Impressions by Doranna Durgin Read Free Book Online Page B

it when he did that. His gaze landed on the slashed bungees and darkened. “I did hear something. Someone broke in here last night.”
    “Stands to follow, since the stone-thing is gone and those bungee bits are all over the place,” Cordelia said with what she thought was just the right touch of sarcasm.
    “Stone-thing,” he repeated.
    “Yes,” she said, waving a hand at the butter tub.
    “The one that Dissolvo Demon left behind that Wesley was soaking so we could even get close enough to figure ou—ow, ow, ow!”
    —crates of lettuce weird little colorful Muppet demon people laughing no people screaming no people dying blowgun blowgun blowgun—
    “Oh,” said Fred, in her most tentative voice. Probably the only voice in the world that wouldn’t shatter Cordelia’s head right at this moment. No one else say anything oh please.
    She was on the floor, of course. Or on the stairs. Something uneven. And she considered opening her eyes, but even the faintest glimmer of light sliced into her head like shards from the broken door.
    “Oh,” Fred said again. And though she was trying to sound casual, she instead sounded shaken. Why, Cordelia couldn’t imagine, since hers was the head being stirred. “I didn’t realize…that is, I’m sorry. Hardly anyone’s ever down here at this hour. But that’s probably why you’re here, isn’t it? To find privacy.”
    Privacy? That was enough to get Cordelia’s eyes open, slicing knives of light or no. She’d fallen toward the stairs all right, but she was on Angel.
    “You okay?” he asked, as if he hadn’t even noticed. Men.
    As quickly as possible, Cordelia removed herself from lap and bare skin territory and sat on genuine stair, leaning against a railing that was a weird combination of art deco and dignity. She tucked really short hair back behind her ear, finding once again that in disoriented moments like these, she still expected her hair to be long and dark. “I’m fine,” she said. “As fine as anyone would be with all this dungeon of horror stuff going on in her skull.” She took a deep breath, said, “Looked like Terminal Market. There was some little demon guy, reminded me of a Muppet. And people were laughing at him, and he just went crazy…throwing lettuce and then he had this blowgun and people were screaming….”
    “I remember Muppets,” Fred said, as if in wonder.
    “Muppets,” Angel said, sounding strangely unnerved. He got to his feet, finally seemed to realize his state of partial undress, and crossed his arms across his chest—then uncrossed them and tried it the other way. Didn’t cover any more territory that way and gave up on it.
    Impatient, Cordelia staggered to her feet and went to grope through her purse, hunting migraine killers. “Yeah, yeah. A cross between Kermit the Frog and Beaker.”
    “Beaker was my favorite,” Fred told them. She sat midway down the stairs with her arms wrapped around her knees. Not taking up very much room, as usual, her fine brown hair drawn in two low ponytails behind her ears, baby doll T-shirt and jeans hidden by an oversized open-front sweater.
    “I like the idea of a Muppetish demon. It sounds a lot better than what was sneaking around here earlier.” She shuddered, and hugged her arms tightly.
    “Here?” Angel said, an edge creeping into his voice. “Earlier as in yesterday, which of course we all know about, or earlier as in this morning, which we all ought to know about? Why didn’t you wake me?”
    “Angel,” Cordelia said, frozen in mid–pill hunt first by Fred’s revelation and then by Angel’s demanding reaction.
    “I tried to wake you!” Fred said, drawing more tightly around herself, her eyes going a little wider, a lot more alarmed. “Really I did. But then it saw me—or I think it saw me—and I was afraid to move. It seemed mad. From the way it growled, I mean.”
    Curiouser and curiouser. Cordelia pinned Angel with a look. “I guess you slept through a lot. Not