Angel - Shakedown Part 21

He whirled and struck, slamming the pitons into the chests of the nearest two Quake demons and activating the charges. Both spikes penetrated deeply with a loudWhump!

Angel threw himself into a corner of the pit and covered his head. An instant later the larger, secondary charges went off.

Chunks of rock flew. Gravel and dirt showered down. The air was filled with dust and smoke.

Angel raised his head cautiously. The two Tremblors he'd land-mined were still standing, but both had large craters in their chests. Neither was moving.

"Two down," Angel muttered.

And two to go.

CHAPTER TEN.

Doylewas torn. On the one hand, he knew he should get Harry as far away as possible; on the other, he didn't want to leave Angel alone fighting an unknown number of Quake demons.

"Doyle!" Angel shouted. "Get Harry out of here,now!"

That decided him. He pulled Harry to his feet and got him moving.

He'll be all right,Doyle thought as they ran.Angel can take care of himself.

Angel wasn't doing so well.

He had no room to maneuver, he was outnumbered, and he'd used up his only two weapons. With the sun risen, he couldn't even run. While the flareburned he had a slight edge, but that ended when the Tremblor that had grabbed him from below seized the flare instead and pulled it underground, extinguis.h.i.+ng its light.

The one with the pick in its head charged him.

He evaded its first few swipes, but then the ground began to shake. Angel saw that the other one had risen from the floor of the pit and was squatting with its hands against the ground.

Now off-balance as well, the next punch caught Angel square in the face. He staggered into the arm of the backhoe. Another punch knocked him to his knees.

Suddenly, his head was clamped between two rocky claws. His vision began to shake violently . . . and then there was only blackness.

"How long are we supposed to stay up here?" Harry asked.

He and Doyle were on the bungalow's roof. It was the only place Doyle could think of to go that the Tremblors wouldn't follow.

"I don't know," Doyle said. "Somethin's wrong. Angel should of kicked their rocky tails by now. Look, you stay here; I'm gonna go check on the battlefield."

He lowered the aluminum ladder they'd hauled up after themselves and clambered down. He half-expectedhands made of glossy black stone to thrust up from the ground and grab his ankles.

He jogged back to the gravesite. "Angel?" he called out.

No response. Doyle peered down into the open grave.

It was empty.

"Uh, Cordelia?" Doyle said into his cell phone. "We got a problem."

"Doyle? Do youknowhow early it is? This isn't one of those I've-been-up-all-night-drinking-and-Iloveyou calls, is it?"

"What? No, of course not. It's just that, well . . ."

"Well, what?"

"I sort of . . . lost Angel."

There was a pause.

"What," Cordelia said evenly, "do you mean, youlostAngel?"

"In the sense of temporarily misplaced."

"Well, why are you talking to me? Gofindhim!"

"That's gonna be kinda tricky. Unless you're a lot better at shoveling than I am."

"Oh,no,"Cordelia gasped. "The Tremblors got him?"

"Apparently. I was busy savin' victim number four, and when I got back he was gone."

"Doyle, what are we going todo?"

"Cordy, don't worry. I've got a plan. Look, I'm goin' back t'the office; meet me there as soon as you can." He hung up.

He wished he had the slightest idea what to do next.

Angel awoke to the sound of his heels b.u.mping against the ground. He realized he was being dragged by the back of his collar through a tunnel in complete darkness. There was a chuffing sound coming from past his feet he couldn't quite identify; after a few moments he figured it out as being the sound of earth collapsing. The Tremblors were sealing up the tunnel behind them as they went-and he had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, or how far underground they were. For now, he was at their mercy.

I see your thoughts are active again. Good. You can walk.

The Tremblor released Angel's collar and he dropped to the ground. He got to his feet slowly. "Where are you taking me?"

To the Grounding. They will decide your fate.

"Just the people I wanted to talk to. Lead the way."

That's exactly what I intend to do.

Angel followed the sound of shuffling footsteps. Behind him, the earth continued to fall in on itself.

When Cordelia got to the office, Doyle was already there. He was in Angel's office, staring at the map Angel had stuck up on the wall. There was still broken gla.s.s everywhere.

"Doyle? What are you doing?"

"Lookin' for inspiration."

Cordelia threw her bag down on Angel's desk. "I thought you said you had a plan?"

"Yeah, well, my plan was to come here, look through Angel's notes and stealhisplan. So far, all I have is this map and a bunch of push-pins."

"You better come up with something quick. Angel's depending on us."

"I know, I know. Okay, let's pretend we're him. How would he go about rescuin' somebody from a bunch of demons?"

"First thing he'd do is find their clubhouse." Cordelia dumped some gla.s.s off a chair and sat down.

"Right, except I'm pretty sure he'd call it a lair."

"Whatever. Then he'd get something big and sharp and go hack them to bits. Simple."

Doyle rubbed his temples. "Let's back that up a step, shall we? First we gotta locate the club-the lair."

"Okay. How?"

"Well, we know it's underground. That's a start. And . . . and we know the other locations where the Tremblors have struck." Doyle pointed to the map. "See-the push-pins."

"Great."

They both stared at the map for a moment.

"Now what?" Cordelia asked.

"Give me a second, w.i.l.l.ya?" Doyle stared hard at the map. Angel had drawn a triangle connecting three of the points: the firehouse, the lifeguard station and the flight attendant's residence. There was a fourth point now, just off to the right: the graveyard. It didn't quite match up with the others, though; if he connected all the pins, it just gave him a lopsided rectangle.

"Wait!" Cordelia said, excited. "You're not connecting them right-look!" She grabbed a pencil from Angel's desk and drew a line between two of the points, then two more angled lines branching away from the first pin. It formed a perfect arrow.

"There!" Cordelia said triumphantly. "That's where the lair is!"

"Cordy, d'you really think demons commit crimes that point out their secret headquarters? With an arrow?"

"It wasyouridea, Doyle."

"Yeah, but . . . I was lookin' for somethin' a little moremystical, y'know? Not a freeway sign . . ."

Cordelia shrugged. "Okay then-what kind of pattern doyousee?"

"I don't." Doyle scowled. "It's that one point that's throwin' everythin' off. It's almost as if there's a pointmissin' . . ."

Doyle took a pin and added it to the left of the triangle, across from the fourth one. He looked at it for a moment, then grinned and took the pencil from Cordy.

He connected the five points in a continuous line without lifting the pencil from the map. When he was done, he'd formed a five-pointed star-a pentagram.

"Bruce Wayne, eat your heart out," he said.

Two hundred and forty sunless years had given Angel better-than-normal night vision, but he was still glad to see a faint orange glow of light ahead.

The tunnel emptied into a low-ceilinged chamber. It seemed to be constructed rather than natural; the walls were a combination of craggy rock and hard-packed earth. Oddly shaped columns of stone were s.p.a.ced evenly around a low-lipped crater in the center of the room. The orange glow was coming from the crater; a pool of molten rock there threw off both light and intense heat.

Baasalt. You have returned. The voice that echoed inside Angel's head was deep and sonorous.But this is not the Fourth sacrifice we were told of.

"That's right," Angel said. He saw that the columns were actually Tremblors encased in stone.He could just barely make out the shapes of their bodies and faces in the rock. "You've made a mistake. I'm not a gravedigger."

No. You are a vampire,Baasalt thought.Is this not so?

"Well, yes-"

You have the scent of one who spends a great deal of time below the surface.

"I use tunnels to move around during the day, but-"

You were dead and buried at some point?

"It was only three days-"

Close enough. You will suffice.

Baasalt.It was the other mind that spoke-Angel realized it had to be one of the ones embedded in the columns.This is-unprecedented. The Fourth must balance the other three: one who braves flame, one who braves water, one who braves the Void- and one who cares for the earth. This one is a warrior, not a caregiver.

He is a creature of the earth,Great Batholith,Baasalt countered.That is sufficient for the ritual.

But what sort of Tremblor will be born of four warriors?

A new kind. One that will not be content to hide inside the Body of the World and play games.

One that will seek new experiences, new challenges. New territory.

There was a long silence.

"It seems," Angel said, "that there's a difference of opinion as far as my suitability goes. In a situation as critical as this one, you really should err on the side of caution. And-I'm n.o.body's sacrifice."

He lunged for Baasalt, and grabbed the pickax sticking out of the Tremblor's head. He yanked with all his strength and pulled it out.

(!!!!!!!!!!!!)Baasalt's telepathic scream was like a lightning bolt through Angel's head. Stunned, he dropped the pickax and fell to his knees.

Baasalt, thought the Batholith.Are you able to function?

I . . . survive,came Baasalt's reply.Though I cannot say the same about the two warrior-priests this one ended. Do not let their destruction be in vain.

You slew two warrior-priests?Even though his brain felt numb, Angel could tell this was directed at him.