ON THE FLOOR NEAR ANGEL’S FEET, ALMOST UNNOTICED IN THE GLOOM, WAS A PLAYING CARD. SOLITAIRE, BUFFY THOUGHT BITTERLY.

“He came here to fight you,” she said softly.

“I’m a vampire, remember. I heal fast. I’ll be fine. Soon.” He rubbed a spot on his neck that was raw, wincing at the flare of pain. “Besides, it’s night now. He’s lost his advantage. But he’s coming for you next.”

“So it really is true,” Buffy said. “He’s . . . immune to the sun.”

“Definitely,” Angel responded. He composed himself, walking in slow circles to test his bruised and burnt legs. “I’d heard rumors about a day-walking vampire, hundreds of years ago, but I never believed it. Vampires don’t just walk around in the sunlight. I thought it was an urban legend.”

“To scare the little vampire children?” Buffy said, but Angel wasn’t smiling at her attempt at humor. “All the Watcher books and journals can’t be wrong, can they?”

Angel shook his head. Images of Solitaire blithely walking through shafts of direct sunlight haunted him. “Whatever he is, he’s dangerous.”