The Harvest

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “Where’s that?” Buffy asked.

  “About half a block from the good part of town. We don’t have a whole lot of town. You should show.”

  They’d reached the library now. The two of them stopped in front of the door.

  “Well, I’ll try, thanks,” Buffy promised.

  “Good. I’ll see you at gym and you can tell me absolutely everything there is to know about yourself.”

  Cordelia turned and went off. Buffy, slightly thrown off by the idea of giving her whole life story, allowed herself an ironic smile.

  “That sounds like fun,” she mumbled.

  She entered the library, surprised at the elegance of it, the dark wood paneling, the streaming sunlight across the floor, the shelves and shelves of books. A short flight of stairs led up to a second level of still more bookcases, and with its large oak table and cozy study lamps, the room had a curiously warm country-house feeling.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone around. As she paused beside the checkout counter, she happened to notice a folded newspaper lying there, an article on its first page circled in red. The headline stated “Local Boys Still Missing,” and beside it was a blurry picture of three boys.

  Buffy wandered farther in. She peered around a bookcase.

  “Hello . . . is anybody here?”

  Without warning someone touched her shoulder. Startled, she spun to face him.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked politely. He spoke with a British accent, and his expression was one of quiet intensity.

  Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. “I was looking for some, well, books. I’m new.”

  “Miss Summers,” the man said.

  “Good call. I guess I’m the only new kid.”

  “I’m Mr. Giles, the librarian.”

  Buffy studied him for an instant. Tall, slender, with a refined sort of elegance, dressed in English tweeds and wools, a pinstripe shirt and tie. Kind eyes stared back at her from behind thin wire-rimmed glasses.

  “Great.” Buffy smiled. “So you have, uh—”

  “I know what you’re after.”

  He turned and led her to the checkout desk by the door. Buffy could see his office just behind it, but Mr. Giles obviously hadn’t meant to take her there. She watched curiously as he pulled a book out from beneath the counter and slid it toward her. Huge and leather bound, it bore a single word in gilt upon its cover.

  VAMPYR

  It was the book from her nightmare.

  Concern flooded Buffy’s face—and with it, a look of wary understanding. She stepped back from the desk, but her gaze remained on the librarian.

  “That’s not what I’m looking for,” she told him, her voice going tight.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m way sure.”

  Mr. Giles hesitated . . . gave an almost imperceptible nod. “My mistake.”

  He replaced the book under the counter.

  “So,” he continued softly, “what is it you said—”

  He stared out into the empty room.

  Buffy had gone.

  * * *

  At almost the same moment Buffy left the library, two other students happened to be discussing her while they changed their clothes in the girls’ locker room.

  “The new kid?” one girl said. “She seems kind of weird to me. And what kind of name is Buffy?”

  She turned as another friend called to her. “Hey, Aphrodesia.”

  “Hey,” she said distractedly.

  “Well,” Aura said, picking up the conversation. “The chatter in the caf is that she got kicked out of her last school, and that’s why her mom had to get a new job.”

  “Neg,” Aphrodesia replied, but Aura nodded.

  “Pos. She was starting fights.”

  Aphrodesia opened her locker. “Negly!”

  “Well, I heard it from Blue,” Aura insisted, tugging open her own door, “and she saw the transcripts—”

  She never got to finish the sentence.

  Without warning something flew out of the locker, and Aphrodesia screamed as the body of a dead boy collapsed on top of her. His eyes were wide and staring, as though they had witnessed something truly horrible. She didn’t recognize him, and she had no way of knowing that he’d broken into the school with his girlfriend last night, with the romantic intention of going up to the roof of the gym.

  All she could do was keep on screaming as the body sprawled at her feet, gazing up at her from the floor.

  CHAPTER 3

  Willow carefully sorted through her packed lunch. Healthy as usual. And totally boring. She was so involved that she didn’t notice anyone approaching until a voice spoke behind her.

  “Uh, hi,” the voice said. “Willow, right?”

  Willow started and turned around. “Why?” she asked suspiciously, and then, seeing who it was, “I mean, hi. Did you want me to move?”

  “Why don’t we start with ‘Hi, I’m Buffy,’ ” Buffy suggested, sitting down beside her. “And then let’s segue directly into me asking you for a favor. It doesn’t involve moving, but it does involve you hanging out with me for a while.”

  Willow’s expression was doubtful. “But aren’t you . . . hanging with Cordelia?”

  “I can’t do both?”

  “Not legally.”

  “Look, I really want to get by here,” Buffy explained. “New school . . . Cordelia’s been really nice—to me, anyway—but I have this burning desire not to flunk all my classes, and I heard a rumor that you were the person to talk to if I wanted to get caught up.”

  Willow brightened. “Oh, I could totally help you out! If you have sixth period free, we could meet in the library—”

  “Or not,” Buffy declined at once. “Or, you know, we could meet somewhere quieter. Louder. That place kind of gives me a wiggins.”

  “It has that effect on most kids. I love it, though. It’s a great collection, and the new librarian’s really cool.”

  “He’s new?”

  “Yeah, he just started. He was a curator of some British museum. Or the British Museum, I’m not sure. But he knows everything and he brought all these historical volumes and biographies, and am I the single dullest person alive?”

  “Not at all!” Buffy insisted.

  The girls looked up as Xander sauntered over with Jesse.

  “Hey. Are you guys busy?” Xander greeted them. “Can we interrupt? We’re interrupting.”

  “Hey,” Buffy smiled.

  “Hey there,” Jesse answered.

  “Buffy, this is Jesse.” Willow made the introductions. “And that’s Xander.”

  “Oh, me and Buffy go way back,” Xander said casually. “Old friends, very close. Then there was that period of estrangement, I think we were both changing as people, but here we are, and it’s like old times, I’m quite moved.”

  Buffy stared at him half amused, half amazed.

  “Is it me?” Jesse asked him. “Or are you turning into a babbling idiot?”

  For a split second Xander looked almost embarrassed. “It’s not you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you guys,” Buffy said. “I think.”

  “Well, we wanted to welcome you, make you feel at home,” Jesse replied gallantly. “Unless you have a scary home.”

  “And to return this,” Xander added. He produced the stake that had fallen earlier from Buffy’s bag. “The only thing I can figure is that you’re building a really little fence.”

  “Oh. No.” Buffy’s mind worked swiftly. “That was for self-defense. Everyone has them in L.A. Pepper spray is so passé.”

  Xander nodded, as though not quite convinced. “So. What do you like, what do you do for fun, what do you look for in a man? . . . Let’s hear it.”

  “If you have any dark, painful secrets that we could publish,” Jesse suggested.

  “Gee,” Buffy’s tone was mildly sarcastic. “Everybody wants to know about me. How keen.”

  “Well, not a lot happens in a one-Starbucks town like Sunnydale
,” Xander confessed. “You’re big news.”

  “I’m not. Really.”

  “Are these people bothering you?” Cordelia suddenly appeared behind Jesse, a look of pure disdain on her face.

  Buffy glanced around in surprise. “Oh! No.”

  “She’s not hanging out with us,” Willow hastened to explain, while Jesse only looked smitten at the sight of her.

  “Hey, Cordelia,” Jesse said.

  “Oh, please,” Cordelia dismissed him in disgust, turning her attention to Buffy. “I don’t want to interrupt your downward mobility. I just thought I’d tell you that you won’t be meeting Coach Foster, the woman with chest hair, because gym has been canceled due to the extreme dead guy in the locker.”

  Buffy stared at her. “What?”

  “What are you talking about?” Willow straightened, looking alarmed.

  “Some guy was stuffed in Aura’s locker,” Cordelia explained.

  “Dead,” Buffy repeated.

  “Way dead,” Cordelia confirmed.

  “So not just a little dead, then,” Xander added.

  Cordelia gave him one of her looks. “Don’t you have an elsewhere to be?”

  “If you need a shoulder to cry on,” Jesse offered, “or just to nibble on—”

  “How did he die?” Buffy broke in, her gaze still steady upon Cordelia.

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Well, were there any marks?”

  “Morbid much?” Cordelia was eyeing her as though she were some kind of alien. “I didn’t ask!”

  Abruptly Buffy stood up. “Uh, look, I gotta book. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “What’s her deal?” Cordelia asked, sounding annoyed.

  Buffy took off hurriedly toward the gym, leaving the others to stare after her in bewilderment.

  CHAPTER 4

  Buffy went straight to the girls’ locker room. Unfortunately, Mr. Flutie was just coming out, closing the door behind him.

  “Oh! Buffy!” He regarded her in surprise. “Uh, what do you want?”

  Buffy tried to keep her voice casual. “Um, is there a guy in there who’s dead?”

  “Where did you hear that?” Mr. Flutie asked quickly. Then, “Okay. Yes. But he’s not a student! Not currently.”

  “Do you know how he died?”

  “What?”

  “I mean,” Buffy fumbled, “how could this have happened?”

  “Well, that’s for the police to determine when they get here,” Mr. Flutie replied. “But this structure is safe, we have inspections, and I think there’s no grounds for a lawsuit.”

  “Was there a lot of blood?” Buffy couldn’t help asking. “Was there any blood?”

  Mr. Flutie gave her a long look. “I would think you wouldn’t want to involve yourself in this kind of thing.”

  “I don’t,” Buffy assured him. “Could I just take a peek?”

  “Unless you already are involved . . .” Mr. Flutie insinuated, and Buffy shook her head.

  “Never mind.”

  “Buffy,” the principal went on, relenting a little, “I understand this is confusing. You’re probably feeling a lot right now. You should share those feelings. With someone else.”

  Giving him a wan smile, Buffy nodded and backed away.

  She had no intention of giving up so easily.

  Rushing from the building, she went quickly around the side of the gym. It was easy locating another door to the locker room. She twisted the knob, but the door was locked tight.

  Buffy looked around to make certain she was alone. With one quick tug, she pulled the door open, splintering the lock in the process. Then she gave one last glance over her shoulder and slipped inside.

  She saw the body at once, lying on the floor stretched out beneath a blanket. Hesitantly she approached it, feeling certain she wasn’t going to be at all pleased with what she found. Slowly she folded the blanket down from the corpse’s head and shoulders.

  Grim frustration flooded Buffy’s face. She stared down at the body, nearly seething.

  “Oh, great!” she exploded.

  There on the boy’s neck were two distinct bite marks.

  * * *

  Moments later, an exasperated Buffy strode back into the library.

  “Okay, what’s the sitch?” she demanded.

  Giles was standing on the second level, completely engrossed in a book. He looked down as she started up toward him.

  “Sorry?” he asked.

  “You heard about the dead guy, right?” Buffy retorted. “The dead guy in the locker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s the weirdest thing. He’s got two little holes in his neck, and all his blood’s been drained. Isn’t that bizarre? Aren’t you just going, ‘Ooooh . . .’ ”

  Giles let out a sigh. “I was afraid of this.”

  “Well, I wasn’t! It’s my first day. I was afraid that I’d be behind in all the classes, that I wouldn’t make any friends, that I’d have last month’s hair. I didn’t think there would be vampires on campus. And I don’t care.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  That stopped her, but only for a moment.

  “To tell you that I don’t care,” Buffy stammered. “Which I don’t, and . . . have now told you. So, ’bye.”

  She retreated and started for the door, feeling a little let down by her undignified exit.

  “Will he rise again?” Giles asked.

  Buffy stopped in midstride. “Who?”

  “The boy.”

  “No, he’s just dead.”

  “Can you be sure?”

  Buffy shook her head. “To make you a vampire they have to suck your blood and then you have to suck their blood. It’s a whole big sucking thing. Mostly they’ll just take all your blood and then you just die—why am I still talking to you?”

  “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Giles challenged her, his words tightly controlled. “Do you think it’s a coincidence, your coming here? That boy was just the beginning.”

  Buffy turned back and looked up at him. “Oh, why can’t you leave me alone?”

  “Because you are the Slayer.”

  She froze. All the clever things she’d been ready to say to him stuck in her throat. She watched as Giles came down the stairs, his gaze very solemn.

  “Into every generation, a Slayer is born,” Giles intoned. “One girl, in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the—”

  Buffy joined him then, the two of them speaking together. “—the strength and skill to hunt the vampires—”

  Until Giles broke off, letting Buffy finish the words alone. “To stop the spread of their evil blah blah, I’ve heard it, okay?” Buffy threw at him.

  Giles looked troubled. “I don’t understand this attitude. You’ve accepted your duty, you’ve slain vampires before—”

  “Well, I have both been there and done that. And I am moving on.”

  Giles considered this a moment, then asked, “What do you know about this town?”

  “It’s two hours on the freeway from Neiman Marcus.”

  Motioning her to wait for him, Giles disappeared into a back room and continued to talk.

  “Dig a bit into the history of this place and you’ll find there’ve been a steady stream of fairly odd occurrences. I believe this area is a center of mystical energy. Things gravitate toward it that you might not find elsewhere.”

  He reappeared with a stack of books.

  “Like vampires,” Buffy concluded.

  She tried to move past him, but he pulled a book from the pile and handed it to her. It resembled the vampire book he had shown her earlier, and while Buffy stared down at it, he continued to heap more books into her arms.

  “Like werewolves,” Giles went on quickly. “Zombies. Succubi, incubi . . .” He leaned close into her face. “Everything you ever dreaded under your bed and told yourself couldn’t be by the light of day.”

  “What, did you send away for the Time Life seri
es?”

  Giles actually looked a bit sheepish. “Uh, yes.”

  “Did you get the free phone?”

  “The calendar.”

  “Cool.” Then, remembering her agenda, Buffy stated, “Okay, first of all, I’m a vampire slayer,” transferring the books back into his arms. “And second, I’m retired. Hey, I know! Why don’t you kill them?”

  Giles’s smile seemed rather surprised. “I’m a Watcher. I haven’t the skill.”

  “Oh, come on. Stake through the heart, a little sunlight—it’s like falling off a log.”

  “The Slayer slays,” Giles explained patiently. “The Watcher—”

  “Watches?”

  “Yes. No!” Giles recovered himself. “He—he—trains her, he prepares her—”

  “Prepares me for what?” Buffy was really angry now. “For getting kicked out of school? Losing all my friends? Having to spend all my time fighting for my life and never getting to tell anyone, because it might ‘endanger’ them? Go ahead.” Her gaze was challenging. “Prepare me.”

  She turned on her heel and left. Giles went out after her.

  Both of them had been so intent on their discussion that neither had noticed the shadowy figure lurking in the stacks. But now Xander emerged slowly into the light, a mixture of amusement, excitement, and total disbelief upon his face. He looked down at the copy of Theories in Trig that he held in his hands, and then he looked back at the library door. For a long time his lips moved without a sound. And then at last his voice echoed out into the silence.

  “What?”

  * * *

  Giles continued to follow Buffy through the hallway as it began filling with students once again.

  “It’s getting worse,” Giles called after her.

  Buffy stopped and whirled to face him. All too conscious of the crowds around them, she tried not to sigh too loudly. “What’s getting worse?”

  “The influx of the undead,” Giles murmured, moving her over against the wall. “The supernatural occurrences. It’s been building for years, and now . . . there’s a reason why you’re here, and there’s a reason why it’s now.”

  “Because now is the time my mom moved here.”

  She started to walk away from him, but he put up one arm to stop her.

  “Something is coming,” he insisted. “Something is going to happen here soon.”