Soul Searching
Summary: After an ass
kicking and near loss makes them want to know more about the strange bond they
share, the Soul Sisters end up finding out just why that nickname is so
appropriate.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Or, How Many Lives Does
It Take To Get To The True Essence Of A Soul Sister Bond?)
Willy's Alibi Room
Willy moaned and shook
his head in disgust. The clock hadn't even struck eight and his night had
already gone to Hell in a hand basket. The greasy bartender painted his
smarmiest look on his face and reluctantly asked his new arrivals, "What can I
do for you ladies?" The two hot little numbers scooted up to the bar and gave
him dark looks. The human one crossed her arms and leaned over the bar, giving
Willy a glimpse of her cleavage and he sighed in spite of himself. Oh well, a
guy had to grab all the perks he could whenever the opportunity presented
itself, he mused. "Want some info, Ratbert. You got anything for us?" "I don't
know what you're talking about," he said uneasily. He picked up a glass and
started wiping it down, even though it was already clean. "What are you looking
for info for? And it won't come free, whatever it is." The black haired member
of the duo reached up and pulled her shades down, the low lighting making the
slightest of a red shine leak into her eyes. God he hated
To his surprise, Hunter
nodded respectfully, like she cared. Maybe she did. But Pryce was the one who
loved a good tussle and was ready, willing, and able to start throwing punches
at the drop of a hat. Not that that was a bad thing; she had saved his ass a
time or two on occasion.
"Okay, what are you
looking for?" he asked, hoping to get the Danger Duo out before his regulars of
the fangy persuasion showed up. Hunter turned around and started scanning the
crowd for danger while Pryce's green-brown eyes locked onto him. If it weren't
for the fact she were a Slayer and a kid, he might have tried to come on to her.
She was definitely a major league babe. But even he had some limits, and banging
jailbait was at the top of his ‘not-to-do' list. "Six girls," Faith said, "found
dead. Lost their heads, cut off at the neck. But not to cover up any hickie
marks, if you catch my drift." He'd heard about it. What he liked was, he knew
he'd be spared any unwanted redecorating of his place. "I know what you're
talking about. Rumors going around about it. Keeping some of my regulars away,
‘cause they're worried you and your teenybopper playmates are gonna take it out
on them. So they've been looking into it and they're running scared. Anytime
someone makes waves like this, it brings you here first."
Pryce seemed stunned by
that, never mind that he felt the same way. His boys weren't known for their Boy
Scout manners. But like he said, they didn't like it when someone rocked the
boat and disrupted their lives. All some vamps and demons wanted was to make a
quick buck, live the easy life, and drink a few brews. "Look, I know you leave
the quiet ones alone and have some of them helping you out. But when something
like this goes on… it draws attention to the place.
And they want it peaceful
again. So they've been snoopin' and talkin' to me, sort of using me to remain
anonymous." When Pryce cocked an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm not a
pretty face, but I did graduate high school, Pryce. So let's just get on with
it." "Fine. Whaddya know, Willy?" He looked around one more time, just to be
sure. "Okay. Rumors going around that some demon got put on the outs with the
Hunter turned around and
she and her partner gave him dirty looks. "Oh come on," he whined, hoping to
avoid a punch or two. "Don't give me the lecture on language. Please don't!
You're the big city girl and the young old fart. You two can outcuss anyone this
side of a sailor at the docks." "Nice to see someone remembers that," Pryce said
with a chuckle. "Okay, Willy, standard deal. You deliver, you get paid. Tip
turns out, you get paid double." Willy nodded. He leaned in and gave them the
info he had. He jumped when Hunter cursed in what he figured was her
pointy-eared lingo. She spun around and jumped off the stool, striding toward
the door. He and Pryce shared a look before her face turned dark. "Pray this tip
is good, Willy. Or we'll be back." She got up and stormed off, tailing her
pony-tailed friend. "Like you ever don't come back," he sighed. Still, he liked
that the kids at least didn't trash the place all the time anymore--something to
be said for that.
*****
Shaw ignored Faith's
calls to stop. Her mind was whirling too much. <HE is here? NOW?!?> Old fears
rose within her and she had to settle herself down. It was the only way Faith
could catch up to her. "Hunter, what the effin Hell is going on?!?" she asked,
obviously worried about her reaction. "Redeye, you look like you've seen a
frickin' ghost! And I don't mean in a good way!"
She looked at the Slayer
who was her spiritual sister and pondered one of the few secrets she didn't
share with Faith, something that no one but a select few had known. So, to her
sorrow, she had to lie to the one person she loved as much as Amy or Liam. "I
have heard of this demon, Faith. He is too dangerous to leave loose any longer."
She shuddered. "He is responsible for more deaths than you can possibly
imagine." <More than I can possibly imagine.> "You know who he is? Then we can
track him down and stop him. Let's call in the guys and kick his candy ass!"
Faith said, clenching her fists in her eagerness to track this killer down. "We
cannot do that," she said, shaking her head. <Lady forgive me for what I am
about to do.> She looked around, as if worried someone might overhear. She
started walking, allowing Faith to stay at her side. "You have to remember, part
of my religious education was a history of certain types of demons and devils.
Some of which I know by name, like Errtu and Tanetal."
Faith's face became
worried. "Is this guy like one of those pit fiends types you did the Ginsu act
on in
Having some idea of the
suspect's abilities, Shaw knew that she needed backup. Luckily for her, there
was someone with just as much incentive to stop this evil monster as she. The
Forestarm glanced at Faith. "Faith, I shall call the house and tell Ulric to
send Sharillon. Go retrieve the weapons we are going to need from your car."
"Why are we using
Shaw made her call and
told Ulric to send her elvensteed. After taking a quick glance, she made her
second call. When the person answered, she tersely said, "Where are you?" She
sighed in relief. "I need your help. We have a name and location of the killer
we have been tracking." She waited. She growled, "NO." Her voice became tight as
she hissed, "Because we cannot let the others find out, that is why! We have to
handle this ourselves, and I have already lied to Faith about it!" Guilt welled
up in her heart for the admission and lie, but she knew that sometimes, she had
to go against what she wanted. "Because if the truth comes out, things may begin
to fall apart." She waited for the person to ask why. She gave the name of the
killer and was answered with several seconds of silence. "We need to do this,
you know that." The person agreed and asked her where she was needed. Shaw gave
the location and told her she and Faith were on her way. "Hurry. We have to end
this here. We have to end this tonight."
Closing up her phone,
Shaw absently reached down and fingered the hilt of her sword, Feasellityar. She
thought about the sword's name, which meant "Spiritual Sister To The Cause." The
cause she had devoted her life to. A cause that might be placed in some form of
jeopardy if what she knew about this demon came out, especially from his mouth.
<Never,> she snarled. She heard Faith's approach and turned to her fellow Twin
Tower of Tactlessness. "Are we ready?" Hearing the sound of a fast approaching
Lamborghini Diablo in the distance, Faith flashed Shaw her devil-may-care grin.
"KATN, Sis." "Kick ass," Shaw started, smiling in spite of the gravity of their
situation. "Take names," Faith finished.
*****
Abandoned Mansion
He checked himself again
in the mirror. ## Yes, perfect. Not a single hair out of place. ## The demon
nodded its approval. His appearance for tonight mimicked the same one of the
last few nights. Nondescript human male, not too attractive as mortals
considered such things; dirty brown hair, cut short but not too stylish, five
o'clock shadow, and medium brown eyes. And his clothes were typical; collared
shirt, blue jeans, and an old, cheap leather jacket. Or that's what his skin
looked like right now.
## Yes, John Q. Public,
as these Americans would say, ## he chuckled. Then again, John Q. Public would
never take six heads in half that many days, would he? The shape-shifting demon
walked over to the closet where he kept the things he couldn't reproduce on his
own. Throwing it open and once again smelling the faint traces of soulless
vampire and Cenobite in it, the Infernal reached in and let his fingers walk
through the sheathed blades like they were outfits on hangers. Finally, he
grunted in satisfaction and pulled out an old, standard longsword, 13th century
issue. ## Yes, this will do nicely for tonight. ## The last three nights he'd
been mixing the blade types to throw off any investigations, authority or
Immortal wise. ## A few more nights, and the Immortals I was told are on the
Hellmouth will hopefully be drawn out, looking for the one causing the
disruption in their little lives. They cross each other's paths, and then things
get interesting again. ## "So," he mused while switching to English, running a
finger along the sword's crossguard, "what kind of pretty girl should I
introduce you to tonight?"
~Oh, that sword would
never impress a woman,~ an alto voice called from the doorway, startling the
demon and making him whirl around in a fright. His eyes widened at the slim,
raven-haired girl standing at his bedroom door, eyeing him with barely
suppressed rage. ~Take me for example. I prefer katanas, scimitars or, if you
really wish to impress me, something in early Cormanthor.~ He couldn't believe
this! How in the Nine Hells had a moon elf shown up on Earth?!? His shock and
uncertainty vanished in an instant, replaced by cool, icy anger that he'd been
discovered. He pulled the sword out and growled, "How did you come to be on this
world, half-breed!" He tried to shake off the feeling that perhaps he'd met this
creature before. There was something achingly familiar about her aura. "That is
a question you will just have to live without going answered," came the reply,
an ice-cold hiss. "Suffice it to say, if you want to get out of this building
alive, you are going to have to get by me, first."
Before he could reply,
the half-elf started chanting and the demonic shape shifter could feel the
building of divine spell energy. He also recognized the pattern. <Mielikkian?
Who in the Abyss is this woman?!?> He wasn't going to wait to find out or to
allow her to complete her spell. With his luck, it'd be a banishment spell.
He extended a hand and a
bolt of mystical force shot out, striking the faltering woman and blasting her
out of his way. He heard her land with a crash and with amazing swiftness, ran
out of the bedroom to gain room to maneuver. He started twirling his sword and
saw the priestess trying to regain her senses. ## Good, ## he chuckled, ## you
go ahead and take your time getting yourself together. I'll be finished in just
a moment. Or that is, you will be. ## He walked up and kicked her in the side,
hearing ribs crack under the power of his frame. She rolled away, futilely
trying to gain space to recover. Normally, he'd play with the food, but not
tonight. She wasn't that powerful, but still, it didn't pay to take chances. He
bent down, grabbed her by the throat with one arm, and lifted her up, slowly
squeezing her airways shut. "Before I slice you from gizzard to nether regions,
little girl," he spat derisively, "or decide to keep you alive for a while as my
private plaything, pray tell me just who do you think you are, strutting in here
like some arrogant Earth woman and trying to kill me?"
Her voice cracking, the
half-woman's eyes became sly. "I-in English…" she began, "I-I b-believe… t-the
term is… decoy." His eyes widened but the time it took him to process her answer
was enough for agony to explode in his back as his spine was sliced with a sharp
edge. He screamed and felt warm moisture on his back, the telltale sign of
red-black blood spurting from his body. He turned around but in the process,
flung the priestess with all his might, not bothering to hide his demonic
abilities. The look of horror on the new arrival's face was a rich reward for
the wound she'd dealt him. Again, he felt a keen sense of déjà vu, as if he'd
known this human in another lifetime. "Ohhh, you're so going to pay for that,
you SON OF A BITCH!" she screamed, her hands wringing around the French rapier
she wielded. It wasn't magical, but he could detect the hints of multiple
blessings on it. Well, that would only hurt him so much. "Really. And just what
makes you think you'll succeed where she failed?" he asked with a rich, mocking
laugh. "A little American girl like you?"
Her eyes narrowed and he
felt a sudden disruption of magical energies fall away from the American. <An
obscuring spell?!?> Once the effect totally faded, he realized that he was in
deep glibzrob. "Oh Satan no…" he moaned. He'd come here to start those idiot
Immortals fighting. Not to face her. Seeing his recognition, the beautiful (for
a human) girl gave him a saucy smile followed by a pout. "What's the matter,
Fuckyou? Don't got the stones to play with a Slayer?"*****
The demon growled under
his breath and Faith wondered if it was from her appearance or dissing his name.
Tough shit. She had better things to do. Like wasting this asshole. Faith moved
in and the demon brought his sword up and around. She fought down her first
instinct to help out Redeye and focused on the job. Madison Twin Number 2 had
given her the skinny on the dork's powers, so she was ready for just about
anything. He led with the sword but the Boston Bad Girl's eyes caught the spark
of mystical energy leaping from his free hand. So instead of blocking his blow,
Faith channeled Mary Lou Retton and vaulted over the lunging demon boy,
somersaulting in midair and twisting halfway to land on her feet. She slashed
out with the sword with a maneuver she'd perfected at Big Daddy G's expense.
She sliced across his
tush and the sharp pain made the demon jerk his body straight. Faith didn't
hesitate; she brought her Musketeer blade across neck-level with all her Slayer
strength, enhanced by one of Hunter's spells. This wasn't the first time they'd
used this tactic. But it was the first time it had failed. The demon's neck
shimmered and her blade clanged off his neck, which was now solid metal! "No
fair!" she shouted, backing up to drive the weapon through his heart. He didn't
react except to turn around and start changing, his eyes glowing demon red. "I'm
going to rip you apart slowly, Slayer!" the killer shouted, swinging his blade
around with no skill but enough power to transform her from Slayer Supreme into
Slayerkebobs. Faith used all the skills she had to try and break past his D, but
again she'd been told right; thousands of years old and he was better than she
was. The problem was, they both knew it. She started giving ground and trying to
put space between them.
He didn't oblige, chasing
her down and pounding at her defenses with his pigsticker. Faith was careful to
keep her footing, remembering one of Shaw's tips; the feet kept you upright and
let you maneuver. If you misstep, it leads to you letting your guard down. Which
explained a whole lot when she studied the way Redeye, B, Cordy, and she walked;
like predators. Faith backed her way past an open window door, her sharp sense
of smell picking up the scent of plants. "You keep flowers? You must really be
in touch with your feminine side!" she asked innocently, trying to distract him
with witty banter. <Hey, it always works for B and X-Man!>
"It helps drown out the
smell of vampire and dust bunnies," he retorted back. "And in time, I won't even
notice the smell of Slayer blood and body parts." She grinned and suddenly
changed tactics. She charged into him and brought his sword out wide. Demon Dork
wasn't expecting that! She crashed into him and bounced off. He was sent
sprawling on his ass while she managed to stay on her feet. He scrambled to
recover, but he stopped and turned on his booty when they both heard Shaw's
praying kick in. Faith grinned devilishly until she laid eyes on her Sis. Her
mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out when she eyeballed Shaw holding her
side and spitting up blood. <Oh Gawd no!> Her protests to the plan came back
full force; her ideal idea had been to blow up the joint and make sure he was
dead. But no, they had to do it her way. Remembering that this prick had killed
six girls her own age, Faith decided to let the plan play out. Shaw finished
talking and her mojo kicked in. Demon boy screamed, throwing a hissy fit when
his pretty flowers and bushes came alive and did the Triffid thing on him,
tangling him up and making him try to break out instead of breaking her.
She wasn't happy when he
started ripping the stuff apart, knowing from the look in Shaw's eyes that she
couldn't cast another spell without really knocking herself for a loop. She
started to move forward, intent on ending this. Before Shaw could scream at her,
probably to tell her to stay back, the reason became so obvious. A blast of
chilly air and snow shot in through the doorway, pelting the jerk with enough
ice to cover
She recognized the
fingerprints too; it was Sabrina. Sure enough, the other Madison Twin stormed
in, gliding several inches above the floor wearing the same pissed off look Shaw
had in her eyes when Willy'd given them the name. <Uh, oh…> Faith thought, <this
guy is in deep kimchee>. Amy drew her sword and drove it into Frosty the Snow
Demon's gut, making him squeal like a pig. She drove him back against the wall.
Faith could see the despair in Amy's eyes once she had the chance to look at
Shaw, who was barely standing. "You son of a bitch…" Amy snarled before pulling
her sword out, spilling demon guts all over the floor. She reared back and
punched him in the gut, making him howl again. Faith started to feel really
Wiggy about this. Sabrina was acting like she knew this guy! And Shaw's act… She
shook it off.
She would've known if
they had a history. She slowly walked up to Witchy and said, "Uh Sabrina, what's
going on here? You two look like you want to hurt this guy real bad!" Amy just
kept staring at the demon, which wasn't acting like such a tough guy now. He was
whimpering like a little baby. Her lip curled back as she snarled, "As much as I
want to, as much as he deserves endless torment, we're going to end it here and
now." "Dammit, you two are really Wigging me!" she snapped, walking over to
support Shaw. Shaw slumped over in her arms and Faith's temper broke. "Do it,
then! Shaw's in a bad way here!" "Get her to Sharillon and I'll be right out,"
AM told her. "Be careful, he's tricky," Faith reminded her. "That's why we
bumrushed him." "Oh, believe me, I know how dangerous he is." She didn't explain
how she knew, but Faith wasn't going to argue. She hoisted Shaw up and got Elfie
to cough up some blood for her troubles. "Oh Gawd. It's gonna be okay, Sis.
We'll get you some help." Horror filled her heart at the thought of losing her.
<Oh Gawd… Oh Gawd…> "I'm not losing you," she whispered, tears starting to run
down her face. "Not you too," she bawled. She picked Shaw up in her arms and
hurried out, hoping they could get to Calendar Girl before Shaw croaked.
*****
Amy reared back and threw
a right with all her Amazon strength, cracking Farku's jaw. She felt her eyes
going black. She growled, "You picked the wrong town to kill people in, you son
of a bitch!" "W-why are you d-doing this?" he whimpered, feeling truly
frightened. Amy resisted the temptation to enjoy his fear; that led in the so
wrong direction. "I-I wasn't trying to attack the Slayer's army. I was…" "I KNOW
what you were trying to do!" Amy screamed. "I put it together, you bastard! You
child-killing bastard!" She raised her sword and used her powers to
telekinetically force the demon, weakened by his wounds and Amy's ice storm
spell, to his knees. Again, he asked her with begging eyes, "Why? What is this
for?" Letting her anger die so she wouldn't risk treading the gray areas between
justice and vengeance, she knew that this was necessary to protect her friends.
She brought her sword back for her swing, knowing that by killing Farku, she was
protecting her loved ones. But still, she answered his question. He deserved
that much at least. "I'll tell you why, demon. This is for the six girls you
killed trying to start this shit again. This is for my cousin who might be dying
out there. And this…"
Her eyes narrowed and she
couldn't help but give him one taunt that would haunt whatever passed for his
soul for all eternity. "And this is for the reason you came up with," she hinted
mysteriously. The demon's eyes searched hers, totally clueless as to why she
felt the need to kill him. She felt nothing but contempt for him for the lives
he'd destroyed. "The reason you came up with asshole. Like you said back in the
day…" She paused and just before she swung, she mocked him with the very phrase
he'd coined so long ago, as part of a plan that had killed hundreds, if not
thousands, of good people. "There
can be only one." She swung with all her might, cleaving Farku's neck in half
and sending his head flying across the floor. She stepped back and wondered if
that flash in his eyes, the final look he'd had as a living being, was one of
realization of why he'd been tracked down and killed with extreme prejudice.
She decided she didn't
care. The secret was safe, and so was the world. The Game was over and she,
Shaw, and Faith had made sure it would not have a chance in Hades of ever
starting again. She slowly turned and walked out, chanting softly under her
breath. She felt and heard a "whoosh" of flames burst into existence, engulfing
the demon's body in a miniature inferno meant to destroy all evidence that he'd
ever existed.
*****
Amy was just reaching the
front door when a wail of anguish froze her in her tracks. A cold,
heart-stopping dread washed over her as she could only feel like that cry
heralded the shredding of someone's soul. She raced outside and stopped at the
sight before her. She began shaking and fell to her knees, unable to break her
eyes away from the still body lying before her. Faith wailed like a banshee,
trying to speak but unable to bring forth the words. The Slayer hugged Shaw to
her breasts, holding her like Amy imagined Faith had been found mourning Linda's
body months earlier. Shaw's hands dangled limply, her pale face smeared around
the lips with her own blood. It took only a second for Amy to guess what'd
happened; in her part of the diversion, Shaw must have had a rib broken, which
led to a punctured lung. She fought the overbearing urge to join in Faith's
grief for her beloved cousin. She felt her lower lip tremble but fought with
every vestige of self-control. She lowered her eyes, praying she'd see what she
needed to see.
The Witch Princess of the
Amazon Nation slumped over in blessed relief and took Shaw's right hand, the one
bearing her ring of regeneration, in her own. She began to cry now, but she shed
tears of joy. When Faith looked up and saw Amy's relieved expression, the Dark
Slayer's face clouded over with increased grief and the beginnings of rage. "HOW
CAN YOU LAUGH ABOUT THIS YOU JACKASS?!?" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
"She's…" Faith broke out in another wave of tears, burying her face in the crook
of Shaw's neck. Amy then realized that she didn't understand. "Faith? FAITH!"
she snapped, trying to get through. She knew that the two shared something she
couldn't understand, something as deep as Amy's and Shaw's feelings for each
other. Not for the first time, she wondered just how it had happened. "Faith,
she's wearing her ring." Faith slowly glanced up at her, looking lost and
uncomprehending. She continued to cry, but said, "W-what?"
Amy scooted closer to
them and held Shaw's hand up. "She's wearing her ring. The one that brought her
back once before?" The slimmest glimmer of hope dawned in the Slayer's eyes. She
didn't want to believe that Shaw was dead, she was afraid to believe that she'd
never come back. "But… how do you know…" "Believe me, it's happened. She'll be
back when she heals enough," she said softly. She still got the biggest of
Wiggins when she thought about last September. "But it'll speed things up if we
get her to Jenny. Quicker she heals, quicker she's back with us."
*****
Faith's heart leaped for
joy. Shaw wasn't dead! She wasn't… well, she was, but not for long. <Gawd,
morbid much?> She decided no, she wasn't morbid. She was too drained from the
fight and the thought of going on without her sis. She started crying again, she
couldn't help it. She held Shaw in her arms and hoped Sabrina knew she wasn't
letting go of her. <Yeah, you're cousins. I don't give a shit. She's my SISTER!>
Instead, Amy just leaned
in close and hugged her, letting her hold Shaw and cry all over them both. She
knew that Amy accepted how they felt and didn't have a problem with it. But she
still couldn't shake that teeniest bit of doubt. "Y-you're sure…" she asked,
sobbing too hard to make herself heard better. "I'm sure," she said back. "Good.
Then I have two reasons to kick her ass." "WHAT?!?" "Getting us into this
cockamamie fight, and for not telling me this ring did the Lazarus bit on her!"
*****
VAN Ltd. Headquarters
Late hours
"Amy?" The rich, older
version of Faith's voice made her jump. She blinked and looked around, taking in
her surroundings. <Great. If we'd been attacked, I'd be a really big help right
now.> She looked down at her cup of coffee, steam curling up from the java and
wafting up into her nose. "Yeah, Mrs. Pryce?" she asked dully. She was still
shaken over what had happened tonight, but she had other things on her mind
right now. Marion Pryce sat down across the small table from her, a cup of her
own encased in her hands. She and Giles' dad hadn't been able to get here on
time for Jenny's birthday "celebration" because of Council business, but they'd
come for a short visit to make up for it and to check on the Slayers. <In her
case, Faith especially.> "You're frightened about what happened to Shaw, aren't
you?" she asked. "Dear, Faith's the same. But I don't understand why you aren't
reacting like she is."
"Well…" She hesitated
before going on, taking a sip of the coffee. "It's not just that, even with that
freaky ring bringing her back before. It was the demon, the deaths he's
responsible for, and…" She shook herself, shaken by Faith's reaction after the
fight. "Goddess, Mrs. Pryce, I can still hear Faith's screams…" Faith's aunt and
executrix reached out and placed a hand over Amy's, trying to relax her. "I
understand, Amy. It's how she was with Linda. From what she's told me, Faith is
a lot like Shaw in that she doesn't hold her heart back. And it's obvious that
there's something between them." Amy nodded. "Maybe that's it. I knew about this
demon and what he was responsible for. I just can't stop thinking about how
lucky we really were to stop him here and now." Her head came up, hair flinging
back over her shoulder. "Faith was focusing on Shaw, I focused on getting the
bad guy. But I was just as devastated until I saw her ring. But… I think part of
it is how she's lost people before."
"That's definitely part
of it," the older woman said, nodding thoughtfully. "That's why I spent so much
time and effort looking for her when Linda died. I was so scared I'd lost both
of them." "I just don't understand this thing they share," Amy went on, getting
to what was bugging her.
"I know they've got this
‘Soul Sister' thing, but when I saw them lying there… I just realized that
they're just as close to each other as Shaw and I are. But it's different and I
wish I could figure it out." "Well Amy," the other woman in the kitchenette
said, breaking her silence, "speaking as someone who's been part of a soulmate
bond in her time, I have an idea of what they share. Although I don't know how
those two are connected, it's obvious to those who've experienced such a bond
before. I saw it the first time they were together." Gabrielle sighed and gave
her a warm smile. "I was more surprised that it took them so long to figure it
out." Amy thought about it and took another sip. "I guess part of it is that
Shaw and I usually share everything. Maybe… maybe I'm just jealous and want to
be part of what they have." "There's nothing wrong with that, Amy," Gabrielle
told her. "There are three regular types of soul bonds. Those that form
instantly, those that form over time, like mine and Xena's, and those that go
from one life to another. Like Connor and Duncan, based on what Xander told us
last winter. But don't think you aren't just as important to Shaw as Faith is.
Believe me, you are. Blood counts just as much as anything, sister."
Amy considered it and
nodded. "I know, but everything happened so fast… it scared me to think of that
demon being here." "Why was that demon so important, Amy?"
"Then you're not mad we
went in solo?" she asked, thinking it couldn't possibly be that easy. "Of course
not. Like I said, I knew about Farku." But Amy winced because the bomb was about
to drop. "But you, Shaw, and Faith are going to be the ones to explain to Steve
and Buffy why you let Shaw come up with a diversion that literally got her
killed, explain to Giles how one of his Slayers went up against an opponent she
couldn't possibly defeat without magical assistance, and explain to Joyce why
her Cherokee Sport got towed." "I'll let Faith handle that one," she giggled,
unable to stop herself. When she looked at Gabrielle carefully, it was obvious
that had been the Queen's intent. She felt herself beginning to calm down a bit.
"Gabrielle, thanks. For letting us stay here." "No problem. I know you three
didn't want to have to answer a lot of questions about failing to call in
backup." Gabrielle took her cup and set both of them in the sink. "But
sometimes, Steve fails to remember that you kids have good instincts. You knew
enough to realize that time was of the essence, Shaw knew his tactics based on
her own career as a meddling kid in Faerun, and Faith was the perfect person to
team up with you two. You did well, except for Shaw getting a flat lung." "Don't
bring that up!" Amy moaned.
She stood up stretched
herself; she'd been sitting there for an hour and a half and four cups of
coffee. She figured Shaw had to be back by now. "Can we check on them?" she
asked, also worried about Faith's state of mind. "Yes, let's go," Gabrielle said
cheerfully. She walked Amy out, putting a hand around her shoulder, probably to
make her feel more comfortable. <Thanks, Queen G,> she thought gratefully.
*****
Gabrielle knocked on the
door and heard the Earl of Leicester answer in a kind voice. She walked in and
held the door open for Amy, who gingerly tiptoed in, worry plain on her face.
Her Princess swallowed but she needn't have worried, if the scene before her was
any indication of how things were going. Edwin was finishing packing up some
first aid supplies, while
Finally, Faith got fed up
with Shaw's antics and spelled it out as she saw it. "Look, Hunter! You up and
died on me tonight! If you think I'm going to just let you out of my sight then
you're nutzoid!" She paused and folded her arms over her chest. "Then again, if
you weren't nutzoid you wouldn't have pulled this hair-brained scheme of yours!
Goddamnit, Hunter, I thought I'd lost you tonight!" Her anger started to fade
and she was about to start blubbering again when Marion, finally taking pity on
both girls, walked over and took over the "duties" of tucking Shaw in, which was
hilarious in itself, given her age. Shaw sighed, giving Gabrielle the impression
that this wasn't the first time she'd tried to calm Faith down. "Faith," she
said, taking a deep breath as if getting used to having two good lungs again, "I
am going to be all right. As much as you seem to insist, I do not rely on my
ring to, as you said, ‘resurrect my pointy-eared carcass' every time I go into
battle. I…" She shook her head. "I underestimated his powers. I should have
anticipated that his powers might have grown since the last recorded passages
about him."
"Well, nooooooo shit,
Sherlooooooooock," Faith said testily. "Faith, honey," Marion said, arranging
Shaw's covers into as best a position as she could given the half-elf sitting up
at the moment, "Gabrielle herself said that you children did the right thing.
And you know as well as anyone that there's always a risk in doing what you do.
And as for Shaw, she knows about her own mortality. She might not fear death,
but she certainly does not go out of her way to find it. You should not be
acting as if she does." Faith looked suitably contrite but
"What's good for the
goose is good for the gander," she said impishly, not fearing the dark looks
both girls gave her. "Don't look at me like that. I've been around… what, twelve
times you lot put together? I've seen it before. You were worried about losing
each other and your reactions were normal. They were also right. You two are so
‘tight' that it hurts. I was just telling Amy the same thing."
The girls looked at each
other and Gabrielle realized something then and there; they'd been questioning
that bond as well. Not in the sense of questioning the strength of it, but its
origins. <Although sometimes some things are best left unsaid, this isn't one of
them.> "Girls, is everything all right?" she asked, having a suspicion about
this. "Well…" Faith began, blushing a bit. She brushed some of her dark hair out
of her eyes. "I told the Pointy Eared Kamikaze here that if we weren't so tight,
I'd be pretty tempted to kill her all over again for pulling this stunt." Amy
broke out in laughter and Gabrielle joined her. "Yeah," the witch wheezed after
a good forty seconds of laughter at their expense, "they're going to be fine."
Gabrielle noted that unlike her, the
*****
Amy looked at her friends
and considered making a smart remark, but some residual fears over Shaw's
injuries and Faith's reaction to them made her hesitate. She looked them over
and saw that they were both still a bit uptight. <Faith from Shaw being dead and
Shaw worrying about Faith's reaction,> she thought. She decided that maybe it'd
be good for her to stay the night at the offices, but she needed to call some
people. "Is it all right if I call Robin?" she asked, drawing a sly look from
Gabrielle. Amy moaned in exasperation. "I need to tell him I'm all right! I was
supposed to meet him. I just want to tell him what happened." <And Shaw knows
why.> When Shaw nodded in support of her request, she decided she could get a
shot in at Shaw. "And I'll call Liam too. Let him know what Ladyhawke here
pulled."
She got the reaction
she'd hoped for; she turned bluer in the face and Faith smirked at her. "So much
for peace and quiet, Sis."
"I'll set up in Room 8,
okay Gabrielle?" The head of VAN nodded; all the Princesses had separate rooms
there for "Board Meetings," and she was no exception. Of course, the healthy
salary the job paid gave her some peace of mind regarding her family if anything
should happen to her (even if she couldn't touch the money herself until she was
21). "I'll talk to Robin and be back in a while. I think he'll be too busy
whining about not getting in on the fun of taking out Farku." "Knowing him,"
Gabrielle noted with an arched eyebrow, "he'll find a way to make it up on you."
Amy sighed. She'd
forgotten that. "No kidding."
*****
As Amy left the room,
Faith chewed on her getting a shot in on Shaw. She was still pretty freaked out
by the fight, but more so by her reaction. It was even worse than what she'd
felt when her Mom had died years ago. She looked at Shaw, who seemed okay but
she wasn't fooling her. She knew Shaw was all tuckered out from the healing and
other mojo she'd done tonight. She sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand on
Shaw's shoulder. "You sure you're okay, Shaw?" This time, Shaw didn't sigh, roll
her eyes, or look upward for holy type help. She just looked at her and
carefully said, "My spells took care of the worst of the damage. I still have
some of the shock to my system, so I am willing to spend the night, once Ulric
is contacted."
"Already done, dearie,"
"Like I wanted to see
them," she dryly added. She looked at Aunt Marion and G-Senior. "Sorry for the
ruckus tonight. But we…" She couldn't bring herself to say it.
Auntie moved around the
bed and hugged her close. Once again, she felt like it was Linda, making her
feel safe. "It's okay, Faith," she whispered. "It's over and you're both safe."
She wondered if Auntie M was giving Soul Sis "the look" for scaring her. She can
be overprotective at times. She sighed and backed up. "I'm okay,
She looked back at the
door and idly noted, "And you two aren't the only ones who've been wondering
about the bond you share. Amy wishes she could be a part of it." "I just wish we
could find out how it happened," Faith said, looking at Shaw. They'd talked
about it more than once. For some reason, they didn't think having the bond was
enough. They wanted to know why they had it. <Like Redeye said, if someone made
us this way, we'd want to give him or her the kudos for letting us have each
other.> "Actually, there is a way, and it's really quite simple," Old Giles said
with a twinkle in his eyes. For some reason, that didn't make her feel better.
"Are you thinking about what I think you're thinking about?" Queenie asked him.
"Past life regression?" Faith blinked. She'd heard about those Shirley MacLaine
things but she'd never taken them seriously. <Heck, vampires, demons, and aliens
were enough.> Then again, for someone who'd done a road trip on a Dungeons and
Dragons world, Shirley MacLaine wasn't so out there.
"And just how would they
go about the regression?" "Great, jump on the bandwagon, Auntie!" Faith groaned.
"And it would be truly
simple, girls. A little hypnosis and you'd be going back in time."
"You can't be serious,"
she said uncertainly. Hey, doing the meditation bit was one thing. Letting
someone put her under, uh uh. "You wanna put us under. If that's so easy, why
didn't your kid ever do that?" "Poor Rupert never could get the hang of it,"
Eddie said with a British-type dignified chuckle.
"I could talk someone to
sleep with my voice in under a minute, but Rupert… he always needed a focus or
some other aid." "You could talk people to sleep? That from hypno-stuff or being
boring?" Faith couldn't help but tease. <Hey, he's dating Auntie M, I gotta
watch out for her.> "Oh believe me, he's anything but boring," Auntie said with
a smile that made Faith gag. "Okay, now that's too much info, even for me!" she
protested. She pointed at the oldest fart and snapped, "And don't you ask for
details either, Gabs!" She just got an innocent, "Who, moi?" look from the Queen
of the Sisterhood. "Faith… I think this might be a good idea," Shaw said from
her bed. Faith looked at her and saw some more bluey type color had come back to
Ol' Paleface. "We have been talking about this. With the things that we have
shared since April… I would like to know how this special bond we share came
about. I… I want to know who might deserve our gratitude." Faith knew part of
what she was gabbing about and didn't want that to come out, since it had really
settled some issues for Soul Sis. "Well, me too, but…" She stopped and racked
her brain. It wasn't that she didn't think about it. It was getting put under.
<Well, at least G-Senior knows how to do it, or so he says. Guess I should be
happy it's not Alfred trying to find out my tawdry little secrets. Ha ha.>
"It seems to me you're
halfway convinced already," Gabrielle said with a shit-eating grin Faith didn't
like. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Gabs. Not all of us get to live one life." She
gritted her teeth and looked at Shaw. She so wasn't going to do this alone. Shaw
seemed like she was game. <Of course, she does this praying meditation thing
every day, doesn't she? It's easy for her.> "You promise not to tell anyone?"
"Why?" Marion asked, looking lost. "You don't think they'd like to know about
this?" "Hey, knowing them, I'd never hear the end of it." Hunter groaned. "She
has a very good point."
*****
"Now Faith, it's not
going to be anything like you've seen in those dreadful
"I'll put you into a
hypnotic state and have you go into your subconscious. You'll go back to your
past life or lives and tell us who you are, where you live, and if we're lucky,
the timeframe you lived in." "This Is Your Life," she said. It made sense and
sounded too easy to be true. "You'll be fine,"
*****
Edwin sighed and sat back
in the chair, staring at the young girl in front of him. "Edwin, is everything
all right?"
He'd already given the
dear girl the post-hypnotic suggestion that she speak in English, so that they
could all understand what came out. The last thing he wanted was Miss Hunter
getting a case of the nerves because her sister started speaking in tongues.
Faith started talking and suddenly there was nothing more important to everyone
present.
*****
What is part of modern
day
Kerri silently scanned
the area, guarding her younger sister. The Kaaveti warrior, sensing that they
were alone, turned to gaze at her sibling. Edana had hair the color of fire,
tied tightly in a braid that fell past her rump. She was lithe in the way that
wolves were, ready to spring upon their prey at a moment's notice. While Kerri
loved her sister more than anything else on this Earth, she still sometimes
wondered why she'd chosen to take that route. Throwing one of her multiple deep
brown braids back over her shoulder, Kerri hefted her axe and impatiently waited
for the shamaness to finish beseeching She Who Strikes Fear. It was better than
another common name for Scathach; the Dark Goddess. <But then, how can a Goddess
whose purview includes healing, magic, and prophecy be ‘dark?'> she wondered.
She didn't do well considering mystical matters. Although she paid homage to the
Goddess of Martial Arts, she just didn't have that kind of connection as Edana,
the Tiny Flame, did.
The girl, who at
twenty-two was three years Kerri's junior, stopped praying and staring off into
space, looking toward the region the Celts named
Kerri didn't know what to
make of that. She sighed and sent her own glance toward the islands she couldn't
see from here. "What good is it being an all-knowing priestess if you cannot
unravel the Goddess' riddles?" A frown of impatience was just what she wanted.
Say what you would about serenity, there were times Edana let the impulsive
tendencies of youth show through that serene mask of hers. The flame-haired
member of the family reached down and picked up her mace. "We find battle in two
days, Dark Lady," she said evenly, using the meaning of Kerri's name to
emphasize how close it was to the Goddess' titles. "The Romans are coming."
Conflicting emotions filled Kerri's heart; the thrill of impending battle with
the dread that she would lose more friends or family today. But such was the
risk warriors lived with, day-by-day. "Then we will repulse them as we have
these four months. Will you have your magic ready, sister?"
"What there is of it,"
she said, feeling less confident in her ability to repel the Romans with spells
than steel and stone. Usually, her spells were limited to the spheres of
healing, divinations, and fighting magic. The mighty castings of wizards were
simply beyond her. "I do not have energy to waste, sister. I must make do with
what I have."
"Very well. Shall we
inform the elders that the Romans do not learn from bitter experience?" She
nodded and the two fur-clad warriors sprinted off into the woods, leaping and
running like they'd been born to it.
*****
Kerri stood guard over
her troops, awaiting the arrival of two important messengers. She checked her
weapons one last time to make sure she was properly prepared for combat. Her bow
sat at her side, ready to be used at a moment's notice. Her axe was on her back,
the weight reassuring to her. The short sword at her side, purloined from a
centurion who no longer needed it, added a weapon and bespoke of her prowess as
a warrior. It was more than a trophy; it was a status symbol. She heard an
animal call that wasn't perfect. Her fellow warriors, ten Kaaveti, tensed in
response. She gave the return call and picked up her bow. Eckaria came into
view, holding her hands up in a gesture meant to avoid being Kerri's target.
Kerri gratefully dropped her bow. "Well?"
The older hunter shook
her head, a harbinger of bad news. "They are coming, as the child reported. But
there are more than we have gone to battle with before. I think they intend to
wipe us out, Kerri." Her breath caught for a second. Somehow, she knew in her
soul what her answer was going to be, but she had to voice the question anyway.
"Who leads them?" Eckaria's face fell. "Their leader is seeing to this battle
personally." This was the news she dreaded. Kerri's mind furiously tried to
think of a way to avoid what would surely be the massacre of her tribe. She felt
her heart breaking in the knowledge that he was coming. She thought about a way
to keep her people free but could not think of anything that would not bring the
Kaaveti into conflict with the other Celtic tribes or to extinction at the hands
of the Romans. Somehow, she didn't think they would accept their surrender.
<Truth be told, we would not give it. We are Celts, not Roman lackeys.> She held
out one ray of hope, that Edana would find allies in the other tribes. The other
sister had said the Shadowy One had given her the location of possible allies.
She wished Edana had not said "allies," but "saviors."
"By the Gods, I do not
see a way out of this," she murmured, hoping that someone might offer a strategy
to keep her people alive. She considered the possibility of a delaying action,
allowing the elders, mothers, and children to flee the coming invaders. She
shook her head in despair; sacrificing themselves would leave the tribe
undefended. "Eckaria," she ordered, trying to buy time to think of a plan, "how
long before they arrive?" "Four, perhaps five hours," the scout reported
promptly. "Edana," she whispered in fear for her sister and her people, "where
in Scathach's name are you and your allies?" "We are here, child of the
Kaaveti," a melodic, male voice sounded. As one, Kerri and her detachment of
warriors turned, drawing their close quarters weapons. She froze when they saw
the warriors standing there, flanking her sister. The seven too beautiful
beings, five males and two females, wore gleaming metal armor and had long
blades belted at their sides. The gleaming yellow hair, almond-shaped eyes, and
pointed ears betrayed their heritage and formed a single word in Kerri's mind.
"Sidhe," she whispered
dryly. She simply couldn't believe it. Gathering herself and waving her fellows
to put their weapons down, she felt a sigh of relief form. "Greetings, children
of Danu."
"Greetings," the apparent
leader said, eyes glittering with caution at the knowledge of the approaching
Romans. "Your sister has asked for our aid against the Romans." Kerri glanced at
Edana, who nodded once, still wearing that even look of hers. Any hopes she had
of them using their Fey magic against the Romans was dashed when the Sidhe read
her thoughts and shook his head. "We cannot fight so many, especially when they
are armed with Death Metal." The final feeling of despair started to form and in
her feelings, she turned on her sister. "Then why did you go to them?!?" she
demanded. Edana walked over and picked up the steel-headed mace she'd left
behind. Kerri belatedly understood why with the appearance of the elven folk.
She faced her fellows and said, "I did not ask them to wage war for us. I asked
them to do what we cannot."
"The Romans' approach
leaves us little time for riddles, Edana!" Kerri snapped, frustration making her
fearful. One of the female Sidhe stepped forward. "There is no riddle, daughter
of the Celts. Your sister asked us to do what you cannot; guard your people
while you fight to prevent their slaughter." The hints dropped despite not being
spoken hit her and the others, save Edana, like Roman arrows. She'd just been
handed the salvation of the Kaaveti, but at what cost?!? It was Edana who spoke
up next, sounding for all the world more like an elfwoman than a proper Celt.
"They will not go to the Otherworld, my sister. They will go somewhere even the
Dark Sidhe would dare not tread."
That didn't reassure her
any. "Where is that?" she asked suspiciously. It was well known that if one
spent too long Underhill, one could never return without dying instantly. "Where
is this haven for our people?" In response, the female who'd spoken stared at
her and her catlike eyes shifted from the color of vibrant leaves to the yellow
color one often found in snakes. The thought of reptiles brought her to the
proper conclusion and she had to fight to keep from falling to her knees. This
Sidhe was nothing of the sort. "I will guide your people to a safe place, where
the Kaaveti will live on, even if not in the mortal realms. More importantly,
they will be free, Kerri du Kaaveti. Reading your thoughts, we know this is what
matters to you and your sister. So we shall guarantee their freedom and lives,
but we cannot do it alone."
Kerri, feeling hope again
and feeling pride in the trust that the Others were putting in her and her
warriors, let tears fall down her face. She turned to Eckaria, who was similarly
crying. "Eckaria, spread the word. Tell the warriors what we must do. And take
heart, my friends; we may die this day, but in time we shall return to this
world, in new lives to be shared with our loved ones." As the hunter ran off
into the woods, Kerri sought out her sister's face. She knew now, or so she
thought, what her Tiny Flame had meant by destiny. <It is our destiny to ensure
the survival of our people.> And she also knew that, as she and her fellow
warriors would freely give their lives for such a glorious cause, that the
Romans would rue the day they ever came to their lands. She and Edana shared
looks of love and acceptance before she turned back to the people who would save
their way of life. She asked the dragon in elven form, "How can we repay you,
Lady?"
"You need not repay us,
child," the woman said warmly. "We are doing this for the people that you give
your hearts to. You will be remembered by them, Kerri du Kaaveti. I will make
sure of it." Kerri bowed, followed by the rest of her group. When she looked up
again, the Fey had disappeared just as quietly as they'd appeared. She looked at
the spot Edana had been standing, amusingly thinking she might not be there
either. But instead, Edana was waiting for her orders. "You should go with
them," Kerri insisted, despite knowing the child would refuse. "If you stay, our
people have no one to talk to the Gods for them." Instead of just saying
something like her place being here, Edana gave her that irritating, mysterious
smile she was known across the village for and replied, "We all talk to the
Gods, Kerri. In our own way."
<Gods save me from
mystical, priestly sisters in the next life,> she thought wearily. She glanced
at her eleven fellows. "Ready your weapons. We do not fight to repel the Romans
this day." She looked to the horizon, which would soon be filled with armored
invaders from the south. "Today, my friends, we fight to save our people."
A cheer rose up, filling
her heart with pride.
*****
"This makes no sense,"
the Roman soldier said, peering off into the distance. "I'd expect them to be
waiting for us, but from inside the woods where they could pick at us with their
arrows." The commander of the Roman forces didn't like this situation.
The Kaaveti had proven
one of the more resistant tribes to Roman expansion and he'd decided the time
had come to directly oversee their assimilation into the Empire. Now he found
nearly eighty Celts of fighting age awaiting his arrival. <As if they'd been
forewarned. Either they know things we do not, or their scouts are truly to be
admired.> Still, he couldn't help but feel that this was a trap of some sort.
"What are they doing?" he asked, deciding to ride closer and get a better look
at their opponents. With over two thousand warriors under his command, one in
every ten being archers, a "pitched" battle would be over in mere minutes. The
soldier looked uneasy under the General's eye but answered anyway. "Two of them
come forward, my Lord." A look of distaste crossed his face. "They are women."
The man sighed in frustration. "They are women." The runner nodded in disgust.
"I seem to recall the same being said about the Amazons five hundred years ago,
Centurion. Those ‘mere' women sent a thousand of our ancestors to the underworld
then, am I right?"
The soldier remembered
his military history, there was no doubt about that. He winced at the thought of
how the last Amazon tribe, only two hundred strong, had taken so many of Rome's
best and brightest in only two hours of combat. The general also knew the man
was thinking the same thing; were these few dozen Celts in the same frame of
mind? "They are not Amazons," he finally said. The general didn't comment that
when it came to fighting for one's freedom, such things didn't matter. "I will
meet their envoys," he decided, much to the astonishment of his staff. Before
they could even protest, he raised his hand to quiet his junior officers. "There
are precedents in the past, however few. The fact is, they exist. And if these
women are confident enough to brave our archers, then perhaps we need not shed
blood this day." He saw the sour looks on several faces, given the resistance
the Kaaveti in particular had given them. "My brothers, our purpose is to bring
these people into the Empire. What good does it do to give them the benefits of
being Romans if they are dead?"
"They are savages,"
Julian complained. It was his troops who'd suffered more than their share of
deaths trying to corner the Celtic warriors. Much the same was said about us by
the Greeks," the general countered with a wry smile, "and
That brought a few
strained chuckles, but no further protests to his decision. "Send out a runner
under a flag of truce. Hopefully these ‘mere' women will be willing to spare the
lives of their warriors." He didn't hold out much hope of that, but it was
better than nothing.
*****
A half-hour was much
quicker than Kerri thought it would take the invaders to respond. She glanced at
Edana, who kept the same look of serenity and peaceful acceptance of the
inevitable. <If it is my or her destiny to die to keep our people alive, so be
it.> She was willing to die for her tribe, but a small part of her still wished
her sister was not here. Still, she was happier to have the woman who shared her
blood and soul by her side rather than face the enemy alone. She was caught off
guard when the man described as the leader of the Roman troops rode out on a
fine looking horse to meet them, flanked only by two lesser decorated soldiers.
Kerri somehow thought that while not the leaders themselves, they still led
troops into battle. As they came within the distance that her sharp brown eyes
could make them out, she saw that one of them was the man who'd been in command
up until now. She regretted that she would not continue to punish his temerity.
The horses slowed and came to a soft, easy trot. Kerri looked to Edana, who
nodded, tensing up at the sight of their ultimate and immediate nemeses. They
walked forward to meet the Romans halfway so that they might talk.
The general dismounted,
but his warriors remained mounted. Kerri decided to take it as a compliment of
their caution of her people's skills. The short, stocky man, wearing decorated
yet functional armor and a blue cape, examined her and Edana for several
seconds, taking their measure. The man nodded in greeting. "You are Kaaveti," he
said in his tongue, which she understood thanks to a judicious spell on Edana's
part. "We are," she said. The man arched an eyebrow at being able to understand
her speech, to which she just smiled. "Let us skip over explanations not needed
here. You are violating our lands. You are not welcome here." "I have my
orders," the leader, a true leader from what Kerri could see, spoke to her. His
eyes darted past them to her fellow warriors. "You do not send many warriors
against us, daughter of the Celts."
"We are all that remain,
Roman," Kerri replied, forcing down her anger at his casual statement. <He does
not mean insult, he merely states the facts.> The Roman seemed surprised, so she
elaborated. "We tire of losing our brothers and sisters to you invaders. You are
not welcome here, so we ask you one time to leave us and our lands in peace."
The man seemed as if he would consider her request if such were in his power.
Instead, he merely stated, "Our intention was to join your peoples to our
Empire." "Your Empire," Edana said, opening her mouth for the first time. "Not a
Republic. Not any longer." Kerri had no idea what she was talking about, but it
had an impact on the Roman general. His jaw tightened and he said, "You know
more about
The general considered
her younger sister, but not in the way she thought an outland barbarian would
scrutinize her. He seemed to be sizing her up as an opponent or an equal. "What
Goddess do you serve, if I may ask?" Kerri answered for her. "My sister is a
priestess of Scathach." She was surprised when he nodded thoughtfully. "A
Goddess who teaches your ancient heroes, and the Goddess of knowing what is to
come." He must have seen her surprise, because he said, "An old saying goes;
know your enemy and in a hundred battles, you will never fail." "We did not
choose to be your enemies," Kerri spat, losing her composure. She saw her former
nemesis looking at her hatefully. "You have come here without our permission,
killed our brothers and sisters, and tried to erase our way of life." "We would
not do that if you joined the Empire," the commander said formally. "I give you
my word on that. We would seek to bring you into our way of life so that your
lives would be improved."
"Our lives might have
been improved by this," Edana said far too calmly, "but we do not want improved
lives, if they are not free lives." There it was, the ultimatum. She knew it was
futile, but every second they deliberated was another second the Sidhe had to
get their people to safety. The general seemed to know that they had no hope of
any solution that would prevent their deaths, but he was willing to stall for
time, should any hope of another resolution present itself. "You cannot win, yet
I cannot grant your request," he said finally.
Kerri wondered if the
sadness in his voice was typical of Roman commanders or an exception to the
rule. "We will not retreat, daughters of the Kaaveti. We will see battle this
day, but I wish you would reconsider giving your lives if they could be spared."
"If we die," Kerri said, peace settling within her soul, "we will return to this
life as newborns. Perhaps not as Kaaveti, but certainly as people with the
chance to avoid such bloodshed." He seemed to stare into her eyes for a second.
"Perhaps as Roman generals-to-be?" he asked. Kerri knew in her heart that he was
quite serious about that. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you would be reborn as one of my
sons or grandsons." A shared sad smile, one borne of knowing that death would
receive many guests in her home today, passed between them. The general turned
and mounted his horse, barked orders in his tongue for his fellows to depart,
and rode off, heading for the Roman lines.
Kerri didn't like the
last spiteful glance the one officer whose face she'd come to know far too well
these past months sent in their direction. She turned around and started
walking. "Edana, what happens next? Can you tell me that much?" "This Maximus
holds honor above all else. While not a Celt, I somehow sense that he holds a
reverence for the Earth that few can achieve. He would see us treated well."
Kerri sensed again that her sister was holding something back but didn't reply.
She had too much to worry about at this point.
*****
Somehow, she wasn't
surprised that the warriors led by their personal foe were sent out to meet
them. She wondered if this was because the man named by Edana as "Maximus" was
allowing those warriors and hers to finish their personal battle, or because the
man had demanded vengeance for his four months of humiliation. "Remember the
plan," she told her contingent. "We do not fight to kill. We fight to give our
loved ones time to depart." Her friends and comrades nodded, save for Edana, who
just looked on peacefully. <Trust the youngest of us to show the most
composure.> Kerri gave the little one a squeeze of her shoulder, and Edana
smiled. "Remember what I told you. One of us begins a destiny this day." Kerri
nodded in affirmation. "Then let it unfold." She looked at her warriors and, on
some given signal of agreement, shouted, "For the Kaaveti!"
She turned, drew her axe,
and led the charge. Fueled on by the knowledge that even though they would die
this day, the Kaaveti would live on. That was more important. As their father
had told them more than once, the way of life was greater than the single lives
that made it up. She was aware of her tiny sister keeping up with her longer
strides and wondered if it was magic or protective feelings spurring her speed.
She decided it didn't matter as she crashed into the Roman line, swinging her
axe with wild abandon. She connected with one Roman's arm and was rewarded with
a scream. A quick once over showed her he was out of the fight for a second and
turned to another opponent. Her first choice was taken away by a small,
orange-haired blur jumping in front and blocking his sword with her small
shield. Edana swung her mace around and under the Roman's own shield and
connected with his ribcage. Although she was too small to break any of his ribs,
the man did double over, allowing the priestess to bash him in the face with her
own shield, knocking him to the ground in a heap.
The chaos inherent to
battle raged around them as the two opposing forces blurred amongst each other.
A tiny grain of fear for her sister rising, Kerri shouted, "Back to back!" She
turned around and was rewarded by the warm presence of her sister's back against
hers. They'd practiced this type of warfare many times and could react almost on
instinct, as if they could read each other's minds. She spotted a Roman moving
in and swung her axe, battering his shield with her weapon. Behind her, Edana
began chanting. Without warning, they spun around before the invader could swing
in retaliation. Expecting someone six inches taller, he was unprepared for Edana
to swing her mace up under his outstretched arm and crush his elbow with one
well-placed strike. As he screamed, Edana waited for him to clutch at the arm.
When he did, she cast her first spell. Kerri knew this one; it lent her smaller
sister greater strength for a short time. She swung the mace at the shield and
crumpled it with one blow. It also broke the arm it was strapped to. Thus having
set one opponent aside, the sisters looked for their next foe.
To Kerri's slight dismay,
the leader of the troops and three more of his soldiers started surrounding
them. The quartet of invaders maneuvered, trying to cut the sisters off and
surround them to get through their defenses. One of them mockingly said, "You
stole that blade from one of us!"
Knowing he was referring
to her short sword, Kerri raised her chin. "I might be a savage to you, but even
I appreciate a well-forged blade. Besides, your friend had no further need of
it." Her taunt got to the man, who lunged before his comrades were ready. She
let him inside her defenses before springing to the side, opening a gap between
her and Edana. Edana swung around and her mace connected with the man's face,
crumpling bone and sending him to the ground in spasms. The girls knew they had
to fight their way out if they were going to rejoin their tribesmen, so they
fought for all they were worth. Kerri took on the other man who'd been to her
front, swinging her axe with deadly abandon. Edana began chanting again and
Kerri knew what spell was coming up. She felt sorry for the man who injured her
first, as whatever pain was inflicted upon her would instead be transferred to
him. It wouldn't keep the wound from bleeding, but without the pain to distract
her, she could fight on.
Sometimes, her sister's
tactics scared her, as well. She continued trading blows but could not shake the
feeling that something was wrong. The man wasn't trying to take his revenge for
four months of comrades dying. Putting that idiotic thought aside, she redoubled
her efforts to breach his armor and shield. <After all, one of us does not have
Goddess granted abilities to even the odds,> she thought sarcastically. She
heard Edana grunt but forced herself not to look; that would only prove a fatal
distraction. A male gasp told her the spell had worked to perfection. She began
moving back and forth, trading blows with her Roman enemy and tuning out the
sounds of weapons and dying screams. THERE! She spotted an opening when she
avoided a sword thrust. She brought her axe across with a two-handed swing and
cut deeply into his neck. As he started reaching up to stem the blood that
started flowing, she turned back to help her sister before the Romans' sheer
numbers overtook them.
Edana had dropped her
mace and shield somewhere. That didn't leave her unarmed, however; she now held
the two stone-bladed hand axes she used in shamanic rituals. The blades were lit
with deep blue, arcane flames that betrayed her powers and standing as a servant
of the Gods. While she'd hidden her powers in battles before, Kerri knew that
none of them planned on leaving the battlefield alive. <She is using what there
is of her magic.> That meant she had no plans on needing her energy for healing.
There was only one reason for that. <So be it. We are fighting for our loved
ones and our way of life. No matter what happens this day, we win.>
Edana engaged the Roman
leader, whose face twisted in disgust. Kerri knew there was no way he could miss
the clan resemblance between them. She tried to intercept the two combatants but
was cut off by his partner. Growling in frustration and fear for her sister, she
swung with all her might, only to be denied a clean strike by the Roman shield.
How she hated that insignia. Kerri kept half an eye on her shaman sister, who
was holding her own against the Roman. He probably expected her to stand and
fight, not dart around like a mouse evading a cat. But that was exactly what she
did. The difference was, this mouse had a nasty bite to give the cat. Kerri
tried another blow at the man's thigh but was blocked again. Before he could
return the favor, the Dark Lady spun around, switching her grip on her favorite
weapon and attacking his unshielded side. The axe bit deeply into his ribcage,
breaking several bones and easily puncturing his lung. The downside to this was
that when he fell, she was pulled forward by her stuck axe.
Lacking time to pull it
out and avoid being struck down from behind, Kerri did the only other thing she
could do; she pulled the man's sword out of his hand and pulled her own. Thus
armed as Edana was, in a style that she was good at, Kerri moved to aid her
sister, who was being hard pressed by the Roman commander. A shadow fell over
her and something closed over her body before she could react. A series of heavy
strands crisscrossed her vision and the Kaaveti realized a Roman had netted her.
Screaming in defiance, she tried to swing her swords to cut her way out, but the
heavy weight prevented her from doing so. Her shout drew the attention of her
sister, who whirled about, forgetting her opponent. Without hesitation, she drew
her left arm back and tossed one of her enchanted axes, which flew by her and by
the sound of it, scored a deadly hit on whomever had tossed the net over her.
However, Edana's rescue
attempt was doomed to failure because Kerri saw the triumph in the commander's
eyes. She shouted at the top of her lungs to her sister, but not before the man
who'd taken their father from them swung his sword down, hitting her sibling on
the head and sending her downward, crashing to the earth, knocked senseless.
Fresh rage and power surged through Kerri's frame, and she fought furiously,
determined above all else to free herself and stop her sister from being killed.
But someone, unseen by
the desperate Celt, came up behind her and clubbed her on the back of the head,
just as Edana had been. Stars exploded in her vision, despite it being a
beautiful, sunny day. The last thing Kerri saw before blackness claimed her was
the image of Edana, lying on the ground, staring at her with empty, lifeless
eyes.
*****
Maximus Decimus Meridias
stared across the battlefield and sighed at the senselessness of it all. How he
wished he could go home. <There comes a time when one sees enough of death and
wants to create life instead.> That was one of the main reasons he was a farmer.
Julian came up to his side, his left arm in a sling from one of the remaining
Kaaveti warriors who'd sacrificed themselves. Sacrificed themselves to allow
their noncombatants to flee. "Is there no sign of them?" Julian said
disgustedly. "Our scouts can find no trail, no sign of what direction they went
in." Maximus admired these Celts all the more, knowing now that they had seen
only one choice to preserve their way of life, and they had taken it. "They are
to be admired, Julian." "My Lord?" he asked in shock. Having spent the last four
months fighting and losing to this tribe, his doubts were understandable. "My
Lord, they committed suicide." "Tell me, Julian," the general said, walking
through the battlefield, "if you had the choice between winning glory in battle
or sacrificing your life to save
"As these men and women
served their tribe," he said, hoping the man would get the comparison. <And give
me hope for
"Four, perhaps five. One
has apparently made peace with whatever Gods these Celts worship and asked for a
dagger to end his suffering." "You granted him this?" When Julian nodded, he
approved of the choice. "Mercy is a quality few of us have, Julian." He
hesitated and then asked, "The sisters? Those we met? How did they fare?"
Julian's look became one of icy hate. "In how many of my men they struck down or
their health?" For some reason, Maximus found he wanted both versions of the
answer. He said so. The man who'd lost many good men snarled, "Between
themselves, those women killed three of my men and four suffered injuries of
varying severity. They were felled by blows to the head, both of them." The
Roman from
"Yes, my Lord." He gave
the commander a stern look to show he would brook no disagreement with his next
order. "Release them." Julian's eyes became wide and the man's jaw opened to
protest. "Julian, if they know where their tribesmen are, they will follow.
Perhaps by showing them honor for the sacrifice they made this day, perhaps we
can yet bring them and other tribes into the Empire without you losing more
men." Still, Julian choked on the order. "Y-you want me to release… all of
them?" "The five who survived, yes. I'm not asking you to arm them, but give
them provisions, food and water, for three days per person. Better yet, send
them under guard to my quarters. I will see to it personally. If any of your
troops come to harm, I will bear responsibility for it." That didn't seem to
mollify Julian, but he knew that the man would follow his orders to the letter
like a true Roman. "Julian, aren't you sick of death?" The question caught the
younger soldier by surprise, but in the end he nodded. "I am, too. The sooner we
end this war, the sooner we stop becoming sicker." Maximus turned around and
left, hoping that this might make up for those Kaaveti who would never see their
loved ones again. He slowed in his step as he remembered the woman's words about
being reborn. <Perhaps they would see their loved ones again.> The dim hope gave
him something. Not much, but better than the alternative.
*****
Julian waited for the
General to leave before fulfilling his orders as he'd been given them. He waited
for a detachment of his soldiers to take the confused Kaaveti prisoners away
before turning to his immediate juniors. "We are going to camp here for the next
week. Send out patrols to search for traces of the Celts that did not fight. If
the General wishes to reunite those who survived with their families, we will
not stop him." "Sir, what about those two bodies…" "I told the General they were
felled by blows to the head. If he chooses not to free them as well, that is his
prerogative." Those two had been directly responsible for Jupiter knew how many
of his men dying on this Gods forsaken island. "I am taking it to understand
that their disposal, whether death or slavery, is in my hands. Dismissed." The
Centurion could see that his men didn't like it, but they wouldn't violate
orders. Their dislike of his decision was countered by their desire for revenge,
however futile such actions would be. <But it will happen,> he vowed.
He turned and headed for
his tent. He'd wait until the General had performed an act of mercy, which he
didn't agree with but in the long run, he agreed that it might make bringing
these savages under the banner of
*****
Kerri struggled again,
trying desperately to respond to the horrifying screams emanating from her
sister's throat. She knew what had happened; the Romans had drugged her enough
so that she could not summon her magical powers or struggle to prevent what was
happening, but not so much that she couldn't understand what was being done to
her. The warrior screamed despite the leather knot shoved and tied into her
mouth, but her cries fell upon deaf ears. The desperation of her desire to save
her family overcame her own dizziness caused by the combination of drugs forced
into her mouth by the invaders and the blow that had rendered her their
prisoner. Kerri struggled again against the ropes that bound her, arms spread
like a bird's wings and legs lashed tightly together, to this thing the Romans
called a "cross."
Even her head was lashed
against the wooden construct, keeping her from looking toward the tent where
Julian, the man personally responsible for the destruction of her family and
most of her tribe, was performing the ultimate sacrilege. The Kaaveti thrashed
as much as the bindings allowed, ignoring the raw chafing wounds it caused her
bare body. She swore they would get vengeance. Somehow, when she came back from
the afterlife in her own time, she would hunt this man down and exact revenge
for her entire family. But for Edana especially. The screams mercifully faded
and Kerri held out some hope that Edana's torment might be over. Those dawning
rays of elation faded when the bastard Julian stepped out of his tent and came
into her field of vision, donning a robe. He barked orders to two of his lackeys
and they went in. Seconds later, they brought out Edana and Kerri's tears
started falling again.
He spied her and he
started talking in his tongue. Although she could not understand what he was
saying, she had a pretty fair idea as to the content. His humiliation, the
deaths of his soldiers, and of course, the escape of the tribe. So of course, it
was her fault and he was taking his failures out on her. He called for something
and one of his men handed him a sword. Her eyes widened as she realized what he
was about to do. She screamed through her gag again as Julian drew the sword
across Edana's stomach, spilling her internal organs across the ground. He then
slit her throat and had his men drop the body there, giving her a triumphant
glare. He moved up to her and she tried once more to win herself free, but it
was futile. However, she refused to give in to hopelessness, because of the one
thing she'd been given by her dying sister. A triumphant look of the eyes that
said, "Our people still live. No matter what happens now, we won."
The Roman officer started
speaking to her and rubbing her body in areas not meant to be touched by anyone
but one's mate. She struggled but that only seemed to make him happy. She fought
against the feelings rising inside of her and instead focused on the fate of her
sister, lying only feet away, her lifeblood spilling onto the ground. He stopped
his fondling of her privates and walked away for a second. She vainly tried to
turn her head but he returned far too soon for her liking. Although she couldn't
understand what he was saying, his visual and touch aids, the tip of a spike
hitting her wrists and ankles, suggested what he planned to do to her next.
No, he wasn't going to
give her the release of a warrior's death any more than he had her poor sister.
Only her vows to come back and wipe that look off of his treacherous face kept
her from giving up. However, she was wrong about one thing. She wasn't going to
have those spikes driven through her. He moved up and removed the leather strap
pinning her head back and backed up. As she tried to move her head, he retied
it, strapping her at the neck this time. Unfortunately for her, it didn't
restrict her airflow, giving her a quicker way out.
He backed up and barked
orders to his warriors. With a startling shake, Kerri felt the wood to which she
was secured being hoisted by unknown means. It quickly rose to a standing
position and she found herself hanging there, unable to break free. She was able
to look down, barely, to see the Romans preparing to break camp. Julian was in
her limited view, as were the two soldiers who dumped Edana's lifeless body on
the ground, directly in front of this "cross" serving as her cage. She realized
the agony that he had planned for her; she wasn't going to die or even be
violated. No, that had been her sibling's fate. Hers was to be reminded of her
failure to protect her younger sister every time her head fell forward while she
died of exposure or thirst, whichever claimed her first. Seeing that she
realized what her torture would be, the Roman who'd destroyed her family turned
around and left, ignoring her curses and tears.
*****
Awareness returned with a
vengeance. Sights, sounds, touch, and smells assaulted her long dormant senses.
The woman, operating on pure instinct, fought her way to her feet and looked
around, brown hair flying about wildly. The first thing she noticed was a
strange tree or something of wood in her presence. She looked up and unwanted
memories flooded her consciousness. Father. The Romans. Maximus, the honorable
general. The battle. Their fall. Julian… "EDANA!!!" she screamed, falling to the
ground and wailing as she remembered. She sobbed for many minutes before
gathering her wits enough to remember her name and purpose. She stood up, still
sobbing uncontrollably but now focused on her vow. The last thing she'd vowed
before she died. <Julian, I am coming for you.> She was confused about one
thing; this wasn't reincarnation as she expected it. What had happened?
Had she somehow been
spared? Or was this the work of the Gods? She walked over to the cross that had
been her tomb and looked up. The ropes had rotted and wind and rain had beaten
at the smooth surface. Given her knowledge of woodcraft and time, she estimated
that at least several months, perhaps more than a year, had passed since… Since
she had died on this cross. The last delusional memories came back to her as she
remembered Edana's vision. "One of us will begin a destiny," she whispered
bitterly. "She knew. She knew she was going to…" She also knew why she was the
one now standing here. Edana, despite the fierceness she showed in battle, was
too gentle and forgiving a soul to take vengeance on someone. Yet she, Kerri…
"She knew I would never know peace, in any lifetime, until I had sought such
peace on my own." As she realized that this was what she had to do, anger began
filling her again. But it did not rule her; she channeled it like she did all
her emotions, into a direction.
"But how do I know where
to find the Roman who did this?" she asked, looking up at the starry sky. Her
voice rising, she pleaded to her Goddess, "She Who Strikes Fear, how do I gain
our revenge?!?" The call of a bird was her answer. She spun around and looked up
at the source of the call. It was a bird, feathers black as night, eyes the same
color, watching her closely. It cawed at her again. Suddenly, she understood.
*****
Roman Command Post
Julian sighed and rolled
up the map of Britannia he'd been studying. In the last year and a half, the
Britons, Celts, and other savages of his island had made things harder, not
easier. Especially the cohort sent to explore the islands off the northern
coast. Half of the unit had been killed on the island the natives called "Skye."
He wondered to this day what natives had been able to eliminate so many soldiers
and not suffer a single casualty. Of course, since every last survivor had had
his memories of the expedition erased, it fell under the category of one of
life's great mysteries. <I hate mysteries.> His attention was regained by the
runner clearing his throat. He looked at the boy and thought how they were
getting younger every year. Or was it that he was just getting older. <No
matter.> "What is it, son?" "The General has called for you. He says it's
urgent."
"More attacks?" he asked
with a sigh. Rather than accept that
"At ease, Julian," he
said, acting informally in private. "You asked to see me, sir?" Julian asked. "I
did. I need your extracurricular expertise on something." Maximus stood up and
walked over to a map of the Empire, which covered most of the known world. "If I
recall correctly, you have an interest in the stories of the Age of Heroes,
don't you?" Julian nodded. "Yes, sir. I studied such things with relish when I
was a lad. I dreamt of being Hercules or Odysseus. Why do you ask?" "A
particular legend was brought to my attention, and I wanted to hear your opinion
on it." The General looked at him, and Julian had to admit his curiosity was
aroused. "Have you ever heard tales about people who die and come back to life?"
"Do you mean stories of heroes returning from the underworld?" Julian asked.
Roman myths had such tales. There were others about beings that traveled the
world playing some strange Game, but he'd never put much stock in them, so he
didn't mention those.
"No, Julian. This
involves a soul being unable to even go to the afterlife because of some great
tragedy, leaving them unable to rest." "Ah, that one. It is strange, but I have
heard it mentioned in texts from around the Empire," he noted with the air of a
scholar. "I think it has to do with avenging a great crime, and involves the use
of an animal or spirit guide. I've heard some of the tales, most of them
involving birds like crows or ravens." "That's the one, thank you." He pointed
at the spot Britannia took on the Empire map.
"What would you think if
I told you I know of such a case here in Britannia, from a spot where we once
fought? Such an occurrence right under our very noses?" "What?" Julian asked.
"The Britons have the same tales?" "No, Julian, not a Briton. A Celt." His face
suddenly became cold and he barked, "Enter!" The officer, stunned by the sudden
shift in the General's mood, turned to see who was coming in. When the woman
entered the tent, a dark feathered bird on her shoulder, his heart skipped a
beat. It was the Kaaveti woman, Kerri. The woman he'd crucified a year and a
half ago. The woman glared spitefully at him and suddenly, without warning, her
face turned white, with black streaks surrounding her eyes and trailing from the
corners of her mouth. Julian tried to back away from this horror but was stopped
by the powerful arms of his own General. "General, that THING!!!" "SILENCE!!!"
Maximus bellowed, stunning him into silence. He roughhoused Julian into his
chair and backed away, pulling out his sword and putting it between this monster
and himself. Julian, under the order from his leader, couldn't find the words to
ask for his aid.
*****
Maximus thought about
what was happening here. He'd listened to Julian's reports about the final
battle against the Kaaveti, and then listened to the tale from Kerri, who he'd
thought dead. Despite not wanting to believe her, the fact of her powers and the
crow that served as her guide only served to tip the scales in her favor. <For
the moment.> "Julian, you know what this woman wants from you, given what you
already know about this legend," he said coldly. "But I refused to just hand you
over to her, because as a Roman, I still believe there is justice to be found in
the world. You have one chance, and one chance only, to save yourself. If you
can possibly defend yourself and whatever you did that day, you had best do it
now." The frightened Centurion looked like a trapped rabbit caught in his garden
back in
When Julian didn't speak,
he barked, "Say something, Julian!" "They killed hundreds of my men!" he
shouted, pounding the desk like a petulant child. "They were savages who kept my
men from ever seeing their families again!"
"I ordered you to release
the Kaaveti who survived the battle!" he snarled, barely aware of the way
Kerri's head snapped in his direction, shock showing on that unearthly face. She
spoke for the first time since reentering the tent. "Y-you… you set them free?"
"The five who survived the battle, yes. I thought it fitting to honor them for
their… for your sacrifice. I hoped they would rejoin their families. I still
don't know if they did." She didn't seem to have an answer, but it only served
to fuel the fires that had sent her back to this world. She started to move
forward, but Maximus brought his sword back up between the predator and her
prey. She growled in response but his hard eyes stayed her hand. "Julian, you
told me they had died," he reiterated. "I told you how they were felled. I never
said they died." His lips curled into a sneer despite his fear of the woman
seeking vengeance against him. "You said to release those five. Nothing was said
about these whores." Maximus reacted before the Celt could. He turned and
prepared to drive his own sword through one of his men. "So you gutted one and
crucified the other?!? I told you to free the Kaaveti, Julian!!!"
"You said the five were
your responsibility. Those two were mine." Maximus couldn't believe what he'd
just heard. Julian had committed…he couldn't bring himself to say it. He backed
away and sheathed his sword. He glanced at the trembling woman, who had to be
replaying the agonizing memories in her head. "Kerri?" She looked at him, her
face bleeding back to her normal appearance at his soft voice. "Did he do what
the others say he did? To Edana?" She nodded, her face beginning to change
again. Maximus didn't need to hear any more. He turned to Julian and asked,
"Why?"
"To avenge my men!" he
barked defiantly. "So be it." He turned to the Celtic woman and nodded. "Do as
you will."
*****
VAN Ltd Headquarters
Late hours
"Faith, please, for
heaven's sakes, wake up!" a distant voice shouted, piercing the foggy, sleep
filled thoughts. <But I…> She suddenly bolted awake, realizing that Daddy G had
spared her from reliving what she'd done to that son of a bitch. She started to
shiver and warmed her arms by rubbing them with her hands.
Then again, what Shaw had
gone through wasn't anything Faith hadn't had happen to her in this lifetime.
<And if that doesn't blow mondo chunks, I don't know what does.> Strangely, the
only things she could read in Shaw's eyes were understanding… and pride. Faith's
mind flashed through everything and realized…
<We were supposed to
lose. We weren't trying to win, we were trying to save our people.> She amended
her thoughts. <We… they did win. Kerri and Edana. They did what they were
supposed to do.> She didn't know whether to be prouder of Shaw or herself, since
they'd both done their parts. "Shaw, you… I mean, she…" "I think it says
something that you got the easier name in that life," she replied with a light
in her eyes. She folded her arms and said, "But imagining you with Mime Face is
very amusing." "Oh, laugh it up!" she moaned as the others joined Redeye. "At
least I wasn't playing Pope to She Who Can't Choose What She Wants To Be In
Charge Of!" She shook her head in confusion. "Gabs, whatever happened to the
days when a God or Goddess was the God or Goddess of one thing and stuck to it?"
"Perhaps that is why we
should be happy that there are no ‘modern mythologies,'"
*****
Shaw decided to nip that
shout in the proverbial bud. "Edwin, shall I go next?"
"Are you sure you don't
mind? That…" He paused and Shaw saw how he and Marion had come to care for each
other. "Girls, what happened in the very first life you shared was very
unsettling for me." "But it might explain something, Lord G." She looked and saw
that Faith understood. "We know those Crows got this whole vengeance temper
thing going, right? Maybe… maybe something that big doesn't breed out for a
while." Shaw saw where her sister was going and for some reason, she couldn't
help but agree to a point. A First Soul manifestation as a Crow, and one who
avenged a brutal rape in particular, might explain Faith's actions back in
April. <Genetic or psychic memories.> She'd felt the same thing when Tanetal,
one of the devils responsible for the destruction of Myth Drannor, had announced
his name. She'd immediately dropped everything and attacked him.
She shook it off and saw
Faith climbing off of the bed. <My turn,> she thought. She was more eager than
she'd thought she would be. She laid down, her sweats and tank top wrinkling and
causing her some discomfort. She belatedly realized that perhaps revealing her
scars like this wasn't kind to Marion and Edwin, but they hadn't said anything.
If either said something, she would of course take measures to cease their
discomfort. But for now, she wanted to know more about her and Faith. She laid
back and glanced at Edwin. "From what I understand, your hypnosis will not be
affected by my psi-barriers. Please, go ahead, Edwin." He smiled at her and she
closed her eyes, folding her hands together on her flat stomach and allowing
herself to begin the relaxation techniques she normally used at the start of
meditation or praying. Only this time, it wasn't to look for the Lady for spells
or comfort. No, this time… she was searching for…herself.
*****
"My dear Selene," the
older woman said carefully, "it is more than a case of one of my personal
servants, and an unmarried one at that, having a dalliance with someone who may
well be beneath her station as one of my Guards." The thirty-eight year old
woman, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Anne of France, turned in her pacing to look at
her. Her eyes became careful as she revealed what had troubled her.
"My main concern is that
during these troubling times, any affair by a member of the court with someone
from outside our borders could be construed the wrong way." Selene Faye du
Lourdes simply allowed her liege lady to air her concerns. Despite the
"official" relationship of mistress and servant, both knew that the social lines
blurred a bit when it came to safeguarding the Queen. When it came to her
protection, she and her partner brooked no opposition to how seriously they took
their duties. However, the self-styled "Femme Musketeer" thought, verily thought
in fact, that Her Highness was being somewhat paranoid about her recent…
association with a friend of a fellow servant of the royal family. "Your
Majesty," she said humbly, in the accent common to
The assurance, while
delivered with the honesty Selene always showed her Queen, did little to calm
her concerns. Anne of Austria, wife of King Louis XIII, mother of the Dauphin
Louis, and sister to King Philip III of
Selene, having her head
bowed respectfully, hoped the Queen would not see her wince at Corina's teasing
use of the word "human." However, the Queen's talent for reading her servants,
even those who practiced keeping blank faces around their foes at Court, won
out. "Selene?" When Selene sighed, the Queen's face became dark. "Is Corina
Jacqueline attempting to tell me in a roundabout way that a child is involved?"
Selene started coughing
at the insinuation. <That is the last thing I need to worry about!> Not
proverbially, but rather literally. "Y-your Majesty…" she stammered while
regaining her control, "the Lord Arvindel is… not capable of having children by
a human woman. To do so would require…
Selene nodded helplessly,
just knowing that Corina was enjoying her predicament. "Well." The Queen Mother
paced again, albeit slower than before. "I know that in the norm, the two of you
show very good discretion in most of your activities. However, someone managed
to find out about your liaison with this elf Lord of yours. After what happened
two months ago in that tavern, with Kyra embarrassing several of the Cardinal's
men and sleeping with that Scotsman…" She glanced at them both and gave them
warning looks. "Ladies, please be careful. Not only on my behalf and my
family's, but also for yourselves." Anne turned and walked out of their private
working quarters, having given them the warning about someone watching them and
reporting back to those who sought to sully the Queen's reputation.
Waiting until she was
sure her Majesty was out of earshot, Selene turned on her supposed closest
friend. "And merci beau coup for your ‘help,' Corina!" "You are quite welcome,
conqueror of the
As she started binding
her long strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail, her fellow Guard and
Crown-sponsored demon hunter snorted in a somewhat unladylike manner. "Three
guesses and they all start with a goateed, red-capped and robed manipulator who
deems
No, he did not learn from
that experience.> Selene fingered the crucifix she wore under her clothes, she
thought about how she'd been brought up by members of the Church. Although she
never suffered Aramis' problems with being a former student of the Cardinal, she
still felt a slight conflict between her duties to the Crown and going against
the most powerful holy man in
<No doubt about that
whatsoever,> Selene sighed to herself. Finishing the arrangement of her hair,
the Frenchwoman buckled her weapons in place; rapier, dagger, other hand
weapons, and finally her pistol. Making sure she had plenty of powder for an
extended conflict, <Which always happens at the worst of times in our line of
work>, Selene walked over and donned her cape and hat. Thus ready to face
whatever perils raised their ugly heads this day, demonic or no, the duo left
their quarters to meet with their respective male conquests.
*****
Selene broke into a smile
once she caught sight of Porthos and Arvindel sitting at a table. She strutted
forward, boots clacking on the cobblestones. Her battle sister soon matched her
rhythm. As always, Porthos had decided to "accent" his Musketeer tabard and cape
with some form of bandana tied around his forehead, a nod to his buccaneer
heritage. Next to him, Arvindel cut quite the image of a human nobleman, albeit
without any accents that might hint at his national origins. Selene took in the
golden hair shining like the sun, green eyes glittering with a combination of
amusement, camaraderie, and desire that sent shivers running through Selene's
body, and a smile that at once was friendly, inviting, and suggested that he was
enjoying some private joke.
She graced him with a
smile of her own, filtering through the fond memories of their lovemaking last
night. <Of course, thinking of the nights to come…> She knew neither of them
expected the affair to last long, let alone become permanent. But she and Corina
had always been the ones to take chances for fun and happiness where they found
them. After all, they were only demon hunters, not Vampire Slayers. She sat in
one of the empty seats and Arvindel took her hand. Lifting her slender fingers
to his lips, he gave her a kiss that sent a tingly warmth running all the way to
the top of her scalp. She wondered if he was using Seelie magic to enhance the
kiss. <He doesn't need to,> she thought with an accompanying blush. // Nor would
I. It would only cheapen your genuine, lovely emotions, // came his telepathic
response. She retracted her hand, lest he get too accustomed to it. The royal
Guard and demon hunter laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them,
only having eyes for the Seelie Knight.
She didn't even notice
how Corina and Porthos were skipping past formal greetings or negotiations and
going straight to the results usually gained by such, Corina eschewing the empty
chair for the Musketeer's lap. "So how did your talk with Her Majesty go?"
Arvindel asked her, letting her drown in those evergreen eyes. In a somewhat
dazed voice, the twenty-seven year old replied, "Someone noticed our rendezvous
and started rumors spreading like wildfire. We told Her Majesty the truth and
she asked us to be more careful." "And a public meeting like this is careful?"
Arvindel asked easily, searching the features of her sculpted face. Selene
reached forward and held his warm hand. "One cannot catch fish if the hook has
no bait." His eyes gleamed as he caught onto her and Corina's plan. // So you
seek to flush out those who try to discredit yourselves and the Queen? // <Not
to mention Porthos and his comrades, or your own noble self,> she cooed
seductively. <Can your telepathy find anyone with less than honorable thoughts
about us?>
// My dear demon hunting
beauty, if I used that search criteria, it would include nearly every male in
this tavern, myself and the good Musketeer included. // Before she could frown
despite the teasing, he smiled charmingly and said, // But I shall instead
search out the minds that seek to bear you, the fair Corina, or the Queen any
ill will. //
<Good enough.> Selene and
Corina received glasses of wine from the barmaid and ordered their lunches. "So
how was your morning, gentlemen?"
"The usual," the large
Musketeer said jovially. "The Cardinal plots, we try to stop it, the King is
endangered, and we save the day and celebrate by wenching." "As opposed to the
classier, proper, traditional seduction," Arvindel chuckled, although he only
had eyes for her. "I hate to disappoint you, mon amour Arvindel du Fay," Selene
said sweetly, leaning close until their noses touched, "but it cannot be
considered seduction if the subject is all too willing. And I do seem to recall
giving as much pleasure as I received, my Lord." "Beauty, grace, and wisdom. A
deadly combination," he told Porthos admiringly. "Truly my friend, I owe you for
introducing us." "I plan to repay that debt for you," Corina said playfully,
toying with Portho's curly hair. However, she slid off her man's lap and purred,
"Provided our dear sea dog behaves himself." "I think someone will be sleeping
alone tonight," Selene laughed, prompting a wounded look from Porthos. "I have
been known to contain my joi de vivre on occasion."
Corina moved her hand
under the table and smiled. "Well, I wouldn't want that tonight, would I?" The
four continued flirting, discussing their days, and eating lunch while Arvindel
performed his scan of the nearby crowds. It took several minutes before he
succeeded. // I have them, // he announced to them as he took a bite of his
roast. // Six men in the employ of the good Cardinal Richelieu, lying in wait
for us. //
<Us?> Selene asked,
perking up. "You and Porthos are targets as well?" "The Cardinal apparently
wants us detained and questioned about the nature of our association and
activities. Our would-be kidnappers think he intends to use whatever information
he gleans from us to proclaim us sinners and embarrass the Queen."
"Business as usual,"
Selene, Corina, and Porthos sighed together. <Me, a sinner?> du Lourdes thought
angrily. <I think not!> // Calm yourself, cherie, // her current lover chided in
her mind. // Anger is a weakness in political situations such as this. You need
to keep a clear head. // Without looking away from her plate, Selene agreed.
<Oui, Arvindel. You are correct.> She chewed her last piece of veal and washed
it down with a sip of wine. "How should we proceed?" "Perhaps a lover's
quarrel?" Porthos suggested with a sadistic gleam of mischief in his eyes.
"Perhaps you could claim that Seuir Arvindel did not perform satisfactorily for
you?" "Oh, mais non! I could never do that!" she hissed with an innocent frown.
She leaned toward Arvindel, brown eyes gleaming. "How do we start, cherie?"
*****
Selene stormed out of the
tavern, ignoring the fading ache in her wrist. <Perhaps I should not have
followed his suggestion and punched him. A hard slap still would have hurt
less.> The servant of the Queen walked briskly, muttering under her breath in
the guise of having just assaulted her lover. The servants of
As soon as she had the
tiniest bit of privacy from watching eyes, Selene ducked down a side street and
began sprinting to put some distance between her and any possible bystanders.
She rounded two different corners and stopped, leaning against a wall to catch
her breath. She took mental stock of her equipment, patting the appropriate
parts of her body as she counted off her items. Satisfied that she'd not lost
anything during her run, the woman drew her pistol and a double-bladed throwing
knife given to her by Corina for Easter. <Holy Father, my dear friend is as bad
as Seuir Musketeer when it comes to new playthings.> Selene strained her hearing
to the limits to pick up the stray sounds of her pursuers. The Frenchwoman
waited until she heard the soft curses of a tracker who'd lost her quarry to
make her move. As soon as she judged the closest voice to be within fifteen
feet, Selene stepped out into the open. Her first thought was one of triumph; in
their desire for subtlety, the fools hadn't even pulled out any weapons! She
tossed Corina's gift at the closest man, taking him in the right hand. As he
yelped in pain, Selene turned her body sideways; attempting to minimize the
silhouette she provided them.
"Halt!" she barked at
them, eyes glinting with open threat. "In the name of Queen Anne, I order you to
raise your hands!" She knew what was coming next, but
With a decidedly frosty
voice, she said, "I will grant you thirty seconds to decide which of you
receives that shot." Those accosting her actually seemed to be thinking that
over. She was less than ten seconds away from shooting the leader in the leg
when her comrades finally deemed it a dramatically appropriate moment to make
their entrance. "How nice of you to join us!" she called out with false
cheerfulness. "We were just discussing who would be the fist person to receive a
wound from me!"
Corina and Porthos drew
their blades while Arvindel simply leaned against a nearby wall and folded his
arms, finding the entire thing to be quite amusing. "Well do not let us
interrupt you," Porthos said, bowing grandly to her, "please, continue your
discussion." Selene returned his bow with a wide smile. "Thank you, Seuir
Musketeer. Now, gentlemen, have you decided who shall meet Saint Peter first?"
The Cardinal's hired swords seemed to be suddenly less confident of themselves,
faced with three new opponents. <I suppose it will be too much to ask the Lord
that they will see common sense and surrender?> The six opponents trying to take
her against her will drew their swords. Selene sighed and felt a part of her
heart ache. <Of course it is.>
She adjusted her aim and
fired her pistol. Through the resulting cloud of smoke, Selene's brown eyes
spotted the man she believed to be the leader clutching his leg. His blade
clattered to the street. The other five faltered a bit upon seeing their leader
neutralized, giving her ample time to draw her sword. A terse nod and minimal
eye contact was that was needed for she and Corina to "name" their opponents, a
benefit of four years of partnership. Leaving the one she'd hit in the hand
alone, Selene chose the healthy one closest to her. She took up a predatory
position and said, "Monsieur, it does not have to be this way." "Yes it does,
you bitch!" he shouted, lunging at her and assuming, as most men did, that she
didn't have the skill to match a man. He performed a standard epee technique
that she parried quite easily. She decided to go with her saber training and
began slashing at her foe, hoping to disarm or wound him. She wanted information
and there was the matter of a private vow she'd made a long time ago. She took
the offensive, using the skills taught her by a sister at the convent that
doubled as the orphanage she'd been raised in. While she never solved the
mystery of how Catholic nuns had known sword craft and methods for hunting
demons, she was glad they'd seen something in her to grant her the knowledge she
used nowadays.
Selene alternated her
targeting, never allowing the Cardinal's man to regain an offensive mindset. She
finally slashed his leg, making him stumble, and followed up with a slice of his
fingers. Not deep enough to maim him, but sufficient for his sword to fall to
the cobblestones. She lifted her sword up under his chin, making him look at
her. She let her eyes go hard. "Monsieur, I give you one chance to surrender."
He gulped and seemed to be convinced that she was ready to kill him. Giving a
few seconds to become even more convinced, Selene gazed around and saw that the
fight was already over. Porthos' opponent lie on the ground, out cold, while
Corina's foe was clutching as his gut. Selene's heart chilled at the blood
coating the man's shirt and hands, but he was still alive at least. She glanced
at Arvindel, who just bowed to her. When she saw what he had done to aid in the
fight, she groaned in exasperation.
He'd used some form of
charming enchantment to make one of the mercenaries fight his fellow. He'd
emerged victorious quite soon and was now standing over the unconscious opponent
and the leader she'd shot in the leg. He was glaring hatefully at her. Turning
back to business, Selene asked her fencing partner du jour, "Well, my good sir?
What is your decision? As you might have noticed from spying on me, I have prior
engagements tonight." Ignoring the wanton smile and kiss Arvindel blew in her
direction, she waited for the man to try bargaining for his life. "I'll tell you
what you want to know." "You do not have to." She stuck to her role and smirked,
making his face pallid. "I know you were hired by Cardinal Richelieu, paid to
abduct any or all of us that you could get your grimy hands upon, and deliver us
to his private dungeons. And while I may not have any inhibitions about spending
a night of romance with a man, I do have my limits as to what I am willing to do
with a man."
"Although I'm constantly
working on overcoming that little problem," Corina added with a dazzling smile.
<Almighty Father…> she sighed. She dug the tip of her rapier into his neck,
drawing a tiny speck of blood. "What is your choice, mercenary?" "T-the Cardinal
told us you were betraying the secrets of
<If we had killed any of
them…> The double-layered plot made perfect sense, unfortunately. Either they
were abducted and unable to defend themselves against the Cardinal's charges,
or… <We kill them and the Cardinal accuses us of multiple crimes, including men
working for the Church. MERDE!> She backed up and saluted the man before
sheathing her sword. "What are you doing?" he asked doubtfully. "Seeing through
our dear holy man's plots. I can determine by your tone, sir, that you are a
patriot of
"That is why I like being
a demon hunter," she reminded her partner. It was during one of her first
missions that she'd rescued Corina from being a sacrifice to a particularly
nasty servant of Hell. "Unlike some examples of humanity who are less stellar
than ourselves, I hold the human life to be sacrosanct." "Yes, but still…"
Corina nodded to the man who'd seemingly been duped into working for
Selene refused to answer,
gritting her teeth. However, her partner and closest friend walked up and gently
said, "Mon ami, that is one lesson you have yet to learn; codes and philosophies
can be perfect. But we mere mortals… perfection is beyond our capabilities."
Selene knew that Corina spoke the truth, but she had a hard time accepting it.
So she put the issue aside for now and glanced at the mercenary leader, who was
receiving aid from Porthos. "Monsieur, you have been told a lie that led to you
and your men being injured for no good reason. What do you intend to do about
it?"
The man's eyes gleamed
dangerously. "I intend to find out if you are actually telling the truth or
merely trying to cover up your activities." Despite that insinuation, Selene's
heart swelled with pride at the hiresword's loyalty to the nation. But she was
at a loss as to how to prove their innocence.
// He knows about your
fun jaunts into demon hunting, // Arvindel supplied. Selene glanced at him, but
he just waggled his eyebrows at her. She knew what he was thinking. <Humans.>
Well, this human was not going to allow someone, no matter how high his rank
amongst God's servants, to besmirch her, her friend, or their lieges. She said,
"Gentlemen, I think I might have an idea as to how to prove our innocence. That
is, if you are willing to trust a pair of demon hunting women, a
pirate-turned-Musketeer, and a fairy who might be a Prince someday, but for now
is a mere nobleman." She loved how Arvindel's smile vanished at her jibe.
*****
Private Residence of
Cardinal Richelieu
The man in charge of the
Catholic Church in
So it was better to get
them out of sight or, barring that, under his control, like when he'd gotten De
Winter into his circle. Now that was a woman who knew how to be fun and wicked.
Still, the Cardinal knew that all good things come to an end eventually. And
while he still lamented de Winter's loss, especially her beauty, he knew that he
had standards to maintain. Even if vows of celibacy were for lesser beings… He
considered his reflection, imagining himself wearing another shape or face.
Stroking his goatee, he thought, <And while being a holy man has been amusing
and effective, maybe it's time I considered moving onto bigger and better
things.> He arched an eyebrow. <I've always wanted to be a nobleman. Maybe a
Marquis…> Any further daydreams were placed on hold when a knock came at the
door. Sighing,
"Your Grace, the
mercenaries have returned," his aide, a young irritating acolyte, reported
through the door. "And one of the women is with them." With a flourish,
<It's just too bad I
couldn't get that Musketeer in the bargain.> He stopped at the greeting room and
the two hirelings standing guard saluted him. He just waved a hand at them and
they let him pass. Taking a deep breath and once again pasting that cheerful
grin on his lips,
"Oh?" he asked with an
arched eyebrow. He knew from very private sources that she had this notion that
human life was not to be taken, and obviously it had played in his favor. "What
about her companions?" The leader shifted on his bad leg and winced. "They are
nowhere to be seen." "Hmmm." He could always find them later, if need be.
Besides, what could they do, go to the Queen?
As far as
<This is really beginning
to feel strange.> The Cardinal took on the air of a confessor and tenderly said,
"How have you sinned, my child?" If she were serious, perhaps she would leak
information that would benefit him. <Of course, she would never accuse the
Cardinal of violating the sanctity of confession. > Looking around a little, as
if expecting someone to walk in and overhear her admissions, she hesitated.
Grinning inside at how juicy this must be, the holy man sat down in an
overstuffed chair. "My child, no one will hear your confession but you, me, and
God." <Although whether HE listens is debatable.> "Now tell me, child," he said
with false compassion but true interest, "what happened that you sinned?" "I…"
She hesitated but then went forward. "Today, I came to believe myself capable of
taking a human life."
The man dropped his act
and stood up, glaring back at her. "Is that so, my dear?" he questioned her,
placing his hands on his hips. "And just how did my plan fail, Selene du
Lourdes?" She looked very much like she wanted to draw a weapon, but
Still, this was his
domain and his authority was supreme here. "WHO do you think you ARE, to assault
one of God's servants?!?" he shouted in genuine ire that was building towards
rage over someone invading his personal home. "Explain yourselves at once!"
While he expected some hesitance in moving against his person and position from
the du Lourdes woman, her partner was too practical in defending the Queen
against human threats for his taste. Corina Beaubier smirked at him in a way
that made
"Well, it seemed like a
good idea at the time," he confessed, giving her a tight smile. "But alas for
you, my dear, you have inadvertently given me useful information. You have drawn
a weapon and used it against a servant of God. What will your precious Queen say
when this becomes common knowledge? Or need I remind you, that members of the
Church are not subject to laws of the Realm." "Maybe not," that damned Porthos
said with a grin
"Non, Your Grace," du
Lourdes said as she came around him and joined her comrades, including the elf
that could ruin his life. <Although he hasn't done so yet, he must not have that
much power.> She coldly, yet still respectfully, explained to him, "While no one
in France has the power or courage to remove the threat you pose, well…" Her
eyes became distant as if she were daydreaming. "Well, Your Grace, I have always
had a dream of eventually meeting His Holiness." He froze at the subtle yet
unmistakable threat. And he could see that these two, unlike some servants of
the Crown, would follow up on their threat at the earliest convenience. He
growled a bit but made no move, as that pesky weapon was still pointing at him.
"What do you want?" he snarled, figuring that there would be some blackmail
involved. "Certainly you're not naïve enough to ask me to resign." He laughed
but the sword poked his robes again, silencing him.
"Non, Your Eminence,"
Corina Beaubier said, sarcasm for his title dripping like liquor from a tap.
"What we want is your head on a spit. But, barring that, we are willing to
settle for… oh say, five thousand francs of your personal fortune to be donated
to various worthy causes around
<You have no idea…> he
groaned. Fifteen thousand francs?!? <Well, so much for leaving this life anytime
soon.> He growled at the demands and sneered, "And what do you want, Musketeer?
I know you well enough." Porthos smiled and started pacing around the room.
"Well, Your Grace, I have most of what I want. And while I could ask for you to
find exotic weapons for the Mademoiselles and me to play with, I know you would
frown on a peaceful man such as yourself doing such a thing. So…" He put his
hand to his mouth, tapping against his lips in thought. He seemed to think of
something because his eyes lit up. "AHA!" he shouted, bringing the hand back.
Before
*****
As they exited the
office, Selene was aware of the stunned looks they received from the Cardinal's
employees. She was just thankful none of them were stupid enough to attack them
and draw attention to the good holy man. She guessed that elven invisibility
spells had their uses and she gripped Arvindel's arm, squeezing it and leaning
into the tall, muscular Knight. Corina and Porthos were too busy laughing at the
outcome of their meeting to engage in sweet gestures. Selene's eyes twinkled
with pleasure as she said, "You know, Corina, I am quite surprised you did not
take the opportunity to use one of your toys on the Cardinal's precious art
objects." "Oh?" her partner asked, grinning eagerly. "Which one?" "That
repeating crossbow comes to mind," she laughed, drawing more chuckles from the
others. Corina seemed to think about it and stopped, looking back at the room
with a disappointed pout. "Hmmm. Maybe next time."
"And something else," she
said with a grin. "Why carve an ‘x' into his buttocks?"
"What else would I carve?
A ‘z?'" "I thought you would carve your initial," she offered.
Corina giggled and hugged
her pirate while they walked. "A ‘c' curves. I wanted to do something simple."
"What not an ‘I' then?" "One line?" She sounded offended! She sniffed and said,
"My dear Selene, I am an artiste!" "Agreed," she giggled. She glanced at
Arvindel and asked, "Will you be waiting for us at the tavern, mi amour? We have
to report to Her Majesty." Arvindel seemed to barely hold his desire in check.
"Hurry," he said in a husky, lustful voice. "Don't dawdle." "We won't," she
said, grabbing the protesting Corina by the wrist and hurrying out into the
waiting sun.
*****
Private Quarters of
Selene du Lourdes
The grounds of the Royal
Palace Paris, France
Selene smiled when the
knock came at her door. She was just finishing dressing back into her uniform
after her bath and expected she knew who it was. Standing up and not making her
caller wait, Selene neglected to put her boots on and traipsed across the floor
to answer the second knock. With a smile of affection, she threw the door open
to find… The Queen standing there, arching an eyebrow at Selene's expression.
She quickly blanked her face and took a respectful posture, averting her eyes a
bit. "Your Majesty," she said softly. "I was just finishing getting ready for
meeting some comrades for dinner." "So I deduced," Anne's humor-filled voice
said with warmth as well. The voice dropped to a low, "May we come in?" <We?>
she thought. Before she could think otherwise, she stepped back. After all, this
was the palace grounds, and no one refused royalty something on their own
property.
The Queen of France
walked in, followed by an older looking man in rich red robes. Her eyes going
wide, Selene reacted on years of instinct and humility, dropping to all fours
and kissing the hem of his clothes. The older man reached down and brought her
up to a kneeling position, a look of kindness and wisdom in his eyes. "My
child," he addressed her, confusing her because of his English accent, "I would
ask you not to act in such a manner, at least not in private. This is your home,
not mine." "I-I…" Selene looked to her Queen, who smiled gently. "Your Majesty?"
She knew the Queen would understand her confusion. <He is English!> "The good
Cardinal has come from
I have explained some
things to him and, while I hold no doubt that our dear
"Or in my case, if what
your wise and noble Queen says is true," the Englishman added, "I hope to remove
those who might still be saved from his dark influences. I would hope that you
will see that I have the best interests of humanity and the Church in mind." For
some reason, the demon-hunting girl knew that he was sincere. And despite what
he might think, she held fast to the belief that
Her suspicions at his
openness warred with her girlish delight at his praise. "Wha… what do you want
of me, sir?" she shyly asked. The man clasped his hands together and asked,
"Have you ever heard of the Congregation?" Somehow, she suspected it meant
something other than the normal use of the word. She shook her head, playing it
safe for now. "I see. Then allow me to enlighten you, although you can never
repeat these things to anyone, not even your confessor." She hesitated.
<Something I cannot mention even to Brother Darius?> The official waited several
breaths while she considered that. Eventually, she decided she wanted to know
more. "I swear that only Our Lord in Heaven will hear the words you speak." He
seemed pleased by that. "Good, child, good." He walked over to her and placed a
fatherly hand on her shoulder. "When I am done telling you about the
Congregation, I want to make you an offer, one you need not accept now. Take as
long as you want to decide, even if it is for years…"
*****
Selene walked into the
tavern, having gone through five minutes of scolding from Corina about her
tardiness. Unable to tell her why she'd been so long in getting ready, she just
weathered the storm of Corina's temper. They walked into the tavern where the
rigmarole had started that morning and saw their respective paramours waiting
for them to arrive. Porthos smiled in greeting, while Arvindel got up, walked
straight over to them, and picked Selene up, twirling her around like a little
girl. <God, he doesn't know his own strength!> "Hello, mi amour," she said,
locking her hands around his neck and drawing him down for a long,
passion-filled kiss. After flattening their lips together for what seemed like
forever to the now-dazed Femme Musketeer, she drew back and tried to catch her
breath in more ways than one. "So, shall we order dinner or proceed straight to
dessert?" "About that…" he muttered, sounding hesitant. Her growing passion came
to a halt as she released him and looked into his eyes. He must have read her
thoughts, because the look in his eyes was anything but hesitant. He wanted her.
"It is not you, cherie. It… that is, Porthos…"
"What my dear friend the
Magus is trying to say," the pirate said with a laugh that irritated Selene for
some reason, "is that when I went to order our rooms, there was only one left."
Selene's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the Musketeer. "One. Room?"
With a pained look in his
eyes, Arvindel added, "And only one bed." "One. BED?!?" she snarled. She looked
over at Corina, who seemed just as surprised; the inn wasn't usually this full!
But her eyes became something speculative and Selene followed her gaze to her
lover. She turned back to Corina and the two shared a glance. Selene began
shaking her head. Corina began smiling. "Please do not tell me you are thinking
what I know you are thinking!" she begged. Instead, Corina licked her lips.
"This has the potential to become a… very interesting evening."
*****
VAN Ltd. Headquarters
Late hours
Shaw woke up and looked
around, regaining her sense of the present. Edwin smiled at her. "Sorry for
interrupting your trance, my dear, but I felt some things should be allowed to
remain private." "No fair," Faith pouted from the side. Shaw shot a dirty look
at her, despite knowing Faith was mostly teasing. "Next time let it play out,"
Gabrielle seconded. The ranger knew that she, unlike Faith, was not teasing.
<Goddess…> "I want to
thank you, Edwin," she said, sitting up and drawing her knees up to her chin.
She was surprised to understand that she'd enjoyed the experience. "That was
most enlightening." "Oh yeah," Faith drawled, "finding out I was an ex-hooker
who slept with Oliver Platt really made my day. And having to fight Tim Curry…"
Shaw gave her a hurt look. "Faith, as someone who once worked alongside
prostitutes and defended them from Jack the Ripper, I think that it is not a
thing to worry about. We do not know what Corina's early life was like. Perhaps
if we learn all the details…" She trailed off and looked to Edwin, who smiled
graciously. "You would not mind?" "Of course not. I could make it so that you
remember everything about those past lives. But we could wait a while, perhaps
until tomorrow?" "Well, I at least learned one thing. Jonathan was right." She
looked up at the Heavens. "Your sense of humor is warped!" Gabrielle started
laughing, but the others seemed in the dark as to her outburst. <And I would
rather leave it that way, thank you very much!>
Shaw looked at her
sister, who seemed to like the idea of them going on, to an extent. Shaw found
herself desperately wanting to know more about past lives. "Gabrielle, what do
you think?" she asked, referring more to what they'd learned so far. "And I do
not mean about my name!" Her friend seemed to understand that and was willing to
keep the joke to herself. "Sure, Moon Elf." Shaw glared at her, but Gabrielle
ignored the sunray spells shooting out of her eyes. Her own eyes went between
Shaw and Faith before she answered. "There does seem to be a common theme
already." When neither she nor Faith could guess what she was talking about, she
smiled. "In both your past lives, Faith has been the warrior born and Shaw has
been the spiritual one, albeit a fighter in her own right." Shaw felt her jaw
opening and Gabrielle smiled at her understanding. "First life, you were a
priestess of Scathach. Second life, you're a devout Christian. Although a little
naïve about that code against killing. It's nice to know you're a little more
practical now." She turned to Faith and Shaw looked at her; she was grinning.
"While Faith mixes stuff up a bit. First, you're the older sister trying to
protect Edana, second you try every weapon you can get your hands on. You've got
the heart of a warrior, we always knew that, but this was beyond what anyone
else could have expected."
Shaw considered the
observation and liked the idea that no matter what incarnation she experienced,
she had that connection or devotion to something or Someone greater than
herself, even though the thought of being a Catholic was hard to take. In a fit
of impishness, she thought, <C'est la vie.> "So is there more or do we have
another life or two behind us?" Faith asked. It seemed that Shaw wasn't the only
one who wanted to go on. "Whaddya think, King G? We got another ass kicking term
in there or what?" "I don't know, Faith," Edwin replied, looking slightly
embarrassed by the "King" moniker. "Your first incarnation wasn't until the
second century AD, your second was only… three hundred and fifty years ago, give
or take. It may be that you've only lived those lives."
"Any danger in finding
out for sure?" she asked confidently. It was infectious; Shaw was feeling the
same. <Because it shows that our bond is true and perhaps everlasting.> She felt
a calm inside of herself and gladly accepted it. "I suppose you want to call
‘dibs' on it, Faith?' "Hop off the bed, Hunter, it's my turn!" Shaw and Marion
both chuckled as she climbed off of the bed and let Faith take her place,
hopping and bouncing like a child. "You don't have any problems with this,
Edwin looked at her once
more and Shaw nodded, a smile touching her lips. "As you said, we could learn
everything about ourselves there is to learn. I have already found things to
think about. Please, let us do this." "All right." Giles' father turned around
and took a deep breath. "All right, Faith, let's give it the old college try,
shall we?" "Let's rock and roll, Watcher Daddy." Edwin shook his head and said,
"If I thought
*****
The only reason Faith
didn't make a joke about slumber parties was because Shaw did need it. She
suddenly wondered a bit how she was still up, given being whacked from healing
and all. <Maybe she's getting a Slayer-type rush from finding out about us,> she
reasoned. Not that she minded; she was loving this stuff. <Not that I'm going to
admit it to G-Man. I'd never live it down.> She tried relaxing again and said,
"Okay, Edwin. Let's see if the Boston Bad Girl's got one more life up her
sleeve." Eddie began doing the hypno-talking and she let him do what he needed
to do to get her under. It wasn't easy, mostly because she was a stubborn kid,
but eventually, she felt that tug again. She let it take her and this time,
rather than caution at what she might find in a past life, she dove in, wanting
to find out as much as she could. For her and Soul Sis. <Here goes nothing…> was
her last thought before everything went dark.
*****
Everything went bright.
Too bright! She closed her eyes at the light. <It hurts!> was her first thought.
Chaos reigned in her mind, fighting her for control of her emotions and flooding
her senses with too much information for her to process and make sense of. She
felt hands around her, picking her up and holding her carefully. She flailed
about helplessly, a chill running over her entire body. She was terrified, not
only of the light and sounds, but also because she felt strangely… alone. She
was missing something. Or someone. All she remembered was the dark. Except for
that strange, familiar presence in the darkness. She missed both. She was
scared! The hands keeping her aloft gently laid her down onto something soft.
She felt something wrap around her body and she tried to fight it with all her
strength. She couldn't budge it, she was too weak. Her instincts began dulling a
bit as whatever she was trapped in warmed her body up and vanquished the cold.
She began to feel a little safer but kept her eyes closed tightly, still crying
aloud. For some reason, she didn't feel right. Something felt… strange.
She felt herself being
lifted again and she finally chanced opening her eyes, no matter how much the
light hurt! She was just about to close them when a face filled her field of
vision. She saw a woman smiling down at her, her face lit up with love and joy.
She looked exhausted but didn't seem to let it affect her.
Instead, the woman with
the wet silver hair plastering her face, and light green eyes beamed at her,
talking to her softly so as not to frighten her. Somehow, it made her feel less
afraid. But she still felt strange and as if she were missing something. That
familiar presence. In her still rampant confusion, she caught one thing that
somehow made sense to her. Something spoken by that tired person holding her.
"Silmakila."
She felt herself being
shifted around and suddenly something new came into view. A tinier form, staring
back at her with light green eyes, a skullcap of dark hair tight on her head,
and pointed ears. She didn't know how she knew this, or what it meant, because
she was still trying to overcome her instincts of terror from her violent
entrance into this light!
She still felt strange.
But it lessened a bit when she finally felt the presence come back to her.
Somehow, the thing she was looking at was what she'd felt in the darkness with
her. This was the thing she had been missing! Her instincts knew that but her
rational mind was too slow to make sense of these sensations and… feelings.
Where did that come from? Why did she know things she had no concept of? Why…
Why did she feel strange…
She passed out, her fear and feeling the presence and love from too many
directions exhausting her and putting her under the spell of sleep.
*****
Awareness came back to
her, but only partially. The light wasn't so bright now, but for some reason
that strange feeling was stronger. Somehow, she knew it wasn't good.
She cried out, still
unable to coordinate her limbs. She was so weak… She opened her eyes, hoping to
make sense of what was happening. Instead, she saw the woman who'd looked at her
so lovingly. She wasn't smiling now. She was crying.
How did she know these
things?!? She didn't understand! The feeling hurt! It wouldn't stop! <Make it go
away!> she screamed. The lady who loved her picked her up and held her, making
the fear go away a bit. But she still felt strange. She couldn't understand.
Before she could cry out again, everything started going dark. She was going to
sleep again. She…
*****
"FAITH! Come out! Come
back…NOW!" She cried again. It was too loud! She flailed a bit but couldn't
move!
The instincts of a
newborn infant and the rational intellect of a young woman were at war.
Lifetimes passed in an instant. Seconds dragged on for eons. <Help me, damnit!>
Kerri du Kaaveti, Corina Jacqueline Beaubier, Faith Patricia Reilly Pryce, and…
Silmakila screamed together. Four separate identities, one shared soul. "Faith,
when I count to three, you'll wake up. One… Two… Three!" The darkness exploded
into light.
*****
VAN Ltd. Headquarters
Early hours
Faith woke up in a cold
sweat, shaking like a leaf. The images haunting her had vanished, forever
scattered and lost. Somehow, Faith didn't care. She didn't want to know what
true chaos was anymore. <Okay, now that was major Wiggsome!> However, she
regained her composure with Irish attitude. "What the HELL was that?!?" she
demanded from Edwin. "You were supposed to hypnotize me, not drop me into some
Timothy Leary-land!" He had a somber look on his face, prompting her to look
around and see what the Hell was wrong.
Instead, Redeye was
crying her heart out. Before Faith could say it was okay, it was just a screw
up, her Soul Sis' face crumpled and she turned and bolted, racing from the room
and slamming the door so hard it made her cringe. "What's wrong with everyone!
It was…" It hit Faith in that second. Everything that had confused her. The
crying, the way an old lady looked at her like Linda and Joyce did, that funky
ass word that she knew, even though she didn't speak but one word of Shaw's
crazy elf lingo… she knew what it had meant, and what it had been. <Oh Gawd…>
The rest snapped into place and she felt the same urge to cry her eyes out like
Shaw. Hunter'd gotten the idea and realized what she'd seen because she'd
recognized that word. <Silmakila.> Again, she didn't speak a word of Elvie, but
she knew that name was important. For that one simple reason. It was a name.
It had been her name. "Oh
shit…" she whispered, looking at Auntie M for permission. <Please!> "Go to her."
*****
She didn't even have to
go ten feet. Soon as she stepped outside Shaw's room, there she was, sitting
against the wall. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms holding them there,
and she was bawling for all she was worth. Okay, the first life had ended pretty
badly, but this was something Shaw could've done without. <But I wanted to know.
And it's right that she knows.> She realized that Shaw hadn't known, or she
would've reacted a little better. Her heart aching but still soaring with
elation now that she totally understood every single thing there was to know
about their sister thing, Faith crouched down next to her sister and reached out
to hug her. "Hey, Sis. In more way than one, huh?" Lady Tuvok's voice was a
whisper between crying. "I-I… I never knew. They never told me…" She shivered
and gasped, "Oh Goddess… I don't think they knew…"
She started shaking again
but Faith just held her. "I figured it out, Hunter. I got it. But it's okay."
Shaw pushed her back and Faith saw all the stuff they'd been through, from demon
ass kicking to the whole night flashback sessions, catching up to her and
draining her control to nada. "Faith, you… we…" Her head just started shaking,
like she couldn't find the words. Faith knew what part of the problem was.
Pointy-eared twins from Shaw's mudball had that Psychic Friends thing going,
letting them see through each other's eyes. She said, "Maybe some of that
twinnie thing passed through to me in this life, Shaw. Think about it; when we
saw each other, we felt it. Although I hope I'm not gonna be looking through
your eyes when you and Lucky Charm do the deed…that would be too Wigsome, even
for me." "FAITH!" she shouted, although she looked half embarrassed and half
ready to laugh at her attempt at cheering Shaw up.
"Shaw, look." She looked
around, trying to figure out how to say what was on her mind and in her heart.
<I'm Irish, this should be easy for
Shaw continued to on cry,
but she calmed a little. "But… to think that you and I… that we could have
been…" "I know. And it probably would've been great." She shrugged but smiled at
nothing as she stared at the wall, thinking about their collective fates. "But I
think we've done a damn fine job as it is. Kicking Roman ass, fighting demons,
Slaying, you name it. Hell, if that twin thing had gone through, we might be
like Buff and Dawnie, always bitching at each other with Slayer Mom caught in
the middle. As it is, we're as much sisters as sisters can be." "I thought we
knew that last part in April," Shaw noted tiredly, but Faith could feel she was
smiling. She could feel it. "I was on a roll. Not often I get to do the
philosophical type stuff." She took her head off Shaw's shoulder and looked at
her. "You okay? With everything?" "I would not have thought I could learn so
much in one night, Faith," she said, blushing blue all over again. "At least,
not about myself. And not about what we share."
"Yeah, I know." Faith
reached up and moved Hunter's mop top out of the way of her face. "But I want to
know something, and you're the one who'd know. What did it mean?" When Shaw
looked at her, lost, she said, "Sis, I saw Mo… I saw Mommy Redstar. She…" Faith
swallowed at the memory imprinted on her. She knew it'd fade like a dream in a
while, but for now it really made her think of Linda's eyes whenever she dreamed
about her. "I saw how much she loved us, Hunter. It makes me think we both got
gypped, you know? But she was talking and stuff, but I remember one thing. What
did my name mean, huh?"
She knew Shaw'd
recognized it. She looked at the floor again and she was starting to bawl again.
{Silmakila,} she said, using Elfie lingo. "From ‘silme' and ‘makile.'" "What's
it mean? Come on, names mean something for everyone. I wa… Let me know, huh?"
Shaw nodded and looked her in the eyes. "I know it would be a perfect name for
you, the warrior half of us." Faith smiled; she liked this already. "It
means…Sword of Starlight. Or Silver Sword." "Instead of something lame like
Bright of the Grove?" she teased, expressing the meaning of Shaw's given name.
"Yeah," Shaw said, using American speak for once. "Faith, I…" Then she wrapped
her arms around the Dark Slayer and hugged Faith tenderly. "I love you. I always
have and I always will."
She sniffed back a few
tears and whispered, "Ditto, Sissy." Then Faith smiled. "And something else to
think about." Shaw drew back and looked at her with a puzzled expression. Faith
grinned as an evil idea popped into her head. "Hunter, I was a pointy-eared girl
like you for… two days, I think." When Shaw's eyes got misty again, she
hurriedly added, "Shawukay, that means for two days, I was Allie's
great-grandkid, too! What's gonna happen when Sabrina finds out!" Shaw searched
her face for lots of heartbeats before that smile came back. Faith felt like
cheering but waited for it. "I think she shall require a very stiff drink to
find out that she is related to you." "Bitchin! I can't wait to see the look on
her face, can you?" NOW the half elf laughed heartily. "Goddess, no!" "Then
let's motor!"
Faith pulled Shaw to her
feet with her Slayer strength and the two went to hunt for Teen Witch, laughing
at the mind's eye picture of Sabrina's reaction they shared via their
connection. They strolled together, an arm over each other's respective
shoulders, saying, thinking, or do nothing else, but feeling. Feeling one thing.
Faith smiled. <Feel the love!> she mused to herself, sounding for all the world
like some smarmy New Age guru.
College Blues (Or, A
Witch's Guide To Higher Education)
Summary: A young woman
arrives in Sunnydale and reflects on her impending college education. Of course,
you know what happens to daydreamers in Sunnydale..... they get bailed out by
one of our beloved heroes.
Author's Notes: This
story takes place in mid-August 1999, between Bidding For Your Business and
Dating Blues 3.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue: Welcome To
Sunnydale
(
City Limits
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
the bus driver announced over the vehicle’s speakers, "we are now entering
Sunnydale. We should be arriving at the bus depot in about fifteen minutes. For
those of you continuing on to
Most of the passengers
accepted the announcement with a shrug or no reaction at all. Two of three, in
contrast, sat up straighter and gathered their portable belongings or prepare to
get off the Greyhound at the earliest opportunity. One rider, however, just
watched the trees zing by in the darkness. She caught a glimpse of the sign as
the bus’s headlights illuminated the large wooden board. <Welcome to Sunnydale,>
she read off the sign denoting the city limits. <Enjoy your stay.> She hoped it
was a good omen. The young blonde-haired woman leaned her head back against the
seat and thought about the events that had led to her arrival in this town over
two thousand miles from the only life she’d ever known, and her own reasons for
leaving.
*****
Part 1: College Bound
(I Know How John Boy
Feels; I Had FOUR Sisters Bugging Me For Rides ALL The Time)
Maclay Residence
The eighteen-year-old
woman sent up a silent prayer to whatever Gods had smiled upon her. She turned
from the window and walked to her closet. After opening it, she paused to glance
at her watch. <Three hours,> she thought.
She hastily tossed her
clothes in her suitcase; she didn’t have much. She then went to the bookshelf
and removed the small collection of special books she’d inherited from her
mother. The woman had passed away when
*****
He smirked at her,
obviously thinking he’d just gotten the better of his "stupid little sister."
Tara fought down a smile as he told her to let him get dressed. She went
downstairs, grabbed the keys to his car, and rushed outside to throw her hidden
suitcase in the trunk before he saw it.
*****
Big Jake’s Diner
The young witch, wanting
to escape the oppressive nature of her family, had secretly used her father’s
computer to search the Internet for possible options for continuing her
education after high school, something that Mr. Maclay would never have
permitted, had she asked him directly. Tara had been overjoyed to find that
several colleges across the country accepted applications through the Internet.
<And now the time’s
come,> she thought, determined to see this through. <I love you, Dad, I do. But
I just can’t do it, not like it happened to Mom. And I can’t let it control my
life. When I turn twenty, I’ll deal with it.> A thought crossed her mind. <Maybe
I’ll find a way to deal with it before then. Maybe… but I can’t do that here. I
want a life of my own. I’m sorry.> "Well, are you buying me lunch or not?" Billy
demanded. "I swear, ya make me drag ya all the way out here, y’all better keep
your promise,
*****
"Lords and Ladies of the
night Aid those under your domain.
Grant upon he who breaks
his fast Gentle slumber once again."
The food glowed with a
pale blue light for a heartbeat. Once it faded,
She popped the trunk and,
glancing around to see if anyone saw her, took her suitcase out and set it on
the ground. She started to take the keys back to the seat, but stopped.
*****
*****
Part 2: Reading The Fine
Print
(It’s The Stuff They
Don’t Put In The Travel Brochures That You Have To Watch Out For)
Sunnydale Bus Depot
"No problem. Take care of
yourself, okay?" "Uh, s-sure," the woman said, wondering why he’d say something
like that. She stood up and snatched her suitcase from the overhead storage.
"Thanks again."
*****
*****
Tara wondered how her
father would have reacted if he had ever learned about her leanings in that
direction. She knew it wouldn’t have been favorable. Most likely, he would have
claimed it was a manifestation of the thing inside of her, the legacy of an old
family curse. <Which is just one more reason I had to leave,>
Finishing her salad,
*****
Part 3: Cool Monster
Hunter
(One Often Has To Wonder;
If Your College Is On A Hellmouth, What The Hell Are Pledge Weeks Like?!?)
Sunnydale Bus Depot
The boogeyman hissed, but
the unseen rescuer’s response was to grab both of his shoulders and give him a
nasty head butt, the sound of colliding craniums echoing through the alley.
The villain rose to his
feet, somewhat unsteadily. The wild woman didn’t give him a chance to recover.
Before
That free-flowing brown
hair framed an angelic face with the most luminous brown-green eyes
"Well, uhm… I have a lot
of training from my G-Grandmother,"
"Wow,"
For the first time since
leaving
Pilgrimage
Summary: A young hero
decides to take a day out of her summer vacation for a road trip to the last
place any sane person would want to go (the Hellmouth) to see things happen,
think about what others have said and remembered about those events, and to
experience one of their favorite pastimes for herself, just to see if a
so-called "legend" lives up to its reputation.
Author's Notes: This
story takes place in August 1999, about a month after In Perfect Harmony and
during Dating Blues 3.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue: Volunteering
(In Some ‘Hoods,
‘Neighborhood Watch’ Means Something Totally Different!)
I’m still reading bedtime
stories to the little ones when the leaders check in for the night. I stifle a
sigh, gently smile, disengage myself from the tykes holding out against sleep,
and stand up. At times I still get some amusement from the way the children
stare at me. You’d think that they’d be used to someone so attractive as I after
eight months. Being runway model gorgeous can be such a bother. No, I am not
arrogant about it, but I know how to take advantage of it. As one of my favorite
aunts always says, "If you got it, flaunt it." She
certainly does. I shove the book back in place and walk over to Lily, my boss.
Well, she’s technically my boss, since she runs the shelter. But I’m only a
volunteer here; I don’t do this for money. Part of it is knowing that maybe I
can make a difference to those less fortunate than I. Mostly, it’s because it
helps me learn how things are done here. Sometimes it’s not so different,
sometimes I’m totally frustrated by the devolution...
"Lily?" I say, rapping on
her door with my knuckles. She glances up, looking tired. I know that look; it’s
paperwork exhaustion. Been there, gotten out of it more times than I care to
count. "They’re here." Her drowsy face breaks into a tiny smile. "Thanks." Lily
puts her paperwork aside and leaves her office to greet our "visitors." I decide
to make myself a not too silent partner and listen in. Yes, I know about the
Lost Boys and their ongoing war against vampires and demons trying to covertly
invade the neighborhoods in this section of
Hey, I am a firm believer
in honor and the like, but the second lesson I had drilled into me by the
original Sword Sister was that honor doesn’t mean much if you aren’t around to
enjoy it. Always use the efficient, clean way before resorting to overkill. I
follow that advice most of the time, but sometimes, overkill can be fun,
especially if you look good while doing it. Yes, it’s that aunt’s influence
again. <Americans,> I sigh with a smile. The Americans currently in front of me
are arguing about the lack of activity the last four nights. My friend Jaina is
wondering aloud if we should’ve let the Japs, never mind that I’m half-Japanese
myself, handle the vamps two months ago.
The Japs. Oh Goddess, how
could I forget! Oh yes, let us not forget, my having to reveal part of the truth
to Minoru Takahashi in June to settle a three way confrontation between us (Juan
and I had joined the Boys at this point), a two-hundred vampire strong group
establishing a drug ring, and a bloody yakuza clan intent on taking over the
vamps’ trade! I remember my Watcher cursing the day he was born and every day
since (a soooooo long time in itself) when he found out that I’d revealed the
truth (to an extent) to the oyabun.
I’m still glad I didn’t
tell him everything else, like my bluff that was needed to add to my credibility
and have that Father Figure cease his attempts to take over the vampires’ drug
trade. We’re still on something of a war footing, but we’ve turned the tide in
our favor and have no intention of letting it slip away. I decide to bring up
the facts to my flamethrower-wielding comrade. "I think you should know
something, Jaina. If those ‘bloody Japs’ had continued fighting the vampires,
one of two things would have happened. We’d be caught between two armies and
treated as an obstacle to be swept aside, or we’d be allied with the yakuza, and
in their debt." I shake my head. "And as I’ve said before... once in the debt of
a yakuza, always in the debt of a yakuza."
"Which is why you went
and met with him," Charles says with a firm voice. I watch as he looks over my
leaders (so to speak) in turn. He turns back to me and again, I feel myself
smiling. "Tell me, girl, what do you think we should do? Is this the calm before
the storm?" Not for the first time, I
wonder if we should’ve kept ourselves away from Slaying, since the Boys now know
I have some experience with vampires. They think it’s from my parents working
for secret branches of the UN. If they knew the truth... I surreptitiously
glance at my hands, which are braced on the table. As is often the case, my
right hand catches my attention. I look over the pink flesh and unpainted
fingernails that everyone sees while I consider my answer. Be careful here,
Slayer...
I stare back into those
beautiful chocolate eyes of Charles’ and give him my patented resolve look.
"I’ve been keeping track, Charles." He winces. I smile because he always does
that when someone uses his first name. "It seems to me that they’re either lying
low, or getting ready for an offensive." I glance at Rondell, who’s still the
only one who gets on my case as an "outsider." I know the truth; he’s just
kidding and I pretend that it irritates me. After all, I "paid" for my
membership with blood. To think I was actually glad that Eliminati stabbed me in
the left arm. If he’d stabbed the other... "But with the defenses here and at
the hideout, I think we’re more than ready for them."
It still gets to me
sometimes, referring to the ‘we.’ For the first time, I’m experiencing more than
a family feeling in the fight; I’m sensing the camaraderie that we young people
have when fighting for a common goal. Is this what it was like... I correct
myself, remembering where I am, when I am.
Is this what it IS like
for them? I shake it off; hello, business at hand. "I think they’re gathering
their strength," I finally say after considering the possible paths the future
might hold. Wish I knew more about that... "But I think they might finally
understand we have the strength to defeat them, especially if we call in the
Zombies. They may be bailing on us." Charles and Jaina look surprised by my
observation. Jaina shakes her head. "Sister, you got a lot to learn about vamps.
They ain’t smart enough to bail when the getting’s good. They’re all, ‘feed,
feed, feed.’ You’re wrong about this one, girlfriend." I smile at her.
"Possibly, yes. I am merely offering the scenario." I shrug. "Not that we’re
that lucky." Jaina’s reply mirrors my own. <No shit.> "It’s a good idea, though.
Good thinking, K-Z." He holds my gaze for a second longer and it makes me
wonder; is he just giving me silent congratulations, or is there something more?
Och, what I wouldn’t give to have it be so. But I still wonder; how would the
girls, especially Jaina, react if I acted out on what Juan says is my attraction
to the one bloody American in the entire group that’s not intimidated by me
being two inches short of six feet tall.
Sorry, too many times
I’ve had boys intimidated by my height once they realize I’m that tall without
heels or platforms, which I love to wear anyway. Adds more weight to the
kicks... "Thank you," I say with a nod, hoping my eyes don’t betray that I want
him. I still wonder if he feels the same. Thank Goddess it’s not to the point
where I’m dreaming about him. Yet. "Charles, you know I’ll be out of town
tomorrow. Can you cover it?" "Geez," Jaina mutters, more to get a shot at me
than with real venom, "you’re the confident one, ain’t ya Prom Queen! ‘Least you
get a summer vacation! Makes me wonder why you spend it hanging here." She knows
why I do, but being the tough women we are, we don’t admit it. Sometimes I think
women aren’t so different from men in that regard. "Just covering our asses," I
quip. "What ass?" she snaps with a smirk. "Don’t see one there, honey! All you
got going for you is that Gail Devers sprinter bod with the legs that go on
forever and a day. Guys in this hood aren’t the legman type. They gotta have
bootie!"
Is she telling me I have
no chance with Charles? Maybe I haven’t hid it as well as I thought. Maybe I’ll
talk to her when I get back; I have more important things to handle right now.
Something long in coming.
Charles is speaking to me
but my mind’s elsewhere; I know what’s going on right now and I remember the
effect it had on people. I shake myself and glance back at him. "Sorry, was in
dreamland." "Just wanted to know where
you’re headed, in case we need to reach you," he says. I enjoy the concern he
shows for me. <It’s for all the Boys,> I correct myself. I hedge my answer.
"I’ll be back the morning after next, Charles. If you need to contact me, just
use my cell." The answer seems to satisfy him, as he turns to other business. I
keep a sigh from escaping my lips. I could hardly tell him I’m going to scope
out the Hellmouth. After all, it’s high time I discover if the legend I’ve
always wanted to experience is true.
*****
Part 1: Keep The Motor
Running... Heading Down The Highway...
(Someone Should Never
Have To Pick Their Shots To Visit A Tourist Attraction.
Of Course, Some People’s
Ideas Of Tourist Attractions Differ From Most People)
I watch as she enters the
legendary Slayer House to talk to her. I see the worry in her body, the tension
she wants to unload on some convenient target. She’s always that way when she
has something bothering her; time’s hardly dulled that edge. I feel the longing
in my heart again; I want to see them, to interact with them, to tell... "No!" I
hiss to myself, shaking my head. I cannot do that, it might change too much.
Even though Aunt Shaw told me that precautions had been taken and that she knew
I wouldn’t screw things up, I still have to watch myself. I wonder if the
youngest one’s in there as well? I always wondered why she wasn’t Chosen like
the rest. Of course, there were the differences in her younger years. And at
this point in time, they have no idea what... Contemplative much? I’m here for
the long haul and I enjoy it here, despite the ancient articles I’m forced to
use.
I smile as the dark
haired woman struts out of Slayer House. Watching her self-confidence and
attitude is inspiring, as it brings back memories of where I come from and what
I learned from my teachers. I don’t follow her—I’m not stupid. I just wait until
five minutes after she’s out of sight to turn on my Firebird and drive off. I’ve
only been here an hour and have far too much to observe.
To me, this is akin to a
devout Christian visiting the
*****
I prowl through the
school grounds and the college complexes. They won’t be here; I’ve studied their
patrol routes. Even though it’d be fun to see them in action, just to see what I
might aspire to be someday. I always wonder if I’ll be able to measure up to
them, but I know it’s no more than a pleasant fantasy. Besides, I figure with
what’s happening elsewhere, they could use the help. Yes, rationalizing things
can be a good way to do things you want to do. For me, it’s spending a night in
their shoes. Emulating one’s heroes. Like I’m the only person to do that...
well, all right, the only one who doesn’t limit it to the realm of imagination.
I fail to find any less than desirable elements seeking knowledge, or an easy
meal, in the halls of academia and decide to head for one of the cemeteries.
I’ll check one of the smaller ones, since they’ll likely cover the major ones,
not to mention the teen scene. This teen for one intends on making her own
scene. Walking briskly and humming to myself, I play bait on the way to the next
stop of my spiritual quest.
Please note the sarcasm.
*****
Part 2: Observing How To
Score In A Cemetery
(GET YOUR MINDS OUT OF
THE GUTTER!!!!)
I finally score some
action about ten minutes after hitting this cemetery on the outskirts of
Sunnydale, near some unincorporated
Although, he actually
might be trying to... what’s the word in the here and now? Score? Yes. I hardly
think so, old chap. I mean, really. What self-respecting Slayer would ever
engage in smoochies with a vampire?! He is cute for a vamp, though, and he had
been an African American before he was turned. So, to slake my curiosity, I ask
him a question. "I was wondering if you could put my mind at rest about
something, if you don’t mind." He smiles gently at me. "Sure thing, girl." "Is
my bum too small? I mean, being a brother and all, do you think I have enough
‘bootie’ to satisfy a typical African American guy?" He is taken aback for a
moment before he drawls, "Hell ya, honey! You’ve got a great butt! It’s nice and
firm with some wicked muscles back there. I’d say your cushion is real conducive
to pushin’! So, whadda ya say...you want me to take you for a test drive?"
I smile sweetly at him
and say, "I am so sorry," I knew my bum was just fine... take that Jaina! Now
it’s time for me to continue with important things like seeing Sunnydale as it
is. "But I have other plans. And getting the hickey that never heals from you
isn’t on my ‘to do’ list." I wonder what quip will work here. I search my memory
for appropriate puns based on the situation; I almost file them like I have a
computer for a brain. The vampire in front realizes I know what he is and
charges me, keeping his face human at least. Good, I don’t have to see his ugly
side. DAMN! THAT line so would have worked here! I am just not as good at being
flippant like Aunt Elizabeth... I decide to get his attention before dusting
him. As he tries to send me crashing to the sod, I step to my left, turn
halfway, and crouch. I send simultaneous strikes into his torso; an elbow to the
gut while my right hand palm strikes his ribs. My superior hearing picks up the
slight cracking sound, but I know he’s still intact. Pity.
As he staggers back from
the sudden ceasing of his momentum, I backhand him across the jaw with my left
hand and follow up with a jumping crescent kick that hits him in the same
locale. He spits fang as he falls to the ground. His cronies stop in their
tracks and eye me fearfully. I smile. "Oh come now! Don’t tell me you’re
frightened of little ole’ me!" The lads show some smarts, backing away as their
friend staggers to his feet. He warily stares at me and whimpers, "Slayer. I
heard there were Slayers in this town; you’re the brunette one."
"In one!" I say happily,
reaching over my shoulder with one hand and under my coat with the other. "I
suppose my public relations firm is earning its keep since you’ve heard of me!"
The vampire peers at me, as if comparing the reality to what he’s heard from his
peers. <Goddess, do I know that feeling.> Finally he says, "Funny...I thought
you’d be...shorter." "Whatever." I draw my sword and my SPL Mk VI Type B. I hold
the sword in a kendo position and point the other weapon at the vampire. Seeing
the barrel pointing at him, the lead vampire acts in a typical fashion (i.e., a
stupid manner) and charges at me. His bellow is meant to distract me, but fails
miserably; I’ve had my backside, however flat Jaina likes to claim it is,
verbally chewed and literally kicked by the masters. A single pull of the
trigger sends the ruby-colored beam shooting into Dead Boy’s head. After the
familiar scattering of dust, his friends react. Two run for their undead lives
while the two vampire bitches decide to build a rep by taking down a Slayer.
Funny, this Slayer would
hardly add to their reps. I note that it won’t be simple this time; both demons
are equally pissed off and determined to end my existence.
Oh well, to work. I leap
into the air and somersault over my playmates, landing on my feet with my back
to them. With the precision that comes from years of training with living
legends, I execute a reverse kick into a girl vampire’s stomach. As she doubles
over, I use the extra room vacated by her upper body to swing my katana around.
I revel in the feel of the cool, carved ivory dragon’s scales in my hand as a
simple flick of my wrist and arc of my left arm make the moonlight glint off the
15th century blade. Scratch one vamp. I turn to face my final foe and put away
the SPL; no reason to waste energy like that. Girly vamp goes into demon mode,
showing off her game face and snarling. I just punch her between the eyes with
the hilt of my sword and watch her yellow eyes cross. I have been known to
operate by the KISS principle from time to time. I bring my sword overhead and
down, slicing the vampire’s head in twain like a cabbage.
I know Aunt Shaw always
told me that the human neck is an easier target than the heart, but the head’s
even larger. The fact it always grossed my fellow students out was icing on the
proverbial cake. As she dusts, I look around and extend my senses again. Sensing
no bloodsuckers in immediate range, I relax a bit. I replay the battle in my
head and compare it to what I know and heard about them.
Of course I come up with
ways that they would have done this more easily and taken down all five. I sigh.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be as good... On the other hand, I do feel a
sense of accomplishment; they’re short handed here and I know what lies under
this little town. Goddess knows, maybe I just made it a bit safer for people.
When people die on my watch, I take it personally. Say what you will about
locking emotions down during a fight, they drive me to be almost as good as
them...
*****
I’m completing my patrol
(I no longer deny that’s what this is, stepping into their shoes as much as I
can, just for one night) of the cemetery when I hear voices. Unfortunately for
me, they’re voices that signal a clarion call to my memories.
I spin on my heel and run
deeper into the cemetery. Finding a tree next to a mausoleum, I spring while in
full sprint and grab onto a branch. I swing myself up and into the leafy bough,
hoping that the hunting skills taught me, by the very people approaching
ironically enough, will keep them from discovering my presence. I focus on the
two women that appear from the shadows. They’re on guard, discussing the two
fleeing male vamps they had dusted (thank you!) and I look for holes in their
defenses. Maybe I can learn something before they teach me what they know
someday...
I feel the beginnings of
a headache coming on as I think about my past, which really sucks a bit because
what’s in the past is not in the past... you see, this is why TM was my least
favorite class. It gave me migraines. I watch as the tall, voluptuous redhead
talks sweet nothings amidst shop talk to the petite blonde woman next to her. I
feel the familiar sense of wonder, just like what I felt at
But again, I suppose I
might find out someday. Watching Gabrielle again, I reach up and grab the
pendant I’ve worn for years. Goddess, I wonder what her reaction will be when
she finds out. Of course, the Goddess might have told her already. If not
Gabrielle, then I don’t see Her telling anyone. Sonja and Gabrielle pass out of
sight but I stay put; I’ve heard too many stories of how these two would sucker
opponents into thinking they were gone or falling into a trap, only to get it
sprung back in their faces. I smile and hope that I’m more fortunate. Twenty
minutes later, her Royal Blondeness (as she’s called by that irrepressible Aunt
I mentioned earlier) and the Battle Maiden of the Steppes return. They must have
found the cemetery empty. <Gee, how did that happen?> I innocently wonder.
Putting my mind back on
business, I pull out the item I carried tonight, just in case I’m discovered.
The thought of using it on Sonja and Gabrielle, especially Gabbie, fills me with
dread. I don’t want to imagine ever causing them any harm. I’d rather die. Quite
different than the government types I took it from when they came to investigate
our arrival... Of course, fixing their brains and watching them sing like the
Blues Brothers seemed like a good idea at the time... I barely avoid snorting as
I sat in the tree. If you’re going to dress like those prats, you have to expect
something of that nature to happen to you eventually. Especially when you try to
take my arm off. Literally. Sonja and Gabrielle stop and talk a bit about their
patrol and what’s going on. It makes me shiver to think of what’s happening as
they chat. I thank the Goddess when they stop and start making out below me.
Unlike some people I could mention, where I come from such things are accepted.
They spend four or five minutes kissing and pressing their bodies against each
other and I wonder; how can they make it last so long when other romances fizzle
out? I’ve never learned their secret, at least not yet.
Headache again, and not
from the kissage below. Finally they part and decide to head home for chocolate
ice cream. I’m at a complete loss to understand why Sonja’s breathing so hot and
heavy while her eyes glaze over at the mention of mere ice cream. Maybe it’s the
chocolate. Being a chocolate fiend myself, I can sympathize, but I don’t get
that excited about it!
*****
Part 3: Sacred Ground
(When You’re Not Into
Alternate Religions, You Take Your Holy Sites Where You Can Get Them)
VAN, Ltd. World
Headquarters <<Formerly known as the
I gaze at the building
with mixed emotions. Awe, since this is where it all started. Frustration,
because I can’t go in and get another look at the artifacts dug up from all over
the ancient world. If it has to do with Amazons (Greek, Turkish, African), it’s
here. Separated by region to show the individual cultures, yet together to show
the sisterhood that bound them together. I remember what it was like once. I
spent some good times with them. I broke my own, self-imposed rules about
following anyone I came across and followed the Royals back here. They stopped
by to check on their emails or attend to some affair of state, I suppose. The
kingdom waits for no one, not even Her Majesty herself. I watch for a while
before finally saying, "Screw this." I have more to do and only a few hours left
in the night to do it. I head out, driving back towards the center of town.
*****
I stalk the hallways with
a cool, deliberate pace, taking as long as I can to soak up the proverbial
atmosphere. I feel the ghosts of the past watching me as I intrude here. At
least I feel like an intruder; I don’t belong here. I know where I’m going
before I even deliberate where to go. I likely won’t even go to the second floor
to see the Lab. There’s one place I have to go; I have to go.
*****
I open the doors and walk
in. My eyes slowly pan around and my mind wanders. I daydream about them being
in here, talking about this crisis or that Armageddon or whatever month’s
prophecy. I imagine myself amongst them, one of them. In a sense, this is where
it all began for me too. It was here that the groundwork for my creation, if you
want to call it that, began on that day in February...
Again, I repeat something
I’ve said more than once, and my voice echoes in the quiet of the book-filled
room. "The hardest part about growing up with your kin being your heroes..." My
voice trails off. "Is trying to measure up to their legends." I feel a lump in
my throat as I consider the triumphs and tragedies they suffered here, only to
become stronger for it. I haven’t had that happen to me yet, not even when Uncle
died in the crash and... I look at my arm again, remembering the guilt on my
Aunt’s face, even the glimmer in her eyes when we said good-bye before I came
here. To this day, I don’t understand why she felt that way; things happen in
life, sometimes in the grand scheme of things, sometimes just because they
just...happen. Like my coming here. I had to do it to make sure things go right.
No ifs, ands, or buts.
Surrendering to my
fantasies, I pick out a random table and sit next to it. I run my hands over the
wood, considering how the sensations differ from left to right. I wonder; which
of them sat here, how many times, and for what impending doom? I glance over at
the archaic computer sitting off to the side and think about how hard it must
have been for Willow Rosenburg, having to hack into files with that fossil.
That’s another thing; why do they put up with antiquated equipment when a tweak
here or there would have made things so much better? I giggle at the thought of
them lumbering through anything. It just doesn’t "compute" with the stories I
heard as I grew up. The thought about my own pragmatism makes me wonder about
them again. I don’t see them being "pragmatic" about anything; they cared too
much and tried to make sure everything came out all right in the end. Even
though I know differently, I still feel the same way.
I like to think it’s how
they were at this stage. Maybe that’s one area in which I can be the equal of
those who had a hand in creating me; we take each death personally. I fight the
urge to pick the lock on the office door and go through his things. It’d remind
me too much of the Watcher I left behind. Then I shake off the sense of loss and
reconsider my urge again. Perhaps just a peek at the old books he has or just to
be morbid and take a souvenir, maybe his favorite shot glass. I smile at that
fleeting thought, then reject it. Aunt Elizabeth would be glad to know that her
most aggravating sister hadn’t totally corrupted me. Taking one final look
around the place that will one day become a shrine, I turn and walk out, leaving
the library and its ghosts behind.
Now, before it’s too
late. I have a final appointment to keep. It’s time I experienced the one thing
they all called a legend. Unlike keeping Juan and myself secret until the time
is right, this is one thing I want to verify to my own satisfaction.
*****
Romero’s Pizza
I spend five minutes in
line, waiting for the girl behind the counter to ring up the man in front of me.
Her friend is helping out, twirling the dough and laying out the ingredients. So
that’s how it’s done! Unlike some misconceptions about
I move up and realize
that the girl, Alison by her nametag, is waiting for my order. I try to ignore
the suspicious look she gives me as I decide to go through with this and
experience Aunt Shaw’s and Elizabeth’s "legend" for myself. I place my order and
wait. Alison blinks at my voice and I know why; they must not get many
foreigners here. She regains her composure with a speed I envy and punches in
the order. If she’s not going to comment on a Scot in Sunnydale, I’m saying
nothing. But now I’m going to have the so-called "legendary" Romero’s meat
lover’s pizza. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m too much of a smart ass for my own
good...
*****
Epilogue: A New
Perspective
(Moving On And Putting
The Moves On)
Exiting
I step on the gas as I
pass the sign. I glance at it. You are now leaving Sunnydale. Come back soon. I
hope so. I sincerely hope so.
*****
Well, this is my final
week before school starts. I can’t believe I’m attending bloody UCLA. It’s bad
enough what Juan puts me through at the house, but to have to take his classes
in Archaeology? To quote Aunt Elizabeth, "This ϋbersucks!"
Don’t get me wrong, I
like Juan. Especially when he regales me with stories about his last pupil who
carries my name. Then again, I think it’s just to keep me from becoming too
depressed over not being able to join the team myself. He has been concerned
about this rise in demonic activity in
As for coming back, I
have mixed feelings, although most of them are on the positive side. Juan knew
what I’d done, but rather than mutter under his breath about how stubborn I can
be, he listened and understood. It didn’t stop him from bringing up how much I
risked having Sonja and Gabrielle see me, but on the whole, he approved of how
this has satisfied my curiosity. At least for now.
It’s also made me realize something about myself; I’ve been so blinded by
wanting to experience what they experienced, I almost forgot that despite
everything, I’m my own woman. I need to live my life for myself and I haven’t
been doing that, at least not to the fullest. Maybe that’s part of the reason I
did it. Maybe, just maybe, it was to see the differences between the others, and
myself so I can appreciate what I already have here.
I have a mentor who isn’t
too old and crusty. I have friends I can be open and sarcastic with. I have my
own team and a leader that I actually admire all the more because he doesn’t
have any paranormal abilities. His normalcy makes what he does all the more
special. Maybe in a sense, he’s more of a hero because of it. Then again, he’s
got a hot body, too. I watch him talking to some of the people in the shelter.
He cares for more than the Lost Boys; he cares for the ‘hood. My eyes narrow at
that thought; even though Juan and I live in a nice place, I like it here.
I consider this my
"’hood," too. Maybe what I’ve been searching for, that connection, isn’t to be
found amongst legends. At least not yet. Maybe... it’s right before my eyes.
I finish my painting and
drop the brush in the bucket. I take a quick glance in the mirror to make sure
my face isn’t too smeared and wipe my hands on my coveralls. Yes, I might take
inspiration from fashion knockouts, but I know when to draw the line between
form and fashion. I saunter over using the Dark Slayer’s walk and tap Charles on
his shoulder. He turns and smiles. "Hey, K-Z! Looking good, girl." "Sod off," I
say good-naturedly. I feel an uncustomary shyness before looking back into his
eyes. I feel lost inside those chocolate orbs, so much like my own; dark brown
bordering on black. "I wanted to ask you something. A... a question." I realize
that I might have to ask another. "Or two. Depending on how you answer the first
one."
"Oh?" he asks, cocking an
eyebrow. He seems amused. "What’s the first one?" I want to thank him for the
smile and kick him in the bloody balls for finding this so bloody amusing.
"I..." I decide to Hades with this, I’m going for broke. "Are you seeing
anyone?" I wait for what seems like an eternity for his answer. I look over that
smooth scalp of his, glimmering in the lights. His eyes, the slim body...
Goddess, even absent Slaying my hormones run rampant. It’s almost like I’m the
runner and they’re the bulls in Spain. And I know what that’s like. No, I didn’t
run with the bulls; I was too busy staking the vampires trying to slurp from the
bulls the night before. Finally the skin around the edge of his eyes crinkles as
he smiles. "No, I’m not seeing anyone. And I think I know your second question."
I feel myself blushing; it’s times like this I hate being pale-skinned. I envy
Charles since you can’t tell when he blushes. "And yes, I’d like to go out with
you. Hell, I was wondering what your uncle’d say if I did ask you out."
I blink. Goddess, Juan’s
been all but using shock therapy on me to act and see if anything might actually
happen. I’m here for good; I have to make a life here. I swallow as we stare at
each other and wonder; what could happen here? Believe me when I say that this
is one time I’m not getting a TM migraine. I nod jerkily and say, "Actually, he
doesn’t mind." "So you wanna go out?" Charles asks. "I..." What’s wrong with me?
Goddess, if they could only see me now... I stare at the hunk of salty goodness
in front of me and gather the courage I’m rumored to possess. "Yes, Charles.
That sounds nice."
"How ‘bout tomorrow,
then? We’re on patrol tonight, but the SWAT dudes will handle it the next three
nights." "I’d like that," I reply. I give him my best smile. I don’t think it’s
too sexy when flashed by someone wearing paint-smeared clothes though. "Patrol
tonight, dating tomorrow." "Fine," he says, his laugh doing nothing to betray
his nervousness. I nod and leave to prepare for our patrol through the ‘hood. As
I practically float into our "locker room" and start pulling off my clothes, I
wonder how he’d react to the truth if he knew. Since I’m alone, I hold my right
arm in front of my face. I concentrate and the pale, Caucasian flesh shimmers to
a metallic silver. Other than the color, there’s no difference between left and
right; my right hand even has fingerprints and fingernails. They thought of
everything. I change back and decide that whatever the future might hold for
Charles or me, it doesn’t matter right now. I always did live one day at a time,
and that hasn’t changed in recent months. But I find myself thinking more and
more about the Lost Boys I’ve fought beside all spring and summer. They don’t
have the same skills that they do. They don’t have the same motivations. They’re
normal people fighting for their streets, not humanity in general. But
somehow... I finally realize what it is that makes me feel this way. I’ve always
tried to hold myself up to the standards set by them, wondering what it would be
like to run with legends. That’s the difference here, the difference between the
Scooby Gang and the Lost Boys. The Boys might not be them, but they’re mine.
They’re my team.
Somehow, that seems to
make the whole bloody difference. Mum always liked to quote someone who said,
"The destination doesn’t matter so much as the journey itself." Well, I made a
journey last night and found out things I hadn’t realized about my friends or
myself. Maybe that’s what the journey, the pilgrimage, is truly about; not
seeing the icon of your dreams, but rather knowing that you had the courage to
make that pilgrimage. That’s something to think about, but later. <Later,> I
promise myself as I reach for my tools; katana, shuriken, guns, and other
essentials. Philosophy can wait; I have more important things to do now. After
all, I’m Kenzie the Vampire Slayer, favorite niece of my aunts Shaw and
Elizabeth, rumored to be the second coming of both the Dark Slayer and the Dark
Amazon, the apple of my parents’ eye, and scion of living legends. But I’m also
a Lost Boy. And my friends are waiting for me.
The Section Seven
Chronicles - Calendar Girls (5700 words)
Summary: This particular
story depicts a Wandererverse adventure featuring the New Amazons and the men
who love them.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cybertronics Building,
V.A.N. Ltd. Boardroom
"Christ, B," Melissa
Scully overheard Faith whisper to the bottle-blonde Slayer, "if Blondie doesn't
shut her yap in the next minute or so, just stake me and put me outta my
misery!" Melissa squirmed in her chair as Gabrielle finished her report.
Glancing about, she noted that Buffy and Faith, the nonvoting members of
Virtual Amazon Nation, Ltd.'s board of directors, were nearly in a coma.
That realization led her to relax somewhat.
Although she was nowhere near the level of warrior as most of the women
in the plush boardroom, she was certain she would have the motivation to outrun
everyone except for the two Slayers. If they were still out of it after her
little presentation, she believed she might be able to keep her head a little
longer. "Well," drawled Gabrielle, "it would appear that our relief efforts to
feed hungry women and children in famine areas is a rewarding, yet dry subject."
Then she tossed a mock frown at Cordelia and Andrea in response to their
wide yawns of apathy. "Now on to
new business. The last item on our
agenda is our Director of Health and Human Services' presentation regarding a
new means of funding our relief efforts.
She believes it could also provide funds to support our search for the
lost descendants of the ancient Amazon tribes.
Melissa..."
She stood up and
surreptitiously checked to make sure she had unfettered access to the door for a
quick escape. "Thank you, your
highness. Princesses, directors,
and Slayers," she started, then cleared her throat.
"Although raising money from contributions has been a rewarding process
and has catapulted our efforts to rebuild our nation for the next century and
beyond, it has come to my attention from various sources that contributions
alone won't provide consistent funds for our endeavors.
Other charitable organizations, in an effort to supplement donations,
have chosen to sell some sort of product to augment their revenue." Dana Scully
pursed her full lips as she regarded her older sister.
"Missy, what sort of product can we market?"
"Yeah, right," Maxine
said. "What could we push
supernatural security services or potions?" Melissa bit her bottom lip.
"Er...actually, I think...we could follow the lead of that ladies club in
"Well...yes," Melissa
stammered. "But ours will be
different! No nudity...just a
little sexy, that's all. Everyone
would be fully clothed." "Fully clothed, huh?" "Yes, Faith."
"Too bad, M," Faith
drawled and glanced down at her own body.
Then she eyed Melissa appreciatively and shot a saucy look her way.
"No guts, no glory." Stunned, Melissa shook her head.
Andrea then snapped, "Oh great!
Look what you did to poor
The Queen stroked her
chin for a moment, before a broad smile flashed onto her face.
"I think it's a splendid idea, Missy," she chirped.
"Do I hear a motion?" Dana smiled and announced, "I move that we adopt
Melissa's plan to pose for and produce a calendar with the understanding that
the proceeds will go to fund our relief efforts and operations." Cordelia said,
"I second the motion." The women looked around the room at one another.
Cordy said, "Well, duh! I
seconded the motion, didn't I? I'm
in." "Me, too," Amy chirped. "Why not?" offered Maxine. "Although I can't
imagine why anyone would want to see pictures of me," Jenny muttered, "I'll do
it."
After clearing her throat
to draw everyone's attention away from the Warrior Princess's politically
incorrect diatribe, the Crown Princess said, "I'm sure that I speak for both
Scully women when I say we're in, right Missy?" Melissa nodded. "Unfortunately,"
Andrea murmured, "I can't do it...I'm supposed to be dead to the Centre."
"That's true, my Lady. It is a
crime that the world is to be deprived of your beauty," Gabrielle said and
Andrea blushed. Then Gabrielle
added, "I'll pose as well. That
leaves three open months." Just then, Faith cackled.
"Hey, team, don't get your panties in a bunch!
B and I will pose, too.
Right, B?" Not sounding certain at all, Buffy said, "Er...sure.
I guess so." "Thank you, Slayer Pryce and Slayer Summers," Gabrielle
noted for the record. "That leaves
one slot. Who can we get to fill
it?" The room fell silent for a long moment before a knowing, wicked look spread
across the Dark Slayer's face. "I
know. I'll get Religion Girl to do
it." Amy snorted. "Shaw?
My uptight, shy, priestess cousin Shaw?
No way!"
Faith defiantly regarded
the teenaged witch. "WAY!
Since you don't have faith in my powers of persuasion, why don't we have
a little action going on the side?" Amy stared at the brunette for a second
before a sly grin touched her lips.
"Fine. Name your stakes." "A
racy 'arrest me' red string bikini from Bimini Swimwear." "Is it on sale?" "'Til
Sunday. How 'bout you?" "Prada
leather skirt from Neiman Marcus." "Cool." "Okay," the blonde nodded, "you've
got until Sunday to get her to do it."
Faith smirked.
"You're on, Sabrina."
*****
Willy's Bar
< My life just sucks, >
Willy thought as he resignedly set the newly washed glasses on his bar. Three
vamps who used to be members of the Hell's Angels were hassling some human
bikers near the pool tables in the back.
He knew he shouldn't get in the middle of the fracas, but he wanted to
avoid an altercation that would lead to significant property damage and possibly
drive his other customers away.
Although violence wasn't much of a concern for the hardcore demonic clientele
and bikers, he wasn't as certain of the sensibilities of the new customers who
had started coming to his establishment, like the professorial looking guys, the
military types, and the frat boys.
For some reason, these folks outnumbered his old clients two to one and business
was booming.
The only reason that came
to mind for his reversal of fortune was the presence of the Slayers and their
playmates. Whenever they came in to
roust the place, they seemed to attract a lot of attention, particularly of the
male persuasion (except for the little red witch who for some reason was popular
with the distaff clientele as well), both demonic and human.
Willy snorted. < So where
are they when you need them,> he mused. He stepped between the vamp that was
'Wilt Chamberlain' tall and the burly biker and snapped, "Hey, hey!
Not in here, okay? If you've
got a beef with one another, take it outside!" The vamp scowled and hissed at
him. "What's this?
The Slayers' little bitch is telling me what to do?" Willy smelled the
alcohol on its breath and swallowed a hard lump lodged in his throat.
"Hey...I just don't want no trouble, that's all.
Why don't we just settle down and I'll get you and your friends some
packets of human blood," then he turned slightly to regard the biker and his
group, "while I get you guys a bottle of my best whisky."
Suddenly, the vamp
growled and said, "I've got a better idea, you little weasel."
Then he grabbed Willy by the throat and pulled him toward his open mouth
and protruding fangs. "How 'bout I
drain you?" Willy wheezed and coughed.
"Wait...wait...let's not be...hasty..." The vamp sneered.
"How does it feel, Willy...to die, knowing you're nothing but a pitiful
excuse for a human being and a bitch for the Slayers and their ho's...?"
"Well, it's probably
better than being dusted, fangboy." Everyone in the room turned to regard the
source of the
Willow nodded and allowed
a little girl's smile to curl on her lips, which frightened Willy more than any
of the vilest demons that had ever darkened his bar's doorstep.
"Play now?" she cooed.
"Hold on a sec', Will."
Then she regarded the vamp again.
"But guess what, Sparky?
This is your lucky day! We've got
to talk to your Happy Meal, so if you let him go and get lost without me having
to kick your ass, you won't get slain today.
How does that grab you?" The vamp growled.
"You ain't that Summers bitch, girl.
From what I hear you're just sloppy seconds.
But don't worry; I've always had a hankering for Slayer blood, so I'll do
you." Then it threw Willy into the
pool table, grabbed a pool stick, and charged the Dark Slayer. As it raised the
stick over its shoulder, Faith calmly waited until it started its downward
swing. Then before Willy's startled
eyes, she thrust a shattering forearm up into the cue, breaking it.
She lashed out with her booted foot and kicked her opponent hard in its
groin while she simultaneously snatched the shaft out of midair.
Then she spun one hundred and eighty degrees and thrust the broken shaft
with a backhanded motion into the doubled over torso of the vampire straight
through its undead heart. While the
demon screamed as its body turned to dust, the Slayer twirled the makeshift
stake like a baton and whipped it into the heart of the dusted vamp's comrade
twenty feet behind her. As it
exploded in a shower of dust, Dana drew her pistol and fired a composite wood
bullet into the third vampire's heart, slaying it as well.
When the dust settled,
Glancing over her
shoulder, Faith smiled tenderly at the little red witch.
"No problem, Will. I'm five
by five. But...thanks anyway." Then
there was a raucous round of applause from the other patrons.
As the four women looked about the room, confusion apparent on their
faces, a few people shouted, "Thanks for the show!" while one guy yelled, "Hey,
pool cue babe! Can I have your
autograph and phone number?" The Dark Slayer grinned and shouted back,
"Maybe later!" Then as the
room quieted down, she turned to Willy and cooed, "Don't you think it's time we
had our little...chat?" He felt the acid start to crawl from his stomach up his
esophagus. What was that
saying...out of the frying pan, into the fire?
Belying the fright he felt at being the object of interest for the four
beautiful but deadly women, he murmured, "Thanks for the save and for keeping
the property damage to a minimum.
What can I do for you ladies?"
"Grab a table, Slick,"
the Dark Slayer directed, "and listen to what the nice lady has to say to ya."
She indicated Melissa with a tilt of her head. After they sat at the
table, Willy stared at Melissa.
"I'm listening." Melissa took a deep breath and said, "Our sources have
indicated that your brother owns a printing company just outside of
Willy stroked his chin,
then said, "...and your contractor has all of his production tied up for the
Christmas rush, eh?" Melissa frowned.
"Yes. You understand our
dilemma.
We think your brother's
company could take up the slack and help make a dent in our shortfall, so we
could be sure to raise enough money to help those who so desperately need it."
"So...you want me to call him and see if he could take you on?"
The auburn haired beauty
nodded. "Yes.
Would you?" He stroked his five o'clock shadow for a moment.
Then he murmured, "Yeah...sure, I'll do it."
He turned in his seat and glanced at his assistant behind the bar.
"Joe," he called and the bartender looked up at him.
"Bring me the phone, would ya?"
As he waited for the phone, he turned back to Melissa.
"So, no threats, no beatings?" Melissa gave him a confused look.
"No. Why would we do that?"
He shrugged. "Well, I'm just used
to getting manhandled by the Slayers and their pals, that's all." Dana shot an
icy cold look at him. "If you were
doing something wrong, or if you had information that could help us save lives
and weren't forthcoming, we'd jack you up and let
Faith snickered and shot
a glance at
"Right," Faith drawled.
"The Ice Queen cometh." While Dana blasted them both with a look of
extreme annoyance, Willy observed, "I'm glad your group is so ethical." Faith
snorted. "That's rich coming from
you, weasel-boy! Maybe you should
try it yourself sometime." When his man gave him the phone, Willy started to
dial his brother's number. Just
then, a waitress approached and asked the women, "Ladies, all the men in the bar
say that your drinks are on them.
May I take your orders?" As he waited for his brother to answer, he noticed the
admiring glances directed at his four lovely tablemates.
His merchant mind awoke and recognized an opportunity beating at his
door. "Ladies," he drawled, "I have
one small favor to ask in return..."
*****
The Giles-Calendar
Residence
The peroxide blonde
vampire struggled to contain his glee but failed miserably. Charlie slapped
Spike's shoulder hard and whispered harshly, "Get a hold of yourself!
You want to ruin everything?"
Spike stifled a giggle,
took a deep, but unnecessary breath, then straightened up.
"Okay, okay!" He shrugged
his shoulders inside his black leather duster and cracked both sides of his neck
by tilting his head side to side.
"I'm cool, mate." A worried look crossed the African-American vampire's face.
"You're sure we ought to pull this on Giles?
He doesn't strike me as someone who'd be all that fun to rile up." A
great white shark's grin played on Spike's gaunt face.
"Trust me, mate. If this
goes right, we're gonna get ole' Ripper to come out and play.
Then we'll really have some fun!"
*****
Giles was lost in his
book as he studied various Sumerian inscriptions concerning relics that may have
been connected to the First Slayer.
Although he concentrated on the text, he was aware enough of the knock on the
front door to call to one of his charges. "Xander, could you please see who is
at the door?" Xander whined, "How come I've got to be the one who always gets
the door? Why can't Oz get the door
sometimes?" Giles, still lost in the text, muttered, "Because I asked you.
Now be a good fellow and answer it, please." Xander slinked toward the
door and grumbled, "Your wish is my command, Sir G." Giles cringed.
"Oh, and Xander...?" "Yeah?"
"Don't. Call.
"Xander, it's bad.
Trust me on that, okay?" Charlie said.
Seeing both of his
friends so somber, Xander stepped aside and pointed toward Giles. "He's over
there." After closing the door, Xander followed the two vampires.
Oz and Giles glanced up from their books almost at the same time. Giles,
noting the grim countenance of both of the Section Seven undercover operatives,
put aside his book and turned his full attention to them. "William, Charles,"
Giles said with a nod to each. "What is the problem?" "Oi, Watcher...I hate to
be the bearer of grim tidings and all..." Spike said hesitantly.
"But you probably oughtta know about this." "Know about what?" "This,"
the vampire said and dropped a large manila folder in front of Giles.
As Giles bent over to open the file, Xander and Oz moved behind him,
while Charlie leaned surreptitiously toward Spike and whispered, "You put the
promotional pics in the right order to get the best effect?"
Spike hid his grin behind
his hand and whispered back, "Oh...yeah..."
*****
Giles' fingers brushed
back the top flap of the folder to reveal several photographs.
The top one showed a sultry red head lying on a mussed bed clad in a
black lace bra and panty set. Her blue eyes peered at him as he held the picture
in his hand, drawing his gaze to her coolly beautiful face, her voluptuous body,
and her milky white skin speckled with freckles... He heard Xander whisper, "Oh.
My. God. That's Dana!" "Wha...wha...what?" he stammered. "I said that's Dana!"
Xander turned toward Oz. "That's Dana, isn't it?" "Looks like her," the
taciturn werewolf noted. Giles struggled to tear his gaze from the beautiful
woman he regarded as a close friend.
His mind sought to explain the existence of the sexy picture.
"It...it," he stammered, "must be doctored."
Then he asked in a strained voice, "Spike, where did you get these?"
"Charlie and I got 'em when we did an undercover sweep of Willy's place, Rupes."
"Are the rest more of the same?" "Er..." Charlie's hesitation caused Giles to
glance over his shoulder at him.
"Not exactly. You just have to see
for yourself."
He turned back to the
stack, setting Dana's picture aside.
The next picture showed a thin but very athletic-looking blonde woman
wearing a black, pointed witch's hat that cast a shadow over her twinkling eyes.
She wore a black satin bikini top and black satin thong panties that
didn't leave much to the imagination concerning her lovely body. He noted also
that she straddled a broomstick as well. "That's...that's..." he stuttered.
"It's Amy! Christ...it's..." Xander's voice failed him. "Amy," Oz finished for
him. Xander shook his head and stammered, "Doctored...that's it.
Giles has got to be right.
They must be doctored photos." When Giles swept Amy's picture aside, Xander
shrieked like a girl. "
The crowning touch was
the apple that she held in her hand as a gift for some lucky instructor.
Giles found it hard to breathe; her picture mesmerized him.
She was the embodiment of Nabakov's Lolita, innocence and sensuality
rolled into one. He knew he ought
to feel like a dirty old man for ogling her like this but at the moment he
didn't care. Before he could study the picture any further, he heard an
animalistic growl and had it snatched from his fingers.
"Move on, Watcher," Oz snarled. It was then that Xander found his voice.
"Cordy?!?" he screeched. Giles looked down and found the next picture did
indeed depict the dark haired beauty lounging on a red satin backdrop dressed in
a maroon string bikini that barely contained her bountiful breasts and showcased
her long, tan legs. Her lips were
slightly parted, allowing her white teeth to show, while her cat-like eyes
seemed to reach for him, drawing him in.
Again Giles felt someone
snatching a picture from his hands.
"Gimme that, G-man," Xander snapped.
The young man carefully scrutinized his lover's photograph and moaned.
"My God...this isn't doctored.
It's really her!" "G'wan," Spike drawled.
"You mean to tell me that's really your lady love doing a pretty good
Playmate impression in that photo?" "It's her, I tell you!
She's got this birthmark on her left thigh that looks like a horseshoe,
see..." he offered the picture to the vampire for a split second, then regained
his senses and snatched it back.
"Wait! On second thought, don't
see, okay?" Spike looked chagrined.
"Well, mate. You did offer " "Just
forget I said anything, all right?" Xander barked. The blonde vampire shrugged
in response. "Always do when it's
you." Giles, though, hadn't paid much attention to the altercation behind him
because the next picture nearly made his heart seize up in his chest.
A sultry, dark haired beauty posed beneath a waterfall, her wet, "arrest
me" red string bikini clinging to her ample bosom and boyish hips like a film of
plastic. Her eyes were closed in rapture, her dark lashes curling against the
pale skin of her cheeks, and her ruby red lips curved in a sexy Mona Lisa smile
as she crouched in the shallow pool, allowing the water to lovingly caress her
body.
"Faith," he whispered,
his voice unsteady. "Dear God in heaven, it's my Slayer, Faith." Xander gasped.
"Jesus! That water must've been cold! Just look at her nips!
Man, for such a little thing, her points are even bigger than Cor "
"Dude!" Oz snapped, cutting the taller man off.
"Way too much info." Looking chagrined, Xander said, "Er...right.
Sorry."
Meanwhile, Giles had
started to tremble as his body struggled to maintain its equilibrium. Now
working on automatic pilot, his hand reluctantly set aside Faith's picture and
he mewled. The next picture revealed a petite, bottle-blonde bombshell with her
hair in braids and her bikini top adorned in a white and red checkerboard
pattern. She lay across several bays of hay in a set that looked like the inside
of a barn. She wore cutoff jean short-shorts with frayed threads hugging her tan
and muscular thighs. Her pert breasts filled her top nicely and her blue-green
eyes were complemented by the painted-pink lips that were pursed in a sensuous
pout as a lucky straw was caught between them. "Oh. Dear. God." he murmured,
breathless. "Buffy." "Wow, Rupes!"
Spike drawled. "The Slayer's sorta
got a naughty 'Rebecca of Sunnyhell Farm' thing going there, doesn't sh "
"Spike!" Giles snapped, cutting the
vampire off. "Another word, you're
dust."
As Giles flipped to the
last picture, he missed the playful nudge Spike gave Charlie's arm. Then he felt
his face flush and his blood boil when he saw it. A sensual, beloved face stared
proudly out of the picture, her raven black hair languidly falling about her
deceptively powerful shoulders. She
wore a purple satin bikini, not as daring as Faith's, but still quite revealing.
The royal vestment was a perfect complement to her bearing, so like that
of a Gypsy Queen. Her full breasts,
long legs, and sexy hips, normally hidden from the world, were there for all to
see. "Isn't that Jenny, Giles?" Charlie asked. Giles sat quietly, saying
nothing. "Giles?" Xander asked
softly. He received no response.
"Giles...G-man?" Giles still
did not respond. "Giles, don't do
this to us, man! Say somethin..."
"Bloody Hell!" Giles roared. He
pushed away from the table and ripped his glasses off his face.
"You two wankers," he said in a Cockney accent, pointing at the vampires,
"take me to where you found these bleedin' photos."
Crossing over to his weapons chest, the Watcher muttered, "Some pillock
is bloody well gonna need those ER blokes to fix 'em up after I'm done with
'em!"
As the two wide-eyed
young men and the two wide-eyed vampires watched the Watcher rip open the
container and angrily pull weapons from it, Spike leaned over to Charlie and
murmured, "Mate...hold onto your cajones and say a cheerie 'ello to 'Ripper.'"
Impressed, Charlie stood silently and nodded in response.
*****
Willy's Bar
< My life is just
wonderful, > Willy thought as he happily dumped another load of empty beer
bottles into the dumpster in the alley behind his bar.
As he started to turn to return to his boisterous and thirsty customers,
someone...or something slammed him into the rusting metal container hard.
"Hey..." Someone or something pressed his face into the unforgiving steel.
"Don't talk," a Cockney-accented voice directed. "Just listen. I want to know
who took those pictures of my girls and my woman. I want to know how you got
'em. I want you to take me to the wanker who's responsible for this." Then his
assailant flipped him over. He came face to face with the Slayers' Watcher.
Right behind the Englishman stood Xander Harris and the little red witch's
boyfriend. "If you give me what I want," Giles said, "I might not turn you into
a paraplegic."
Willy trembled
uncontrollably and stammered, "Lis...listen, man I mean sir...I didn't do
nothin' wrong. Just go inside and
ask 'em!" Giles snarled at him.
"Ask whom, you little pissant?" he hissed and tightened his grip around Willy's
throat. "Us, G-man," a
"Stay out of this, you
three," Giles snapped. "I'll make
him tell me how he was able to compromise Faith and Buffy " "Geez, Alfred!
Have you got it all wrong," Faith said.
"Willy had nothin' to do with the pictures.
Lara Croft took 'em." Giles's eyes opened wide.
"What? What are you saying?"
"Giles," Buffy spoke to him like he was a mentally challenged child, "Lady Croft
took the pictures for a calendar that VAN is selling to raise money for charity.
The Amazons, Faith, Shaw, and I posed for those pictures.
The ones you saw must have been the promotional pics that someone swiped
from Willy earlier."
Xander audibly gasped.
"You mean to tell us that you posed for a calendar?" "Yep," Faith
drawled. "And with Gabrielle,
Sonja, the Scullys, and the rest of us showing off our goodies, it's selling
like hotcakes!"
"Okay, but why are you
here at Willy's?" Oz asked. "Well," Buffy responded, "Willy helped solve a
production problem for us and as repayment, he asked VAN and us to appear at his
bar and sign calendars for his patrons." Kendra nodded.
"And I just came along to make sure there wasn't any trouble." "So,"
Giles stammered, "you volunteered to have those photographs taken of you?"
"Uh-huh," Buffy said. "They weren't the result of any demonic possession or
involuntary servitude?" "Unh-uh," Buffy said. "And we were going to see this
calendar " "As your stocking stuffers at Christmas," Faith said, jumping ahead
of the Watcher. Her answer deflated the Englishman.
"Oh. I see."
He turned and gently straightened Willy's collar.
"I suppose I should offer you an apology, er...uhm...Willy?
Yes...an apology is definitely in order." Willy's blood boiled.
"Damn straight! I don't mind
getting rousted when I'm doing something wrong, but I'm not going to stand for
it when I'm innocent!"
"Oh, puh-leeze!" Faith
scoffed. "Ain't you kinda like the
boy who cried wolf? So pipe down!"
Then she considered something and turned to Oz.
"No offense, Fangface."
"None taken," Oz said.
Giles noisily cleared his throat and said, "Well, I suppose that we should leave
you to your signing." Faith smiled.
"Yeah, G-man. Hey," her smile grew
wider, "you wanna come in and have a look-see?
It's pretty cool. Red has
been a surprisingly hot item. She's
getting the college professor-types and the old guys clamoring for her at her
table." "That's true," Kendra noted with an index finger caressing her chin,
"but she's also received a lot of attention from some of the more... masculine
looking female customers as well."
The three women considered that for a moment, then shrugged.
"Shaw's also doing well," noted Buffy. "Shaw?" Xander screeched.
"How did you get Religion Girl to pose for a sordid calendar?" Buffy
scowled at him. "Hey!
There's nothing sordid about it, Dweebboy!"
Then she shot an admiring smile at the Dark Slayer.
"Faith did it."
Faith basked in the
warmth of the senior Slayer's smile.
"Tweren't nothin'. Just sold
Redeye on the idea she'd be helping a lot of hungry women and children and all
she had to do was wear a full backed Speedo swim suit with a sarong around her
waist to cover her legs. Worked
like a charm." Giles shook his head.
"Although it sounds very...interesting, it would probably be better if we
left you to your engagement." "Okay,
Alfred." Faith said.
As the Watcher and his companions turned to leave, Faith cooed, "Oh,
G-man..."
Giles turned back toward
his Slayers. "Do you want your 'girls' to tell your 'woman' you were out here
rousting our benefactor in a back-alley or do you want to tell Jenny about it
when she gets home?" Buffy asked while sporting a wicked grin. The color drained
from his face. "You..." he
stammered, "you heard?" Kendra regarded him coolly with her feline-like eyes.
"You, of all people, should know about the extreme sensitivity of Slayer
hearing." The Watcher tried to recover, drawing himself up to his full height
for a moment before his shoulders slumped
in defeat. "What do you
want?" he murmured, a beaten man. The Slayers turned to one another, seemed to
communicate telepathically for a brief second, then turned to regard their
mentor. "We'll let you know at our
next training session...Santa," Buffy quipped. Giles nodded and turned to leave.
Over his shoulder, he heard Faith say, "Yeah, maybe when we go over our
wish list with ya, we could even sit in your lap, 'St. Nick.'" As the dejected
men slinked away from the bemused Slayers, Giles growled to Xander and Oz, "When
I get my hands on those vampires..."
*****
The wind whipped through
their dusters, billowing the tails of their coats in the night breeze like proud
battle flags. As they stood on the
rooftop across from the rear of Willy's bar, their enhanced, vampiric hearing
allowing them to listen to the entire transaction, the peroxide blonde grinned
as his African-American friend doubled over in laughter. Spike sighed, drew an
unnecessary breath, and drawled, "That was so...so..." Then he turned and
regarded his laughing friend.
"Neat!" Soon, Spike's howls of laughter joined Charlie's in the warm, Sunnydale
night.
The End