21.
Wesley reached out his hand and grabbed Fred, pulling her close to his side. They shared a brief look and a nod. No matter what was about to occur at least they were together. It was a strangely comforting feeling. Chivalry prompted Wesley to try to shield Fred from the pitiful spectacle before them. From the look on Harmony’s face Wesley was half convinced that she might well explode and destroy the entire science wing.
Harmony shook uncontrollably and let out a fearsome yawp. The resulting sound wave tinkled a row of graduated cylinders on a far table like summer chimes on a warm breeze. With a grotesque look of determination and a leviathan force, Harmony opened her mouth and spewed out a frightening blob that looked not unlike the packages Mr. Pussy frequently left on the carpet around her office. It was strangely colored and hit the tiled floor with a squishy splat.
Exhausted, Harmony fell to one side. She lay stunned for a moment but soon gathered her thoughts. A few final spasms passed through her as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. “Ew! Where’s that prick Knox? I’m going to bite him for sure!”
“Harmony,” Fred and Wesley immediately flanked their boss and pulled her to her feet. “Are you okay?”
“No!” Her pouting response dissolved into gasps of delayed panic and fear. “I am not okay! I feel totally and completely violated! This is not acceptable! I– Oh, no, I broke a nail!” Harmony wobbled on her feet. “Maybe I can glue it– no, it’s gone…it’s gone…” She turned her tear streaked face to Wesley’s shoulder.
“Can we take a moment?” Wesley eased himself from Harmony’s needy grip as gently as he could, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the mysterious blue tinged substance on the floor. He couldn’t say for certain whether the crisis was over.
Harmony’s mouth undulated in response to the bitter residue left on her tongue. It was worse than morning breath. Unfortunately, her limetastic toothpaste and rotary brush were five floors away. “That was not fun,” she pronounced solemnly. “And seriously invasive–which I’m usually up for–but EW! You know?” She took a deep breath and continued. “The freaky thing is, I…I feel totally fantastic. Talk about the mother of all purges!” All eyes dropped to the puddle of goop at their feet.
“Um, what is that?” Harmony pointed to the oozing substance, not entirely certain she wanted to know what she’d expectorated.
“I’m assuming that’s what’s left of Knox’s ‘Destroyer’.” Wesley wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“Wes? What’s happening?” Gunn called from the window.
Angel stood in impotent frustration. “I still can’t see a damn thing.”
Fred stared at the floor. “We’ll need to secure this, um, specimen for study and Harmony will have to be specifically decontaminated, plus Knox will need to be…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word.
“Dealt with.” Wesley’s voice hardened to stone. Knox needed to be interrogated immediately if they had any chance of finding out exactly what he’d been up to. His harried demeanor indicated to Wesley that Harmony had been the unintended recipient of whatever came out of the sarcophagus. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the rest and Wesley was exceptionally gifted at deduction. Fred was most likely the intended target.
“Ooh, head rush,” Harmony gasped and collapsed against the counter. As soon as Fred disengaged the contamination seal, Angel rushed inside followed by a security team in protective gear.
The mysterious splat was quickly surrounded. A spatula and what looked like barbecue tongs soon appeared to apprehend the specimen and secure it in a container shaped like a thermos. The efficient team then hauled Knox to his feet and dragged him out of the lab. Security personnel did a sweep of the room and then worked to contain the sarcophagus in a rubberized substance.
“Don’t wreck that thing,” Harmony warbled an instruction. “I’ve spent too long searching for the perfect coffee table to start again from scratch.”
“Don’t try to be brave.” Angel put his arm protectively around Harmony. “It’s over now. Lean on me.”
A short fellow in an oversized, yellow hazard suit approached Harmony with a silver cylindrical electrical unit and reticulated hose. He opened a small metallic suitcase on the countertop that contained a variety of intriguing looking nozzle configurations, snapped on a fuzzy vibrating brush and spoke loudly in order to be heard from under his suit.
“This won’t hurt, Miss Kendall,” he spoke with mechanical dispassion, “but some people have found it a disturbing experience. Try not to make any sudden moves.”
“I’m ready,” Harmony bit her bottom lip and stared at the device with apprehension.
The puffy man nodded, turned on his machine and proceeded to vacuum Harmony’s chest in a slow and methodical manner. Vibrating, fuzzy tingles radiated from the tip of Harmony’s head to the bottoms of her feet. Disturbing wasn’t the word she would have chosen. Being invaded by an unknown supernatural intruder was an exhausting experience. It was a good thing there were so many big, strong boys available to tend to her traumatized person. She giggled and arched sensuously in Angel’s embrace in response to the arousing decontamination procedure. Soon she pointed to an alluring composite nozzle head she wanted to try next.
*
Days later, the Think Pink team sat in sober repose in Harmony’s office digesting the information they had gathered. The eBay purchase was a diabolical but oddly effective method of bypassing Wolfram and Hart’s security perimeter.
“I can’t believe I let myself get scammed on eBay,” Harmony complained as she stroked Mr. Pussy. She thought herself a more savvy Internet shopper than that. The loyal kitten purred a balm of comfort in response and kneaded its tiny paws against Harmony’s abdomen.
“Try not to feel bad, Harmony,” Fred offered a smile of reassurance. “You were specifically targeted by Knox. Your interest in unusual collectibles and Internet shopping is common knowledge and he exploited that vulnerability ruthlessly.”
“The fiend!” Harmony pouted, “eBay is tainted now. How can I ever enjoy the sparkly goodness of the Crystal Treasure Emporium again if I’m reminded of Knox and his unsightly nose pores? We paid him a decent salary. Couldn’t the guy have booked a few facials instead of using my beloved eBay against me? This is so unfair!”
“If I may, Harmony?” Wesley had more information to convey.
“What?”
“Knox has been remarkably candid about the scheme,” Wesley began. “As you know, there was an elaborate plot to smuggle the sarcophagus into the country and into the building via the eBay connection.”
“Mhh!” A tiny squeak of exclamation escaped Harmony’s drooping frown.
“At this point I’m not exactly certain what the end result would have been, but Knox clearly believes that a physical manifestation of the entity he calls Illyria would have resulted.”
“I knew I should have bitten that twerp,” Harmony cuddled Mr. Pussy closely.
“Knox believes he was resurrecting a god. We can’t be certain exactly what might have occurred but the point is now moot. Your unpleasant experience, Harmony, was a fortunate glitch in our favor.”
“Because I’m a vampire?”
“Exactly. Your physical parameters failed to meet the requirements of that thing. It needed the fuel of,” Wesley’s gaze momentarily met Fred’s, “living tissue to trigger a transformation. Lacking that, it could not fully manifest.”
“So, what do we do with the evil goo?” If Harmony had her druthers it would have been flushed long ago. Wesley seemed to think it required a barrage of controlled tests and microscopic examination. In fact, he insisted.
“Angel’s been contacted by someone,” Gunn responded from his position at the window. “The gatekeeper of some place called the Deeper Well. I’m thinking it’s some kind of demonic hazardous materials containment site. I don’t see why we just can’t plop it into one of our stasis chambers. It would be perfectly secure there.”
Lorne shuddered in his seat and his breath began to labor. “Oh crud,” he gulped and tugged at his collar to loosen it. Suddenly the walls were far too close.
“Lorne?” Gunn asked.
A sheen of sweat glistened at the affable demon’s temple. He reached for his monogrammed pocket square. “My mother told me horror stories about the Deeper Well. Can’t say I ever got a good night’s sleep as a child. Jumpin’ Jiminy Crickets!” he wheezed, “it’s all coming back to me.”
At that moment the door to the office flew open. Lorne’s heart leapt into his chest at the sudden fright. Angel walked in shoulder to shoulder with a shorter man wearing a leather tunic and leggings. A weary look clouded the stranger’s ruggedly handsome face.
“Everyone,” Angel announced in introduction, “this is Drogyn, The Keeper of the Deeper Well. He’s here to take that little package off our hands.”
“Gee, that was quick.” Gunn stepped forward to offer his hand in welcome.
The newcomer stared for a few bewildering seconds and then responded in kind. The absence of weapons and a handshake in greeting; it had been a while. “I have been tracking the ossuary for weeks and followed it to this place.” Drogyn looked around cautiously. He stuck out like a Medieval thumb among the Wolfram and Hart crowd even though he exuded a surprisingly modern rock star vibe.
“Glad to meet you. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” Wesley shook his hand.
“Hi, I’m Fred.” Fred waved from the sofa.
“Lorne,” Lorne nodded a cautious greeting. “You look plumb tuckered out. How about a Seabreeze?”
Drogyn tightened his mouth in response. “I do not understand. We are indoors. There is no breeze.”
Lorne wrinkled his forehead and grinned awkwardly.
“His answer is no, Lorne,” Angel responded. The newcomer looked to Angel for assistance. “It’s an alcoholic beverage.” That was the missing piece of information.
Drogyn nodded. “I understand. I must abstain,” he spoke gravely. “I have taken vows.”
“You have my condolences.” Lorne offered a pained smile.
“A note of caution, people,” Angel instructed solemnly. “Don’t ask him any questions. Drogyn has a…thing about questions.”
“What kind of a thing?” Wesley didn’t catch himself in time. Drogyn glared.
“He’s forced to speak the truth,” Angel explained, “that’s why he doesn’t like questions.”
“Oh, I can see how that could be a problem.” Wesley agreed with a sympathetic nod.
“It is a burden I willingly carry.” Drogyn’s steely voice filled the office.
“Any insight you can offer into what we are dealing with would be greatly appreciated.” Wesley was careful with his phrasing. “Knox has been excessively verbose but also irritatingly cryptic, not to mention completely delusional. Suffice to say he’s not been the most reliable of sources. What’s maddening is that I can find no reference to this Illyria entity in any of my texts.”
“Illyria is an Old One,” Drogyn spoke in measured, hushed tones. “One of the ancients. It is said they cannot be contained in something as base as the written word, so none shall ever be found. They existed before time was imagined and made it their plaything.”
“Hold up, Rambo. You’ve got a whole pit full of these things some place?” Gunn let out an uneasy sigh. “That’s not so comforting.”
“Questions, people!” Angel quirked his mouth sternly at Gunn. “Watch it with the questions.”
“You are mistaken,” Drogyn corrected. “They are not mine and are now but pale shadows of what they were uncounted millennia ago. I serve and respect them, as is my calling. They were the wind, the sun, the stars themselves. They deserve an honored rest, not this distasteful intrigue.”
“Apparently this one managed to slip through your grasp.” Wesley spoke plainly. Knox’s devious intent was known but this sentry did not seem easily duped.
Drogyn lowered his head and nodded. “Unstable magicks were at work. The rest is beyond my ability to explain. Now my quest is to restore order. Angel, my old friend, tells me you have contained Illyria. This has been done?”
Wesley nodded. “It’s contained, yes.”
“I cannot fathom how you bested it.” Drogyn looked at the ordinary beings in the room. How could mere mortals have managed that?
“This was accomplished by our leader, the illustrious Harmony Kendall.” Wesley held out his hand in introduction. Drogyn bowed his head elegantly. Harmony extended her arm and wiggled her fingers near his chin. Drogyn took the obvious hint and kissed her hand.
“A beautiful…vampire?” He looked into her eyes.
“Yep, that’s me. I’m totally grooving on your look. It’s hot! Nothing says big-chunk-of-man like chaps. Do you have a lasso, too?” She tilted her head from side to side, perusing his muscles and checking for any interesting accessories he may have been hiding.
Drogyn shook his head.
“Oops! That was a question, wasn’t it?” Harmony brought her fingertips to her lips and giggled. “Have you done voice over work? You’d be awesome. All deep and growly. You’d sell oodles of cars.”
“I do not know of what you speak.” Drogyn felt strangely intrigued by this captivating vampire and too startled by her attentions to be properly irritated. Perhaps he misheard, this delicate creature could not have conquered Illyria. “You defeated the Old One?”
“That’s what they tell me. Although, it was more like coughing up a loogy than the punchy stuff but it was one bitch of a workout, believe me.” Harmony scooted around her desk and grabbed Drogyn’s forearm. “Gosh, you’ve got nice muscles. I bet you work out a lot.” He stood stiffly not knowing what to do as Harmony drew her fingers up his sinewy arm. It had been some time since a female had approached Drogyn and his social niceties were rusty.
“I guard the Well,” he finally managed in a robust voice of purpose. “I am prepared.”
“Mmm…and muscular. Do you have plans for lunch?” Harmony caught herself just as the question was out.
“I have not eaten for two days.” Drogyn admitted before turning his attention back to Angel and the others. “I should take possession of Illyria and the tomb and begin the journey back to the Well.”
“Nonsense,” Harmony declared. “I’m sure all that stuff can wait until after lunch. I mean, the blob’s not going anywhere, right guys?” Harmony looked toward her team for one last confirmation
“It is secured.” Wesley acknowledged.
“Excellent! Then lunch it is. I’m thinking our guest might like to gnaw on a big old steak, or maybe an entire cow. Angel?”
“Right away, boss.” Angel nodded and flipped open his cell phone to make the arrangements.
*
After an intimate lunch for two, Drogyn finally took possession of the inert material that failed to become Illyria. It was no longer a threat to anyone, but his ancient covenant dictated that it be placed back into the Well with its brethren. Harmony was disappointed to lose the decorative sarcophagus and wholly frustrated by Drogyn’s strict and unerring celibacy, a vital component of his holy mission.
To top off Harmony’s sexual frustrations, Hamilton seemed to have disappeared into the woodwork. Once again she was left alone in her sumptuous office with a yowling pussy and a ball of yarn for company. When he finally showed up it was obvious that he had no knowledge of the incident in the lab. This vital piece of information was not lost on Wesley. It seemed the Senior Partners had a limit to their sphere of knowledge after all.