Running on Faith: Season One: Episode 18: Funhouse
by filmtheory
Connor changed his bandages in the office of the Hyperion and hit the street to Angel’s hideout. It was a small apartment not far from Connor’s old squatter’s loft in Chinatown. Connor threw his old bandages in the back of a pick up truck. He hoped anyone wanting to track him would follow the strong scent of Connor wafting from his blood-soaked dressings.
Halfway to Angel’s, Connor ducked into a mall. Hoping to throw any potential pursuers off the trail, he bought a bottle of cheap cologne and doused himself with it. The pungent odor would be easy to follow, but not easy to link with Connor. Finally, he made his way to Angel’s apartment in L.A. It was actually pretty nice, considering the vampire would likely be there no longer than a few days. Angel had to keep moving. After all, the people tracking the vampire wouldn’t be lost by anything so simple as cheap cologne.
Connor lay down on the couch, closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
**
Faith picked up her phone. “Yeah?”
“Where are you?” Spike’s voice came form over the phone.
“Outside an abandoned club at Hollywood and North Highland. Our trail went dead.”
“Nice. No luck finding Eve. I’ll come join you.”
“Fine. How long will it take you guys to get here?”
“’Bout five minutes. And it’s not us guys. It’s just me. Angel ditched me almost an hour ago.”
“What?” Faith yelled.
“Don’t yell at me, luv. Nancy boy just turned and ran. Amid-argument I might add.”
“Get here when you get here,” Faith said, snapping the phone shut. It wasn’t that Faith wanted to be rude to Spike, but Willow was concentrating on fixing her spell. That meant it was up to Faith to deal with the fact that Dana was eying a mailman like he was a child molester.
“Hey, Dana,” Faith called. “Why don’t you come here and I can show you some disarming maneuvers.”
“I know him,” Dana hissed, eyeing the mailman.
“No, Dana, you don’t,” Faith said in her most impatient voice.
“Hello ladies,” Spike said, popping out from a sewer tunnel. “Ick,” he said, looking at the abandoned club. “Creepy place.”
“Yeah,” Faith said. “These old clubs are kind of-”
Faith turned as Dana bolted for the suspect mailman. “Spike, stop her!” Faith yelled as she bolted after the younger slayer.
“Daylight, luv,” Spike said, motionlessly in the shadows.
Willow turned and threw out her arm. “Levaté!”
Dana rose into the air. Unfortunately, her forward momentum continued and she flew at the mailman fast as a bird. Dana tackled him to the ground, smashing his head into the pavement. Spike made to throw his coat over his head, until he realized Angel had yet to give him the replacement coat.
Faith reached Dana just as the angry younger woman slammed the mailman’s head into the ground for the third time. The man was unconscious and a puddle of blood was leaking onto the pavement around him. Faith yanked Dana off the mailman. Dana turned, a look of fierce animosity in her eyes. Willow charged past them to the mailman’s side.
Dana threw two quick punches at Faith, who blocked them. Faith was too close to land a solid punch, so instead shoved Dana to the ground. Dana began to stand, but Faith delivered a hard kick to her face.
“Stop!” Willow yelled, looking up from the injured man on the sidewalk.
“Bugger that!” Spike yelled. “Kick her ass, Faith!”
Dana swept her legs under, tripping Faith to the ground. In a heartbeat, Dana was on top of Faith, grabbing her head the same way she’d grabbed the mailman before delivering a concussion.
Willow held out her arm. “Sleep,” she said in a quiet but forceful voice. Dana’s eyelids began to drop but the slayer struggled to keep them open.
“Sleep,” Willow said again, this time louder. Dana wobbled and crawled from Faith, desperately looking for cover.
“Sleep!” Willow shouted. Finally, Dana’s eyes snapped closed and she flopped to the ground. Willow turned back to the mailman.
“Still think you can help her, Red?” Faith said as she climbed to her feet and dusted off her pants.
“Right now, I’m worried about him,” Willow said, indicating the unconscious mailman.
“Maybe we should take this conversation inside the big scary mansion,” Spike called. “Before the cops show up and ask questions about crazy superheroes and comatose civil servants.”
Faith shook her head. “We shouldn’t move him. He might . . . . wait. Scary mansion?”
Spike pointed to the abandoned nightclub. “Yeah.”
Willow turned and looked at the club. Slowly, she stood and stepped toward it. She held up her hand. “Reveal yourself.” Nothing happened.
Faith looked back and forth between Spike and Willow, not sure which one was crazy.
“Abbassare la sua facciata,” Willow said, still holding her hand up.
“What the hell, Red?” Faith asked.
“It’s a glamour. That’s why the ball disappeared. It’s inside. Hidden by the spell that’s hiding the building.”
“Then how can Spike see it?” Faith asked.
“Maybe because he’s dead,” Willow said, stepping toward the building. “Maybe because he’s a demon.” Willow stepped toward what appeared to be the door. She was filled with a deep sickness, an absolute revulsion. Steeling herself, she reached forward and gripped the door. Immediately, the façade of a nightclub melted away, revealing Cyvus Vail’s mansion to her.
“Faith,” Willow said. “Come touch the door.”
Faith unconsciously stepped away.
“Faith, what you’re feeling, your fear of touching the building, it’s a spell. Touch the building and the spell is broken.”
“Good for the spell.”
“Maybe she should get postal boy to a hospital,” Spike said. “And the girl who went postal, she can get to the nuthouse.”
Willow walked back to the mailman and knelt beside him. “We should move him to the grass.”
“The grass?” Spike scoffed.
Willow looked up at Spike. The pupils of her eyes were gone. More accurately, they were as bright white as the rest of her eyes. “That’s what I said.” As she spoke, the mailman’s body floated away from the street and to a small patch of grass nearby. She walked to him and whispered, holding her hand over his head. She whispered and the grass seemed to grow over him.
“The grass will help him for a while,” Willow said. “But he needs a hospital. Spike, call an ambulance, then call Dawn. Have her get Dana back to the hotel. Faith, we’re going inside.”
***
Angel overtook Eve in the corridor. Grabbing her shirt, he pulled her down, toppling her to the ground. Spike removed a cross from her neck and slammed it against Angel’s hand as he reached for her.
Angel pulled his hand and leg up. He held his hand to squelch the pain. The leg he dropped, slamming down on Eve’s arm, breaking her wrist and forcing her to drop the cross.
Eve rose and tried to move away, holding her damaged wrist as she stumbled down the hallway. Angel grabbed Eve, and slammed her into the wall. “I know what you’re doing here! Now where’s Lorne.”
Eve broke into grief-filled laughter. “He ran,” she said through the chuckles.
“What about Spike and Dru. How’d they get here?”
Eve just continued laughing. “Spike and Dru? I’ve got other news, sweetheart. You didn’t quite finish off Lindsey. Standard perpetuity clause. And Angel . . . he’s going to kill us.”
With a shriek, Eve began struggling wildly, pulling loose despite her injured arm. Staring down the hallway to the main foyer, Eve pleaded desperately. “Lindsey. Lindsey, please! I tried. I love you! Please.”
Angel stared down the same corridor as Eve. He saw nothing. “Eve.”
Eve was already running frantically. Angel wondered for a moment if Eve was faking her terror just to get away. But he was still a vampire. And vampires could literally smell fear. The fear coming of Eve was real and extremely pungent.
Even if Eve was legitimately frightened, she was Angel’s only lead on what was happening here. He turned the corner to follow Eve. Immediately, Angel slammed into someone and fell down. “Connor!” he said, looking up at his son. “What are you doing here? And what happened to the clothes I . . . oh. Oh no.”
Connor stood blocking the hallway. He wore a red shirt and blue jeans. It was an outfit Angel would never forget. That was what Connor wore when he’d fought his father for the last time. The outfit he wore when he took a store full of innocent families hostage.
A cold and ominous grin spread over Connor’s lips. “Hi dad,” he said in a psychotically calm voice.
****
Willow and Faith crept slowly into the large foyer. Despite the frantic activity in other corridors, this room was eerily quiet. Occasionally a gust of wind or a creak of the stairs was heard. But mostly, the spacious room was dead calm.
“So now what?” Faith asked. “Can you do that green ball again?”
Willow shook her head. “I snagged some of Lorne’s hair when he hit the floor after reading Connor. That’s what I used for the spell. But I’m all out.”
“Maybe we could nab some hair from Angel’s comb or something.”
Willow shook her head. “We’re in a bit too much of a hurry to go playing CSI.”
“Oh shit. I forgot to set my TiVo to record that tonight.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to find Lorne, Eve, and Angel in time for you to get back and watch.”
Faith stepped deeper into the lobby. “Hello! Is anyone in here?”
“Good idea,” Willow said quietly. She closed her eyes and mentally searched the building. Hello. Is there anyone here?
Willow? a voice seemed to come form above her. Oh, thank god for you, hon. I thought I was a dead. I . . . aghhhh!
Lorne Willow thought hard. Lorne, where are you?
Willow looked at Faith. “I think Lorne’s in the room above us.”
Faith was backing away from the stairs. “This lobby’s at least three stories.”
“So we go up to the fourth floor,” Willow said.
“Um . . . great plan.” Faith pointed up the stairs toward a pack of zombies. “But how do we get past them.”
*****
Lorne ran hard through the hallways. Lindsey, in hot pursuit, was firing at him with a pistol. Lorne came to a stop in the hallway. Lindsey had blasted out a lamp on an earlier chase around this same corridor earlier. Yet now, the lamp shone its dim light into the hallway as it had before.
Lorne turned and faced the charging Lindsey. He laughed at himself for fearing what was clearly only a figment of his imagination. “Now, Lindsey . . .”
Lorne grabbed his arm and his body slammed against the wall as a bullet ripped through his forearm. Lorne turned and rolled away from the wall just as the lamp behind him shattered. Lindsey had shot it again.
Lorne continued running through the hallway. He ducked into a room, despite the fact that most room’s contained greater horrors than the halls. Still, Lorne needed to find Cyvus Vail’s office. Lorne wasn’t sure if there was a floor above him or not, but there were plenty below him. Vail’s office might be here somewhere.
Lorne listened as Lindsey ran past. Lorne turned to look at the room. Quickly, Lorne threw open the door. Behind him, the Trombli Priests, once rulers of Pylea, stood with a unit of guards.
“This son of mine,” Lorne’s mother yelled. “He is a shame to my womb! He fraternizes with the cows and makes despicable noises. I don’t just mean his incessant talking!”
The troops moved forward to apprehend Lorne. Lorne ran into the hallway and turned so that he could run in the direction opposite of the one Lindsey had gone. True, he was retreading old ground. But he hadn’t gotten a good look at the rooms and offices while he was dodging bullets.
Lorne turned a corner, still looking back toward the Pylean mob, spilling into the hallway. With a painful thud, he slammed into Angel, also looking behind him as he ran. The two demons fell to the floor.
“Angel!” Lorne said, a mixture of apprehension and relief.
“Lorne,” Angel said, slightly more angrily.
“Don’t look now, big guy, but our old pals from Pylea seemed to have portaled to a room back there.”
“What?”
“Around the corner. Probably on vacation. This place is definitely their cup of tea.”
Angel peered around the corner, then looked back. “I don’t see anything, Lorne.”
Lorne sighed with relief. “Must have gone the other way.”
“What are you doing here, Lorne?” Angel asked angrily.
Lorne had thought about this moment. The moment when he would have to tell Angel what he did and why. Then they could argue again as they had in the hotel. A boy’s destiny and the fate of humanity versus that same boy’s happiness and memories of a life that never was. In the end, Lorne chickened out.
“Eve dragged me here. I don’t know why.”
“Well, Lorne, I’m certainly sorry about that.” Angel had stepped forward as he said it, moving past the lamp on the wall. His face was now covered in shadow. Lorne got an ominous feeling from Angel’s tone, the closeness of his body to Lorne’s, and the fact that Lorne could no longer se his face very well.
“And I’m sorry I dragged you into a world of such moral ambiguity,” Angel continued. “But most of all, Lorne, I’m sorry that you thought I’d let you get away with destroying my son.”
Angel grabbed Lorne and slammed him against the wall. “Did you really think you could do that?! Lie to me? Come here to destroy Connor’s new memories. Did you think I wouldn’t find you?!”
Angel pulled a large knife form his belt. “Decapitation,” Angel growled. “And then desecration of the body. Do I have that right?”
Angle sunk the knife into Lorne’s neck. The green demon would have bellowed in pain had Angel not severed his vocal chords. Lorne kneed Angel in the groin and the vampire dropped him. Unable to speak and still wounded from Lindsey’s gunshot, Lorne dove for the nearest room and slammed the door behind him. Angel was going to kill him. Whatever Lorne saw in this room might be as bad as death, but it couldn’t be worse.
Lorne slid a dresser in front of the door as he heard Angel pound on it.
“Come out here, Lorne! Come out here and face me!”
Lorne couldn’t believe Angel really wanted him dead. Then he remembered that Angel tried to smother Wesley when the former watcher had kidnapped Connor. Angel sat passively and nodded when Connor politely threatened to kill Lorne if the demon ventured to do what he was now trying. Angel’s morality wasn’t ambiguous when it came to Connor. It was pitch black.
Lorne turned to face what might be seen in this room. Still unable to speak, he sank noiselessly to the ground and cried soundlessly. He had been wrong. This room was worse than death.
******
Angel had allowed Connor to back him into a room without realizing it. He bumped into something behind him and turned to see what it was. Looking behind him, Angel saw a glass counter filled with different kinds of portable radios. The room was white, as opposed to the usual dark oak interior of the hallways. The sporting goods store. The mall.
Connor walked toward Angel, still grinning. “So, dad. Looks like Lorne pulled this one out. What’s Plan B? How are you going to give up on me this time?”
“I never gave up on you son.”
“Really?” Connor cocked his head to the side. He nodded toward the corner where Angel could see himself cutting his son’s throat. “What do you call that?”
Angel tried to maintain a non-aggressive posture. “I didn’t have a choice. I wanted to give you a new life.”
“You wanted to make me a new person!” Connor smirked angrily and lowered his voice. “Because the old one was too damaged. Pretty brunette slayers get rehabilitation. But your own son gets his memory erased. His entire existence erased.”
“I wanted what was best for you,” Angel said loudly.
“You wanted what was easiest for you.” Connor removed a stake. “What about it, dad? Ready for another go round?”
“Connor, don’t.”
It was too late. Connor had thrown a hard kick, knocking Angel into and breaking the glass display case. Angel rolled to his feet and again tried to give off an air of peace. He turned quickly when the door to the room opened.
“Angel,” Willow said. She was moving into the room slowly with her hand upraised. Faith was in tow behind her. It looked like she was trying to fight her way in.
“Willow, be careful,” Angel yelled. “Connor’s . . .” Angel went down as Connor threw a quick punch to his ribs.
“Angel,” Willow called. “Connor’s not here.”
Angel looked and noticed that as Willow progressed into the room, the walls behind her faded from the interior of a sporting goods store back to a dark wood-paneled room. “Willow,” he said hopefully. “What’s going on here?”
“It’s a spell, Angel. I don’t have time to explain it. But nothing that’s happening here is real. Well, except me. Of course, I suppose the ghost-type thingies here are saying they’re real. But they’re not. And I am. And I have had it with this room!”
With a violent swing of her hand, Willow changed the room from the scene of Angel’s confrontation with Connor back to a regular room in Vail’s mansion. Breathing heavily from the exertion, Willow looked at Angel. “What kind of magic does this wizard do?”
“Did. He’s dead now. He did memory spells.”
Willow nodded. “He’s using our memories. It’s some kind of protection spell.”
“I was here before. This didn’t happen.”
“Maybe he was expecting you. Maybe the spell only activates when he’s not here to protect the manor himself. In any case, the spell is in place now. Lorne is here. We have to find him.”
“He’ll be upstairs,” Angel said. “Probably in Vail’s office.”
“How do you know that?” Faith asked suspiciously.
Angel walked toward the door. “Because I know what he’s after.”
Willow held out her hand, stopping Angel form passing her. “I go first.” The witch led the way from the room, and again reached out to Lorne mentally. Lorne, where are you? As with the last two times she reached out for Lorne, the only response was whimpering.
Willow led Faith and Angel to the stairway. As he walked, Angel marveled at how different the building looked from just moments ago. The structure and aesthetics were essentially the same, but the building was cleaner. It was no longer covered with dirt and cobwebs.
“Where would Lorne be going?” Willow said as she headed towards the stairs.
“Vail’s office,” Angel answered.
“I’m going to need coordinates,” Willow said, not looking back.
“Take a left on the top floor,” Angel said.
“Damn,” Faith said as Willow arrived at the collapsed stairwell. “It’s blocked.”
Willow shook her head. “No it’s not.” She pushed forward with much difficulty. Eventually, the illusion collapsed and the image of the rubble faded. Willow led the group forward.
“Something I don’t get,” Faith said. “You sent Wes to kill this guy. How’d he get in if humans can’t see the joint?”
“Wesley had already been here once with Illyria. Once humans touch the front door, they can see the place. One of Vail’s guards let that slip on my first trip here. Poor dumb bastard thought I ripped his arm off for information.”
Faith laughed. “As opposed to . . .”
“Couldn’t get a good grip on his head.” Angel tapped on a door. “This is it.”
“My man,” Faith patted Angel on the back.
Willow nodded. “Alright, guys. If this is Vail’s office, it’ll probably have the most powerful spells. Whatever you see in here, remember; it’s not real.”
“Felt pretty real when Darla punched my jaw,” Angel said.
Willow turned and glared at Angel. “Only because you let it. Your own mind is Vail’s only weapon against you. Don’t let him control your mind.”
Without warning, Willow threw open the door and entered the office. Faith and Angel followed her in.
*******
Inside the office, pandemonium reigned. The room was in and of itself a realm of constant violence. A horrific chorus of screams, both distant and near, filled the air. Trees swiped at passing creatures either for food or to implant seeds. Creatures devoured other creatures only to be devoured themselves. Fire sprung from midair without warning. A blood red ocean shot sudden tidal waves that engulfed animals and dragged them screaming into the murky see. Even the air itself seemed to bite at them as the breeze blew.
In the midst of this cacophony, Lorne sat kneeling on the floor, screaming silently. One of the ferocious trees was growing from his shoulder.
Willow ran to his side. She shouted loudly, but her words were overcome by the sounds of growling and screaming animals around them. Whatever she said had done the trick. The tree wilted and Lorne came to his feet. Faith and Angel pushed against the violent and painful wind, making their way to Willow and Lorne.
The temperature suddenly changed from burning hot to freezing cold as black snow poured from the sky and covered the ground in an instant. “What is this place?!” Faith yelled.
Lorne tried speaking, but no sound came out. Angel merely frowned.
“I don’t know,” Willow shouted. Her voice was still only barely audible over the clamor. “But if we’re all seeing the same things here . . .”
Faith pointed. “Bad ass tree.”
“Right!” Willow called back. “That means this place is different that any of the others. The memories probably aren’t coming from one of us.”
Lorne began pointing to himself and speaking soundlessly again.
“Lorne!” Willow shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s all in your head. There’s nothing wrong with you. Now what are you trying o say?!”
Lorne tried speaking again. Still no sound emanated from him.
“What are you trying to say?!” Faith yelled along with Willow.
Willow began to try her spell, but suddenly burst into tears. Angel had felt it too, but only barely. The wind seemed to carry with it a feeling of hopelessness and pain. Faith grabbed Willow, trying to shake the witch out of it.
Willow was inconsolable. She wept horribly. It reminded Angel of the time that, as Angelus, he watched Willow cry over the death of her beloved teacher, Jenny Calendar.
Faith angrily turned to Lorne, desperate for the information that the demon possessed but could not convey. “For god’s sake, Green. Write it out or something! What’s going on?! What is this place?!”
“It’s Quar’toth,” Angel said quietly. “It is the darkest of the dark worlds. Lorne saw it once. In a reading.”
Faith looked at Angel, then looked around. When they entered, it seemed the size of a room. Now, this horrific land stretched on into infinity. “Whose reading?” Faith asked.
Angel turned away from Faith, ignoring the question. He surveyed the land in which his child was raised. Suddenly, a teenage boy in animal hides, all skin and bones, pounced on a creature, slammed a blade into its neck, and drove it to the ground. Angel smiled weakly and sadly. He wondered if Faith could see this or if Vail’s trap was again reaching into his mind for ways to hurt him.
“Isn’t that . . .” Faith said astonished. Angel’s question was answered. “Lorne saw it in a reading,” Faith repeated. “He got sick when he read Connor. Then you argued. Then he came here.”
Faith turned and scanned the room that looked like a land of torture. “Oh shit,” Faith groaned as the flesh suddenly began to disintegrate from her hand. Still, she looked around, concentrating.
“Lorne came here because of Connor,” Faith said, pushing forward. “Reading Connor made him sick because this is what he saw. And he came here to find something related to Connor.”
“So what?” Angel yelled, falling into step beside Faith.
“So I say Red was right,” Faith shouted, pressing on. She noticed now a hollowed out tree with a black glow emanating from it. “If we all see this, it’s not coming from Lorne’s mind. It’s coming from something in this room. Something Lorne came here to find after he read your boy!”
Angel grabbed Faith. “Leave it!” he shouted, seeing the tree.
“Leave it?!” Faith shouted incredulously over the whaling cries and howling wind. He glanced at Willow bawling on the ground uncontrollably. Lorne was being attacked by the tree again. “Angel, they’ll die here! We’ll die here.”
Angel tightened his grip. His resolve burned in his eyes. “Then we all die.”
Faith glanced at the others, then back at Angel. “Do we, Angel? Is that really what you want?”
Angel glared at Faith for a moment, then released her. Faith sprinted for the hollowed tree. She dodged a swing from one of its spiked branches and slid in to the entrance. Angel slid in right behind her.
Three pedestals were inside, each holding an orb. The ones on the right and left were small and clear, portraying images. The one in the center was large and seemed filled with a black sludge mist that swirled. The first orb projected the images inside it onto the wall behind it. In the third, the images seemed buried within the orb.
Faith picked up the first orb and smashed it. She grabbed the large black one and slammed that one to the ground, smashing it as well. A great roar erupted. The black mist shot from the room with a powerful wind gust that knocked the third orb from its pedestal. Just before it smashed on the ground, Angel grabbed it.
Faith looked around. Lorne and Willow were on the floor, regaining their composure. The room was now a room again. An office. Gone was the horrific tableau that had originally greeted them.
Willow crawled to Angel and glanced at the orb. “Was that me in that orb?”
“No,” Angel said, quickly shoving the orb in his pocket. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Faith looked at Angel. “But . . .”
“You wanted to end this,” Angel said impatiently. “It’s ended. Now let’s all go home before we do any more damage.”
“What about Eve?” Willow said weakly.
“She’ll be long gone by now.” Faith said.
Angel began to storm from the room, but stopped by Lorne’s side. He didn’t look down as he addressed the demon.
“I have the orb,” Angel said quietly. “Which means if you want it, you have to come through me to get it. Do you understand?”
Lorne nodded sullenly.
Angel didn’t look, but he could tell Lorne had nodded. “Do you really understand?”
Lorne nodded again.
“Good.” Angel looked at the door again. “What you tried to do today was unbelievable,” Angel huffed. “Because of the things you’ve done for me . . . the things I made you do, I’m going to let this go. But Lorne, if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” Angel left the room without another word.
********
They’d apparently been inside Vail’s manor for hours. It was dark now. Dusk had been some time ago. Angel walked the streets, holding the orb in his pocket. He smiled. At last, his son’s memories and his son’s future were now in his hands. Not Cyvus Vail’s. Not Wolfram & Hart’s.
Angel pushed open the door to his temporary apartment. Connor’s scent, as well as that of bad cologne, filled Angel’s nostrils. Angel smiled. He’d be leaving soon, but tonight he’d talk to his son.
The conversation would be painful. There were apologies to be made on both sides. Angel had deep suspicions that Connor was feeling particularly guilty about a more recent and more painful betrayal than his tryst with Cordelia. Angel would be angry. He might even cry. Perhaps Connor would cry with him. But they would work past it. They would find a way to go on loving each other.
Angel closed his eyes and reminded himself of the constant danger the two of them still faced. It was a trick Angel had learned to keep from losing his soul; injecting a sad thought into a happy moment. At long last, Angel had finally won Connor’s new life, and his own, completely. The mortgage was paid off. It brought Angel dangerously close to perfect happiness.
Angel stepped into the dark living room. He’d expected to find Connor asleep on the spare bed. Instead, the boy was standing in the living room, facing the door. The lights were out and the room was dark, but Connor’s silhouette could be seen from the light coming through the window. His posture seemed off somehow. Confrontational.
“Connor?” Angel said soothingly. “Are you okay?”
“How?” Connor asked in a quiet but harsh voice. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get me here?” Connor growled. “How did you get me here?”
“Get you here? What do you mean?” Angel’s eyes drifted down the outline of Connor’s form. His arms were too long. Knives. He was holding knives in both hands.
Angel reached into his pocket and removed the orb. He looked down at Willow talking to Connor in the lobby of the Hyperion. Three orbs Angel thought. One for the darkness Connor brought with him from Quar’toth. One to store and project the happy memories of his childhood. And one to hold back the memories of what really happened.
Angel looked down at the orb in his hand. It showed a newsperson interviewing Connor about being Jasmine’s father.
“Oh,” Angel said quietly. “Oh no.”
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