Buffy the Vampire Slayer 2

by Nancy Holder

  Only the orange lizard’s back two legs touched her skin. Its middle two feet were stuck to the side of the coffee mug, and the front two feet gripped the rim. It lapped cold coffee with a tiny black tongue. Buffy’s first impulse was to smash the creature. However, she didn’t want to risk being burned by acid blood or poisoned by a toxin that seeped through the skin. Catch and then kill was a more prudent plan.

  She glanced at the cloisonné pot someone had wanted for poodle ashes. It had a lid and could contain the lizard until she decided what to do with it. As she reached for the urn, her eyes were drawn back to the black sphere. She remembered how her attention had been absorbed by the darkness, and she forced herself to look away. The orb had to be a Hellmouth hazard too. Its hypnotic effect had certainly proved more dangerous than the lizard with a taste for liquid caffeine.

  Since she could bait and catch the lizard again, Buffy wiggled her hand out from under its sticky feet. She expected it to run, but it clamped its back feet to the side of the mug and kept drinking.

  Using a fresh paper towel, Buffy picked up the black ball, but she did not look at it. She threw it hard against the wall, and ducked to avoid the fallout. There was no explosion when the piece shattered, and nothing liquid or gaseous was released in the shower of splinters and fragments.

  She was, however, astonished that the lizard had not been scared off the coffee mug.

  “You won’t sleep a wink tonight,” Buffy quipped. She wished there was a way to get rid of the little guy without killing it. But in her Slayer soul, she knew that wasn’t possible. The lizard didn’t seem to pose a threat, but she couldn’t assume that it was harmless. “It’s the dog-coffin pot for you, I’m afraid.”

  As Buffy reached for the urn, the lizard suddenly raised its head. A ridge of collapsed black scales along its back stood straight up. Then it leaped off the table and zoomed away at lizard hyperspeed.

  Buffy hesitated. The creature couldn’t have known she was about to trap it . . . or could it? Had it established a psychic link with her the way the kur had with Willow? If so, the connection wasn’t very strong. She had absolutely no desire to chase after it. She had other Hellmouth invaders to track down and eliminate.

  “At least I have to try,” Buffy muttered as she started a quick tour of the cafeteria. She didn’t flush out anything that slithered, scampered, or flew, but she caught sight of an orange flash every now and then. Armed with paper towels, she was careful not to touch anything, and she wasn’t exhibiting strange symptoms when she left the sale area and headed down the hall. Every critter that needed a victim had either found one or gone in search of one. There was, she was certain, no chance that pests without hosts would simply die, like 1950s-movie Martians. Sunnydale luck wouldn’t allow such an easy solution.

  Having come up empty in the cafeteria, the next likely place to look was the basement, where the contamination had started.

  Buffy cautiously eased through the access door. Midway down the stairs, she paused when she heard the staccato beat of many padded feet. Or wings, Buffy realized. She bent over just in time to see a slew of large red bats fly down the wide corridor and disappear around a corner.

  Then she noticed the odd, flickering crack in the basement wall. The area around the crack shimmered as a dwarf-size demon squeezed through.

  That’s what happens when you have a leaky Hellmouth barrier, Buffy thought as she studied the new intruder.

  The demon was roughly forty inches tall with stubby arms and legs. Splotches of green and black, similar to Xander’s camouflage vest, mottled its leathery gray skin, and large black scaly plates protected its chest and groin. Two tapering horns curved back from a face that reminded Buffy of a pug. The beady eyes were deep set under a ridged brow above a black flattened nose. Twin canine fangs pointed upward from a jutting lower jaw and extended past its upper lip.

  Buffy watched, wondering what it wanted. The red bats, like the kur and the orange lizard, were larger than most of the icky things that had escaped the Hellmouth. Was the ugly guy just another animal, only bigger? Or was it smart? Had it come through the barrier out of curiosity? Or did it have a sinister agenda?

  Not knowing the answers to so many questions made Buffy nervous, but at least she was on even terms with the dumpy demon. Slayer skills were useless against infectious microbes and caustic fungi. She could hit the new guy.

  The demon’s nostrils flared, and a low growl rumbled in its throat.

  Buffy felt a familiar tickle on her ankle. She looked down, startled to see the little orange lizard sitting by her shoe. Coincidence, or had it followed her? Or had it yanked her psychic chain and led her into an ambush?!

  The lizard squeaked, drawing the newly arrived demon’s attention. When it spied Buffy, it flexed claws and talons that looked sharp enough to pierce muscle. The lizard fled upward when the dwarf demon curled its lip back and roared.

  “Take it easy, short stuff.” Buffy eased down the steps, holding the brute’s glittering gaze.

  The demon snorted and puffed out its chest.

  The instant Buffy’s foot touched the floor, the demon charged. She deftly deflected the attack, grabbing a horn and heaving the demon across the cement corridor into a storeroom door. It quickly regained its feet, glared at her, and grunted.

  “Not the talky type, huh?” Buffy braced herself when the demon charged again.

  It slammed its heavy head into her midsection, driving her backward. Mindful of the slashing claws, Buffy ducked clear, spun, and kicked, catching the demon under the chin. It yelped and attacked in a frenzy of gnashing teeth and punches. A talon raked her leg, drawing blood. She knew if it got an opening, the demon could easily disembowel her.

  “Gutting the Slayer is a definite no-no.” Fighting for her life now, Buffy unleashed the Slayer fury she needed to survive. She flipped the creature onto its back. Within another second, she had a knee on its chest, one hand on its throat, and her other fist raised.

  The demon threw a tantrum—roaring, shaking its head, and kicking its feet. Spittle flew from the creased corners of its leathery mouth, but Buffy didn’t loosen her hold. Judging by her adversary’s undisciplined attacks and defensive responses, she was pretty sure it wasn’t high on the demonic evolutionary scale. She punched it in the nose, which seemed to knock it senseless.

  As Buffy raised her arm to strike again, someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her off.

  “Bad move, Slayer!”

  Spike? Pulling free, Buffy whirled and backed up to keep both demons at a distance until she got her bearings. The dwarf demon was still stunned. She unloaded on the vampire.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Buffy demanded.

  “The bats ran away from him.” Spike kicked the prone demon’s foot. “Like maybe they were scared.”

  Buffy frowned. “So?”

  “There was a whole bloody colony hanging about until this wanker popped in.” Spike crouched slightly, scanning the ceiling. “Vicious creatures with a nasty bite.”

  Sensing his dread, Buffy dug in with a cutting remark. “Vampires, bats. What’s the dif?”

  Before Spike could respond, the short demon scrambled upright and snarled. Its alert eyes shifted back and forth between them before it suddenly broke for the stairs.

  “Stop!” A voice called out from the access doorway above.

  Buffy spun at the sound of Giles’s voice.

  The Watcher started down the stairs as the demon ran up, but he averted a head-on collision with a word: “Pragoh!”

  The demon stopped and backed down, growling softly.

  Buffy stared, noting that Spike seemed as astounded by the mild librarian’s brazenness and the demon’s cowed reaction as she was.

  “Thank the gods I’m not too late. Ms. Calendar said you’d taken off, and I was afraid”—Giles paused, surprised to see Spike—“you’d kill our only salvation before I arrived.”

  “Spike?” Buffy asked, confused.

  �
��I daresay not.” Giles motioned toward the other demon. “I meant Pragoh.”

  Buffy watched the pug-nosed demon from the corner of her eye. It sniffed, as though it could discern intent by the odors they gave off. It remained tense and wary. Apparently, it still felt threatened.

  “Stupid girl would have killed it if I hadn’t pulled her off,” Spike said.

  “Okay, Spike,” Buffy fumed. “Let’s just finish this now and get it over with.”

  “Without the element of surprise?” Spike eyed her with disdain. “Where’s the sport in that?”

  “A truce would be in order, actually,” Giles said. “As distasteful as I find it, we’ll all have to cooperate to prevent a disaster everyone inside and outside the Hellmouth will regret.”

  “Seriously?” Buffy wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “You want me to work with Spike and Play-Doh?”

  “It’s Pragoh, and I’m deadly serious.”

  Buffy wasn’t happy about teaming up with the enemy, but she trusted Giles. Despite the almost fatal fiasco with the Master, she owed him. Stuffy and old-school, he didn’t always understand or agree with what she did or what she wanted, but he tried to see her side. He knew—beyond doubt—that she wasn’t selfish and irresponsible. That didn’t negate the sting of her mom’s misconceptions, but it helped.

  Giles eyed the vampire narrowly. “What are you doing here, Spike?”

  “Just checking out the rummage sale.”

  “We can do without the insolent sarcasm,” Giles snapped.

  “It’s the truth!” Spike bristled at the insinuation he was lying.

  “The survival of the entire planet may be at stake,” Giles added. “If you know anything relevant—”

  “We were shopping!” Spike insisted hotly.

  “Is survival of the planet worse than the typical saving-the-world scenario?” Buffy asked. “Because it sounds worse.”

  “Actually, it could be.” Giles turned to Pragoh. “My hypothesis is based on certain assumptions. Please correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “Yesssss,” Pragoh agreed in a gravelly voice.

  Spike rolled his eyes. “Just get on with it, will you? Some of us have other things to do.”

  Buffy bit back a scathing taunt about secondhand style, ending the verbal joust. Giles did not make jokes about the end of everything, and he needed her undivided attention.

  “As I explained earlier,” Giles began, “the Hellmouth has a pyramidal structure of lower to higher beings. However, the higher-level demons cannot break through the barrier and escape without assistance, such as the Master provided.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Spike said, needling the librarian. “In Sunnydale. Because the big bloke bought it.”

  “Irrelevant, Spike.” Giles waved him off like a pesky child. “These dominant demons empowered a lower-level demon—”

  Pragoh snarled.

  “My apologies, Pragoh.” Giles cleared his throat. “They empowered Pragoh to have dominion over all the lesser entities in the Hellmouth. He is charged with ensuring that they don’t infest our world, which would bring an end to all life as we know it.”

  “Impossible,” Spike scoffed.

  “It’s entirely possible, I assure you,” Giles said.

  “How?” Buffy asked, perplexed. “Ms. Calendar said that the disease bugs don’t infect more than one person at a time. They wait until that person dies before they look for someone else.”

  “A fortunate, but temporary reprieve, I’m sorry to say.” Giles wiped his glasses with his handkerchief. “Without natural enemies in this world to control them, the Hellmouth organisms will undergo explosive growth. The same natural mechanisms affect Earth life. If certain animals didn’t feed on insects, bugs would overrun the Earth, wiping out everything else.”

  “Oh.” Buffy nodded. “I think we studied that in biology last year.”

  “And if Hellmouth flora and fauna are allowed to multiply without restriction,” Giles concluded, “they’ll require more and more victims exponentially, until all Earth life is extinct.”

  “Yesssss,” Pragoh agreed.

  “And Pragoh is here to do what?” Buffy asked. The idea that the smallest entities in either reality could finish off everything was very unsettling.

  “He’s here to lure the vermin back through the barrier,” Giles explained. “Most of those who’ve been taken ill will be cured after the beasts abandon them.”

  “Most but not all?” Buffy frowned, her thoughts on her mother and Willow. “What things won’t be cured?”

  Spike took a sudden interest. “I’d rather like to know the answer to that myself.”

  “Quite honestly, I haven’t the foggiest.” Giles stuffed his handkerchief back in his jacket pocket. “We’ll, uh, have to wait and see. The important thing is that Pragoh’s superiors want to preserve the natural balance in our world—”

  “Why?” Buffy asked. “Evil things don’t do good things unless they’re going to get something out of it.”

  “Good point, Slayer.” Spike scowled. “The big bad beasties must be planning a bash.”

  “The old ones will kill all things here.” Pragoh made a throaty noise that might have been a laugh. “Someday.”

  Buffy wasn’t amused. “Someday when?”

  “At an undisclosed time in the future,” Giles said. “Give or take a few years or millennia.”

  “Is that written down?” Buffy asked. The monstrous scope of the Hellmouth bigwigs’ ulterior motive was chilling. However, a plan to end all life on Earth wasn’t guaranteed to succeed unless some ancient killjoy had left a note.

  “Not specifically, that I’m aware of, but it doesn’t matter at the moment.” Giles looked at Buffy. “What matters is that Pragoh alone has the necessary abilities to round up the escaped vermin and send them back into the Hellmouth. That’s the only way the afflictions will be cured.”

  “Starting with Dru.” Spike took a stride toward Pragoh. “C’mon, you.”

  “Not so fast.” Buffy blocked his advance. “I may have to work with Pragoh, but our salvation won’t be at risk if I kill you.”

  “I wouldn’t be too quick to test that theory, Slayer,” Spike said. “The part about your health and welfare not being at risk.”

  “Why would I need you?” Buffy smiled, refusing to be baited by his mocking tone.

  Spike was matter-of-fact. “You need me to save you from—”

  Buffy’s cocky attitude crumbled when the storeroom door slammed open.

  The grotesque beast standing in the doorway looked like a bat-vampire hybrid experiment gone terribly wrong. Dark hair fell in long, matted tangles around large, pointed ears. A sloping skull had replaced the heavy brow, and a flat, puckered nose capped a short snout. Tatters of a white dress hung from narrow shoulders. The seams had been ripped apart as membranous wings grew outward from the down-covered body, legs, and arms. The velvet edge of the wings stretched from wrist to ankle, and venom dripped from viscous fangs.

  “Is that—” Giles stumbled backward when the deformed demon lunged toward him.

  “Drusilla!” Spike shouted.

  CHAPTER SIX

  And Cordelia thinks she’s having a bad day! The sight of Drusilla’s shocking transformation did not inhibit Buffy’s timing. Her reflexes were as quick and ruthless as her catty observation.

  Giles jumped back as Buffy raced forward and kicked, landing a foot squarely on the vamp-bat’s chest. Dru was thrown off stride, but only for a second. When she launched an immediate counterattack, Buffy ducked, struck out with her leg as she came back up, and repelled Dru’s charge.

  “Don’t kill her!” Spike tried to insert himself between Buffy and Dru, but the beast batted him aside.

  “It’s her or us, Spike!” Buffy planted her feet, poised for the vamp-bat’s next move. “She loses.”

  Giles flattened himself against the wall and took off his belt. He wrapped the leather end around his hand twice. If swung with enoug
h force, the buckle end was an effective weapon.

  But not against the supersize bat out of hell, Buffy thought. As a hybrid, Drusilla was a lot stronger than a vampire and a lot smarter than a bat. She wasn’t sure how they were going to defeat her.

  “So where’s the Beastmaster gotten to, then?” Spike asked, brushing dust off his long coat. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Pragoh under the stairs. “Hey! No hiding. Get out here and cure her!”

  Pragoh shook his head. “She bites.”

  Spike stopped, then sidestepped, swinging his upper body low as he moved. Drusilla’s fangs grazed dead flesh without breaking the skin on the back of his neck. His brow furrowed as he took several quick steps over to Buffy. He was visibly shaken.

  “Too bad she missed.” Buffy smiled, but the brash vampire’s fear gave her pause.

  “Is it?” Spike’s surly tone had a serious edge. “If she’d bitten me, you’d have two monster bat people to fend off.”

  Drusilla raised her arms, gracefully unfolding her scalloped wings. The fingers on each hand had fused into a single curved claw at the midpoint on the membranes. She stared at Buffy with unblinking golden eyes. A menacing growl sounded deep in her throat.

  “Why doesn’t Pragoh do something?” Buffy hissed at Giles.

  “Technically, Drusilla isn’t a lesser Hellmouth creature,” Giles said. “Pragoh can’t control her.”

  “Then I’ll bloody well have to.” Spike threw up his hands as he moved by them and continued on past the stairs.

  “By running away?” Buffy huffed.

  “Teeth!” Giles yelled.

  Pivoting, Buffy fired off another kick to stop the vampbat’s forward surge. Dru snapped clear before the blow connected, then hooked Buffy’s ankle and pulled her off her feet. Rolling as she hit the floor, Buffy sprang back up in an unbroken fluid motion of Slayer agility. Enraged, Dru prepared to strike again.

  Buffy wondered how Angel would react to Drusilla’s hideous transformation. The torment of driving her crazy and killing her family before he changed her into a vampire was almost more than he could bear. At least he was locked out of the school by Giles’s quarantine spell. She missed having Angel by her side in a fight, but she was glad he wasn’t in danger of being bitten or infected.