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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Not that he ever let on. The soul of professionalism, that was Lindsey. Face blank of ambition, devoid of greed. He was the perfect lawyer for a man a thing in Mr. Winters s position. Discreet, loyal, nonjudgmental. Whatever Mr. Winters needed the law to do, the law would do. Lindsey McDonald would see to that. The Los Angeles Underground had been a controversial mass transportation project from the get-go. At least two construction workers had died. It had gone so over budget that some sections of it cost five hundred million dollars a mile. With the huge digging machines that were brought in, the construction workers uncovered fossils that were eight and a half million years old. In North Hollywood a digging crew unearthed the original tile floor of the building where the treaty which ended the California phase of the Mexican-American war was signed. In the new tunnels beneath Union Station thousands of artifacts from Los Angeles first Chinatown had been found. Rumors were rife that many other things had been dug up; things people could not identify: strangely shaped bones; bizarre objects currently labeled as Asian Miscellania. It appeared more and more likely to Angel that Sunnydale had nothing on Los Angeles. He sat alone in the darkness of one of the subterranean construction tunnels. The distant rumbling of the subway was like the warning growl of a massive animal. Doyle approached slowly. Obviously, he knew about Tina s death. Dully Angel said, She wanted to go home. Doyle was sympathetic. Yeah. I d like to compliment the Powers that Be on a terrific plan. I really saved the day. It didn t work out, Doyle agreed. It didn t work out? Angel felt a rush of anger. Tinadied. A vampire ripped her throat out. Was that the grand scheme? No one controls the future. You re a soldier. You fight. He gestured. Sometimes you lose. That was true. He had lost before. Buffy had lost before. Even the best weren t the best every time. I . . . I cared about her, he said, the words coming with difficulty. And it wasn t enough. I was supposed to help her Doyle cut him off. I don t know. Maybe she was supposed to helpyou. Maybe she had something to give you. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Like what? Grief. Angel looked at him, considering. There s a particularly nasty vampire out there. Rich, protected, can do any damn thing he wants. He s killed, and he ll keep on killing till someone s mad enough to take him down. He got in Angel s face. What you need, boy, is a bit o therapy. You have great pain. It s time to share it. Angel considered. How did you share pain like this? It was private. More important, it was necessary for his soul. Wasn t it? Rumania, 1898 In the winter of 1898 Angelus took a coach through the Carpathian Mountains, bound for a rendezvous with Spike and Drusilla. Eavesdropping on the ghost stories the prunish old chaperon was murmuring to her delectable charge, a delicate young heiress, he grinned and wondered what she would think if she knew what kind of monster sat reading a French novel across from her. The second night on the journey the rear axle of the coach snapped. The coach veered precipitously close to the edge of a deep chasm. The women were like hens, shrieking and flying about inside the coach, and it was only by taking command of the situation that Angelus managed to escape unharmed. He told them to join him on the opposite side of the coach, their combined weight serving as a counterbalance. He climbed out first (naturally), urging the horses to move right, using their weight. He assisted the fainting ladies out and managed, with the horses, to drag the vehicle a bit away from the chasm. The driver had been thrown off, his neck broken on impact. Though Angelus assured the ladies he could drive a coach, or preferably lead them out on horseback, the females returned to their blind panic. The women s shrieks and yowls were so intense that they eventually attracted a pack of wolves. The creatures of the night surrounded the three travelers and stared with hungry, glowing eyes as the snow began to fall. The horses reared and screamed, and the wolves gathered their muscles, preparing to spring. When Angelus stood between them and the horses, they backed down in submissive postures. As for the two women, they clung to each other and began praying and making the sign of the cross, until Angelus could abide it no longer. He tore out the throat of the older woman, which caused the wolves to attack the horses. He was able to save two of them, but to his regret, the wolves took the opportunity to drag off the young heiress. Smears of her blood in the snow told him where they d gone, but he figured there d be nothing, if anything, left worth retrieving. So he made a fire and sat beside it for a time. The snowstorm was worsening, and he wondered what he should do for shelter when the sun rose. He considered the carriage and decided that if nothing else, it would keep the sun off him. What a cramped, boring refuge that would be. Perhaps the heavy snowfall Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html would be sufficient to keep the morning brightness at bay. The fire crackled, and he sat drumming his fingers. Now and then a wolf would venture near, but sensing what he was, they all kept their distance. An hour dragged by. Then the snow fell too heavily to see his pocket watch. He felt rather ridiculous. He wondered if Spike and Dru had already reached Budapest. Then, in the swirls of white, a fair-headed woman approached. She was singing sweetly, and when he cocked his head and squinted through the storm at her, she said, Hello, precious. Darla. His wonderful Darla. Nice weather we re having, eh? he quipped. It was as if they had never parted. She came to him and kissed him, and they curled together in the snow, oblivious of the freezing weather. Her eyes were a crystalline blue, like the frozen Siretul River. Her lips, pink and lustrous. She was more beautiful than he had remembered. Where have you been, you naughty man? she chided. On my way to Budapest, he informed her. Alone? She touched his face. He transformed for her. And she for him. Not anymore. They rolled in the snow and cavorted like the wolves that watched them. The wolves that knew far better than to attack these splendid predators. * * * The snow stopped falling midday the next day, and the sun came out. Angelus and Darla hid in the carriage, amusing themselves by catching up. The horses survived the storm, and the two vampires mounted them, riding bareback. They traveled on to Budapest. Spike and Dru met up with them. There was an earthquake, of all things, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |