Chapter 6 - Call Me Konrad

Spike held the door for Cordelia and followed her into the main lobby of the hotel.

Ann was sitting on a plush circular bench--and managing to make it look comfortable--part of a seating group that included two red sofas and a chair, arranged around a large low table. Wesley leaning against the desk, arms crossed and head down, facing her.

Gunn was sprawled across the sofa to Ann's right, where he could watch her and Wesley. The shifter, still a statue, was between Wesley and Gunn, in front of the weapons cabinet.

Wesley seemed upset: "You must be wrong."

"Not about that," Ann said.

"What's going on?" Cordelia asked, stopping behind Gunn's sofa.

"They're arguing about the nature of the soul and if vampires and demons have souls," Gunn said. "Gytha maintains that `have' is the wrong term."

"But not for vampires," Cordelia said. "Angel says he lost his soul when he became a vampire, and that all vampires do, too, and he should know."

"Ann and Claire say not," Spike said.

"That's probably exactly what Darla told Angel, repeating what she had been told. I think you're all confusing `lost', `saved', and `damned', probably because of sloppy usage by people in religious authority who tend to keep score by numbers," Ann said, turning to smile at the young woman.

"I don't know, Ann," Cordelia said. "I helped Willow curse him, just to bring his soul back, the time he lost it boinking Buffy."

"What exactly did Buffy have to do with Angel's curse?" Spike asked. No one in Sunnydale had ever explained that.

"He gets laid," Cordelia explained, "he loses his soul."

Oh, yeah? Spike thought. That was as interesting as hell, and had a variety of implications, some of which could be explored immediately. With a faint, malicious smile, he turned to Ann: "Is that how it works?"

"No, that is not the mechanism of the curse Willow described to me and not what I observed when I finally met Angel," Ann said, as calmly as if the matter was of merely academic interest.

"Really," Spike said, smiling again, this time in admiration. Her statement was undoubtedly the exact truth, even if it wasn't an answer to his question.

"And Willow, although a very talented Witch, is still a very young Witch. At the time you speak of, Cordelia, she was even more inexperienced. What she intended to do is not necessarily what she did." Ann turned back to the Watcher. "Here's another problem for you, Wes: Who's this?"

She handed the Watcher an 8x10 picture that appeared in her hand as she got up and approached him. Wesley glanced at it, and slammed it down on the desk. Spike went over and picked it up. It showed a dark haired girl, with warm glowing skin, dark eyes and a full, beautiful mouth above a chin with a dimple. She was behind the wheel of an armored truck.

"Pretty girl," the vampire said. "Who is she? Where'd she get the truck?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Faith," Cordelia said, looking over Spike's shoulder. "Is she loose?"

"The other Slayer?" Spike asked.

Cordelia nodded. "She probably was stealing it. I wonder what her take was."

"It's not Faith," Ann smiled, sitting down again. "Find out who that really is, Wesley; or find out exactly what the original curse, or Willow's re-iteration of it, did to Angel, and I'll tell you more."

"Watcher knowledge has been passed down unchanged from time immemorial," Wesley said.

"And at no time has an effort been made to verify any of it."

"Except the killing us part," Spike said, putting the photo back on the counter. "Not only do they practice the classics, they experiment."

"It's a start. They oughtn't limit it to tactics, though. They ought to back up a bit and reconsider their whole strategy, especially in light of modern treatment and diagnostic techniques. Are you ready to question our shifter?" she ended, changing the subject firmly.

"How are we going to manage that?" Gunn asked.

"If he keeps running away from us?" Spike agreed.

"Simple force majeure," Ann said. "Well, not so simple." She stood, then frowned at them all. She glanced at Spike and Gunn, and approached Wesley and Cordelia, touching their shoulders, one after the other. Spike smiled as his rumpled evening suit regained its original freshness. The rest of the group also looked as good as they had at the beginning of the evening.

"Right," Spike said. "Formal, serious and not as if we made our living rolling around in alleys every night."

"We do that far too often," Cordelia said, slipping on her repaired shoe.

"Subtly and suitably intimidating," Wesley said, giving his suit jacket a quick shake.

Ann smiled at him, then looked down at her own bare feet. She seemed to flicker, and was suddenly dressed in a dark green linen pantsuit, with black short boots. She nodded, then faced the shifter. Waving one hand at him, she waited.

The shifter glanced around, turned fully toward the back door, took a step and seemed to smack into an invisible barrier. He put his hands out and felt the unseen wall.

"A mime? All that trouble and we get a damned mime?" Spike muttered.

"I don't think so, not if this is like the last time," Wesley said, feeling in the air in front of the shifter. "No, there seem to be another real, but invisible, wall."

The shifter felt the air in a circle around himself, then looked at everyone in the lobby. He glanced at Gunn briefly, then he lingered on Cordelia, skipped over Spike as quickly as he had dismissed Gunn, and considered Wesley for a moment, before he faced Ann and waited.

"Not completely dumb," Gunn murmured.

"There are several ways of looking at your situation," Ann said calmly. "You may be a prisoner of war, and this is your interrogation before we intern you somewhere; you may be a refugee, and we should move you away from the action as soon as we can. You may discover we have many goals in common and will become a friendly neutral or even your newest ally. I won't force you to speak, but unless you cooperate to some degree, the simplest and most direct action we can take regarding you is to put you back in the trunk and return the car to the person from whom we stole it."

"Well, shit," Spike said softly, awed at the spare elegance of the tactic.

"Very neat," Wesley agreed.

"Ann! You can't do that!" Cordelia objected.

"Cordy, unless he tells us otherwise, for all we know, he wants to be in the trunk."

"No!" the shifter said.

"One more thing for you to consider," Ann told the shifter. "Lying to me is unwise."

"I dare say," the shifter said. His accent could be found in any television news room in America. His voice wasn't as deep or as ironic as Daniel Shore's or as light and pedantic as Wesley's could be, resting fully in the non-committal professional middle.

"We want to know about Adan's plan to destroy the world," Spike said.

"Who?" Wesley asked.

"Jack." Cordelia said. "He's really Adan."

"Yes, certainly, we need to know about that, but first we need to know what he is," Wesley said.

"I think, the very first of all, we should offer him a chance to refresh himself," Ann said, and waved one hand at the shifter.

"Oh, good idea. And if we can find him a comb, even better," Cordelia said. "You look a little ratty," she told the shifter.

The shifter ignored her, watching Ann. "I am reluctant, very reluctant, to be Adan's prisoner again," he said.

"I'll bear than in mind," Ann said coolly. "What can you eat?"

"In this form, human food."

"When you come back, we'll eat."

As the shifter followed Gunn, Spike glanced at Ann. Very softly, he asked: "Do you have a tracer on him?"

She nodded silently.

"You weren't very reassuring to the poor guy," Cordelia said. "He must have been locked in that trunk for hours."

"That poor guy is perfectly ready to run out on us," Ann told her. "Don't promise him anything and don't tell him any more than we must; especially what you all were doing tonight."

"OK," Spike said.

Ann nodded and glanced around the lobby. A long banquet table appeared in front of the desk. She lifted a large hamper onto it. From the hamper she unpacked one of her superb picnics: Cold fried chicken, roast beef, ham, smoked salmon, smoked turkey, crab salad, potato salad, quiche de Roquefort, deviled eggs, stuffed eggs, several sorts of pâté, pickled beets, herring in cream, herring in wine, sweet gherkins, cheeses, pears, grapes, tangerines, chutneys, mustards, horseradish, sliced tomatoes, sliced avocados, roasted red peppers, leaf lettuce, three different breads, a selection of biscuits, an eight-pack of Cambells in Spike's favorite A negative blood, cider and wine. Wesley sighed happily. Ann smiled as she removed plates, tableware, napkins, and glasses.

"Is that caviar in the stuffed eggs?" Spike asked.

"Yes." Ann waved at a chair across the lobby that scuttled across the terrazzo floor to join the seating around the low square table. Ann sat in one of the chairs with a glass of wine.

"Fred," Cordelia called. "Have some food."

"Oh, well, maybe, if it's all right," Fred whispered from the balcony.

Cordelia arranged a plate with crab salad on a bed of lettuce, surrounded by alternate slices of avocado and tomato, and a small dish of tangerines and grapes, and carried them up. Fred took it and disappeared back down the hall.

Ann watched silently, and Wesley, watching her, said, "Long story."

"When we're private, then," Ann said.

Spike took an egg and a glass of Cambells, then sat on one of the red sofas.

Gunn returned, followed by the shifter. "Ah," Gunn said. "Salmon." He grinned at Ann and filled a plate.

"Help yourself," Ann smiled. "You, too," she told the shifter.

"And we can talk as we eat," Wesley said.

"I guess," the shifter said.

"I'm called Ann."

"Spike."

Gunn, Cordelia and Wesley introduced themselves, then waited.

"What's your name?" Wesley finally asked.

"I thought I'd call myself Konrad."

"And when did you start that?" Ann asked mildly.

"About ten minutes ago."

Wesley looked worried, but Ann laughed. "Konrad will do."

"I'm a Watcher," Wesley said.

Konrad looked blank, then said, "Ah. How very interesting. I'm afraid I don't attend the theater much."

"He's not that kind of Watcher," Spike said, as Wesley seemed speechless.

"UFOs?"

"Hardly," Wesley managed.

"Birds?"

Ann laughed. "No. These Watchers specialize in vampires. They're fairly clannish, compared to drama critics; better organized than UFO observers and they keep records and share them like Audubon members. Apparently, you're not yet on anyone's lifelist. Hence Wesley's interest."

"I see," Konrad said.

Well, he should, Spike thought. Ann had certainly rubbed his nose in the fact that anything Konrad told Wesley, all Watchers would know as soon as Wesley could send an email or make a phone call.

"Yes," Wesley said. "And I'm very curious about what you are and how you became a vampire. Or do you just imitate a vampire? And if so, why? What are you?"

"At the moment, he's a very convincing human," Ann said.

"Impossible," Wesley said.

"Uh-huh," Gunn said. "Look in the mirror." He indicated Cordy's mirror on the back wall behind the desk.

"All right, then he's not a genuine vampire," Wesley insisted, looking.

Ann glanced at Konrad. "Are you a vampire?"

Konrad took a breath and his mouth tightened. He shifted to the shorter, slimmer, blond youth. He reminded Spike of one of his great-grandmother's Meissen figurines, an elegant shepherd modeled by Johann Joachim Kaendler. Only his eyes were the same as before: clear gray, alert, clever, and untrustworthy.

"Wow," Cordelia said softly. "Cute."

"Interesting," Ann said. "Now he's a vampire, and this form is apparently genuine."

"How can you tell that?" Konrad asked.

"Well, for one thing," Gunn said, "now you don't show up in the mirror."

"She didn't even look." Konrad stared at Ann. "What are you?"

Ann ignored the question. "We do need some background, you know. You must tell us how you ended up in the trunk."

"Very well," Konrad said.

"Good. Now, how did you become a vampire?" Wesley asked.

"From what I've observed since, it was the usual way," Konrad said.

"How'd you get here?" Ann asked.

Konrad looked at her, a quick glance without moving his head, only his eyes. He licked his lips, and said, "Well, home became a little uncomfortable."

"Too many tricks?" Ann asked, dryly.

For some reason, Konrad seemed to find the question soothing and he grinned at her. "Some people have no sense of humor; and have you ever noticed: they are always the ones who carry grudges the longest. Anyway, I decided to leave for a while. The gate at Lillehammer was closed so I went through at Gävle."

"When?"

"Nearly two hundred years ago; 1813, by your local calendar. I'd been here about four years when I was killed." He took a swallow of wine, then another. "I didn't know what was happening. I knew I could be killed, I just never imagined it really happening. In my own form, I'm stronger than a human but not as strong as a vampire. If I had shifted to something else, troll or giant... In any event, Arval killed me, but let me drink."

"Arval?" Wesley asked.

"Arval Lund. He had been a vampire a little more than half a century then." Konrad shrugged. "So that's how I became a vampire." Konrad shifted back to the dark haired human, and resumed eating.

"Yes," Wesley said. "Now about the shape-shifting."

"It's an ability we have. We start to develop it when we go through adolescence. Mastery doesn't come easily. It takes some double dozen years and assiduous practice to achieve any control of it at all. Mastery takes longer."

"So what are you?"

"We are listig."

"I've never heard of you," Wesley said.

"Did you come directly here?" Ann asked. "Or did you make a multiple gate trip?"

Again, Konrad's eyes flicked at Ann and away. "It was a double jump," Konrad said. "From home to Vanning, to here."

"There may not be many listigs here," Ann said to Wesley. "And unless they shift in front of you, you'd never notice them at all."

"How complete are your shifts?"

"When I'm human, I can walk around in sunshine."

"How did you end up in the trunk?" Spike asked.

"I'm getting there. This is all part of the background you asked for," Konrad said. "I don't know if all this is true, but it's what Adan told me: In Berlin, I believe it was in 1834 or 35, Arval killed a woman named Dagmar von Hofmann, who later killed a man named Jean, in Amiens, who killed a woman called Betty in America, who killed Adan, sometime in the 1950's. Adan says Betty told him that Dagmar told Jean that Lund had become what she called a shape-shifter, and went underground as a human."

"What an intriguing idea," Ann said.

"From your blood?" Spike asked, rising to deposit his empty plate on the table and refill his Cambells.

"That is Adan's theory. I never saw Arval Lund shift, but I discovered I could shift to full human about 1840 and never saw Arval after that. I repeatedly told Adan that; until I realized he was only keeping me alive so he could feed on me."

"Ugh." Cordelia said. "How awful."

"Excuse me," Wesley said, and went to his office.

"So how did he get you?" Gunn asked. "You're a human, far as he could tell, how could he find you out of all the six billion other humans?"

"When I'm asleep or unconscious, I revert to listig, which has a variety of problems, and is noticeable and apparently memorable."

"What do you mean?" Cordelia asked.

"Well, it also happens when I'm forgetful... A girl ran screaming out of my bedroom..."

"A sudden shift in partner could be disconcerting," Ann said gravely.

"How sudden?" Gunn wondered.

"Yeah," Spike seconded. "In medias res?"

"I couldn't say," Konrad said.

"In the middle of things," Spike translated.

"More or less," Konrad agreed.

"Oh," Cordelia said.

"So why does Adan want to be human? Humans have certain disadvantages," Spike said. "I mean, they're mortal and weaker than we are." He sat on one of the red sofas and looked over at Konrad.

Konrad frowned. "I don't know. I was immortal before I was changed. On the other hand, I can't walk around in sunshine now, unless I shift. But you can see why I do not want to be caught again." He looked over at Ann as he spoke.

"Very understandable." Ann regarded Konrad quietly for a moment. "Whose blood has Adan been drinking?" she asked. "Is it from this or another human or from the vampire listig?"

Konrad slowly smiled at her, his thin, clever face showing real appreciation. "I also realized he would kill me as soon as he could shift. He likes being the top whatever, the special one. He has been drinking human, with a few exotic additions thrown in. After all, I don't know if my blood would give him the ability to change, but why take chances? I've never stopped trying to escape. At some point, I'll get free, possibly by running away in daylight. It would be to my advantage if he could not pursue me."

"Arval Lund is a vampire, but there is no record of him after 1848," Wesley said, coming back. "The Council assumed that he had been staked, or otherwise died, then."

"That was an interesting year, at least in Europe," Spike said. "There was a fair amount of chaos. Angel and Darla had a lot of stories about how easy life was then. If Lund disappeared, that was a good year to do it."

"How does this tie in with destroying the world?" Gunn asked. "I mean why go to all the trouble of learning to shift, if you're about to destroy the world?"

"He has never said."

"Is Adan his real name?" Spike asked. "Has he others?"

"No, he picked it. It's the only one he uses."

"Why'd he pick it?"

"It's a Spanish form of Adam and also an African word meaning `giant bat.' The meaning changes with the stress," Konrad said. "He likes the ambiguities, he says."

"In what language?" Wesley asked.

"I don't know."

"He's an ass and an idiot," Ann said. "Ideally, a use name is a disguise you pick up and discard. You always have the next one ready and you never grow attached to them. How old is he? When was he born?"

"He looks younger than Spike and Konrad, maybe older than Gunn," Cordelia said. "Sort of wholesome and young, with a real fine taste in clothes."

Gunn, Wesley and Spike glanced at her.

"But evil," she added.

"He says he has been a vampire more than fifty years, and he was almost twenty when he changed."

"Why were you in the trunk?" Spike persevered.

"We were leaving tonight, after he got what he was after."

"Going where?"

"Mexico City."

"Why Mexico City?" Spike asked.

Konrad looked at him, then glanced at Ann, who was regarding him with patient interest. "There is something there Adan wants to steal."

"He does that a lot? Combines a trip with a theft?" Gunn asked. "That sort of thing give tourism a bad name."

"How long have you been Adan's prisoner?" Ann asked.

"It's only been ten months, but it seems much longer."

"Has he stolen many things?"

"Certainly."

"Beyond just the day to day necessities," Spike allowed. "That's just survival, that doesn't count."

Ann laughed, shaking her head at him. Turning back to Konrad, she asked, "Unique and specific items, that might involve a raid such as the one on the museum tonight?"

"He has a list," Konrad said.

"Where did he get the list?"

"I don't know. Even before I made my first escape attempt, there were rooms I was barred from, meetings I was not privy to. I saw it, very early in my captivity, but he snatched it away from me. He's been organizing thefts since before I became his prisoner. He's moved slowly across the country, never staying long in one place."

Ann considered him silently for a moment, then took a folder from the air. From it, she spread several sheets of paper in front of Konrad: Each was a list, all were different--some were printed, some were handwritten, some were centered, some were adjusted left, some were outline format, and some were titled, while others were not.

"Which one most resembles the list you saw?"

"That was some time ago." That was apparently only a pro forma objection, because Konrad pushed aside all the handwritten lists, all the centered and outline lists, and all the untitled lists. He started to read one of the remainder, pushed that one away, read another, and handed that one to Ann. "This one, although the original was more than one page."

Ann took the maroon briefcase from beside her chair. She removed a sheaf of papers and handed it to Spike, along with the list Konrad had given her.

Cordelia moved beside Spike, who showed her the new list and the top page of the papers from the briefcase. The two lists were identical. Cordelia shrugged and sat back. "The Scroll of Hecube," Spike read.

"I'm going to call Giles," Wesley said. "He has more complete records."

As Spike watched Wesley go off to his office, he saw a flicker of movement in the balcony above the desk. Fred had apparently finished her meal and had slipped back to watch the action in the lobby. Strange girl, Spike thought.

Chapter 7

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