Unknown Factors (Book One)

Ch.98: Mr Sandman, someone to hold

  "Aud, love, what in God's name are you haulin' in here?" Looking over my shoulder, I saw Spike sitting on the table where Gunn was seated and Angel was standing by.

  "Oh, hey, Spike. Um, this?" I lifted the box and dropped it onto the table. There was a light thud and a rattle from the decorative centerpiece. "Payment for room and board." I pat the box, and Gunn raised a brow at me as Angel turned around. "Well, I don't work here and- no offense- I never will with this place being a branch of an ultimate evil network, but I have been using this place like my own personal penthouse and felt like giving something worth monetary value to make up for it."

  "And what exactly is this 'something'?" Angel made a face as Gunn curiously looked at the box.

  "Paintings. I wasn't as good as I used to be, but as I was working, I got my skill back. However, all of them are worth something based upon their quality and medium. Sell them, and you've got your money."

  "Should just keep moochin' off of them." Spike popped off.

  "Mind if I take a look?" Gunn pointed, and I shook my head while sliding the box over to him.

  "So, what's you're problem, Angel?" I rose my brows at the brunette, and he looked a bit confused. "I've got good ears, I couldn't help but overhear you having some issues with how things are now."

  "I, uh, don't know." He shifted on his feet while kind of fidgeting. "Just feeling a bit-"

  "Squishy?" Spike asked.

  "Disconnected."

  "Are you serious? Here you are, finally living a piece of the high life. New clothes, new cars, my old tumble fetchin' you tasty snacks. And what's your gripe? 'I feel disconnected.'" Spike waved his hand before mocking Angel. "You wanna feel disconnected, try bein' a bloody ghost for a bit. Try bobbin' around with no touch or taste or smell. Not many fates worse than that, I'd wager." The old mailman that wore a luchador mask with the number 5 on it walked in to get the mail off of Angel's desk. "Okay, maybe that."

  "I know what you're sayin' about the disconnect." Gunn said while looking up from the box of canvases. "Much as I love the legalese, gotta admit I miss mixin' it up sometimes, you know? Miss gettin' my hands dirty."

  "Then you'll be interested in this." Wesley spoke up while walking in, carrying some paper before handing it to Angel. "Three people found with their hearts cut out in East Los Angeles, all within the last couple of hours. Police are on it, but my sense is it's more demonic than some murderous nut-job."

  "So we're rulin' out demonic nut-job then, are we?" Spike asked.

  "We should check it out."

  "Right."

  "Yo, you missed one." Gunn called out to the old luchador while raising a manila envelope.

  "I'll get it." Angel took the envelope from Gunn and went to chase down the mail guy.

  "What's that?" Wesley jerked up his chin to gesture to the box in front of Gunn.

  "Aud's paintings. She wants us to sell them to make up for her bumming off of us."

  "Oh, Aud used to be horrible at painting if I remember correctly. But then again, the last time I saw any of her artwork was over five years ago."

  "Low and behold my improvement." I waved my hand to the box, and Gunn slid it across the table to let Wesley see.

  "Oh, my." His eyebrows went high on his forehead. "You've gotten exceptionally good at this. Have you still kept up with the harp?"

  "Harp?" Gunn raised a brow at me.