The Longest Night Vol. 1 Read online

  The prince waved a hand. “They died, true, but in the service of their royal family. They surely reside this moment in Paradise.”

  He turned to Wesley. “I will not fail to reward you and your people,” he said. He clapped his hands and one of his lackeys approached, carrying a suitcase.

  “Your payment,” the prince announced.

  “I am uncomfortable around emotional displays of gratitude,” the prince proclaimed, “so I insist that you wait until I am gone from this place to see the lavish amount I have given you.”

  “We thought there would be an invoice. Followed by a check,” Wesley said.

  “I have rewarded you far beyond your dreams.”

  “Good, cuz I didn’t get to keep the dress,” Cordelia muttered.

  “You can have mine,” Fred whispered earnestly to her.

  Cordelia smiled gently. “That’s okay, Fred. It’s yours.”

  “And so…” The prince touched his chest, his lips, and his forehead. “‘All good things,’ lovely virgin.” He beamed at Fred.

  “I’m also…a…oh, forget it,” Cordelia huffed.

  The bodyguard laid the suitcase on the lobby counter.

  “Your Majesty, your father awaits your return,” one of the black-suited men sternly reminded the prince.

  “Good-bye, my friends,” the prince said, inclining his head the merest fraction.

  Then he swept out of the establishment.

  The five members of Angel Investigations waited one minute more. Gunn tapped his fingers, glanced around, and said, “Since I was the one who almost had to eat the eyeball, I’m opening the treasure chest.”

  “That’s fair,” Cordelia said.

  With a bit of style, Gunn clicked the latches on the exquisite leather case. This guy’s so loaded…this reward is gonna be the answer to all our prayers. Christmas bonuses, Easter bonuses, Fourth of July bonuses…

  He opened the lid.

  Oh. My. God.

  “What is it?” Fred asked, bubbling with excitement. “Jewels? Gold? Lots and lots of cash?”

  Gunn held it up.

  It was one single hundred-dollar bill.

  Angel muttered, “I’m gonna kill him.”

  “Stand in line,” Cordelia grumbled.

  “At least we’re all still alive,” Fred pointed out. “And we’re always broke, so it’s not like we haven’t come out ahead on this one.”

  “Thank you, Ebenezer Scrooge after he’s had the dream,” Cordelia said miserably.

  Gunn handed the bill to Wesley and said, “And God bless us every one.”

  And then the hotel clock chimed midnight.

  12 A.M.

  Generous Presence

  by Yvonne Navarro

  “Is this Angel Investigations?”

  Cordelia looked up from where she’d been straightening things behind the counter. A grumpy-looking delivery man was squinting at the lobby and its assortment of chairs, couches, and lamps. Youngish and dressed in the standard industrial blue, he looked anything but happy to be here.

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  He frowned at her. “Looks like a hotel to me.”

  A corner of her mouth twitched in irritation, but so much had already happened today that she just wasn’t up to word-warring with a stranger. “It’s almost Christmas. Would I lie to you?”

  He shrugged and slid a clipboard toward her, then pulled a pen from the pocket of his shirt and dropped it on top. “Whatever. Sign here.” He pointed to a space on the paper facing her.

  Cordy glanced at it. “Sign for what?”

  “Box in my truck. I’ll go get it.”

  Before she could question him further, the guy spun and strode away. Her frown deepened as she watched him go, trying to read his body language. Was he in a hurry because it was the Christmas season and he just wanted to get his deliveries done so he could get to his own shopping or errands, or was there some other reason? Like maybe he didn’t like whatever he was delivering, maybe it was something evil—

  Stop it, Cordelia told herself. Not everything in the world is evil. Especially this time of year.

  While waiting for the guy to come back, she tilted her head and listened. Yes, there it was—the sound of life in the hotel, muted but definitely present. Fred, Wesley, and Gunn were talking in low voices in Wesley’s office, probably discussing the night’s earlier escapades. Angel was around somewhere, likely changing into a fresh set of clothes, although everything he wore seemed to look the same. The hotel creaked now and then, sighing as the mild California wind moved through the cracks here and there in the foundation and the windows, resettling itself repeatedly as old buildings tended to do.

  Cordelia sighed. She wished she could go on home…but at the same time she didn’t. They had all decided to come down here every day until Christmas, and out of what? A misguided sense of duty, perhaps, and in return, today all they’d gotten was trouble since dusk. But was what waited at home any better? Her apartment was lovely, but the only company there was Dennis, and she couldn’t even see him. She’d come home one evening last week to find her resident nosy ghost had come across the few Christmas decorations buried in her closet and hung them here and there, but she didn’t have a tree or anything truly festive like that. And now here was this delivery guy, showing up on the evening of the longest day of the year. What kind of good could come out of that? It wasn’t like he’d be bringing them a big crate of—

  “Here you go, Miss.”

  —presents.

  Cordy’s mouth dropped open as the man heaved an obviously heavy box onto the counter. To her startled vision it looked huge, and she suddenly felt like a kid who’d just run down the stairs on Christmas morning to find the mother lode of toys under the tree. At two-feet square, whoever had sent it hadn’t gone for the dull-as-your-grandmother’s-shoes brown paper cover, and even wary as she was, Cordelia found herself unable to resist the urge to touch-test the wrapping.

  Wow, she thought. This box is wrapped in red silk.

  “Helllooooo?”

  Cordy pulled her gaze from the box and realized the delivery guy was still standing there. “What?”

  He shifted, looking crabbier than ever. “Hey, I know it’s pretty and all that happy-sappy, but I still need a signature before I can get back to my last-minute deliveries. You think I like delivering packages on the graveyard shift at the height of the holiday season? It’s one in the morning. I got a life, you know? And I hadn’t really planned to just watch everyone else have a great holiday season.”

  She started to retort, then set her jaw against the words. Had the package been sent via the mail, Wesley could have picked it up on his earlier post office jaunt. But that wasn’t the case, and it wouldn’t do any good to rail at some stranger about all the bad that had come down on them just today, much less on a twenty-four/seven basis. “Right.” She grabbed the pen and scrawled her name on the next empty line on his delivery list. As she did, her brain automatically processed a few of the names above Angel Investigations. It only took a millisecond to register the information—a couple of law firms and three shops around town that she knew sold dark magick stuff—which bumped her suspicions up another notch.

  The man was already heading for the door when she called, “Hold it just a minute.”

  He turned, clearly not pleased. “What is it now, lady? You want to say ‘happy holidays’ before you send me on my way?”

  Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “Not quite. Where did you say this package came from?”

  He gave an impatient shrug. “I didn’t. But if you really want to know—” He brought up the clipboard and flipped through a few pages. “Here it is,” he finally said. “Wolfram and Hart. Happy already?”

  He spun and this time Cordelia knew nothing in the world would keep him around another second. She tried anyway. “Wait—”

  “Merry Christmas already!” he shot over his shoulder. Then he was gone, and it was just Cordelia.

  And the
box.

  She’d been standing there looking at it for a good ten minutes when Angel walked in. Wesley, Gunn, and Fred weren’t far behind. “Hey,” Angel said, then his eyes widened at the sight of the package she’d pushed to the end of the counter. “Where’d that come from?”

  She folded her arms as the other four gathered around to examine it. “It’s nothing. Just a little season’s tidings from our pals at the law firm.”

  Wesley scowled. “Wolfram and Hart. How generous.”

  Gunn put a hand on one corner and pushed experimentally. “Whatever’s inside, it’s heavy.”

  “I think the key word in that sentence is ‘whatever,’” Wesley said.

  “Should we open it?” Fred asked.

  “No,” Angel said without hesitating. “Let’s let sleeping monsters lie. We’ll just send it back.” He looked around. “Who delivered it?”

  “Driver’s long gone,” Cordy said. “And wasn’t he just full of merriness at having to drive around in all the holiday hectic.”

  They all stared at the package without saying anything. It was beautiful, covered in red silk and tied with multicolored satin ribbons that were all very festive. There were even a few small glass ornaments wound into the center of the bow where all the ribbons came together. It was very harmless looking, very inviting.

  “Look,” Fred said suddenly from her spot at one side of the box. She had to stand on tiptoe to see at eye level with the top of it, and maybe that’s what made her able to notice it. She pushed a finger delicately under the line of ribbons and pried at something with her fingernail. “There’s a gift card tucked under the bow.” She looked at each of them. “It can’t hurt to open the card, can it?”

  They looked at one another, but no one seemed willing to guess at it. “I don’t know,” Wesley said at last. “One wouldn’t think so, but…”

  “It’s just a piece of paper,” Gunn said in an exasperated voice. “If they’re gonna try anything dirty, it’ll be in the box.”

  “I think Gunn’s right,” Fred said. “Statistically speaking, the statement that ‘good things come in small boxes’ is really just a cliché that originated when—”

  “Let’s just open it,” Angel interrupted. “Paper doesn’t bite. At least not yet.” Before Fred could keep going, he snatched the cream vellum envelope out of her hand and tore it open. Inside was a stiff card made of that same cream stationery; edged in gold gilt, it bore a short note in a decidedly feminine hand.

  “Christmas is a time for forgiveness, for letting go of the past (at least for a little while), and for being generous. These gifts have been carefully picked for each of you to reflect a bit of what you are. Merry best to all of you at Angel Investigations.”

  —Lilah

  “Oh, how nice!” Fred exclaimed.

  “Nice?” Gunn’s laugh was harsh and loud. “Nice and about as trustworthy as a bank robber around an unlocked money vault.” He shook his head. “No way—we should ship this thing right back to them, preferably with a couple of sticks of dynamite attached. We all know you can’t trust anything those people do.” He caught Fred looking at him quizzically. “At least almost all of us know it.”

  “Gunn’s right,” Wesley said. “There’s no telling what could happen if we open this box, what kind of unspeakable demon could materialize right in this room—”

  “Or not.” Cordelia backed up and sat on the edge of the desk. She lifted her chin and her eyes glinted defiantly. “Maybe something will jump out at us, and maybe something won’t. But are we going to just sit here and be too afraid to open it? Like a big bunch of cowards?”

  They all stared at her, then Wesley spread his hands. “Cordelia, our own safety dictates that we be extremely thoughtful indeed about the course of action we choose to take when dealing with the unknown. In our business, the very laws of probability—”

  “—aren’t in our favor,” Fred finished for him. “Given the amount of evil in the world, and even when taking into account our place in it, in reality, it’s much more likely that something bad will happen if we open it.”

  Cordelia glared at her. “Fred, you aren’t helping.”

  She ducked her head. “Sorry.”

  “Come on, you know if there’s a one-in-a-thousand chance that the mucho mondo monstrosity could pop out of that red-wrapped cardboard, we’d be that one.” Gunn looked disgusted. “I say we burn the thing. Quickly.”

  “Really.” Cordelia’s chin lifted higher and her gaze zeroed in on Wesley. “So what you’re saying is that the next time you find some cobweb-covered book that looks all great and evil and mysterious, you’d rather burn it than open it and see if there’s anything inside that might be worth anything.”

  Wesley’s mouth worked for a moment. “That’s not at all what I meant, Cordelia. And you know it.”

  She stood, then began pacing back and forth, looking vaguely like a trial lawyer offering a closing argument. “I don’t know any such thing. In fact, I actually agree with Fred—all our experience points to exactly that. I mean, we’re talking about Lilah here, and when has she ever done anything that didn’t turn right around and bite back? But if everything we checked out was bad or evil, we’d be burnt toast by now.” She waved a hand around her. “Look at the way we live—if we run from the things we don’t know, we’ll be running from everything. And if we don’t open this box, what kind of a message does that send to Wolfram and Hart?” She tilted her head. “The big, bad Angel Investigations team, afraid to open a box?”

  Gunn scowled. “That’s not the way it is at all—”

  “Damn right,” Cordelia said, and before anyone else could utter a word, she stepped forward and yanked on the tangle of flamboyant ribbons that came together at the top of the package. The oversize bow slipped apart instantly, dropping like a waterfall of color down the side of the box to land in a rainbow-hued puddle at its base. Everyone tensed—

  —but nothing happened.

  “Scary, huh?” Cordelia rolled her eyes.

  “Actually, yeah,” Fred said with a nervous laugh. “It was, kind of.”

  “Cordelia’s right,” Angel said suddenly.

  Cordelia looked startled. “I am?”

  “We can’t let those slimeballs use scare tactics on us like this. If we do, they’ll have us afraid to open our own mail.”

  “Angel, I don’t think—” Wesley began.

  But Angel’s fingers were already lifting the gaily wrapped lid. “Lets show Wolfram and Hart that we can grin and make merry with the best of ’em.”

  And then the lid was off and lying on the counter.

  For a very long moment they all simply stood there and waited, muscles tight, ready to fight, expecting anything from a horned three-headed lizard monster to a screaming, club-wielding ogre to come bursting out.

  Nothing.

  Without realizing it, all five of them had backed up to a theoretically safe distance. Now they crept forward, a step at a time, craning their necks to peer inside.

  “Is anything…moving in it?” Fred asked in a tremulous voice.

  “Not yet,” Wesley answered.

  Gunn’s expression was dark. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  Angel’s next step took him to where he could look over the edge. “I don’t see any—”

  “Oh, look!” Cordelia hurried forward as the others jumped back, then watched in astonishment while she reached into the box without hesitation and began pulling out smaller gaily wrapped packages.

  “Marvelous,” Wesley muttered. “Now we get to go through this all over again.” He eyed the pile of boxes accumulating on the counter. “And again.”

  It didn’t take long for Cordy to spread the gifts out on the counter; then she set the bigger box aside on the floor. It was definitely a pleasing sight: five festively wrapped boxes of various shapes and sizes, each labeled with a simple tag bearing the name of its intended recipient in the same flowing hand as before—presumably Lilah’s or her lackey d
u jour’s.

  “They sure are pretty,” Fred finally said in a small voice.

  “Yeah,” Gunn agreed, but he sounded gritty, like he was speaking with his jaw clenched. “Pretty just like grandma’s nightcap on the big bad wolf.”

  Angel looked at Cordelia, then shook his head in resignation, as though he knew there was no way these boxes weren’t going to be opened. “What the hell,” he said. “Let’s sort ’em out.”

  Cordy’s smile was bright with anticipation. “Finally! I was wondering when someone around here would realize we deserve a little something good for a change.”

  “I think this is a serious mistake,” Wesley announced. “We don’t know anything about what’s in these boxes. We—”

  “Maybe there’s some tape,” Cordy said. Her expression didn’t change, but there was a tinge of ice on her words. “We could use it across your Mr. Grinch mouth.”

  “Fine.” Wesley held up his hand. “Have at it, then. I won’t say another word. But I’m certainly not going to fall into this trap by opening—”

  “This one’s for you.” Cordy thrust something at him.

  Wesley’s words stuttered away as he stared down at the box he was holding, a rectangle easily fourteen inches long and nine across. It was covered in deep red velvet around which had been wrapped dozens of thin, curling gold ribbons; when he held up the box to inspect it, the ribbons trailed down longer than the box, twirling and glittering in the light like fire.

  “Maybe it’s a shirt,” Gunn said matter-of-factly.

  Angel tilted his head. “It’s about the right size.”

  “A…shirt?” Wesley looked puzzled. “Why on earth would Lilah buy me a shirt? Bit heavy for that, anyway.”

  “Fred, this is yours.” Cordelia offered the slender young woman a smaller package covered in fragile-looking sparkling white. The ribbons wrapped around it were made of the same soft and puffy fabric.

  Fred took it and held it gingerly. “I guess they don’t believe in wrapping paper,” she said. “This is organza.”