Detective Kate Lockley was angry. She was frustrated. And she was perplexed. Los Angeles was under siege. There were more and more deaths every day. Last week was what the press had been calling the Casablanca Massacre: twenty people murdered in the Rialto Theater during a late showing of Casablanca. Then another boutique massacre, with the sales staff and three customers found dead. The department accountants had begun an inventory, but it appeared that thousands of dollars worth of clothing and jewelry were missing. A tour bus found by the side of the road, with all the people aboard dead. Lovers Lane was virtually closed down after numerous cars with dead couples had been found there by the morning light. And, of course, all of the bodies had been completely drained of blood with two puncture marks on the side of the neck. Missing persons was reporting a number of out of town businessmen who had never returned home from conventions and sales meetings.

"Where are you, Angel?" she asked herself. "Why aren't you and your friends doing something about it?" She was positive that Darla and Drusilla, Angel's old vampire friends, were behind this, but somehow she didn't feel that they were capable of all this. "Damn it, Angel. Where are you!"

She had even considered going to Wolfram & Hart for help. Finally she had dialed their number and asked for Lindsey McDonald. An unctuous voice informed her that Mr. McDonald was no longer employed there.

"Then may I speak to Lilah Morgan?"

"I'm sorry. Miss Morgan is no longer employed by this firm."

That did it! Those weasels were hiding something. She went over there and marched into that beautiful lobby, demanding to see the person in charge.

Five minutes later a bald, bespectacled man named Nathan Reed was ushering her into a small private room off the lobby. "Detective Lockley. How can we help you?" Butter would have melted in his mouth, but his eyes were icy cold. Holland Manners had at least had an oozy charm, but this man was a reptile.

"We both know that you and your firm represent vampires and demons and all variety of creatures. The time has come for you to end this. Didn't the deaths of twenty lawyers in Holland Manners' wine cellar teach you anything? Darla and Drusilla are trouble. Even Wolfram & Hart can't fight them."

"My dear detective Lockley," he said in a voice that sent chills up and down her spine, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Where is Lindsey?"

"Mr. McDonald handed in his resignation. I understand he left town."

"And Lilah Morgan?"

"She also decided to seek employment elsewhere. If there's nothing else, Detective?"

He rose and held the door for her to leave.

"Believe me, this will come back to haunt you, Mr. Reed." Kate left, feeling the temperature in the room rise to normal when he had gone.

Finally she decided to seek out Angel, although she promised herself she wouldn't. But early that evening she went to the Hyperion.

Entering the old hotel, she looked around and saw no one. There was a desk, where Cordelia probably sat, but it was empty. Suddenly music began to play.

"Do you know what that is, Katy?" a familiar voice, soft, smoky, and thick, the sound of warm honey, poured into the room.

"Lindsey? Is that you?" She knew the music but couldn't place it. Somehow she had an idea that she should know it. It was very important that she recognize the music, but she didn't.

"It's me, Katy darlin'." Lindsey came out from a corridor. He looked different somehow. First of all his hair was longer. Not long by any means, as it had been about a year ago, right about the time he had lost his hand, but a little longer and fuller. One lock fell over his forehead, making his already youthful face even more boyish.

"Do you know the music, Pretty Katy?" She shook her head. "Ah, the public schools aren't doing their jobs, are they?" His clothes were different, too. Instead of an Armani suit with a color-coordinated shirt and tie, he wore Hugo Boss. Black leather pants and a black silk shirt, open to the waist, with a gold chain around his neck. He looked dangerous and oh, so sexy. In spite of herself Kate was becoming aroused.

"Berlioz, Katy. Symphonie Fantastique. The final movement. Dream of a Witches' Sabbath." He walked closer to her, hypnotizing her with those blue, blue eyes. "The poet has discovered that his beloved is an evil witch. Surprise, surprise."

Kate couldn't move. She could hardly breathe. All she could do was look at him and want him. Her body was betraying her.

"Pretty, pretty Katy. How nice you'll look in the proper clothes and makeup." He put his hand on her cheek and ran the other—the other!—through her hair.

"When did you get your hand back? And when did you become so friendly with Angel?" She could barely gasp out the words.

"The hand was a parting gift from the firm, although they didn't know it at the time. And as for Angel, we are so much more than friends. So much more."

Angel and Lindsey? Lovers? His lips met hers, oh, so gently, and then he very gently bit her lower lip. "No, Katy, I know what you're thinking. Angel and I are not lovers. We like women, especially pretty blonde women like you and Darla." He pulled her close and kissed her hard. He wasn't lying. She could feel that he, too, was aroused.

His arms went around her and held her tight, like two steel bands. No! Lindsey couldn't be this strong. She looked at him and understood, as his face changed from his boyish demeanor to a vampire face.

Just before he sank his fangs into her neck, he said one more thing. "As I said, pretty Katy, we're more than just friends. We're blood brothers! Welcome to our family."

Before her heart stopped, he made her drink from a cut he made across his left pectoral. She could have sworn she saw all of them surrounding her: Angel, Darla, Drusilla, Wesley, Cordelia, Gunn, and Lilah Morgan, smiling and applauding as the music came to its soaring conclusion. "Yes, Katy, welcome to our family," the others all added just before everything went black.