Buffy the Vampire Slayer 2

by Nancy Holder

  “Drusilla turned into a bat?” Angel raised an eyebrow. “I can see how that would make for a bad day.”

  And it’s going to get worse for some of us.

  Without a whisper of warning, Buffy charged Pragoh and pushed him toward the wall. Grabbing his horns, she lifted him off his feet and kicked him through the distortion into the Hellmouth.

  “Open the book!” Giles called to Ms. Calendar.

  A gazillion and one down, and one to go, Buffy thought as she grabbed Willow by the arm. She pulled the startled girl toward her, then pushed, driving Willow into Angel. The vampire instinctively threw his arms around her.

  “Hold on to her, Angel,” Buffy yelled, “and do not let her go!”

  “What are you doing?” Willow’s frightened confusion was a fleeting concession to her humanity. When the kur’s fear kicked in, her face contorted with rage. “Let me go!”

  Buffy glanced at Giles.

  He nodded, understanding with no words spoken.

  Buffy sprang forward and wrenched the kur from Willow’s grasp.

  “No!” Willow stretched out her arms as Buffy spun and ran for the barrier. “Give him back! Buffy!”

  Angel tightened his hold around Willow’s waist and chest. She fought with the ferocity of a mother tiger defending her cubs, twisting to wrench free, kicking and scratching.

  Buffy yanked the blue scarf off the spitting beast and held it at arm’s length as she ran. It had two rows of short, sharp teeth and a pitiful ear-splitting howl. It snapped its jaws, clawed her arms, and flailed furry feet.

  Swinging the smoking censer, Giles studied the spell in the book Ms. Calendar held open.

  Unable to free herself from Angel’s grip, Willow changed tactics. “Buffy, please don’t. He’s so cute and helpless. Please—”

  Buffy blotted out Willow’s plea and kept her eye on the wall. When she reached it, she rammed the kur through the shimmering crack.

  “No!” Willow’s tortured scream reverberated through the basement.

  Buffy stood facing the Hellmouth, tense and breathless from the emotional exertion. The sound of Willow’s suffering was almost more than she could bear, and the cadence of the Watcher’s chant was a numbing balm.

  “Terra, vente, ignis et pluvial,” Giles recited, swinging the censer in an expanding arc.

  “Easy, Willow,” Angel said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s going to be all right.”

  Willow wailed and pounded on the vampire with her fist. A prisoner of the psychic link until the Hellmouth closed, she was inconsolable.

  “. . . numina vos obsecro.”

  Hurry, Giles, Buffy begged, wishing she didn’t have to listen. Then she saw the gray arm.

  Pragoh was trying to come back!

  Pragoh want a prize? Buffy fumed as she positioned herself in front of the distortion. She had no qualms about breaking a deal with the little devil—none at all. He had made his bad bargain when he’d asked for a bribe. The instant the gray demon’s snout appeared, she let fly with a kick and punched him back in.

  “. . . nos a recente malo resoluto.”

  “The spell’s broken, school’s open!” Xander’s excitement stalled at the base of the stairs. “When did Mr. Tall, Moody, and Annoying get here?”

  Buffy watched in disbelief as Pragoh tried to scramble through the leak again. He thrust an arm and leg out with his head. Buffy put her hands on his horns and pushed, but he resisted.

  “Uh, Buffy,” Xander said. “Giles’s eyes are bulging. You don’t think one of those critters—”

  Buffy knew exactly what to think. Giles couldn’t interrupt the incantation to warn her—

  “Omnia vasa veritatis!”

  —that the Hellmouth was going to close!

  Now! Buffy let go of the demon’s horns and jumped back as the barrier sealed. She had narrowly missed having her hand severed. Pragoh’s snout, arm, and leg fell on the floor, gushing green blood.

  Willow sagged against Angel and wept. The psychic connection to Cutie and her heart were broken. The vampire held her close, saying nothing. Only time could turn her raw wound into a tolerable scar.

  “We did it!” Raising victorious fists, Ms. Calendar grinned and hugged Giles.

  “It would appear so.” Giles nodded at Buffy, his eyes brimming with relief.

  Buffy smiled back, but the good feeling for a job well done was tainted. Everything had worked out exactly as planned, leaving only one loose end. Willow didn’t hold grudges as a rule, and on an intellectual level, she knew that Buffy had had no choice. Still, her sorrow over Cutie’s loss was so deep that it might be the exception to Willow’s generous ability to forgive.

  That’s another injury time will heal or not, Buffy thought with a glance at Angel. Unlike men who treated distraught women like embers that were too hot to handle, he held Willow close and murmured reassurances, giving her all the time she needed to cry it out.

  Xander peered down at Pragoh’s remains. Flesh and gore smoked, burning away into a pile of ash. “The Hellmouth’s demon dogcatcher is dead.”

  “It was his own fault for trying to pull a fast one,” Buffy said. “Extortion is a crime.”

  “So if the seals fail—” Xander turned to fire off a few words of apology. “No offense, Giles, but if they do, who’s going to come and take the mini-invaders away?”

  “I’m pretty sure the Hellmouth has a long line of varmint hunters,” Buffy said. “Pragoh wasn’t the least bit skeptical about how a dead Slayer is automatically replaced with a new one. I bet another demonic pied piper is being chosen as we speak.”

  “Brilliant deduction, Buffy!” Giles looked proud, but Buffy wasn’t sure she should take his surprise as a compliment.

  “We should probably collect all this accoutrement and get it out of here before Principal Snyder decides to inspect for rabid termites.” Handing the book to Giles, Ms. Calendar began extinguishing the candles. “He has to explain this away somehow.”

  “I don’t suppose he retained a trace of lackadaisical good nature?” When Giles caught everyone’s incredulous stares, he sighed. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Maybe I should take Willow upstairs,” Xander said. “Away from the scene of the crime.”

  “Good idea,” Buffy agreed.

  “And I must get back to the library to record the details of this incident while they’re still fresh in my mind.” Giles shouldered his bag. “Your input would be helpful, Buffy.”

  “You’ve got it,” Buffy said. “Later.”

  She stood back until everyone but Angel was gone. Even though she and the vampire were in love, they couldn’t get by feeling awkward—until the kissing started. She stumbled into the dialogue first this time. “You missed all the fun.”

  “Playing Batman with Drusilla in the Batcave?” Angel grinned. “Not my idea of a good time.”

  “I’ve had better mornings too.” Buffy desperately wanted to feel his embrace and the softness of his lips on hers. With him standing so near, the temptation was overwhelming, but not enough to countermand the other things she had to do. “I, uh, have to go see how my mom’s doing.”

  “Joyce was here? With the bats?”

  “No bats,” Buffy said. “Just a terrible case of gross green junk eroding her face, but she’s getting over it.”

  Angel nodded. He understood. “Yeah, you should go.”

  “I know.” Buffy sighed. Her mom was already upset with her for deserting sick friends. As much as she wanted to stay with Angel, she couldn’t neglect her responsibilities. “Will I see you tonight?”

  Angel’s smile brightened her heart. “Midnight at Myra’s?”

  “I’ll be there.” When the vampire was out of sight, Buffy shivered in the cold he left behind.

  • • •

  On her way back to the cafeteria, Buffy paused outside the classroom that had served as an infirmary. Police officers and paramedics were filling out forms and checking the corpses. A doctor and the detective in
charge were discussing a press release with Principal Snyder, who had retrieved his clothes. They had decided to call the outbreak a noncontagious variation of Legionnaires’ disease. Buffy had no doubt the lie would work. The people in Sunnydale would believe anything to avoid dealing with the truth.

  A little sickness won’t even keep them away from the rummage sale, Buffy thought.

  Before she returned to the cafeteria, Buffy ducked into the restroom and caught Cordelia and Harmony taking stock of the damage to their appearances in the mirror. She was surprised the two girls hadn’t vacated the school as soon as the quarantine was lifted. When they saw her, they reacted like they wished they had.

  “What are you doing here?” Cordelia demanded.

  “We’re in the middle of serious cosmetic repairs, if you don’t mind.” Rolling her eyes, Harmony turned back to squint at her reflection.

  Buffy was very much aware that the cool crowd claimed territorial rights to all the restrooms on campus. If anyone in the not-so-cool majority entered when Cordelia and company were present, they risked being chased away or publicly humiliated. A little harmless payback is in order, Buffy thought, taking her cue from the conversation she had had with Deirdre earlier.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right, Cordelia.” Buffy faked being immensely relieved. “When I heard you had lost all your teeth, I figured you’d be—”

  “Who said I lost my teeth?” Cordelia gasped. “Xander! That no-good—”

  “No, it wasn’t Xander.” Buffy tapped her cheek, pretending to think. “I don’t remember, but everybody’s talking about it.”

  Harmony glanced at Cordelia with a slight smile, savoring the idea of having devastating ammunition to use against her best friend.

  “I did not lose my teeth!” Slamming her hairbrush on the sink counter, Cordelia opened her mouth and tugged on glistening white enamel. “See? They’re real.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Buffy winced with dismay. “I am so sorry.”

  “They do look kind of fake,” Harmony said.

  “And you still have crow’s feet around your eyes!” Cordelia shot back.

  Deciding she could wait to freshen up, Buffy left the chilly restroom and walked into simmering pandemonium. The cafeteria was almost as chaotic in the aftermath of the Hellmouth epidemic as it had been during setup for the rummage sale. She paused inside the doorway to eavesdrop on the Dingoes’ lead guitarist and lead singer.

  “Legionnaires’ disease?” Oz asked Devon.

  “That’s what the cop said.”

  “One diagnosis fits all? I don’t know.” Oz shook his head. “My memory’s a little hazy, but I think I was almost smothered by sheepskin seat covers.”

  “What did you do?” Devon laughed shortly. “Pass out underneath them?”

  “Can’t say.” Oz shrugged. “Maybe I inhaled something that was on the wool and had an asthma attack.”

  “Could happen, I guess,” Devon conceded. “I leaned over to look at a pair of old Chevy hubcaps and woke up in the corner of a classroom.”

  “Are you okay?” Oz asked.

  Devon patted his chest and arms. “Yep.”

  “Me too. Let’s go spin some tunes.”

  As the two boys walked off, Buffy scanned the room for her mother and friends. She hoped all the survivors had recovered from their various ailments with amnesia. Muddled minds told no tales they couldn’t explain.

  Andrew walked up and down the aisles, carrying the coiled bullwhip. He looked lost, and he was obviously looking for something. Jonathan? Buffy wondered. The short, quiet kid had been standing at rigid attention the last time she had seen him, but he wasn’t in the room now.

  Willow sat on the chair by the shirts with her head propped on her hand, looking totally dejected. Xander wasn’t there, and Buffy put off going over. She couldn’t blame Willow if she spurned a sympathetic overture, but she didn’t want to go through it alone.

  Better to face the music with her mom, who was helping Ms. Calendar sweep up the shattered black orb.

  As Buffy took a step, Principal Snyder stormed in, dragging Jonathan by the ear. The boy still had the action figure blister packs, and Snyder was wearing the hat.

  “Stealing will not be tolerated, Mr. Levenson.” Principal Snyder stopped by the checkout table and held out his hand. “I’ll take those. Then I’ll decide whether you’ll spend the next month in detention or at juvenile hall.”

  Alerted to Jonathan’s whereabouts by the commotion, Andrew cautiously crept closer. He stopped a few feet from Buffy.

  “I was going to pay for them,” Jonathan said meekly. “After I got back from the—you know.”

  “Sure you were.” Principal Snyder folded his arms.

  Buffy was pretty sure Principal Snyder had been too distracted to pay for the hat. Not that she could point that out without paying a price. Still, as a champion of the underdog with a duty to thwart injustice, she had to do something to help Jonathan.

  “Actually,” Buffy said, moving closer, “he told me a little while ago that he was waiting to buy them.”

  “One juvenile delinquent vouching for another juvenile delinquent.” The principal sneered. “Why should I take your word for it, Ms. Summers? Everyone knows you criminal types stick together.”

  “Ask him!” Jonathan pointed when Xander walked in. “Xander knows I was going to pay!”

  Xander stopped dead, whipping his hand behind his back to hide a can of soda. “Me?”

  The detective stuck his head in the door. “Snyder! We need you to sign these reports.”

  “Make sure you get a receipt.” Principal Snyder glared at Jonathan, then shouted at Ms. Calendar. “The rummage sale opens to the public in an hour! The police are blaring an announcement from their patrol cars all over town. You will be ready.” He mumbled as he headed out the door. “Next year’s fund-raiser for the marching band will be something simple, like selling candy.”

  Xander continued on across the room toward Willow.

  No sooner had Jonathan slipped the Snyder noose than Andrew confronted him about his action figure heist. “Some best friend you turned out to be, Jonathan. You know how much I want that 1978 mint condition Walrus Man.”

  Buffy joined her mom and Ms. Calendar behind the artifact table just as they swept the last bits of black glass into a dustpan.

  “Buffy!” Her mother smiled as she stood up. “I was hoping to see you before I went back to the gallery. It seems I owe you an apology.”

  “Oh.” Buffy waited to find out why.

  “Ms. Calendar explained that you were helping other students who were in danger.” Joyce smiled sheepishly. “I should have known you wouldn’t turn your back on your friends.”

  “That’s okay, Mom,” Buffy said with a grateful glance at the teacher. There was truth in what Ms. Calendar had told her. She had saved Willow and herself from certain death in the Hellmouth.

  Ms. Calendar held out a wastepaper basket, and Joyce dumped the broken glass. “Such a shame,” the teacher said.

  “Yeah.” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “I guess that black thing wasn’t . . . alive.”

  Ms. Calendar looked at her askance, apparently realizing Buffy knew more about how the orb had been shattered than she wanted to say. She didn’t say anything either.

  “Hardly!” Joyce exclaimed. “It was a rare piece of black jade called ‘Endless Night.’ The last owner claimed that it hypnotized him.”

  “Really?” Buffy didn’t volunteer her corroborating second opinion.

  “It really is too bad a vandal got in here and smashed it,” Joyce said. “The Mayor would have paid quite handsomely for it, I’m sure.”

  “The Mayor wanted to buy it?” Buffy asked.

  Ms. Calendar took the dustpan from Joyce and set it aside with the wastepaper basket and broom. “I’m sure Mayor Wilkins will understand that this wasn’t your fault, Ms. Summers. You can still invite him to the Joel Shavin showing at the gallery.”

  “Oh, no.” Joy
ce shook her head and pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “He doesn’t know this was the ‘Endless Night’ his father lost at auction all those years ago, so please don’t tell him. I’ll just invite him to another gallery event—someday. Next year, maybe.”

  “All right, if that’s what you want.” Ms. Calendar smiled, then left to make sure everything was set for the delayed start of the rummage sale.

  Buffy felt bad about messing up her mom’s opportunity to impress the Mayor, but the black jade was dangerous. Things would have turned out much worse if Mayor Wilkins had bought it and gone bonkers after prolonged exposure. Once again, her seemingly irresponsible actions had responsible consequences. And as usual, she couldn’t tell her mom. She couldn’t explain that she had been in the cafeteria tracking down virulent demonic vermin and had mistaken the black jade for a heinous Hellmouth beast.

  “Is Willow going to be all right?” Joyce looked across the room and frowned with concern. “She looks so depressed.”

  “She’s had a tough day, but I’ll go check.” Buffy cocked her head to study her mom. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, but . . .” Joyce hesitated. “You might ask Ms. Calendar to find those black lace gloves and put them aside for me.”

  “Consider them yours,” Buffy said.

  “Don’t be late for dinner.” Joyce waved and walked out.

  Relieved that her mom was finally leaving the building, Buffy took a deep breath and headed toward men’s shirts. She wasn’t sure how to approach Willow, and she didn’t know if Xander was mad at her too. His lack of wordage at the door was troubling. Snyder might have shocked him speechless, but it was hard to tell.

  The rocking rhythm of an old Queen song started playing as Buffy walked up to Xander and Willow.

  “Hey!” Grinning, Xander lowered his voice. “It’s the Slayer theme song: ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’” He sang along to the title phrase. “Makes you wonder how much other people really know.”

  Xander was joking, but he had a point. Giles would know if a Slayer in the late seventies had lived in Britain, but she didn’t want to. The Chosen One of twenty years ago was dead, like all the Slayers before her.