The Wind Beyond the Walls of the
Mind
Chapter 3 - Continued
The Shining Trapezohedron
by Gaius Petronius
Angel's black Belvedere GTX sat idling in front
of the gateway to the old mansion in Sunnydale. Jersey barriers
blocked off the driveway leading up to his old haunt. Construction
and earth moving equipment was parked everywhere amidst what used
to be the overgrown grounds. The mansion itself was now nothing
more than a pile of rubble.
Nailed to a tree by the curb, a large wooden
sign proclaimed to all driving by, "Another New 50 Lot Subdivision
Of Quality Homes By Bushe Builders. Contact Sunnydale Realty For
A Preview Of Model Homes Today!"
Behind the wheel, Angel stared blankly at the
wreckage. At his side, Cordelia surveyed the mounds of rubble,
the scattered test pits and orderly stacks of lumber ready to
rise as framing for new construction the minute the sites were
fully cleared and the foundations poured.
"My . . ." she remarked softly, "how
things do change around here."
". . . Yeah . . ." Angel replied
barely above a whisper. He felt empty and yet in pain from the
lack of feeling the building's demise had stirred in him. So much
had transpired here, so much of his life in Sunnydale, so much
of that time with Buffy. And now the last vestiges of their life
and love together lay in ruins before him, and he felt nothing.
It was as if the pay loaders and bulldozers had carved out a portion
of the very soul the gypsies had cursed him with. But instead
of leaving the evil power of Angelus in its place, there was now
only a vacuum akin to the deepest, darkest and loneliest reaches
of outer space.
Cordelia could sense that this despair was
greater than the usual aura of melancholy he carried around.
"Angel . . . " she said as she placed her hand sympathetically on his arm, "you know it couldn't last forever."
"No kidding, . . ." he answered still
gazing at the ruins. "But it does catch you off guard sometimes."
Cordelia stroked his arm gently. "I guess
it does," she said with empathy. Angel turned to her and
silently drank in her emotions. He had come to realize that Cordelia,
contrary to her reputation from Sunnydale, actually had a big
heart that she shared only rarely. This was one of those moments,
and he deeply appreciated the gesture.
"Thanks," he said as he turned to
her. She grinned in return, and her big brown eyes helped drive
back the melancholy.
"No problem, Boss!" she announced
now perky and all business. Angel could see that "the moment"
was past for Cordelia. and it was time to think of the creature
comforts. "So . . . where to now?" she continued. "We
gotta have a place to stay."
"I don't know," Angel pondered, rubbing
his chin. "Giles doesn't have any room at his apartment,
and I don't think you'd really take a shine to the sewers."
"Hey! I have an idea, and it's just crazy
enough that it might solve our problem!" she announced. Angel
could tell immediately what was coming next. "It's called
. . . a hotel! They rent rooms, there are TV's, restaurants, even
swimming pools and saunas . . . the better ones anyway. We could
put it on the expense account!"
"Cordelia, you've maxed out all the cards."
Angel said trying not to sound critical.
"Oh . . . well we did need that copy machine!
And the desk had to be the nice mahogany one. We're a new business
and we have to impress the clients. I wasn't going to settle for
that cheap pine . . ."
"Cordelia . . ." Angel interrupted.
She paid no attention. Her mind was now in overdrive.
"Wait a minute. I know!" she exclaimed.
"And it'll be perfect! We'll have our own rooms, all the
comforts of home, and it won't cost a cent!
"What? Where?" Angel asked, now honestly
puzzled.
Cordelia waggled her finger in a particular
direction up the street.
"Just drive," she ordered.
Angel backed the Belvedere out of the driveway
away from the wreckage of the old mansion and turned the car down
the street where Cordelia was pointing.
Within a few minutes they were back within
the confines of Sunnydale proper. Large homes lined the street
on both sides as they cruised by in the dead of the night.
"Over there! Right there," Cordelia
said as she pointed.
Angel pulled the Belvedere up in front of the
walls of an estate. A large sign drilled into the stone and cement
barricade read, "NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE. REAL ESTATE AND CONTENTS
TO BE SOLD AT PUBLIC AUCTION." Angel and Cordelia stared
through the locked iron gate at the spacious grounds beyond and
the stately stucco house inside.
"This is your old place . . ."
Angel said with surprise.
"Yeah . . . Daddy lost it to the IRS.
Some little thing about not paying taxes or anything . . . ever."
For a moment they were silent. Angel watched
Cordelia as she continued to stare at the house.
"They took it all." she finally said
quietly. "Even the furniture."
"So what are we doing here?"
Cordelia broke into a mischievous smile. She
pulled a key chain with a set of keys out of her purse and jingled
them in the air in front of him.
"Back gate and kitchen door key!"
she said grinning.
The living room of the Chase mansion was a
grand affair with high ceilings. Stately Queen Ann furniture,
all of which had auction number tags dangling from them, were
spaced tastefully around the room. Clearly meant for entertaining,
the living room was large enough to host a sizable cocktail party.
Against one wall stood a full marble fireplace. Over the mantelpiece
placed at perfectly spaced intervals sat a pair of candelabras
and a half dozen porcelain figurines. All these were tagged as
well. A very thin layer of dust had settled over the furniture.
Cordelia and Angel entered tentatively via the swinging door from
the kitchen and stopped by the fireplace.
"Wow, fancy place," Angel said, honestly
impressed.
"Yeah, . . ." Cordelia answered hesitantly.
"It was pretty neat living here." Suddenly she stopped
and turned directly to Angel. Slowly, she smiled at the irony
of her words.
"Funny, . . . you're the only guy I ever
brought home."
Angel grinned sympathetically. Then, slowly,
Cordelia walked around the living room, running her hand over
the wings of the elaborately upholstered chairs. She stopped by
one particular chair and was silent for a moment. When she finally
did speak, it was as if Angel were not even in the room.
"When I was little," she said dreamily,
"when I did something bad, Mom used to say, 'Just wait until
your Father gets home!' Then Daddy'd come in, he'd sit here and
put me on his knee . . . but instead of giving me a spanking .
. . he'd tickle me."
Cordelia looked up at Angel and gave a little
sigh.
"He said he never could bring himself
to punish his little girl 'cause he knew I was really good and
didn't mean to do all the bad things Mom said I did. It drove
her crazy."
Cordelia was silent as she gazed at the empty
chair.
"Cordelia, maybe staying here isn't such
a good idea," Angel suggested.
"No, it's okay," she said with feigned
casualness as she walked back towards the fireplace. "This
is all the past. It's all happened already. It can't hurt me anymore.
Mom's moved in with my aunt and uncle in San Francisco, and Daddy
left just before the IRS seized everything."
"So you don't know where he is?"
Angel asked.
Cordelia shook her head.
"He emptied the lock box and one of the
bank accounts my Mom didn't know about. Funny, I got a postcard
from him on my birthday. No address or anything. He didn't even
sign it. It was postmarked somewhere in Mexico. Just written on
the back, 'I do love you, sweetie.' I knew it was him."
Cordelia stood by the mantelpiece. She fingered
each of the figurines and stopped at a glass snow globe. Inside,
a pair of porcelain figures depicted Sleepy Beauty awakening from
her slumber as Prince Charming leaned down to kiss her. Slowly
Cordelia picked up the snow globe and turned it upside down to
let the snow and star flakes float down over the figures inside.
She gently twisted a wind up key on the bottom. A little music
box inside began to play Tchaikovsky's waltz from Sleeping Beauty,
"Once Upon a Dream." The lilting rhythm of the waltz
seemed to hypnotize her as she studied the delicate figures amidst
the cloud of drifting snowflakes.
"That's pretty," Angel said sensing
Cordelia's emotions welling to the surface again.
"Yeah," she answered slowly. "Daddy
gave it to me for my fifth birthday. Sleeping Beauty was my favorite
movie when I was little. He always told me that one day my Prince
Charming would come, wake me with a kiss and whisk me away to
live happily ever after."
There was a long pause as Cordelia stared at
the snow and sparkling star flakes floating in the glass globe.
The music box tune tinkled sweetly in the dim light of the room.
She fingered the auction tag hanging from the wind up key.
"Hhmm," she murmured. "Lot number
743."
Slowly and deliberately, Cordelia extended
her hand holding the globe out to arm's length. She suddenly released
it to fall to the stone fireplace hearth with a crash,
smashing the figurines and splashing the water and snow inside
all across the hearth. Although shattered, the music box defiantly
continued to play the swaying waltz melody..
Angel stared at Cordelia in shock.
"I never really liked it anyway,"
she declared as she contemplated the shattered glass at her feet.
"Cordelia . . ."
"There's a bedroom at the end of the hall.
Good night, Angel," she said coldly.
Angel stared at her briefly. Then, realizing
that these were her ghosts and there was nothing more to do, he
turned away without answering, crossed the living room and left
by a long hallway. Alone, Cordelia still stared at the glass fragments
at her feet. She then turned and walked over to her fathers's
Queen Ann wing chair and dropped into the seat. With her hand
on the side of her face, she leaned her head against one of the
wings. A tear built up in the corner of her eye, ran down her
cheek and as quickly as it appeared, vanished once more into the
dark brown folds of her hair that spilled over her shoulder.
On the stones of the hearth, the waltz from
the shattered music box played ever more slowly and slowly until
it finally ceased in mid melody, leaving the dimly lit room in
total silence.
* * * * * * *
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