The Harvest

by Richie Tankersley Cusick

  “Who are you?” Darla glared up at her, fury in her eyes.

  “Don’t you know?”

  But before Buffy could go on, a pair of hands suddenly grabbed her by the throat and lifted her bodily from the ground.

  “I don’t care,” Luke said slowly.

  She hadn’t sensed him behind her. As Luke stepped from the shadows, his enormous bulk made her seem tiny and insignificant, and Buffy realized the odds were now dangerously against her. Luke tossed her into the air with no effort at all, hurling her a good fifteen feet. She landed badly and hit the wall with her face.

  Luke turned on Darla, who was struggling to get up.

  “You were supposed to be bringing an offering for the Master,” he berated her. “We’re almost at Harvest, and you dally with this child?”

  “We had someone.” Frightened now, Darla tried to defend herself. “But she came and . . . she killed Thomas . . . Luke, she’s strong.”

  Luke fixed her with a contemptuous stare. “You go. I’ll see if I can handle the little girl.”

  Buffy was trying to lift herself off the floor when Luke closed in and grabbed her. He’d counted on her being stunned, but she was ready for him this time. She knocked his arms away, then kicked him smartly in the face. It sent him back just a little, but he recovered himself almost instantly, landing a solid punch to her jaw.

  “You are strong,” Luke muttered. He slammed her back to the ground and gave a throaty laugh. “I’m stronger.”

  But Buffy had no intention of giving up. Wrestling away from him at last, she got to her feet and circled slowly around the tomb, keeping it safely between her and Luke.

  “You’re wasting my time,” Luke said calmly.

  “Hey,” Buffy retorted, “I had other plans, too, okay?”

  Luke shoved at the lid of the tomb. As the heavy stone slab flew straight at her, Buffy leaped over it and jumped on top. With one swift movement, she flipped over and planted both feet solidly on Luke’s chest. The momentum caused both of them to fall, but Buffy managed to get up first, pulling out her stake and driving it toward his chest. Luke’s hand shot out and grabbed it just before it made contact.

  “You think you can stop me?” Luke’s face was twisted with rage. “Stop us?”

  He squeezed his fist. The stake splintered like a matchstick in his powerful grip and he punched Buffy violently, knocking her backward.

  “You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” he snarled.

  Victorious now, he stood over her. His voice lowered, and he began to intone the sacred text.

  “And like a plague of boils, the race of man covered the earth. But on the third day of the newest light will come the Harvest . . .”

  Buffy hovered on the very edge of consciousness. Her head spun in slow motion, distorted thoughts flashing in and out of her muddled brain.

  She seemed to see Giles standing back in his library, poring over his ancient books with growing consternation. He was staring down at one page in particular—an old engraving which depicted a cruel and vicious massacre . . .

  “ . . . When the blood of men will flow as wine . . .” Luke went on.

  The people in the engraving writhed about in their own blood, and in the very center of them all stood a creature bearing a three-pointed star upon his forehead, feeding off a woman . . .

  “ . . . When the Master will walk among them once more . . .”

  As Luke’s voice droned steadily on, the images suddenly shifted. Now Buffy could see the crumbling ruins of an old church; she could sense an awesome danger emanating from a figure bathed in darkness.

  “ . . . The world will belong to the Old Ones . . .” Luke recited.

  * * *

  Willow, Xander and Jesse hurried through the forest.

  “We’ll get the police,” Willow gasped. “It’s just a few blocks up—”

  Willow’s voice broke off. The three of them stopped and stared, expressions of utter despair creeping over their faces.

  Three vampires stood waiting for them. Even as the three friends backed off . . . even as they suddenly realized that Darla was right behind them . . .

  * * *

  Buffy forced her eyes open. She got unsteadily to her feet, all the while keeping her wary gaze on Luke.

  “ . . . and hell itself will come to town.” Luke finished at last.

  Buffy tried to move sideways, to get away from him—but he struck her with savage force. Helplessly she flew backward and landed inside the tomb. She landed hard upon her back, all the wind knocked out of her. She turned her head slowly to the side and saw the withered, decaying corpse of the tomb’s owner.

  She could tell she was badly hurt. She couldn’t see Luke anymore, couldn’t see anything but the damp, moldy walls of the tomb, though she strained her eyes desperately through the darkness. He could be anywhere, she realized. Anywhere . . .

  Slowly, achingly, she lifted her head. She was really frightened now—more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Very cautiously she peered over one side of the tomb.

  Nothing.

  Only silence.

  With her heart wildly hammering, Buffy tried to look over the opposite edge.

  Luke jumped out of nowhere, roaring triumphantly, filling her vision, filling the room, throwing himself into the crypt on top of her.

  She tried frantically to fight him off, but he pinned her with no effort at all. And then he simply stared down at her, contemplating her with gleeful animal hunger.

  His teeth dripped a thick string of spittle. She could feel it sliding over her cheek.

  “Amen,” Luke grinned.

  And then he bore down on her.

  CHAPTER 11

  Through a haze of terror Buffy could see Luke’s monstrous face, his lips curled back from his gums, his fangs bared greedily, moving closer and closer to her neck. She twisted and fought with all her strength, but her struggles were useless against him.

  With one quick slash of his fingernails, Luke pulled her shirt open, just wide enough to expose her throat. Buffy gasped, bracing herself for the quick, searing stab of his teeth—but instead, Luke let out a shriek and jumped back.

  Buffy stared at him, her mind reeling in confusion. Smoke was streaming from his hand, and he was glaring at his palm, eyes blazing with fury and shock.

  As Buffy’s own gaze lowered to her chest, she saw a silver cross lying there—the cross that the mysterious guy had given her earlier that night. Somehow it had slipped free from her inside pocket and come in contact with Luke’s hand during the struggle.

  Buffy wasted no time. With a burst of renewed energy, she kicked at Luke with both legs, sending him flying from the tomb. Before he could recover, she leaped out and ran for the door.

  The beating had taken a toll on her—much more than she’d realized, Buffy thought glumly. Now as she tried to run through the woods, she was all too aware of the lightness in her head, the rubbery feeling in her legs, the painful heaving of her chest. She stumbled through the graveyard as fast as she could. When she finally reached the opposite edge of the trees, she stopped and looked behind her in the direction of the mausoleum.

  She was alone.

  Nobody seemed to be following her . . . not even the shadows were moving.

  And then she heard Willow scream. “No! Nooo! Get—off—”

  Adrenaline pumping, Buffy raced toward the sound of her friend’s voice. As she burst upon the scene, she could see Willow on the ground, wrestling with a vampire. The creature held Willow mercilessly in his grasp. He was just going in for her neck when Buffy surprised him, causing him to look up.

  It was just the chance Buffy needed.

  With one swift kick to his face, she sent the vampire sprawling backward. He gave a grunt of pain, then staggered to his feet, holding his nose and trying to get away from her.

  Buffy stood there a second, catching her breath. All her senses were at their most alert now, and she furiously scanned her surroundings. She h
eard a cracking sound followed by unmistakable scuffling, and again she took off, leaving Willow still sitting there on the ground, her eyes huge with fright, her body trembling. She sat awhile longer, pulling herself together, then at last she got up and followed the path Buffy had taken.

  It didn’t take Buffy long to find what she was looking for. Almost immediately she caught sight of Xander, his unconscious body being dragged away by two more vampires. As they sensed an unwelcome presence behind them, the vampires slowly turned around.

  It wasn’t Buffy they saw, suddenly appearing through the trees. It was Willow. As Willow realized that Xander was in mortal danger, she seemed to change right before their eyes, her expression fiercely threatening.

  The vampires turned back again, but Buffy stood there blocking their escape. It was easy to take them both out. With one quick punch, Buffy knocked them off their feet and they scrambled to get up and get away.

  But they didn’t scramble fast enough.

  Grabbing a branch from a nearby tree, Buffy snapped it off and held it in her hand like a stake. She charged one vampire, nailing him neatly through the chest, while the other fled for his life.

  Willow ran up to Xander and knelt beside him, cradling his head in her arms. To her relief he seemed to be coming to, and after blinking a few times, he frowned up at her, trying to get his bearings.

  “Xander . . . are you okay?” Willow asked softly.

  “Man . . .” Xander still seemed a little disoriented. “Something hit me . . .”

  Buffy walked a few paces, peering hard through the trees, her expression solemn and worried. “Where’s Jesse?”

  For the first time Willow seemed to realize that Jesse was missing. “I don’t know,” she shook her head. “They surrounded us—he was really weak . . .”

  “That girl grabbed him,” Xander mumbled. “Took off.”

  “Which way?” Buffy demanded, but Xander looked blank.

  “I don’t know.”

  Buffy stared into the night. She honed all her senses, reaching out, straining through the darkness—but there was nothing . . .

  Nothing at all.

  Buffy’s heart felt heavy and sad.

  “Jesse . . .” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 12

  Things certainly didn’t look any brighter the next morning.

  Even in the peaceful calm of the school library, a feeling of doom hung thick in the air. No one had gotten any sleep, and Jesse was still missing. Buffy couldn’t remember when she’d been so sore; her body ached all over and her brain felt numb. She’d had to hide her injuries from her mother, so now she rummaged through Giles’s office for some makeshift bandages. Giles stood at the railing on the upper level of bookshelves and tried to give Xander and Willow an explanation for what was happening.

  “This world is older than any of you know,” he told them solemnly, spinning a globe for emphasis. “And contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, demons walked the earth. Made it their home . . . their hell.”

  Willow and Xander both listened intently, their expressions every bit as grave as Giles’s own.

  “In time they lost their purchase on this reality,” he continued, carrying an armload of books down the stairs, “and the way was made for the mortal animals. For man. What remains of the Old Ones are vestiges. Certain magics, certain creatures . . .”

  “And vampires,” Buffy added.

  She emerged at last from Giles’s office, wrapping a bandage around her forearm. Xander stood up, clearly agitated.

  “Okay, this is where I have a problem, see, because we’re now talking about vampires.” He frowned. “We’re having a talk with vampires in it.”

  “Isn’t that what we saw last night?” Willow asked.

  “No, those weren’t vampires,” Buffy quipped. “Those were just some guys in thundering need of a facial. Or maybe they had rabies—coulda been rabies. And that guy turning to dust . . . just a trick of the light.” She ignored the look Xander gave her and regarded him with total understanding. “That’s exactly what I said the first time I saw a vampire. I mean, when I was done with the screaming part.”

  “Oooh . . .” Willow murmured. “I need to sit down.”

  “You are sitting down,” Buffy reminded her.

  “Oh.” Willow gave a vacant nod. “Good for me.”

  “So vampires are demons?” Xander went on, while Giles again tried to clarify.

  “The books tell that the last demon to leave this reality fed off a human, mixed their blood. He was a human form possessed—infected—by the demon’s soul.” Giles handed Xander one of the heavy volumes. “He bit another, and another . . . and so they walk the earth feeding. Killing some, mixing their blood with others to make more of their kind. Waiting for the animals to die out and the Old Ones to return.”

  * * *

  Even as Giles was speaking, two vampires were returning to their lair.

  Far below the earth, where the morning sun never reached, Luke and Darla dragged Jesse along the dark, dank tunnel toward the church. Jesse staggered between them, his consciousness slowly returning at last—and as his eyes grew accustomed to the blackness, terror rose sickeningly in his throat.

  He looked at the two inhuman faces on either side and then at the mouth of the tunnel they were pulling him through. They seemed to be inside an old pipe, huge and cracked and slimy with mold. As they hauled him the rest of the way, he felt himself being propelled down a pile of rocks and onto a cold, damp floor.

  His eyes widened in alarm. A church? It looked like a church—or what had once been a church—and yet this was a foul, evil place; he could feel it in every fiber of his being.

  Jesse looked around, a strange sort of wonder mixed with his fear. He could see now that he was standing before an altar. An altar and what appeared to be a thick red pool . . .

  And then from the total darkness, something moved. Moved and gathered itself from the endless shadows as it slowly emerged and came toward him.

  The Master regarded his servants with a cold, imperious stare. He turned his gaze on Jesse, and then at last he spoke.

  “Is this for me?”

  “An offering, Master,” Luke replied humbly.

  “He’s a good one,” Darla added. “His blood is pure.”

  The Master’s voice was quiet. Cunningly innocuous. “You’ve tasted it.”

  Realizing her mistake, Darla stepped back in fear. The Master bestowed her a taunting smile.

  “I’m your faithful dog. You bring me scraps.”

  “I didn’t mean to—” Darla stammered, but the Master cut her off.

  “I have waited. For three-score years I have waited. While you come and go I have been stuck here.” His voice rose, trembling with his power. “Here, in a house of worship. My ascension is almost at hand.”

  He broke off. He clutched Darla’s face between his fingers.

  “Pray that when it comes . . .” he snarled, “I’m in a better mood.”

  “Master, forgive me,” Darla begged him. “We had more offerings, but there was trouble. A girl.”

  Luke nodded affirmation. “There was a girl. She fought well and she knew of our breed. It’s possible that she may be . . .”

  The Master calmly turned to him. “A Slayer?”

  * * *

  “A Slayer,” Giles continued to explain.

  “And that would be a what?” Xander asked him.

  “As long as there have been vampires, there has been the Slayer,” Giles recited. “One girl in all the world—”

  “He loves doing this part,” Buffy interrupted.

  “All right,” Giles conceded, speeding up a little. “They hunt vampires, one Slayer dies, the next is called, Buffy is the Slayer, don’t tell anyone.” He stopped and drew a breath. “I think that’s all the vampire information you need.”

  “Except for one thing,” Xander spoke up. “How do you kill them?”

  “You don’t,” Buffy
corrected him. “I do.”

  “Well, Jesse—”

  “Jesse’s my responsibility. I let him get taken.”

  Xander frowned. “That’s not true.”

  “If you hadn’t shown up,” Willow added loyally, “they would have . . . taken us, too . . . . Does anybody mind if I pass out?”

  “Breathe . . .” Buffy ordered her.

  Willow nodded. “Breathe.”

  “Breathe,” Buffy said again, and then to Giles, “This big guy, Luke, he talked about an offering to the Master. I don’t know who or what that was, but if they weren’t just feeding, Jesse may still be alive. I’m gonna find him.”

  Calmer now, Willow offered a suggestion. “This is probably a dumb question, but shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “And they’d believe us, of course,” Giles replied.

  “We don’t have to say vampires,” Willow stammered. “We could say there was . . . a bad man.”

  Buffy shook her head consolingly. “They couldn’t handle it if they did come. They’d only show up with guns.”

  “You’ve no idea where they took Jesse?” Giles asked her.

  “I looked around, but . . . soon as they got clear of the woods they could have just—” Buffy made a quick motion with her hand. “—whoom.”

  “Can they fly?” Xander looked surprised.

  “They can drive.”

  “Oh.”

  Willow tried to think back. “I don’t remember hearing a car.”

  “Well, let’s take an enormous intuitive leap and say they went underground,” Giles said.

  “Vampires really jam on sewer systems,” Buffy agreed. “You can get anywhere in town without catching any rays. I didn’t see any access around there, though.”

  Xander shrugged. “Well, there’s electrical tunnels. They run under the whole town.”

  For a moment Giles considered this. “If we had a diagnostic of the tunnel system, it might indicate a meeting place. I suppose we could go to the building commission—”