The Demon Detective

The Green Light

The old office felt different after the tunnels. It felt smaller. The fight with the marked vampire was over, but the green light from the symbol was burned into their minds. It was a quiet morning. Angel was cleaning a sword with a rag. The silence was heavy.

Cordelia broke it. "So, let me get this straight. The evil lawyers are now in the monster-making business. They're giving vampires... promotions. That's like giving a shark a machine gun."

"An apt, if distressing, analogy," Wesley said. He had books spread all over the floor. "The Ascension Mark is a forbidden magic. It doesn't just make them stronger. It burns out their free will. They become perfect soldiers. Loyal only to Wolfram & Hart."

Gunn sat on the edge of a desk, sharpening one of his smaller blades. "We stopped one. How many more are out there? And where's the factory?"

"That is the question," Angel said. He put the sword down. "Lee got away. He'll be more careful now. We need a new way in."

Cordelia snapped her fingers. "The vision! Last night, after you guys got back... I had another one. It was fuzzy. Lots of noise, really bad techno music. And a bright, flashing green light. Same green as that icky symbol."

"A nightclub?" Gunn asked.

"Could be," Cordelia said. "I also saw a sign. Or part of one. It said '...LIBRI...' in big, glitzy letters."

Wesley sat up straight. "Carpe Noctem! Of course! 'Libri' is part of 'Carpe Noctem Liberi' - it's Latin for 'Seize the Free Night.' It's a demonic nightclub! It's a neutral zone. All sorts of non-human things go there to... unwind."

Angel stood up. "A demon club is the perfect place for Wolfram & Hart to recruit. Or to test their new soldiers." He looked at Cordelia. "Can you get a better look? Focus on the vision."

Cordelia closed her eyes, trying to remember. She winced. "It's loud. And the green light... it's not just a light. It's a pulse. Like a heartbeat. And there's... singing? Really bad, screechy singing."

Gunn raised an eyebrow. "Demons do karaoke?"

"This is Los Angeles," Wesley said. "Everyone does karaoke."

"We need to see this place," Angel said. "But we can't just walk in. If it's a neutral zone, they'll have rules. And I'm not exactly a popular guy with most demons."

"I might know a guy," Gunn said. Everyone looked at him. "What? I get around. There's a info-broker. A demon who runs a karaoke bar in a... less sunny part of town. He hears things. He's weird, but he's okay. Name's Lorne."

Angel nodded. "Tonight. We'll go see him."

---

Lorne's bar was called "Caritas." It was a refuge, he said, for the lost and the scaly. The sign outside had a picture of a happy demon holding a microphone. Inside, it was dark and red. The air smelled like cheap perfume and sulfur.

And there was singing. Terrible, off-key, demonic singing.

A tall, green-skinned demon in a flashy suit was cheering at the side of the stage. "Yes! Feel the melody, my brother! Let it out!" He had red eyes and small horns. This was Lorne.

He spotted them and glided over, a big smile on his face. "Well, hello! New faces! And such broody faces. Welcome to Caritas! The one place you can sing your heart out without someone literally eating it." He looked at Angel and his smile faded a little. "Oh. You're him. The vampire with the soul. Heavy vibe, sweetcheeks. Really heavy."

"We need information, Lorne," Gunn said, nodding a greeting.

"From little old me? I'm touched! Usually people just come for my stunning voice and my top-shelf well-whiskey." Lorne led them to a quiet booth in the back. "What’s the scoop?"

"Carpe Noctem," Angel said. "Wolfram & Hart is using it. They're marking vampires."

Lorne's playful look vanished. He looked serious, even sad. "The Ascension Mark. I've heard whispers. Nasty business. It doesn't just change them; it unmakes the little bit of person that might be left. Turns them into hollow shells full of rage and green light."

"The green light in the vision," Cordelia said. "It pulses."

"Ah, a seer!" Lorne said, looking at Cordelia with new interest. "That explains the psychic static. The pulse... that's the source. The Mark isn't just a spell. It needs a power source to activate. Like a battery. Something at the club is charging them up."

"What kind of battery?" Wesley asked.

"Something old. Something powerful. And something very, very sad," Lorne said. He sighed. "I don't go to Carpe Noctem. The clientele is a bit too 'bitey' for my tastes. But I know the owner. A demon named K'tok. He's a businessman. He doesn't care about good or evil. He cares about coin. If Wolfram & Hart is paying to use his basement, he'll let them."

"Can you get us in?" Angel asked.

Lorne thought about it. He looked at each of them. At Gunn's tough glare, Wesley's nervousness, Cordelia's determination, and Angel's grim resolve. He listened to the silent song of their auras.

"You're a mixed bag, but your hearts are in the right place. Even yours," he said to Angel. "It's a rescue mission, isn't it? To save the poor saps before they get turned into green-eyed goons?"

"Yes," Angel said.

"Then I'll help. I can get you past the door. But after that, you're on your own. And K'tok has one rule in his club: no fighting. You break that rule, and every demon in there will turn on you. You'll be a stain on the dance floor."

"We just need to find the power source and stop it," Angel said.

"Then here's your ticket," Lorne said. He pulled four neon-green wristbands from his pocket. "VIP passes. Gets you into the back rooms. Don't a

sk me how I got them. A green-skinned fellow has to have his secrets."