Disclaimer: See prologue.
“So good to see you again, Rayne,” the figure said in a smooth, low voice from the shadowy confines of the doorway. Ethan Rayne smiled rather nervously.
“Mr. Trick, a pleasure as always.” Rayne managed, with difficulty, to keep a note of fear out of his voice as he spoke. The last time the two had been in the same room, Trick had not been very happy with him, and an unhappy vampire is not something one wishes to be responsible for. However, Ethan Rayne had quickly learned that Mr. Trick was no ordinary vampire. It was true that Trick was fairly young, as far as demons go, but he had power nonetheless. Most vampires lose their capacity for reason when they are turned. Their entire focus becomes the kill and they pursue it with no thoughts of strategy or planning, they become animals in the truest sense of the word. They are dangerous to mortals only because they are strong and brutal, like animals, and because humans can’t or won’t accept their existence. Rayne knew that if humns ever took to the notion of believing in and killing vampires, all but a few of the demons would be obliterated.
But then, there are those few. Mr. Trick was among them, as had Angelus been sans soul, and his sometime companion, Spike. They had the potential to do real damage because they hadn’t lost their cunning, their ability to adapt to the times, their capacity for seeing the bigger picture. And, like Rayne, they had a sense of humor about the whole thing. Occasionally.
“What brings you to London?” Rayne asked carefully, nodding his head at the wet bar and raising his eyebrows in question.
“Please,” Trick murmured in assent, continuing as Rayne poured. “Well, my sources say that you’re trying a new gig,” he commented nonchalantly as he wandered across the room, stopping in front of the computer and laying a hand on top of it. “An. . . internet gig,” he finished rather accusingly. Rayne swallowed hard.
“Yes,” he admitted tersely, handing Trick a glass. Trick sipped it slowly.
“Well?” Trick asked impatiently, setting the glass down on the desk. “Gimme some details here, brother.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t peg you for someone who’d mind,” Rayne stormed, suddenly angry. “I’m just trying to get back at the bloody Slayer.” Trick raised his eyebrows and Rayne sighed. “That chick has brassed me off more times than I care to say. . . not to mention her - watcher.” He spat the last word out and Trick nodded knowingly.
“So, this is a revenge trip, huh?” he paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Show me.”
“Happy Groundhog’s Day?” she asked herself.
“Conpose mail. . .” Trick said softly, following Rayne’s steps with his eyes.
“What in the world. . .?”
“Is that it?” Trick asked impatiently. Rayne ignored him completely.
She clicked on the link to download the attached file and waited patiently, brushing her hair.
“Huh?” he questioned, looking at the page filled with meaningless symbols, mostly little boxes, and shrugged. Maybe it was from Willow and just didn’t work out right. He groaned then as his computer made a beeping noise and shut down.
“And you don’t even need to add water,” Trick added, and held out his hand for Rayne to shake. Rayne shook it.