?"
"Yeah, sounds like," Gunn agreed, joining in the conversation.
"So, what?" Cordelia asked. "They're trading in years?"
Wesley nodded. "Of course! Think about it. One person 'sells' what's left of their life, and a large chunk of money goes to the family they left behind."
"And some rich old woman pays an ungodly amount of money for whatever years they can get," Cordelia finished.
"But, looking at these deaths of the fatally ill, it would seem that this...trade...only works with those who are going to die anyway."
Gunn gave them an odd look. "Aren't we all going to die anyway? I mean, barring Angel here..."
Wesley shook his head. "Those whose deaths are already certain at a particular point in time," he amended. "Fated."
"Well, there goes the possibility of gaining twenty years in one shot," Cordelia commented.
Angel had another idea, and one that did not sit well with him at all. "What if you knew one was meant to die, and you interfered with their fated death? How many years could you get from them then?"
Wesley paled. "Oh dear."
Gunn didn't seem to have come to the same revelation, but he had a question of his own. "Where's l'il sis with the donuts?" he asked. "I'm hungry."
The evil cliffhanger streak continues!
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