Doyle realized the thoughts he was hearing weren't his own.Sod this,he thought before he could stop himself.

The lifeguard seemed to be coming out of his daze. "Hey, what's going on here?" he demanded, shaking free of Doyle's grasp.

Doyle jerked a thumb at himself."Goodguy," he snapped. He pointed the tire iron at the Tremblors.

"Badguys."

The Tremblors attacked.

They moved as one, unified by telepathy. The first Tremblor charged Doyle, while the other two moved to either side, trying to get to the lifeguard.

Doyle swung the tire iron. It connected with the Tremblor's head with a solidclang!but didn't slow him down. The Quake demon swatted him aside with one clawed hand; Doyle sailed through the air, stopping when he hit the side of a Volvo. Hefell to the ground with the breath knocked out of him.

He staggered to his feet. His right shoulder and arm were completely numb, but he picked up the tire iron with his left. "Okay," he wheezed."Nowyou're in for it . . ."

The lifeguard had turned to run, but he'd only gotten a few steps away when one of the Tremblors lashed out with his tail, catching him behind the knees and sending him to the concrete. Instead of trying to get to his feet, he rolled under a Cadillac before they could grab him.

Which is when Angel's car crashed through the security gate.

The gate, the kind that lowered from the ceiling like a garage door, caught on the b.u.mper and tore off.

The convertible, wearing the gate like some kind of huge metal flyswatter, roared up to the pair of Tremblors and slammed into them, picking them up and carrying them backward until they broadsided a minivan with a crash of rending metal.

Angel leapt out of the driver's seat.

This time, he had a pickax.

The remaining Tremblor was dragging the lifeguard out from beneath the Caddy by one leg. Angel drove the pickax full-force into the back of the demon's head.

It stuck there.

The Tremblor whirled around, tearing the handle from Angel's hands.

You again,the demon thought at him.

"Telepathic, huh?" Angel said. "That's right, me again. And this time you're on my turf."

Your weapon is useless. The Tremblor ignored the pickax completely. He advanced on Angel, his tail thrashing angrily.

"Aaaaaah!" Doyle yelled, and ran at the Tremblor with his tire iron held high. He let his demon half surface as he charged; his complexion darkened to blue-gray and his face transformed, spikes erupting from his skin like fast-growing thorns.

He swung the tire iron as hard as he could, catching the pickax at the juncture of its shaft and its head, and succeeded in driving the point of the pick a few inches deeper into the demon's skull.

The Tremblor paused.

( . . . ) he thought. He didn't move.

Angel began to cautiously edge around him. The Tremblor stayed motionless.

"Good job," he told Doyle without taking his eyes off the Tremblor. "I think you stunned him."

"Do you hear that, or is th'noise just inside my head?" Doyle asked groggily. A low rumble shook the air, growing louder every second-and then the gate pinning the two demons to the minivan suddenly exploded outward. A flying chunk of metal clippedDoyle on the side of the head, and he collapsed without a sound, reverting to human as he did so.

Angel wasn't as lucky; steel bars impaled his neck, torso and one of his legs. The pain was enough to drive him to one knee, but that was fine; as long as he could still feel, his head was still attached, which meant he'd survive. Decapitation wasn't as widely used as a stake through the heart, but it would destroy a vampire just as surely.

The two Tremblors he'd pinned to the minivan were now free. One stalked toward the lifeguard, who was sitting sprawled on the ground. There was a metal bar projecting from just below his collarbone; he was touching it gingerly, his face pale with shock. The Tremblor grabbed him unceremoniously by the arm and began dragging him toward the hole in the wall. Halfway there, the lifeguard pa.s.sed out.

The other Tremblor approached Angel, who managed to get to his feet.

You fought well.

"I'm not finished."

Yes, you are. Your ally is unconcious. You are badly wounded and weaponless. You cannot hinder us further.

"Fine. Mind if I leave, then?"

You are free to go.

Angel turned and began to limp away.

The Tremblor watched him go, then gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. His people were tenacious-warrior-priests especially so-but these Skin-Dwellers seemed like creatures ruled by whim, their motives and reasoning as changeable as mercury. He doubted if this one had the memory, let alone the will, to interfere with their sacred mission again.

He turned to Baasalt to see if he was all right. The strange implement still jutted from the back of Baasalt's head, and Baasalt hadn't moved since he'd been struck the second time.

He reached out with his mind and touched Baasalt's presence gently.Baasalt? Are you whole?

This was something the Tremblor had never heard before. He didn't know how to respond; it was unprecedented. Tremblors did not deal well with change, and change in themselves was almost inconceivable.

I don't understand,he projected.Could you repeat that?He thought he heard a roaring noise, but ignored it-the Skin of the World was a noisy place.

Angel rammed him with the Mercedes.

The car plowed into the demon, knocking him onto the hood. The vehicle continued to accelerate until it rammed headfirst into the far wall.It did a good job of embedding the Tremblor there.

The airbag inflated on impact, saving Angel from a serious head injury. Unfortunately, it also violently wrenched aside three of the metal bars currently stuck in his body.

This time, the pain made him pa.s.s out.

CHAPTER SIX.

Baasaltwas a creature made of rock. His body reacted to tempered steel the way a biological organism might react to a concentrated stimulant- and when the tip of the pickax penetrated his brain, he had an epiphany.

The walls between memory and thought shattered. Connections sparked throughout his mind. Ideas started to generate spontaneously. His was not a race given much to imagination-but that was exactly what suddenly engulfed his mind.

He was barely aware of the outside world. It didn't seem important anymore.

The rush of imagery and concepts eventually slowed to a manageable pace, and he came back to himself. He looked around with new eyes.

One of the metal bugs had pinned Maarl to thewall. Feldspaar was standing at the tunnel entrance, the unconscious form of the one they had come for slung over his shoulder. Another unmoving Skin-Dweller lay on the ground a few feet away.

Maarl does not respond,Feldspaar thought at him.

Leave him,Baasalt thought.The Third of the Four is the important thing. We must go before we attract more attention; the Skin-Dwellers will swarm over this place like metal bugs to an abundant source of energy.

Feldspaar's thoughts showed the a.n.a.logy confused him, but he turned and trudged into the tunnel.

Baasalt followed him.

He almost forgot to collapse the tunnel behind him to forestall pursuit. He had a lot to think about. . . .

When Angel came to, he was confused. At first he thought someone had wrapped him in a burial shroud, but he was sitting behind the wheel of a car.

Maybe they were going to bury him in the car. Maybe it was a car he really liked.

Then he realized the shroud was just the punctured remains of the airbag. The pieces of metal sticking out of his body had ripped several large gashes in the material.

Through the cracked windshield, he could see a Tremblor right in front of him.

It was the one he'd hit with the Mercedes, and he wasn't moving. Actually, he seemed embedded in the concrete wall-but somehow, Angel doubted he was dead.

He grabbed the bar protruding from his own chest, gritted his teeth and yanked it out. He did the same with the others, as quickly as he could. All this commotion was going to attract attention.

He climbed out through the shattered driver's window and looked around. Doyle was sitting up, rubbing a b.l.o.o.d.y gash on his head, but the other Tremblors and the lifeguard were gone.

He limped over to Doyle and helped him to his feet. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't ask me anything hard, like my name."

Angel inspected the front of his convertible. It was bashed in a bit, but the shockwave the Tremblors had generated to destroy the gate didn't seem to have affected it. He started it up, backed away from the minivan and parked next to the crashed Mercedes.

Angel popped open the trunk and got out a crowbar. "Doyle, give me a hand."

"What's up?" Doyle said. He pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a long, deep swig.

"We're taking a little something home with us."

The Tremblor sat slumped in the chair. A heavy towing chain was wrapped around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. The demon hadn't moved for hours, not since they'd pried him from the wall and hauled him across town to the office.

It was morning now. They'd spent the night trying to figure out how to interrogate him.

"Jackhammer?" Doyle suggested.

"Too noisy."

"Dynamite?"

"I'd like to do thiswithoutdestroying the office."

"Barneymarathon?"

"Without destroying the officeormy sanity. Anyway, I don't want to torture the thing, just intimidate him into giving us some information."

"Well, we better figure out the intimidating part before he wakes up, 'cause right nowI'mthe one who's scared ofhim."

The door opened and Cordelia strode in. "And she's back-Cordelia PI! Coming soon to Fox-"

She stopped dead as soon as she noticed the Tremblor. "Euuw. Is that a Quake demon? I thought he'd look more-Amish."

"You're thinkin' of Quakers," Doyle said. "The guys that make the oatmeal."

"Oatmeal is made by demons? No wonder I prefer croissants. What's he doing here?"

"We're trying to think of a way to make him talk," Angel said.

"Well, first you've got to wake him up," Cordelia said. She grabbed a gla.s.s of water sitting on her desk and threw it in the Tremblor's face.

"Cordy, no!" Doyle blurted out.

"Too late," Angel growled.

The demon's eyes opened. The chair he sat on began to shake. The chains binding him vibrated furiously-then links started snapping, one by one.

"Hey!" Cordelia said. "Hey, that'smy chair!"

"Get down!"Angel shouted.

All three of them hit the floor as the chain exploded, showering the office with shrapnel. The Tremblor lurched to his feet.

"Great," Angel said under his breath. "And I'moutof pickaxes."

He jumped to his feet and faced off against the demon. "Surrender," Angel said. "Or be destroyed."

Never!

He swung at Angel and the vampire dodged back, out of the demon's reach. The Tremblor's tail thrashed, knocking over the table with the coffeemaker on it.

"Get him!" Cordelia demanded.