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Business as usual by Lilachigh
 
Chp 48: Let them eat Cake
 
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Chapter 48   Let them eat Cake
 
 
 
 
“Devil’s Food Cake, Deviled Eggs, Devil Crab Cream Cheese Ball, Devil’s Chutney, Chilli Hot Devil Pork – ” Agnes Pringle paused. She had had no idea that there were so many interesting dishes one could take as gifts for demons. “Ah – Devil’s Fruit Cake –  that one might be best appreciated.”
 
She peered at her selection of ingredients – yes, plenty of chocolate and dark brown sugar for the sponge and oranges and lemons for the zest for the cream. 
 
She began working, her hands busy as her thoughts skittered away to actually facing Mr Rack and asking him if he knew where she could find a vampire teacher or a dentist – even a doctor.
 
Earlier, her friend Clem had been so worried about her plans that his tentacles had appeared and changed colour every time he talked about it.
“Agnes, he’s a very dangerous guy.  You know us demons come in all shapes and sizes, some good, some not so good. Rack is – well, he’s – oh, please don’t go. Why not wait for Spike to come back and let him deal with the problem?”
 
Agnes had thanked him for his concern but with an implacability that Richard Wilkins III would have recognised from when she refused to marry him, had shaken her head.
 
“Spike seems very preoccupied with his own problems at the moment,” she’d said wistfully.  “I don’t like to bother him when I can manage perfectly well on my own. After all, what possible harm can I come to by asking a simple question?”
 
“OK, then I’ll come with you.” Clem had gulped, every piece of extra skin wibbling with fear. “I mean, his place is cloaked and it moves every few nights. You might not be able to find it.”
 
Agnes smiled at him.  “That’s very kind of you, Clem, but quite unnecessary.  Mr Rack often comes into the Willow Tree for fruit tarts. I’ll ask him then – with the counter between us, so I’ll be quite safe! I mean, why should be object?”
 
Clem hadn’t been completely reassured – he didn’t think that Rack’s black magics would be stopped or altered by a piece of wood laden with doughnuts, blood straws and gypsy cream cookies!  But he’d been taught never to argue with a lady and so he didn’t.  But that night, in Willie’s Bar, he’d poured out his worries to the barman and noticed that even that miserable piece of humanity paled at the thought of asking Rack for anything!
 
Now, as she beat the sugar and fat together for her chocolate sponge, Agnes gave herself a stern talking-to.  “You lied, Agnes Pringle. You told poor Clem a fib and that simply isn’t the right thing to do, even if it was justified. Don’t do it again!”
 
She sighed; was it right to tell a lie if it was in a good cause? The days when she could have asked the vicar after Sunday service had long gone.  She’d known that Clem would insist on going with her to speak to Mr Rack and that would have been a disaster.  She was scared enough herself without having to worry about him.  He was a dear demon and one of her closest friends, but she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t be like Spike in a fight.
 
Agnes also had to admit that she was just slightly irritated that men vampires and demons always thought the females of the species were incapable of doing anything without help.  Of course it would be very nice to have a gentleman around, to carry heavy objects – although her vampire strength did rather make this aspect redundant -  open doors, deal with household problems such as plumbing and garbage collection, but she had been dealing with all these and more for years by herself.
 
No, she felt quite capable of approaching Mr Rack.  Although…Agnes frowned and made herself a cup of tea, waiting for the cake to rise.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a good idea to speak to him in the Tearooms.  What if there were other customers waiting – although to be fair, as soon as Mr Rack arrived, everyone else usually vanished or developed a deep interest in studying the pictures on the walls.
 
No, this was a business arrangement – it should be on a far more official level. She would find his office, make an appointment and be very polite and brisk.  She wasn’t sure exactly what type of business Mr Rack was involved with in Sunnydale. She knew he was a warlock, of course, and she had heard that he sold black magic to those who needed the type of spell that wasn’t easily come by elsewhere, but she wasn’t sure if she believed that.  Dark magics were so dangerous, so addictive.  They opened up so many avenues that could lead you deeper and deeper into unknown territory, rather like Thai cooking.  And Agnes had, of course, had first hand experience of a demon who revelled in the darker side. Well, Mr Rack certainly wasn’t another Richard Wilkins!  She could sense his power when he came into the shop and it was like comparing a candle to a floodlight.
 
Even so, she also sensed he was a very dangerous demon and she couldn’t stop her legs shaking when she was in his presence. She was only too pleased that her sensible skirt and apron hid that fact. Agnes had the strong impression that Mr Rack was like some of the girls who had bullied her at school – the more you showed you cared, the worse they became.  So perhaps she would do what Spike and Clem wanted and not visit him.  
 
Agnes sighed as she slid the two halves of the cake onto a grid to cool and began whipping up the cream for the filling.  She didn’t regret fleeing from Los Angeles and the demon who’d wanted to marry her but she knew that if dear Richard was here today, he would have provided her with all the vampire teachers, doctors and dentists she needed for the little group of vampire children she was caring for.
 
Right on cue, Eric and Nancy, the vampire children who now lived in her spare bedroom – their mother still hadn’t returned – wandered in from the tunnels, bouncing a soccer ball and leaving muddy footprints on the clean kitchen floor.
 
“Aunt Aggie – there’s water pouring into the tunnel under the Post Office, just where we play our games. I think a pipe has burst again.”
 
Agnes sighed. There! That was just the sort of thing she couldn’t deal with herself. You had to know about something called stop-cocks – and she wasn’t even sure if that was the name for them in America. 
 
“Which way is the water running?”
 
“Oh, down towards the woods. Not in this direction, but it’s too wet to play a proper match.  Lashawn and the other boys have gone home. I’m bored.”
 
“Have you done your homework?”
 
Eric vamped out: he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he’d been doing the sort of sums she set him since he was seven.  He was sure there was a lot harder things he should be learning.  He vamped back again.  “Yes, I left it on the table upstairs.”
 
“Can we go and see the big diamond in the museum?” Nancy asked hopefully.  “The boys said it’s huge! I bet it sparkles.”
 
Agnes bit her lip.  Yes, going to a museum was a sensible, educational thing for them to do, but they couldn’t go during the day unless they sneaked in through the tunnels. And two children on their own might look a little odd.  No, she would have to take them but goodness knows when she would find the time.  How useful a vampire teacher would be!
 
“Well, not tonight. The museum will be closed, I expect. Perhaps we’ll all go tomorrow. Now, Eric, take a couple of dollars out of my purse and walk down to the Mall tunnel and look at the shops.  Be back by dawn, don’t vamp out - if you see the Slayer, walk slowly in the other direction, don’t run, and don’t let Nancy eat any human food, especially popcorn. You know it upsets her stomach.”
 
“What if we meet someone who knew us – before?” Eric’s face changed again and Agnes bit her lip.  There had been a very unfortunate happening the last time the children had visited the Mall.  Someone who’d known them when they were Unturneds had stopped them, asking about their parents, where they lived now in Sunnydale, what schools they attended. They had managed to get away but Nancy had been upset for days, remembering a time when she had been a normal little girl who ate ice-cream and didn’t have fangs.
 
“Just smile nicely, be polite, tell them your father is away on business, your mother is working and you are staying with a relative.”
 
After they’d gone, Agnes stared down at the Devil’s Fruit Cake without seeing it.  She was so fond of them but felt such a failure where these children were concerned.  Why was she the only vampire who seemed to be bothered by their plight?  Spike just shrugged and told her they would cope. Even Clem didn’t see the whole picture.  They were children, regardless of what had happened to them.  If they had been from some ethnic minority, everyone would have wanted to help.  Just because they were vampires, no one cared.  It just didn’t seem fair to her.
 
So, there was no alternative. She’d made the cake as an offering; now she would just have to find the courage from somewhere to face Mr Rack. Agnes sighed: she envied Buffy Summers. How nice it must be to be so brave, to fear nothing and no one. She couldn’t imagine her ever being bullied at school or wondering how to put food on the table for her family.
 
“I suppose it’s that bravery that Spike admires so much,” Agnes murmured as she packed the cake in a box and tidied the kitchen. She had about two hours before her evening customers for the Tearooms would start to arrive.  “Being friends with a vampire like me must be very trying for him, poor dear.”
 
She opened a tin of food for Snowy, her cat, and added more to the dish as he seemed to have found himself a lady friend recently!  A nice little girl whose name, according to her broken collar tag seemed to be Kit.  Agnes had tried advertising as she was obviously lost, but no one had seemed bothered about her – except for Snowy!
 
Agnes played with the cats for a while, then, reluctantly, admitted she was busy wasting time. She wasn’t going to become any braver by waiting a few minutes.  Grimly, she pulled on her favourite hat and set off down the tunnel.
 
Rack’s office was in a very rough part of town.  Old buildings, long past their best, most boarded up, ready for demolition.  Agnes hurried by, averting her eyes from groups of lurking Unturneds who were obviously up to no good.  She sensed the building behind it’s cloak and gingerly opened the door into a small, stuffy waiting-room.
 
It was empty, except for a man wearing a smart dark suit, white shirt and dark tie.  Agnes approved his highly polished shoes: it was a sadness to her that Spike’s boots were always so very dusty.  She wondered if the man was an official from some tax office. He looked very business-like, but somehow she couldn’t see Mr Rack actually paying taxes. Well, perhaps that was what the man was here to find out.
 
 She smiled as she took a seat, clutching her cake box on her lap.
 
“It’s a very pleasant evening,” she said politely.
 
“Indeed. Very seasonal.”
 
“Do you think Mr Rack will be long?”
 
“I’m sure he won’t.  Are you in a hurry?”
 
“Well – ” Agnes bit her lip. She needed to be back at the Willow Tree before opening time because some demons became very rumbustious when they couldn’t buy their favourite snacks.
 
“Do take my turn.  I am in no hurry at all.”
 
“Oh, that’s very kind of you.”  Agnes beamed. Such a nice gentleman, such good manners. If only he’d been a vampire, he’d have been ideal as a role model for Eric, Lashawn and the others.
 
Then an inner door opened silently and a finger beckoned.  Gulping back her fear, Agnes summoned her courage and trotted into the office.
 
Five minutes later, she was beginning to think it had all been a great waste of time and an even greater waste of her cooking ingredients. Mr Rack’s eyes had gleamed when she showed him the Devil’s Fruit Cake and he’d proceeded to eat half of it. But her requests for knowledge of a vampire dentist, doctor or teacher in the area had been ignored.  And he had a very mean mouth. Agnes was a great believer in reading character by mouths.
 
At last her stumbling words fell away into silence.  Rack shrugged. “So, Miss Pringle, you bring me cake and you want my advice, but what else can you give me? And what else can I give you?”
 
Agnes was puzzled.  “I really need nothing else except information.”
 
Rack licked his lips. He knew this silly little English vampire, of course. He liked her fruit tarts – and so did his mother.  What he wanted from her, though, wasn’t pastries, it was entry into her innocence, her kind heart, oh he could use this in his blackest magics to such good effect. But she had to be willing.  “Oh come now, I can send you flying through the night skies, touching the dancing stars.”
 
“Oh that sounds quite lovely, but chilly – and although I am a vampire and grateful for the improved vision and teeth, I still have a weakness in my chest and have to be careful of draughts.”
 
“A trip back to England?  Wouldn’t you like to sit in your garden again, smell the flowers, run through a meadow with the grasses swishing around your knees?”
 
Agnes sighed. “Oh, so very much. What a nice idea. But – I do have a tendency, very slight, but there’s no denying it exists, to suffer from hayfever.”
 
He stared into her mind for a long while, then smiled. “I could give you back your soul, Agnes Pringle!”
 
Agnes frowned.  Her fear of this demon was fading fast. She was beginning to think he was, as her mother once said of a young man in the village, ‘all talk and no trousers’ and this last remark confirmed it. He was lying.  Agnes had learnt a long time ago – and being Spike’s friend had reinforced her beliefs – that when gentlemen talked, they usually spoke of themselves, their likes, dislikes and hobbies and health.  Dear Richard had been just the same and during the course of their friendship, she’d learnt to only listen with half her mind.  She now recalled a very long luncheon when Richard had been telling her about famous demons he knew across the world and he’d been quite adamant that if she wanted her soul back, the only one who could do this lived in Africa. And it certainly hadn’t been Mr Rack.  Of course, she couldn’t quite remember what his name had been – she’d been busy wondering what sort of sausage you would get if you stuffed a pig’s intestines with raw scallops.
 
So Mr Rack was lying and probably had been about all his other very tempting gifts.  And even if some of it had been true, she had a wedding cake to make this week and there really wasn’t time to do a mass baking which was probably what he would want in exchange.
 
She stood up briskly and pulled her hat firmly down over her eyes. She suddenly realised it was bitterly cold in this room and she had trouble turning and walking towards the exit, almost as  if something was trying to stop her. Then, suddenly, the door was flung open and the gentleman from the waiting-room was standing there.
 
“Oh, I am sorry! I do hope I haven’t been too long,” Agnes said.  “Especially as you so kindly let me go first.”
 
“Not at all, Miss Pringle,” he said with a little bow and turned to watch her scurry out of the room.  His eyes when he looked back at Rack flamed red for a second. Now he would have to explain to this stupid demon that there was a protection charm on Agnes Pringle that had been placed there many years ago by someone who was probably, even at this very minute, in another dimension, hatching out of yet another demon egg.  His employers in Los Angeles had been alerted by a source in a bar here in Sunnydale that his intervention might be needed, but, luckily they’d been wrong. And he had the strangest feeling that Agnes Pringle needed no protection charm at all. He would report that to Los Angeles.
 
Agnes hurried home. What a waste of an evening!  She was annoyed with herself and disappointed that she was no further forward in her quest to find some nice, useful vampires.  Sometimes she wondered what her life was all about.  Then a thought struck her and she stopped in her tracks – how had that man known her name?  That was very odd.  He’d called her Miss Pringle but she knew she hadn’t mentioned it to him.
 
She turned – wondering if she should go back. How rude she must have seemed if he’d been someone she should have recognised. 
 
Then, suddenly, there was a roaring crash, and bricks, plaster, wood and dust cascaded down as the old house next to her collapsed in ruins.
 
 
tbc
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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