Blooded

by Christopher Golden

  “I don’t get it. And I really don’t get what this has to do with your big Chia Pet there,” Buffy said, already glancing around at other exhibits in the room.

  “This is a friendship garden,” Giles said impatiently. “The people of Kobe planted and groomed a real Japanese garden here in Sunnydale, recreating one just like it in their city. Apparently, after the earthquake in Sunnydale, the garden was abandoned and all of its vegetation simply withered and died. Quite unnaturally, in fact. It seems that local authorities went so far as to bring in botanical specialists, but no one could explain it.”

  “So this happened right after the Hellmouth opened under Sunnydale,” Xander said. “And your thinking is what, vegetarian vampires?”

  “Well, it’s merely conjecture, of course . . .”

  “Giles, your conjecturing is a little like the oracle at Delphi. Spit it out,” Buffy said.

  They all stared at her.

  “What?” Buffy asked. “Come on, Willow is my history tutor! I do know some things.”

  From across the room, a whiny voice said, “I heard that, Summers. Let’s hope you know enough to pass this semester.”

  Buffy gave Mr. Morse a purposely fake smile and batted her eyelashes at him, hoping he got the sarcasm in her reaction and suddenly terrified that he’d miss it. Pip-squeak would probably think she was flirting with him.

  She sighed and glanced at Giles. “You were saying?”

  “Well, it does strike me as odd that the garden died in the wake of the earthquake, and that Sunnydale’s sister city had an earthquake not long afterward.”

  “Wait, you think that the Hellmouth somehow caused an earthquake halfway around the world by, I don’t know, infecting another city through some friendship garden?” Xander asked incredulously.

  “Well,” Giles said stodgily, “when you put it that way, it does sound a bit dodgy, but it does still seem an odd confluence of events, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Is this going to lead up to me having to kill something?” Buffy asked.

  “No,” Giles replied, with an odd look. “I can’t say as much.” He murmured, “For certain.”

  Buffy grinned happily. “Then, oh, yeah, Giles. Definitely super-odd, the um, conflue-thing. Can we see what else is here now? Mr. Morse threatened to test us on this field trip, and I can’t afford to miss a thing.”

  “By all means, do,” Giles said, obviously a little disappointed that his theory hadn’t interested them more. But he got over it quickly, and was soon lost among the artifacts once more.

  They’d lost Cordelia early on, but soon Buffy, Willow, and Xander also drifted apart, each gravitating toward different displays, different rooms in the maze of the exhibit. From time to time they’d cross paths and share information.

  Xander quickly became interested in displays about the samurai and the art depicting their legends. There were reproductions of traditional samurai garb and information about the privileged life they led.

  “Man, these guys had it good,” Xander said when they met up.

  “Yeah, sweet life,” Buffy replied. “Someone gave ’em trouble, they could just hack them to ribbons and nobody would ask a single question. I’m Kermit with envy.”

  Xander looked at her. “Buff, they were slaying humans, y’know. It wasn’t the same thing.”

  She shook her head. “That’s even more unfair. I’m always worried about getting in trouble, and I’m not even killing anyone who’s still alive.”

  Cordelia appeared suddenly, spotted them, and came buzzing across the room.

  “Okay,” she said, “this is so completely disgusting. Did you know that married women in ancient Japan plucked their eyebrows, and I mean, all of them?”

  Buffy and Xander stared at her.

  “But wait,” Cordelia said importantly. “There’s more.”

  “Promise?” Xander asked.

  Cordelia gave him a backhand to the shoulder and directed her attention at Buffy. “Okay, Summers, I know you’re not exactly House of Style, but listen to this: they painted their faces white, and their teeth black!”

  Buffy winced. “That really is disgusting.”

  Cordelia sniffed at Xander triumphantly.

  “Y’know,” he said, “I can see it now, Cordy. You on the runways of Paris, bringing back the fashions of ancient Japan. A whole new trend, and a devastating blow to toothpaste manufacturers everywhere.”

  She narrowed her eyes and drawled, “Why do I even bother with you?” As usual, Cordy left in a huff.

  “What about you, Miss Summers?” Xander asked. “What’s caught your particularly fanciful fancy?”

  Buffy grinned shyly. “What do you think, Xander?

  Xander stroked his chin, pretending to consider. “The weapons, but of course.”

  “But of course,” she replied.

  * * *

  Willow had kind of hoped Oz would be on the field trip, but after she’d wandered around for a while, she gave up hope of seeing him. She didn’t really want to talk about what had happened to her, but that was one of the coolest things about Oz. He always seemed to know when to just be quiet.

  Her friends had done their best to cheer her up, and it had worked a little. But not much more than a little. Willow was still at a loss to understand what exactly had happened to her, and why. But she understood how it had happened all too well. She only wished the others could understand too.

  Xander had been her best friend almost her whole life, and he might be sympathetic, but he’d never really get it. After all, he was a guy. Sure, he wasn’t Schwarzenegger, but he wasn’t scrawny Leo DiCaprio either. He just wasn’t as vulnerable; guys weren’t.

  And then there was Buffy—who could kick Xander’s ass and not even be able to call it exercise. How could she ever possibly understand what it felt like to feel powerless?

  “Hey, Will.”

  Willow turned and saw Buffy standing next to her. She hadn’t even noticed, and it occurred to her again how cool it was to be the Slayer. The bad guys wouldn’t even know Buffy was coming until she took them down.

  “Hey,” Willow said, and sighed.

  “See anything interesting?” Buffy asked, too cheery.

  “Well,” Willow said, and realized that she had, indeed, seen something interesting. Something that would take her mind off what a weakling she was for an entire minute.

  “Actually, yeah,” she replied. “I really liked the display on Kabuki theater and Noh plays.”

  “Color me purple, but I didn’t even notice them,” Buffy admitted. “And you know they’ll be on any test, them being so historical and all. Where are they?”

  “Let me show you,” Willow said.

  They walked into the next room together, and Willow told her what she’d learned about the ancient forms of entertainment, and pointed out the masks that she thought were especially cool or nasty-looking.

  “What about you?” Willow asked. “Did you see anything cool?”

  Buffy’s eyes brightened, and she dragged Willow back through the labyrinth and into a huge room filled with ancient Japanese weaponry.

  “Yeah,” Willow said, nodding. “I figured you’d like it in here.”

  “Some of these weapons aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen,” Buffy admitted. “And the way the Japanese made their swords, folding the metal over and over, hundreds of times. The craftsmanship was incredible.”

  Willow’s eyes were drawn to one sword in particular. Hung on the wall, it was a huge, crudely fashioned thing that looked like it would be more use beating someone to death than running them through. It didn’t have the elegance of the traditional Japanese warrior’s set of gently curving long and short swords.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the huge blade.

  “Isn’t that amazing?” Buffy asked. “Nothing like a katana or wakizashi.”

  Willow smiled slightly and thought about how easy it was for Buffy to learn when she was interested in the subject. She stepped
over to the huge sword and began to read aloud from the plaque affixed to the wall beneath it.

  “ ‘This form of sword, called a ken, is actually of Chinese origin, and was used in Japan in the eighth century, before the more familiar daisho, or sword pair, of the ancient Japanese warrior was developed. This example, recently discovered in the Chugoku mountain range, has proved to date back even further, and is one of a kind,’ ” Willow read, only half aloud. “Wow,” she added.

  “Read the rest,” Buffy urged. “You’ll love all the mythology stuff.”

  Willow did, but silently this time.

  “ ‘Upon the sword’s discovery, locals began to claim it to be the shin-ken, or real sword, of the god Sanno, a Japanese mythological figure also known as the King of the Mountain, and usually considered to have made his home on Mount Hiei, near Kyoto and Kobe, Japan.

  “ ‘According to this legend, which some of the older farmers in the region believe to this day, the Mountain King was responsible for protecting Japan from invasion by foreign supernatural forces, an obvious reference to the tense relations between Japan and China at that time. This theory is supported by the myth surrounding Sanno’s greatest battle, in which he apparently vanquished a Chinese vampire named Chirayoju, who had wanted to eat the Emperor of Japan, and thus destroy the nation. According to legend, neither Sanno nor Chirayoju survived this battle.’ ”

  Willow was stunned. “So, wait, you think this Sanno guy was the Slayer?” she asked.

  Buffy blinked. “No. Big male-type person with a huge sword who lived on top of a mountain and let the spookables come to him? It’s only a legend, Will. I just thought it was kind of cool.”

  “Yeah,” Willow agreed. She looked at the sword again. “It’s different from other vampire legends we’ve heard about. Or, y’know, met.”

  But Willow was thinking that it was also interesting because of Sanno. Not the Slayer. Just a big guy with a big sword. Taking care of business. For a moment, she thought about what she could do if she worked out a little. Worked out, and maybe had a big sword, too.

  “Y’know,” she said idly, not really paying attention to what she was saying, “with all the tutoring I’ve helped you out with, I was thinking maybe you could tutor me a little.”

  “Huh?” Buffy said, confused. “What subject could I possibly tutor you in, Willow? You’re our Brainy Smurf.”

  Willow reached out with her uninjured hand toward the sword, touched the cool surface of the metal. Cool, yes, but with some weird heat to it as well. Like it was burning inside.

  “Self-defense,” she whispered.

  Buffy sort of smiled and frowned at the same time.

  “You do pretty well, Will,” she said.

  Willow held up her injured hand, wrapped in its small cast. Her smile was pained.

  “No,” she replied. “I don’t. I’ve been lucky up to now. I don’t want to be a liability, Buffy. I don’t want you to have to protect me all the time.”

  Buffy touched the cast on Willow’s hand. “Will,” she said, “it’s not your fault those guys jumped you. And, trust me, there have been plenty of times when I would’ve been toast for sure if it hadn’t been for you. So I’m better with pointy objects. So what?”

  “I’d just feel better if I could defend myself,” Willow said meekly, and turned to look at the huge blade on the wall again. “I’d love to be able to use something like this. Nobody would mess with me if I had a big sword in my hands.”

  “Especially if you were strong enough to lift it off the ground,” Buffy said, trying gamely to lighten the moment, to cheer Willow up.

  And failing.

  Willow brushed her fingers over the blade and up to the cloth covering the hilt of the sword. Beneath the crisscross pattern was a trio of metal disks that looked like they were made of bronze or something similar. There was some kind of weird inscription on them, and Willow tried to get a better—

  One of the disks fell out.

  “Whoops,” Willow said, trying to catch it.

  A long drop to the floor, where it clanged like a fallen coin. Blushing, Willow bent to pick it up, and quickly tried to slide it back where it had come from. Her fingers found the blade instead.

  “Will, I don’t know if you should . . .” Buffy started.

  Too late.

  Willow hissed and pulled her hand back. There was blood on the index finger. She’d somehow slipped and cut her finger. The sword was so sharp it had only stung, but the cut looked kind of deep.

  “That’s gotta hurt!” Xander said as he stepped up behind them.

  Willow spun on him in alarm, as if he were going to attack her.

  “Back off!” she snapped.

  “Whoa,” Xander said, eyes blinking his surprise. “What’d I do?”

  Willow shook her head as she sucked at her cut finger, hoping she wouldn’t need stitches.

  “Nothing,” she said. “Sorry, just edgy after Saturday, I guess. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Sounds good,” Buffy said happily. “I guess we’ve stayed long enough for me to miss my math test.”

  “Goody for you,” Willow said crankily.

  Buffy looked taken aback, but suddenly, Willow didn’t much care. She didn’t feel well and she just wanted to get home and crawl under the covers. And Buffy’s cheeriness, even if it was for her benefit, wasn’t really cheering her up at all.

  It wasn’t until the bus pulled into the parking lot at Sunnydale High that Willow realized she’d stuck that weird metal disk into her pocket. And as soon as she realized it, she promptly forgot again.

  Willow went home sick just before fifth period.

  CHAPTER 3

  By the time the bus pulled back into the school parking lot, Willow was feeling a bit nauseous.

  “You look really pale,” Xander told her.

  She waited for the requisite crack about vampirism, or ghostliness, or her usual less-than-bronze pallor, but it didn’t come. Xander wasn’t teasing her, just concerned. That was when Willow realized that she’d better go home.

  Even Mr. Morse was nice to her.

  “Really, Willow, it’s all right,” the history teacher said, nodding too much as he almost pushed her toward Giles in the parking lot. “I’ll tell Principal Snyder that you were ill. Go home and get some rest. You don’t want to miss my pop quiz tomorrow, do you?”

  A joke, Willow thought, beginning to feel disoriented. Mr. Morse had made a joke. To make her feel better.

  And, of course, it only made her feel worse.

  Willow felt like she was seeing everything in a weird, out-of-focus hyper-reality. Almost like a VR game, but with snippets of her real life. Xander looked at her, all brotherly, and told her to get some rest and that he’d call to check up on her when school was out. Buffy promised to tell Oz she’d gone home sick. Cordelia made a face and asked if Willow was going to throw up on her.

  Giles drove her home. She didn’t remember talking to him much. He made game attempts at small talk for a bit before giving up. In the end, he walked her to the door, where her mom made a big fuss as Willow had known she would, thanked Giles, and hustled her upstairs.

  Willow fell into bed at one o’clock in the afternoon and didn’t wake up until it was time for school Tuesday morning.

  She slept like the dead.

  * * *

  “Hello, zombie alert!” Xander quipped as Willow walked through the library doors the next afternoon when classes had ended.

  She smiled. Her first smile since the day before, and it felt good.

  “I know I don’t look my best,” she said, “but I feel a lot better. Much. Much better.”

  “I’m glad,” Xander replied, and smiled. “I was worried when you didn’t call back last night. Your mom didn’t want to wake you up, so I stayed up all night, tossing and turning with my concern for your well-being.”

  Willow raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even last until the news, did you?”

  “Not even the te
n o’clock,” Xander admitted. “Which doesn’t mean I wasn’t worried! I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

  She was pleased. “Yeah. Feeling better is good. I don’t know what was wrong with me yesterday. I just . . . I don’t know, I totally lost it there for a bit. I’ve never felt like that before. I mean, I’ve talked to people who have had migraine headaches, and it sort of reminded me of some of the things they said. Except for the part where your head aches. Mine didn’t.”

  “That’s good,” Xander said encouragingly.

  “I’m just happy to be human again,” she went on.

  “Human is even better,” Xander agreed.

  “So where is everyone?” Willow asked, looking around. “I’ve barely seen Buffy all day.”

  “Oh, apparently she killed something else last night. Broke a centuries-old curse or something. Par for the course. The danger’s over, but it seems that Giles is still excitedly interrogating her off somewhere. I’m actually just waiting for—”

  “You ready?”

  Willow and Xander turned to see Cordelia standing in the open library door looking as impatient as always. Willow still didn’t get it, but she wasn’t about to interfere.

  “Hey, Cord,” Willow said.

  “Hi, Willow,” Cordelia replied. “Feel better?”

  “Kind of tired, actually,” Willow said. “If I didn’t know I’d been practically comatose for seventeen hours last night, I’d say I pulled an all-night study session.” She glanced at Xander. “I’m much better, however.”

  “All-night study session?” Cordelia asked, frowning. “You’re such a party animal, girl.”

  Then Xander was pushing Cordelia out the door. Cordy waved to her and Willow offered a half-hearted smile in return. After they were gone, she sat for a moment in silence, then walked over to the library computer that Giles always had her working on.

  She spent a lot of time on her computer at home, and even more here at school, doing research, but also checking out chat rooms and news groups, meeting new people and surfing for information that might help Buffy and Giles. Too much time, she often thought. She had friends on-line, but she was never certain if they were real friends. If they were who and what they claimed. It was a lesson she’d learned painfully once before, and ever since, Willow had been less inclined to look into the Web world for a social life.