The Demon Detective

The Oldest Debt

The silence in the office was loud. Angel sat in a chair, his shirt off. Wesley was carefully wrapping bandages around his ribs. The wounds from the marked vampires were deep, but a vampire’s body heals fast. The bruises on his soul, though, those would take longer.

Cordelia paced. “So let me recap. We saved the kid, which is great. Lee the lawyer is in jail, which is funny. But Penn, the super-strong, super-smart, super-creepy vampire, is still out there. And he’s… interested in you. Like a bug under a glass. This is bad.”

“He saved my life,” Angel said, his voice flat.

“He killed three other vampires to make a point,” Gunn countered, cleaning his ax. “He didn’t do it for you. He did it to show off. That makes him dangerous in a whole new way.”

“Agreed,” Wesley said, finishing the bandage. “He’s an egotist. He sees Angel as a fascinating experiment. What happens when he gets bored? Or when he decides to test Angel by threatening one of us?”

A cold knot tightened in Angel’s stomach. Wesley was right.

The door opened. Lorne walked in, his green face full of worry. He was carrying a small, old book bound in what looked like dried skin. “Sorry to barge in, kiddos. But I heard the whispers on the demon grapevine. You made a splash. And I dug up some not-so-fun homework on your new fan.”

He dropped the book on the desk. “Penn’s history. He’s older than he looks. Much older. He was turned in the 1700s. And guess who his sire was? The big, broody one in the room.”

Angel’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You heard me, sweetcheeks. Before you got your soul, you were Angelus. And Angelus turned a young English nobleman named Penn into a vampire. He was one of your favorites. Cruel, clever, and a real artist with pain.” Lorne opened the book to a faded drawing. It showed a handsome, smirking man in old-fashioned clothes. It was Penn. “You made him. Wolfram & Hart just tried to upgrade him.”

Angel stared at the drawing. A memory flashed, sharp and clear. A lavish party. A arrogant young man boasting about hunting foxes. Angelus, bored, thought hunting a hunter would be more fun. He remembered Penn’s turning, the screams that were not of fear, but of dark, joyful realization. He had created a monster in his own image.

“He’s my responsibility,” Angel said, the words heavy.

“He was Lee’s responsibility. Now he’s a loose cannon,” Gunn said.

“No,” Angel said, standing up. The bandages pulled tight. “It’s different. I brought him into this darkness. Before the curse, before the soul. This is my oldest debt.”

“So what’s the plan?” Cordelia asked. “Find him and give him a time-out?”

“I find him,” Angel said. “And I end him.”

“He’s stronger than you,” Wesley said quietly.

“Then I’ll need to be smarter.”

Angel went to the one place he knew Penn might go: places from their past. Old hunting grounds. There was a grand old theater downtown that was being rebuilt. Angelus and Penn had once terrorized the actors there over a century ago.

The theater was dark and empty, full of the smell of new paint and sawdust. Scaffolding reached up into the shadows.

“I wondered if you’d remember this place,” Penn’s voice echoed from the stage. He was sitting in a velvet chair, looking at the empty seats. “The lead actress… what was her name? She begged so beautifully. You said it was like music.”

“That wasn’t me,” Angel said, walking down the aisle.

“It was!” Penn said, standing. He seemed excited. “That’s what’s so fascinating. It was you. Every memory, every drop of blood, it’s all in there. Locked away with this… this sickness of conscience.” He jumped down from the stage, landing lightly. “I want to understand it. I want to see if it’s real.”

“It’s real,” Angel said, stopping. “And you need to leave this city. Tonight.”

“Or what? You’ll stop me? The father punishing the son?” Penn smiled. “You can’t. You fight with one hand behind your back. Your ‘soul’ is a chain. I am free. I always have been. Even Wolfram & Hart’s mark couldn’t hold me.”

“They’ll keep trying. Others will come for you.”

“Let them,” Penn shrugged. “But you… you’re the only interesting thing in this century. So I have a new game. I won’t hurt your little friends. I won’t touch the helpless.” His blue eyes glinted. “I’m going to hunt what you hunt. I’m going to ‘help the helpless,’ too. But I’ll do it my way. And we’ll see who does it better. We’ll see if your way… really works.”

Angel felt a chill. This was worse than a direct attack. “This isn’t a game. People’s lives aren’t a game.”

“Everything’s a game,” Penn said. “You just forgot the rules.” He turned and walked toward the back of the stage. “Watch the news, Angelus. My work starts tonight.”

He vanished into the shadows.

Angel stood alone in the dark theater. Penn wasn’t just a killer. He was a mirror. A mirror showing the monster Angel used to be, now pretending to play angel. It was a worse kind of evil.

The call came to the office early the next morning. Cordelia took it. Her face went pale.

“Another one?” Wesley asked.

“Not a body,” she said, hanging up. “A rescue. Channel 4 news. A fire in an apartment building last night. Everyone got out. They’re interviewing a ‘mysterious hero’ who pulled the last family from the top floor.”

She turned on the small TV on the desk. The news showed a burned building. A reporter was talking to a sooty, smiling family.

“…just this figure, covered in smoke,” the mother said. “He was so strong. He carried my son and then came back for me. He moved so fast. Then he was just… gone.”

The screen switched to blurry cell phone video from across the street. A figure, back to the camera, walked out of the burning front door with a child in each arm. The figure turned slightly, looking right at the camera for a split second. The firelight lit up a calm, handsome face with cold blue eyes.

Penn.

“He’s keeping his word,” Gunn muttered.

“He’s making a point,” Angel said, staring at the screen. “He can do what I do. But he enjoys it. He’s playing the hero like it’s a fun new game.”

“The people he saved are alive,” Wesley offered.

“For now,” Angel said. “What happens when the game gets boring? What happens when he decides saving them isn’t as fun as… not saving them?”

The phone rang again. Cordelia answered. “Angel Investigations…” She listened, her eyes widening. “He what?!” She covered the receiver. “It’s the owner of a drug ring. Someone just broke into his house, tied him up, and left him on his lawn with a bow on his head. With all his financial records. And a note to the police.”

“Let me guess,” Angel said. “The note was signed?”

Cordelia nodded. “It said, ‘You’re welcome. A friend.’ The drug lord says his attacker had blue eyes that glowed in the dark.”

Penn was cleaning up the city. His way.

Angel put on his coat. “He’s leaving a trail. Showing off. He wants me to follow.”

“It’s a trap,” Gunn said.

“It’s always a trap,” Angel replied, walking out the door. “But I have to go. This ends tonight.”