#And then I was like ew weird priest man thought we were done with you

[theslayersblog]

Slayers novel 1 chapter 2

Caught Between a Rock and a Red Priest

I awoke in what, judging by the colorful smashed glass and statuary, must have been an abandoned church. It was filthy, and it smelled bad. Hanging by bound hands from a ceiling hook in an unfamiliar (and stinky) environment, with a throbbing headache and my enemy staring me down? Not my favorite way to greet the day. It beat not waking up at all, I guess, but just barely.

Of course, the headache wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was somewhere in the vicinity of my wounded pride—that stung horribly.

Zelgadiss stood with his arms folded, sizing me up for something awful, I was certain. Zolf, the mummy man, was there too—along with poor, pathetic Dilgear the dork-wolf and a guy I hadn’t seen before… who was a fish. No, seriously, he was a fish.

You know those things that live in the water? A fish. Fish plus guy equals fishguy. And fishguy made Dilgear look downright handsome by comparison.

Ever run into fish people before? No? Okay, there are essentially two families: Lagon and Gillman. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what distinguishes one family from the other, but I do know that most of the fish people you run into are humanoid with scales, and a fair number of them have fins. They’re also a foul-tempered bunch. But I suppose I’d be nasty, too, if I smelled like a fish. (Oh hey, I think I just figured out where that stink in the church was coming from.)

Now, this particular fishguy was more fish than guy. His body was thin and long. He had two huge fish eyes on either side of his head, which really was not so much a head as an extension of his body, since he hadn’t gone to the trouble of growing a neck. He looked like a flounder with arms and legs. How would you like to wake up to that? At least I didn’t see the old guy around anywhere.

“Not so quick with a quip, now are you?” asked Zelgadiss. It was a rhetorical question.

I hate you, you horrible bastard. Does that count as a quip?

“You should thank Zolf. He’s the one who spared your life. Or, rather, he was the one who most desperately wanted to kill you but fought valiantly to contain his passions.”

“Thanks, Zolf. I owe you one.” I would’ve winked but my face hurt. I managed a smile. Kind of.

“Watch your mouth, you little—!” That was Zolf.

“Little what? C’mon Zolf, take your best shot.”

“Too bad about your boyfriend running off and abandoning you,” said Dilgear, obviously trying to help his buddy out.

“Yeah… too bad,” I replied. My boyfriend?

Zelgadiss sighed and said, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d trust your companion with the object. As it turns out, it’s good for you that you did. We’ll have to keep you alive as bait.”

“Uh, we’ll have to what?” Dilgear blubbered.

“This girl does not have the object.”

“What?” Everyone gasped all at once—everyone, that is, except Zelgadiss and me.

“How can you tell?”

Zelgadiss turned and looked at Dilgear like he was an idiot. Because, well… he was an idiot. “Do you see the statue anywhere, Dilgear?”

Now, don’t get any funny ideas. It’s not like I was hanging there naked: I was wearing what I normally wear, minus the sword and mantle. I couldn’t hide a statue without looking like I had at least a sandwich under there.

Dilgear walked around me, looking over my body. Ew.

“Huh. Maybe she swallowed it?” He smiled an idiotic smile. Because, well… he was idiotic.

“I was unable to detect the Orihalcon on him during battle. How did you manage to shield that?” Zelgadiss queried.

“I stuck a protection spell on it.”

“Protection spell?”

“It cancels out search spells. The statue can’t be detected, even from the astral plane.”

“Kudos. Well done.” Zelgadiss sounded impressed.

“Thanks.”

What did he expect? Jeez. These people have no faith in me.

“You didn’t use anything that impressive during our battle.”

“I was holding back.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“You’re not a fool. Do you expect me to… ?” Then he figured it out. “Oh, I see. That time of the month, then?”

“Piss off!” I reddened. Am I wearing a sign that says, “I’m on my period. Please let’s discuss”?

“Well, in any case, we’ll need to keep you alive until your companion turns up,” he said. “Zolf, do what you like with her, but don’t kill her.”

Do what you like with her?

Zolf smiled. My stomach turned.

Oh this is just great…

“Sweetheart,” Zolf cooed in a voice that gave my goose bumps goose bumps. “I believe we have established that you owe me your life, and I intend to be repaid. Now, where shall we begin, hmmm… ?” He eyed me up and down.

Oh, good. He’s a psychopath. What exactly did I do to deserve an invitation to this party… ?

“Mr. Zolf… sir?”

“Yes?” he purred, pleased with my newfound respect.

I looked at him rather meekly and whispered, “I just… I just want to—”

“If you want to beg for forgiveness, save it.”

“It’s not that,” I said, lowering my voice even more. “I just want to say that I think you’re…”

“What? Speak up!”

“I’m embarrassed,” I whispered. “I’m young and not very experienced with men. I just want to say that I think you’re… “

“What? You think I’m what? Handsome?” he leaned in closer to hear me.

“Third-rate.“ I said, in a voice as clear as church bells. Gotcha. Sucker.

The room exploded with laughter. Everyone except Zolf was howling. Zelgadiss tried to hide his mirth by shielding his mouth with his fist, but his quivering shoulders gave him away. What can I say? I’m a funny girl.

I wasn’t laughing at my own joke in part because, well, that’s just tacky. But also because—zinger or no zinger—I was tied up, and Zolf still had the upper hand. I expected him to explode, but he just glared, which was worse.

Well, that’s terrifying.

There was a long uncomfortable pause after the laughter died down. Finally, Zolf smiled. “Dilgear…” he called to the wolf/troll/ man/ thug.

“Yeah, Zolf?” Dilgear answered.

“Kiss her.”

“WHAAAAA ?!”

Everyone turned to see where the scream came from. It came from Dilgear. The wolf… thing was apparently more grossed out at the prospect of sucking face than I was.

Now that’s not exactly the kind of ego boost a girl needs.

“Please tell me you’re kidding?” He sounded like he might puke.

“What? Do I ever kid? I’m serious,” Zolf answered, annoyed.

“But… she’s human! And she’s plain! And she’s a kid, Zolf. She’s not… developed, you know what I’m saying? I mean, I like women-women, you know? Like, maybe a hot little cyclops, or… oh! do you remember that goblin chick we met that one time? Remember her? Now, that was a woman. I mean she had a set, right? Not like—”

Oh, just kill me.

“Zolf,” Zelgadiss spoke. “Dilgear would prefer not to assist you with this particular task.”

A human male would’ve had the same reaction if asked to kiss a wolf chick, right? I mean, unless he were weird and into body hair or whatever. I mean, it’s not me being rejected here, it’s my genus. It’s not my fault he’s not attracted to women outside his species. Wait, goblins are outside his species…

“Hmph, Nunsa then!” Zolf was pointing at the fishguy. “You kiss her!”

“Me?” he asked. It’s a very weird thing to see a fish talk.

“Kiss her!”

“You wish for me to engage the human girl romantically?”

                        “Yes, kiss her! What else would you—never mind, I don’t want to know. Just kiss her!”

The fish fellow’s lack of enthusiasm was frustrating Zolf as much as it was hurting my feelings.

“Very well.”

“Wait—no!” This time I was doing the screaming. I would rather have gnawed my arm off at the shoulder than shake the fishguy’s hand. Kiss him? It was too horrible to contemplate.

“Yes! Do it! Lay one on her. Lock those fish lips on her like she’s bait, my good man!” Zolf was a one-man cheerleading squad.

Nunsa’s webbed feet made wet, slurping noises as he approached.

“No! Stay away from me! Stop it!”

“You are a very lucky human girl,” Nunsa assured me. “I am the most popular potential mate in my school. The smartest, the handsomest…” His fish whiskers wiggled.

“Oh, my god! Seriously? Where do you go to school?”

“Cry! Whimper! Beg me for mercy! Suffer as I have suffered!” Zolf certainly was enjoying himself.

Oh god…

Nunsa moved in close, “Now then…” His voice took on a peculiar tone. I was too horrified to reply. “Let us begin.”

No one understood exactly what Nunsa meant. Or, considering the nauseating possibilities, particularly wanted to.

“Is there a problem?” the fish man questioned the delay

“Um…” Dilgear wondered aloud, “Nunsa, what do you mean?”

Fishguy turned one eye and looked at the wolf.

“I am waiting for the eggs,” he said, as though that would make sense to anyone.

“I believe,” Zelgadiss theorized, “something about the word ‘kiss’ may have gotten lost in translation.”

I’d come to the same conclusion as Zelgadiss, which just added insult to injury.

Zolf looked completely lost.

“Nunsa, how do your people mate?” Zelgadiss inquired.

“Females lay eggs. Males fertilize the eggs. Then, some fifteen days later, there are babies.”

Figures. Their females don’t want to touch them either.

“Oh.” Zolf seemed disappointed. “You couldn’t have said something before?”

“Said something about what?” asked a bewildered Nunsa.

“Oh, never mind, ‘‘ Zolf said in an attempt to drop the subject.

“Zolf, I have an idea,” declared Dilgear.

Oh, this’ll be good.

“Get Rodimus. He’s a human, like her.”

“First of all, that’s not going to be as punishingly awful, now is it? Secondly, Rodimus thinks he’s a knight. He won’t mistreat a girl merely at my request. You know, chivalry and all that rot,” said Zelgadiss in opposition to Dilgear’s suggestion.

This Rodimus has to be the old guy.

“The girl is responsible for my condition. I will have vengeance,” whined Zolf.

“Maybe it’s time to let it go, Zolf?” prodded Zelgadiss.

“No, not yet.” His gaze drifted to Zelgadiss.

“Zolf,” Zelgadiss put an end to the discussion. “I have no interest in making little girls cry.”

“I know, but…” Zolf was nearly in tears. I actually started to feel bad for him.

Hey, don’t cry! It’s going to be all right. You’ll heal up! And how many times do I have to keep telling you people, I’m not a little kid!

“I have no choice…” It looked as if Zolf finally got the hint.

“… I’ll have to handle this myself,” Zolf concluded. I guess he didn’t get the hint.

“Now, then…” Zolf reached into his pocket and brought forth a giant handkerchief.

“W-what’s that for?” I freaked.

Zolf walked around behind me, where I couldn’t see.

“It’s for little girls who don’t know when to shut up!” he said, as he reached around and stuffed the handkerchief into my mouth.

“Ha ha!” he exclaimed, walking around to face me again. “Don’t have much to say now, do you?”

“Well then,” Zolf stretched his mouth into an unpleasant smile and began, “You are a runt.“

Mmrmfph!”

“And a cow.“

“Mmmrugmf!”“

“You are a flat-chested runt cow… who is narcissistic.” He was having fun now, enunciating every epithet as though it tasted sweet on his tongue. “You are a shrew. Your eyes are too big for your face and it makes you look funny.” He went on, and on.

How dare he! If I didn’t have a tablecloth shoved in my mouth, I’d bury him! What’s not to insult? For starters, he’s a big old freak who can’t let go of a grudge. Besides the mummy business (and god only knows what’s under those bandages!)—he’s got teeny-tiny feet and he’s all bowlegged! Where does he get off insulting my proportions?!

“I believe you’ve just about covered it,” Zelgadiss said, sounding bored. “How much longer do you insist on prolonging this childish nonsense?”

“Until I feel revenged.” Zolf’s face reddened.

“Mmrpf! Mmmrumpfer! Mfumpfuu, muumrufferffuffer!” I couldn’t take it any longer. I was trying to tell him that I was going to kill him as soon as I had the chance, but all I managed to get out against the gag was, “Mmrpf!”

“How does it feel, being helpless?! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

One day, I will feed you those words.

Eventually, Zolf wore himself out, and he and the others went to find food and make arrangements for the night. The sun made its way across the sky until all that was left was a single ray of light colored bright orange by the remaining bits of window it passed through. Then that light faded, cloaking me in darkness, save for the faintest glimmers of starlight. My wrists hurt, my jaw hurt, and I was very, very tired. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep.

I awoke with a start, to the sound of someone entering the room.

“Be quiet…” Zelgadiss whispered.

Why would Zelgadiss be sneaking around in here? Isn’t he in charge… ? I still had a gag in my mouth so I pretty much had to be quiet. I waited, not understanding.

A white light flashed above me and I fell to the floor. Ouch.

“Your sword and mantle.”

“Eh?” Zelgadiss pulled the cloth from my mouth. No mistake—those were my things. “Why?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Do you wish to escape, or not?”

I nodded silently and took my gear.

“Follow me.”

I followed behind Zelgadiss, as quietly as possible. It occurred to me that this might be a trap, but even a trap was better than being suspended from that ceiling another night at the mercy of Zolf.

Outside, patches of moonlight illuminated a thick, dark forest beside the dilapidated structure. A stone path led from the church into the woods.

“Hurry!” Zelgadiss said.

“Wait…” I hesitated.

This was a little too convenient. I’ve always been a firm believer in the adage, “If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

“The situation’s changed,” he shot back urgently. “We have to go now!”

“All right.” I made the decision to trust him for the time being. We ran along the path into the forest. Then… we stopped.

Something crimson emerged from the darkness to block the forest path. From behind, I heard Zelgadiss mutter under his breath, “Rezo.”

The Red Priest stood before us.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Zelgadiss?” Rezo asked. “You’ve followed orders admirably up until now… but this? This is an act of treason.”

“Then I am a traitor!” Zelgadiss yelled. His voice was desperate. He was clearly afraid.

“I cannot do this any more!”

“Oh, is that so?” Rezo asked quietly. “I’m very sorry to hear That.” He seemed an entirely different person than he was at our first meeting. And I couldn’t read his thoughts at all.

“You’re turning against me, then? Have you forgotten that I made you? I blessed you with your power…”

He wha—huh?

“Blessed me?” Zelgadiss broke in. “I will admit, Lord Rezo, that I wanted power. But I never asked to become a chimera! I never wanted… this“

“One has to be willing to make sacrifices, pet. And I gave you what you asked for, in the most direct way possible. If you had something else in mind, you ought to have specified. In any case, I won’t tolerate impudence. This ends here.”

Zelgadiss grunted. He moved suddenly, circling behind me and grabbing hold.

“Hey! W-what the—?” We began to move forward like that.

Rezo grinned, amused. “Do you intend to use that girl as a shield? Fool, do you presume I have guilt about going through her to get to you?”

“No, I don’t!” Zelgadiss’ voice was quivering now. He compensated for the fear it betrayed by raising the volume. Right in my ear.

“Using the girl as a shield won’t help me much, which is why I’m not making her my shield.…”

He raised my body high in the air. Oh, no—he wouldn’t!

“Yaaaah!”

“… I’m making her my arrow!“

He did!

Zelgadiss launched my body toward Rezo the same way you’d hurl a ball in shot put! Even as I sped through the air toward certain injury, I had to hand it to him: It was an impressive strategy.

Rezo was surprised, of course, but he managed to sidestep the assault, which left me fast approaching lip-lock with a tree. It looked like I was going to get a kiss after all.

I flailed my limbs in midair in a vain attempt to alter my direction, or slow myself down… or something. It didn’t do much.

I hit the tree with an audible splat, my limbs flailing around, grabbing the tree like a cornered money.

Ow. My nose!

“Mom always said I’d wind up a worthless tree-hugger.” Even dizzy with pain, I could try to be a good one.

“We don’t have time for jokes!” Zelgadiss caught up and managed to get me down from the tree. With a flying sorceress as a distraction, he’d been able to blast past Rezo unharmed.

Just then, several fireballs detonated behind us. “Those should buy us enough time to lose him.”

“Gently!” I shrieked, as Zelgadiss heaved me over his shoulder and sprinted.

“Complain later!” he shot back, scattering still more fireballs and taking us straight into the darkness.

* * *

“I think we’ve lost him,” Zelgadiss sighed, letting himself breathe at last. We’d been running for most of the night and had finally come to rest near a waterfall inside the forest. The roar of the falls camouflaged our voices, allowing us to speak without worrying about being heard. I had to hand it to Zelgadiss—the guy had formidable energy reserves. He’d spent the bulk of the last several hours running while carrying me. All I’d done was feel my wrists ache and my nose throb.

Shortly, the sun would threaten to make its way over the horizon.

“My nose hurts,” I whined.

“Well then, quit picking at it,” he said.

“Not funny.” I stuck my tongue out at him and leaned back against the river rocks. The cool stones felt good. As fighters go, my size gives me better-than-average speed and explosiveness, but that’s offset by my lack of strength and endurance. I needed some sleep… badly. But morning was coming soon, and there wasn’t any time.

“Go ahead,” Zelgadiss said, watching my eyes droop. “We’re safe here, and we could both use a little rest. I’ll close my eyes, too.” Perfect!

“You’d be ill-advised to take off on your own while I’m asleep.”

Crap. Busted.

“You’re right. I’m tired, and my magic hasn’t fully recovered yet,” I reasoned aloud.

“So, that means it should recover soon?” he responded hopefully.

“It should. Look, I’ll give you my word I’m not going to take off without you while you’re asleep, okay? In exchange, before we nod off, you’re going to answer a few questions for me.”

Zelgadiss flashed a strained smile. “I suppose that’s fair. You’re deeply involved in this mess now; you have a right to know. Very well, where would you like me to begin?”

“Let’s start with the guy who calls himself Rezo the Red Priest—”

“Ah, so he’d already made contact with you?”

“Yeah, and I had a weird feeling about him. Who is he really?”

Zelgadiss shrugged. “He is the man he claims to be. He is the authentic Rezo the Red Priest. However, he’s not the man the world knows him to be. Perhaps, a long time ago, he was…”

“I don’t understand. How could he be the total opposite of what the whole world thinks?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes people believe what they want to believe. Do you understand the significance of the object he seeks?”

“Time out. Just so we’re clear here: He’s the one who wants to revive Shabranigdu the Dark Lord, and not you, right?”

Zelgadiss obviously didn’t understand my question. “Shabranigdu? What are you talking about?”

“Um… well, he said—”

“The object he desires is known by a great many names, but the most famous is the ‘Philosopher’s Stone.’”

Eeep! I was speechless.

“Th-the Philosopher’s Stone… ? Then… he, he could …”

Zelgadiss nodded.

“The Philosopher’s Stone is contained within the goddess statue that you briefly possessed.”

The Philosopher’s Stone… heard of it? You probably have. There’s not a single practitioner of sorcery who does not know of it and wonder at its legendary power. It is said to be a relic of advanced sorcery from a lost civilization, or,

alternatively a fragment of the Divine Staff that supports the world. The only thing known for certain about it is that it amplifies magic. Like, a gazillion-fold. Each rumored appearance of the Philosopher’s Stone has profoundly affected the course of human history. It’s believed that even an apprentice sorcerer in possession of the stone could wipe out an entire kingdom. Though it is a near myth, elder sorcerers insist that it’s real.

And, I’d actually held it in my hands!

“B-but, what does he want to do with it?” Even if the legends of Rezo’s goodness were exaggerated, the extent of his powers wasn’t. On his own, they were astounding, but with the stone… he claims he has no plans to conquer the world,” Zelgadiss replied. “He says he simply wants to see it.”

“He wants to see it… ?”

“Yes. As the stories say, Rezo was born blind. He began to learn White Magic for the sole purpose of opening his own eyes.

“Once he mastered White Magic, he traveled the world, visiting other sages, helping many people along he way. But, while he could heal the eyes of others, for some reason he was unable to heal his own. He began to wonder why his efforts were inadequate. So he studied Black Magic and then Shamanic Magic, hoping that they would provide him with sufficient power. He was talented and driven and he mastered these mystic traditions well. And still, his eyes would not open. Only one means remained.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone, which he probably wasn’t even sure existed.”

Zelgadiss nodded.

“Then… I don’t understand. Why stop him from getting the stone? What’s the harm in him acquiring vision?’’

“There may not be any. But my objective is vengeance. For that, I require the Philospher’s Stone. I am nowhere near powerful enough to defeat him on my own.”

“Rezo’s that powerful?”

He nodded silently. So, this was all about Zelgadiss refusing to be a pawn. Of course, I’d feel the same way.

“So, he… he is the one who did this to you?” I said, referring to his rocky skin.

“Yes. On that day, he told me he was granting me power so that I could assist him in his quest for the stone. And I… foolishly, accepted. I did not understand what he intended to do.”

“How did you know him?”

Zelgadiss’ mood changed as I posed the question. He broke out in self-derisive laughter. “I’ve known him since I was born. He is, it would seem, either my grandfather or my great-grandfather. I’m not sure which, and I don’t really want to find out.”

“For real?”

“I suppose he doesn’t look his age, but he was born over a century ago. In any case, the blood of the famous (or infamous, depending upon your perspective) Rezo the Red Priest does flow through my veins.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry I asked.”

Well, this is awkward. I gingerly rubbed my nose with a fingertip.

“It’s all right,” he said, not laughing anymore.

The weight of our conversation hung unbearably heavy in the air. How do you change the subject after something like that? So, how about this weather, huh?

“All right, well, I get the gist of it now, and I appreciate you filling me in,” I said, trying to sound chipper. “Let’s try to get some sleep,” I added, lying down on my side.

Ah, that’s the good stuff…

I looked over at Zelgadiss, who still stood upright. “Aren’t you going to sleep? You’re tired too, right?”

“I suppose, but I’ll stand watch for now,” he said. “I’ll wake you up after a while, and we’ll trade places.”

“That’s fine. Good night.” I closed my eyes. As tired as I was, it didn’t take long before…

* * *

I awoke, as I always seem to awaken—with a jolt.

I was certain I hadn’t slept for more than a few hours. I could tell from the position of the sun, and the extent to which my body had recovered.

The thirst for battle poisoned the air and penetrated my sleep. It wasn’t coming from one or two people. I figured it to be emanating from as many as ten, maybe more. Normally, I could be more precise about the number, but I was tired and groggy, and my magic was still on the fritz. Whatever the specifics, the enemy outnumbered us.

“We’ve been surrounded,” Zelgadiss said quickly. He didn’t bother lowering his voice. They already knew where we were, so what was the point?

“By whom?”

“Twenty or thirty trolls. Rezo’s not with them. We’ll manage.” He sounded unconcerned. I, on the other hand, was somewhat less than confident.

“You didn’t think we wouldn’t notice you was gone, did you? We gotta settle this, boss.”

Recognizing the voice, I rose to my feet, spotting trolls attempting to conceal themselves in trees.

“Well hello, Dilgear! Fancy meeting you all the way out here,” I shouted to the trees. “Why don’t you come out of there? Show yourself and greet me properly We’ll reminisce about old times. It’ll be peachy.”

The wolf-thing dropped from a tree much closer than I’d expected.

“You remembered my name,” he said, sounding sincerely flattered. That was weird.

“Like I could forget you!” I answered, staring him straight in the snout. “Aren’t you the one who found me so repulsive that you’d rather make out with a goat? Or was it a goblin? That’s right. You probably eat goats. Goats are for eating, goblins are for swapping spit. There was something about a cyclops, too, wasn’t there? Well, I can certainly understand

why you’d favor a gal who couldn’t see too well, you know what I’m saying? Then again, what do I know? Apparently, I wish I were as hot as a cyclops. My skin’s rougher than a rock golem’s; I’m smaller than a pixie; really, I’m just an underdeveloped little—”

“Hey, hey, hey! I didn’t go that far.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because Zelgadiss is gonna kick your butt for insulting me, you’ll see! Go, Zelgadiss! The world is waiting for you! Show ‘em what you’ve got! Get ‘em!”

“Go on, now, we’re waiting!”

“Sic ‘em!”

“What… do you think you’re doing?” Zelgadiss was staring at me, arms crossed, a quizzical look on his face.

“Me?” I looked back at him, just as perplexed. It wasn’t as if I were going off on Dilgear just for fun—no, it wasn’t!—it was strategic! I was attacking the enemy’s morale.

Seriously!

“Dilgear, did you not swear an oath of loyalty to me?” Zelgadiss’ voice took on a surpassingly menacing tone.

The wolf-thing balked. “I didn’t swear loyalty to Zelgadiss,” he replied. “I swore to the berserker that Rezo the Red Priest created. I checked! The moment you betrayed Lord Rezo, you became my enemy, and I was relieved of any obligation to you!” Apparently, it’s in the manual.

“Oh, really?” Zelgadiss’ eyes narrowed. He certainly looked like a berserker.

“Do you really think you can take me? You measly dimwitted, half-breed, pathetic excuse for a wolf—” Wow. Remind me to stay on Zelgadiss’ good side from now on.

“Half-breed, is it? Has it come to that? All right, if that’s the way you want to play it, boss, I’ll show you what a stupid half-breed like me can do… Get ‘emmmmm!” Dilgear bellowed, and a phalanx of armed trolls charged straight at us.

Oh, holy crap.

A subtle smile appeared on Zelgadiss’ lips as he raised his right hand. I couldn’t see what he was gripping, but I could feel the earth starting to move.

“Dug Haut!” he shouted.

“Wah!” I rushed to his side and held on tight. The earth pulsed. It began to quiver and quake, and undulate like the surface of the ocean during a storm.

The trolls began to panic.

“Haaa!” Zelgadiss shook his right hand violently, a maniacal grin spread across his face. “Earth! Obey my will!”

Rocks and soil heeded Zelgadiss’ command. The undulating ground transformed into countless stalagmites, bursting through the surface and impaling the trolls wherever they stood.

Game over.

As great as their regenerative abilities were, their troll bodies failed to heal around the spikes, while the effort was wearing out their life forces fast. Their powers fading; they would surely die soon.

Not a good way to go, if you ask me. Then again, considering my stunt with the reversed recovery spell back at the inn, I wasn’t in any position to judge.

“Now then,” Zelgadiss retained his smile as he spoke. “You were saying… ? Something about how you’d show me what you could do… ? What can you do, Dilgear? Play board games… ? Defeat me at the game, Go?“

“Hmph,” Dilgear grumped from atop one of the stone spikes. He had managed to avoid impalement, but was clinging on for dear life. “I’m not impressed, you know. Real warriors don’t have to rely on stupid magic tricks.”

“Stupid magic tricks?” Zelgadiss was incredulous. “That was no trick, Dilgear. I moved the earth for you. What is it that you’re suggesting? That you could defeat me by the blade?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” Dilgear grinned.

“Let’s test that theory, shall we?” Zelgadiss drew his sword smoothly.

“You won’t cheat and ambush me with magic?” Dilgear had not drawn his own sword yet.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“You’re going to regret that,” Dilgear promised, after hitting the ground and then rising to his feet. As he got back on

his feet, he drew the sword off his back. Its blade was huge and curved, and it gave off a fiendish light.

It was some sort of super-sized scimitar, the equal of which Td never seen. I retreated a little, agape at the sheer size of the thing.

“Arrrrrhh!” Dilgear let out an animalistic roar as he charged.

Zelgadiss leapt. He met the werewolf head-on. Their blades crossed, sparks flying. Though the smaller of the two, Zelgadiss began to force the wolf-thing back, bit-by-bit.

“What’s the matter, Dilgear? We’re sword-to-sword now. Like real warriors. Shouldn’t you be defeating me handily?”

“We’re just getting started here, boss!” Dilgear growled, changing the scimitar’s angle slightly, which forced Zelgadiss’ wrist and broadsword in the other direction.

The broadsword’s blade slid a short way before the scimitar Hashed out and caught Zelgadiss’ robe, cutting it open and revealing his chest.

“Not bad,” Zelgadiss complimented Dilgear.

“Thanks, boss. I’m going to hate to have to kill you, you know.”

“Thank you, Dilgear. I am going to hate to have to kill you, too.”

As near as I could tell, the two were equally matched as swordsmen. However, being as good as Zelgadiss wasn’t going to be good enough for Dilgear. After all, if it came down to his life being on the line, Zelgadiss could still use magic.

As to my personal opinion? I didn’t really care who won. Either way, I was going to be somebody’s hostage—Rezo’s or Zelgadiss’. And as far as either of them was concerned, I was merely a means to obtaining the Philosopher’s Stone, nothing else. That’s hardly an attitude to engender loyalty in a gal.

As the two circled each another, I considered taking the opportunity to run but quickly dismissed that idea, figuring that if Zelgadiss noticed, he’d send a flurry of fireballs in my direction as a parting gift.

“Hii-yaa!” Dilgear leapt into the air sideways, toward the pillars of earth, slicing through them with the full force of his giant scimitar.

Magic doesn’t last forever, and neither do things created by magic. Things created by magic lose stability the longer they’re around. Collapsing at the force of the scimitar’s blow, the pillars avalanched in Zelgadiss’ direction. The force of that fall started a chain reaction.

“Wah!” I gasped as I hustled to get out of the way of the second and third rapidly collapsing pillars.

Dilgear moved from column to column, helping them along. Zelgadiss’ relatively small form was quickly swallowed up in the dust storm.

Dilgear charged in after him.

Me, I sneezed. Not only was it hard to see, but it was pretty hard to breathe.

“Ugh…” I held my breath and used a handkerchief to filter the dust away from my nose and mouth. My eyes stung, and my throat itched.

At last the cloud began to settle, and both combatants reappeared.

Dilgear’s plan to blind his opponent may have looked impressive, even spectacular, but it hadn’t been properly thought out, which made sense given the wolf-thing was an idiot.

“What a spectacularly stupid stunt,” Zelgadiss said, feigning amazement. “Just when I was starting to respect you, Dilgear.”

“I take back what I said earlier, boss. I cant wait to shut that smart mouth of yours.” Dilgear screamed, renewing his charge.

I thought I saw Zelgadiss smile therefor a minute.

The two ran at each other with tremendous force. Zelgadiss’ blade caught Dilgear’s shoulder.

Suddenly, I understood the smile: Before, when it looked like Zelgadiss was merely evading Dilgear’s blows, he’d kicked a number of rocks in Dilgear’s direction while his

lower body was concealed by the dust cloud. Of course, that wasn’t enough to bring down Dilgear, but it was more than enough to knock him off balance. And knocking him off balance was all that Zelgadiss wanted.

“What’s wrong? Wasn’t I supposed to regret this?” Zelgadiss’ voice dripped with sarcasm as blood dripped from the werewolf’s shoulder.

“Who says you won’t still?” Dilgear smiled.

My eyes widened. So did Zelgadiss’. The werewolf’s wound was healing itself as we watched. Just like that, a huge gaping wound knit itself up until you could barely tell there had been a wound there at all.

“I’m half wolf and half troll,” Dilgear reminded us. “Or did you forget? If you keep to your word and don’t use your magic, there’s no way you can beat me with a sword. It don’t matter how good you think you are, you’re not good enough to take my head off.”

He was right. Because he possessed a troll’s regenerative ability, there was no way Zelgadiss’ sword alone could defeat him.

“I see. You’re right. I did forget that.” Zelgadiss didn’t sound fazed, though. He returned to his fighting stance. This time, he took the initiative.

“Yaahh!” He raised his broadsword high above him.

Oh! Not good! Not good!

He’d exposed his abdomen and Dilgear wasn’t going to miss his chance.

“Gaa!” The scimitar hit Zelgadiss’ abdomen fiercely.

Blood splattered.

Or… blood should have splattered. Instead, the scimitar hit with a scrape and a thunk.

Zelgadiss smiled grandly where he stood.

“It seems there’s something you have forgotten as well, doesn’t it?” he said. “I’m one-third golem, you’ll recall. If you wish to defeat me with a sword, it had better be the Sword of Light. You cannot win this battle, either.”

Dilgear’s wolf-jaw fell.

“We can fight until you’re too tired to keep me from chopping your head off, or you can go back and cry to Rezo. You choose.”

“Hmph!” Rather than retreat, the were-thing brought something out of his pocket, holding it in a fist while readying it for a throw. The foreign object splashed as it hit the water.

“I won’t forget this!” That cliche was all Dilgear left behind as he vanished into the trees.

Zelgadiss watched him go. “That poor fool,” he muttered as he attempted to fix his now-terribly-disordered hair.

I clapped and whistled and jumped up and down, congratulating the victor.

“Wow, Zelgadiss! Well done! Woo-hoo!

Zelgadiss didn’t seem to be enjoying his triumph. “What… are you… going on about?”

“I’m congratulating you!”

“Ah, I see.” He gave up trying to argue and began walking slowly along the riverbank.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some water to drink,” he replied bluntly

“Oooookay. I’ll wash my face then.” I jogged up behind Zelgadiss. Because of his spell from earlier, the earth had been broken up randomly, making the jog a little difficult. Still, I made it to the riverbank, if awkwardly, then removed my gloves and dipped my hands into the water. Mmmm… the cold felt good.

Huh? What the… ? “Don’t drink it! It’s poison!” I screamed.

Either surprised by the volume of my voice or in preparation for a drink, Zelgadiss’ mouth opened wide.

“What did you just say… ?”

“It��s poison. It’s been poisoned! Look!” I pointed to the surface near some small rocks. A number of fish were floating there belly-up. They were most certainly not swimming, and I don’t think fish are into tanning.

“But, how?”

“Dilgear, remember? He was getting ready to throw something? It was probably a vial of poison. He must’ve figured that you’d need a drink. He tried to make the thing’s falling into the water look harmless by aiming for you at first, then seeming to give up.”

“Huh…” He sounded impressed. “Apparently Dilgear’s not quite as stupid as he looks.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be falling all over myself to praise him if he’d just tried to poison me. Anyway, Rezo’s people know where we are now. You have any destination in mind beyond this?”

“None whatsoever.” He spoke slowly.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised. Well, that’s okay. You just follow me.” I began walking in the direction of Atlas City. I needed to find Gourry. That would change the situation a little. And if there was anything my situation needed desperately, it was a little change.

What had started off as an innocent treasure hunt had quickly become an ugly mess, with more characters gunning for my back than I cared to keep track of. It didn’t matter, though. Soon, I was going to be back to full strength, and then it would he payback time. But, for the time being, we kept walking.

* * *

Rezo and company pursued us fiercely They showed up twice in the morning and again during lunch. They showed up twice in the afternoon, and then they interrupted our dinner. And of course, they showed up while I was trying, at long last, to get some sleep.

Give me a break! This is harassment!

I mean, c’mon. It was getting to the point where it was almost comic! Like when you chop off the head of a hydra, and two more grow in its place.

And there were a gazillion varieties of pursuers, too. Whatever bad stuff you could say about Rezo, he was certainly an equal opportunity employer! I mean, trolls, goblins, cyclops, berserkers, ogres, and just about anything else you could think of or imagine. It was like a parade! Only instead of marching bands playing music, this parade had other-worldly creatures; and instead of playing music, THEY WERE OUT TO KILL US.

Eventually, it was our old friend Dilgear’s turn at the helm again. He had a new guy with him, a Mazoku of some sort. And a few war mantises and some durahans (death

knights), too. And about fifty ogres and berserkers, just, you know, for padding.

“Quite an army you got yourself,” Zelgadiss said in a voice that wasn’t as confident as usual. “Congratulations, Dilgear. Your mummy must be proud.”

I hated to admit it, but it was impressive.

“Thanks again, boss,” Dilgear grinned, taking a step forward as he showed us his teeth. “I owe you for last time, you know?”

Great.

Some pretty tough customers were in that group. On the other hand, tough customers are still flammable.

“You’re good, boss, but you’re not good enough to beat a hunch like this on your own. Nobody’s that good.”

I took a step forward. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

Dilgear scrunched up his face and thought hard, “Nah, I don’t think so.”

W-why the nerve of that… !

“Yes, you are, Dildork! You’re forgetting about me.”

“Who cares about you?“

The disrespect he dared show me was staggering. I considered displaying the extent of my powers (such as they were) in one spectacular shot.

“No, don’t—” Zelgadiss protested before I had a chance to do anything. He must have read my thoughts.

“Why not?”

“The whole point of sending one unit after another is to get us to exhaust our powers.”

“That makes sense.” Well, I’d just have to tone it down a little.

This sucks. No way around it… I drew my sword from my hip.

“How is it that they always know where we are, you think?” The question I let slip from my lips so casually had been building in my brain for a while. After all, even if they’d figured out we were heading to Atlas City, there were at least a dozen different routes there. How did they always know exactly which one we’d take?

“It’s because you’re with me,” Zelgadiss said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“How’s that?” I glanced over at him for clarification.

“I told you. My body was created by Rezo’s magic.”

Ah, I get it. Of course!

That is to say, Zelgadiss’ entire body had been magically marked. There was probably no way to stop Rezo from using him like a tracking device. Even my spell for blocking magical searches wouldn’t do it.

The only way I could think to hide Zelgadiss from Rezo was to reverse the fusion process. However, there was no doubt in my mind that this particular process was a Rezo original. And even as good as I am—me, super-genius pretty-girl Lina Inverse—there wasn’t a chance I could reverse it.

“So, no matter what we do, we’re going to have to face the Red Priest sooner or later?

“Yep.”

Well, that’s just great. Zelgadiss and I made a good team, but against someone like Rezo, even the two of us didn’t stand much of a chance. I figured at the rate we were going, it was only a matter of time before I ended up hanging from that church ceiling again. That’s what I thought at the time, anyway. With the stakes so high, I had only one choice.

All right, it’s showtime!

I began, from the back of my throat, to quietly recite an incantation.

“Fire… BALL!”

My first shot would signal the start of combat. In preparation for the attack, I brought my palms together in front of my chest. I’d kept the power on low, but a fair number of surprised ogres were still engulfed in flames.

The rest charged in unison.

I pummelled them with my next attack spell, Dig Volt. Though I was aiming for the demon at the vanguard, he dodged me. Instead, I caught the berserker behind him. I did manage to get the demon’s attention, however.

Oops.

Sure enough, he turned and started in my direction.

ine! Try some of this!

“Flame Arrow!” As I called for them, a dozen arrows of fire formed before my eyes. “Flame Arrow, GO!” The arrows attacked the Mazoku from all sides.

Dodge that, jerkface.

“Kaa!” he yelled, thrusting his hands at the arrows coming at him from the front. The rest he deflected toward the sky. Somehow he managed to dodge them all.

In the meantime, everyone else was headed in Zelgadiss’ direction.

Sorry, buddy. Not that I was having a party, but still. As low ranking as he was, I was still waging war with a Mazoku. If you weren’t careful, you might have mistaken this demon for an old man. He wore a green robe, and his white beard extended from what looked like the withered face of a geezer—but he had no eyes, nose, or mouth. Definitely not human.

“Hmph!” A whip of fire extended from the palm of his hand.

I enchanted my sword with a cold spell and sliced away at the fire whip. It took me a few minutes, but I worked my way in, and soon we stood face-to… place-where-face-should-be.

“You’re an awfully young woman to take on the likes of Zorom,” he purred from his non-mouth. Honestly, I have no idea where his voice was coming from, but there it was. Who knew?

“You’re an awfully reckless demon to take on the likes of Lina Inverse,” I countered.

Zorom made a sound that would have accompanied a smile, had he a mouth to smile with.

I brought my palms together before my chest, leaping back as I chanted my spell.

“A fireball? You’re wasting your time and your energy, little girl!” Zorom declared.

“Maybe, but let’s just give it a go and see what happens.” A small ball of light shot forth from the space between my hands. I sent the ball of light in Zorom’s direction.

“Fwaa!” He sidestepped the shimmering sphere without any difficulty whatsoever. “Just as I said! A waste!”

From a certain perspective, he was right. True, a fireball that misses has no real effect, since fireballs explode on contact. But I wasn’t done yet. I raised up my right thumb, and angled it back toward myself. Then I smiled… partly because I knew what was coming next, and partly because I was happy to have a mouth.

“What’s that grin for?” Zorom asked as he casually descended to the ground.

Fireball at six o’clock. Sucker. My fireball swung back around, nailing him from behind!

“Aaaahhh!”

Fireball go boom.

Contact. Explosion. I’ve been writing spell variations since the day I learned my first chant. That boomerang effect was just one of many.

“Carelessness is a warrior’s greatest enemy, Zorom.” Too bad. Now to find Zelgadiss…

I’d spun my mantle round and turned to find my companion, when… a craving for carnage ran through me like cold steel.

I instinctively leapt to the left, but it was too late.

“Aah!” A stinging pain ripped into my right arm. I’d been pierced by a legion of steel needles. It was all I could do to keep from crying. I looked to find the culprit and—

Zorom was still standing.

“I didn’t say I was dead. Carelessness is a warrior’s greatest enemy, you know.”

Shit. I hated to admit it, but I had been careless. I could barely move my right side.

“Now it’s my turn!” Flame whips extended from both his palms. He aimed one at my head and the other at my feet. Switching my cold-enchanted sword to my left hand, I used it to parry the attack aimed at my head, and managed to dance away from the one heading for my feet.

I used to jump rope all the time, back in the old days. Guess I’ve still got some moves.

But… for that instant when I was in midair, Zorom’s forehead split open, and more silver glints than I could count rushed out, and then toward me. There’s no way I could dodge all of them.

Tink! Tink! Tink!

Huh?

I heard a sound like metal-on-metal, and needles fell to the ground like rain.

What the—?

“Fancy meeting you here, little lady!” he winked. “Miss me?”

Gourry. Yes! “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” I replied. And tried to look cool as I winked back.

Oh, It’s On Now!

Gourry shook his head as Zorom spoke… or oozed… or whatever it was that Zorom did to produce sounds.

“An ally of the girl, are you?”

“I’m more than her ally. I’m this girl’s guardian.”

My guardian?

“This really doesn’t make any difference to me. Whichever way you define your relationship to the girl, you still wind up my enemy. Am I mistaken?”

“Not at all, old man.”

“Then I shall destroy you.”

“Go on… take your best shot!” Gourry shouted, as he took off running, luring the big, ugly pincushion away from me.

“Haaaaaa!” With that blood-curdling battle cry, the demon unleashed his flame whips and silver needles in a single volley

Gourry’s sword flashed.

Damn! I couldn’t even track the blade with my eyes. It was the first time I’d really watched Gourry’s swordsmanship in action. His skill was on a completely different level from my own.

An instant later, his blade sliced Zorom’s head open. Nice!

“Ha!” Zorom laughed.

Gourry turned just in time to knock away a battery of silver flashes headed for his back.

“So young, too! Impressive for someone so new.” Zorom spoke as if the cuts didn’t matter.

“You’re a demon, then… Gourry tossed out the question as casually as if he were asking, “So, where’re you from?”

Of course he’s a demon, doofus! Haven’t you been paying attention?

“Oh yes. Which means, you will not be able to do me damage with that blade, young man. It just won’t cut it.” Demon humor. You just knew it had to be yucky.

He was right, though. All Mazoku, including half demons, lesser demons, brass demons, and especially pureblooded demons like this one, exist on the astral plane. Their physical forms cannot be destroyed because they’re not really there— make sense? You have two options, then, for prevailing over a Mazoku: trapping him in a holy talisman (none of which were handy at the moment) or defeating him with a magical sword. Gourry was amazing with his blade, but the blade itself seemed unremarkable. Even my enchanted sword wasn’t powerful enough to do the job.

In my estimation, the situation was just about as futile as Zorom said it was. With no other choice, I was going to have to get serious.

“Oh, it’ll cut,” Gourry said curtly.

It’ll cut his hair maybe, but a fat lot of good that’ll do us!

“Oh, really?” Zorom mocked him. “Then, show me, please. I’m anxious to see this.”

“Well, since you asked…”

I had absolutely no idea what Gourry was thinking when instead of sheathing his sword he withdrew a single needle from his pocket with his right hand.

“Do you intend to annoy me to death with pinpricks?” Zorom could barely contain his amusement. “Perhaps you’ll finish me off with paper cuts?”

“Of course not.” Gourry smiled as he gripped his sheathed sword’s hilt with his left hand. “Don’t be silly.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly is it that you intend to do?”

“This.” And with that, Gourry threaded the needle into the hilt.

Huh? What is he doing? He was messing around with the joint that locked the blade of his sword to its hilt. Which meant… he was detaching the blade?

Why?

Gourry drew the now-bladeless hilt, pocketed the needle, and looked up and smiled. “Do you understand now?”

Understand what?!

He was both calm and confident. Neither of which made any sense, since he was about to take on a demon pureblood while brandishing… a hilt.

“Young man,” Zorom sighed. “I am greatly amused and am grateful to you for that. But I cannot claim any understanding whatsoever.”

“Then how about—THIS!“ Gourry grasped the sword hilt with his right hand, thrusting it forward.

Yeah, no, you still look like an idiot brandishing a wooden handle, Gourry. Sorry.

“Well… I understand that you are a fool!“ Zorom laughed as dozens of flaming arrows appeared, all targeted at Gourry.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Gourry scoffed and—incredibly— managed to dodge the lot.

Still, he wasn’t any closer to defeating Zorom. It didn’t matter how many attacks he evaded, it was just prolonging the inevitable.

Zorom closed in. And then…

“Light come forth!” Gourry roared.

Zorom stiffened. My eyes widened. Zorom was bisected from his head to his toes. It took me a minute, but I did manage to scream.

Gourry held his sword in his right hand. Where the steel blade had been, a blade of light shone forth.

“Th-th-the Sword… of L-L-Light…” I stuttered.

Before my very eyes, flickering in Gourry’s hand… there was no doubt about it. It was the legendary Sword of Light. Hot damn.

Zorom’s body cleaved in two like a split log, before crumbling into dust and returning to the astral plane.

Gourry sheathed the Sword of Light, since it had done its duty.

“G-Gourry…” I finally managed, my voice crackling like oil in a hot iron skillet.

“Yes, ma’am?” Gourry grinned widely and looked my way. “How’ve you been, little lady?”

“Gourry—!” I broke into a run and headed toward him with all the speed my dainty legs could muster. I stopped and stood right in front of him, gazing up at his face.

“Gourry?”

“Lina?”

“Gimme that sword!” I screeched. “Gimme gimee gimee!” Gourry nearly fell over.

Don’t fall on the sword!

“Hey now, just a minute…” Gourry acted as if he were stumbling out of bed. “How about jumping into my arms and telling me how happy you are to see me, huh?”

“That? Sure, okay. We can do that later. But now, gimme that sword! No, wait, that’s rude. I’m sorry. Don’t give me the sword— I’ll buy it from you. How could I have been so thoughtless? I’m sorry. Five hundred! I’ll buy it from you for five hundred!”

“Now you just wait a darn minute!” Gourry raised his voice. “Five hundred… that’s totally a fair price for that run-of-the-mill rapier of yours!” I was talking so fast, it was hard to catch my breath. “Oh, all right, five hundred and fifty! But that’s just because we’re friends. Now, c’mon! Fork it over! Gimme, gimme, gimme! Don’t be stingy.”

“Don’t be stingy? Do you seriously think I’m going to hand over the Sword of Light for five hundred?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

“You’re nuts! And you’re cheap.“

Throw away enough pennies, and soon you’ll have wasted a fortune. I am a merchant’s daughter, after all.

“First of all, this sword is a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. I wouldn’t sell it at any price!”

“So give it to me, and it’ll be my family heirloom! It’ll be okay then, right? Right? Just so long as it stays in a family?”

“You’re a lunatic! What’s wrong with you? No, I’m not doing it! N! O!”

“You monster! How dare you treat a little girl like that! I mean it! I’m going to cry!”

“So cry!”

“Okay, so I’m not going to cry. So what?”

As soon as I said that, I snapped back to my senses. I didn’t know why but I’d taken one look at that sword and just lost my grip. A couple of deep breaths and I was moderately sane again. Poor Gourry was just as freaked out by my snapping back as he’d been by my initial snap.

“What the… ?”

“Sorry, I’m better now. I have a thing for swords, what can I say?” I didn’t wait for a response; it was urgent we moved on. “Listen. I don’t have time to explain, but a guy who bailed me out of a pinch while you were away is in big trouble. Can you come with me to help? I owe him.”

“A-ah, yeah, sure…”

“Okay, great! This way!” I broke into a run, hoping we’d make it in time to rescue Zelgadiss. Good as he was, he was monstrously outnumbered—by actual monsters, no less. The ogres and berserkers were just the appetizers. If he spent too much time on them, he wouldn’t have the energy for the main course of war mantises and durahans, with a side of Dilgear.

We ran in Dildork’s direction.

Gourry brought out the Sword of Light and cut down a nearby durahan before he even saw what was coming.

“Here we are to save the day!” I announced.

Except, apparently, the day didn’t need saving. I had the situation totally backward. Rezo’s forces were already retreating, only one ogre and one berserker were still standing along with Dilgear, who was groaning audibly.

And…

“What do you know?” Zelgadiss sighed.

The three of us stopped.

“Yes!” Dilgear looked over his shoulder; joy spreading over his face. “Rodimus!”

The old man…

Rodimus stood there, halberd in hand. He had a companion with him I didn’t recognize. A remarkably good-looking older man.

“You came! You finally came! We’re saved!” hissed a war mantis in as exuberant a hiss as he could muster.

“You’re half right,” the swordsman replied, and he struck out at Dilgear without warning. The werewolf sailed through the air and smacked into a nearby tree, making an unfortunate crunching sound. We were all too shocked to move.

“R-Rodimus! What are you… ?” The war mantis was appalled. “Have you gone mad?”

“I am not crazy, if that’s what you mean!” He moved deliberately. “I pledged my loyalty to Lord Zelgadiss, and no nonsense from the Red Priest will cause me to stand against my comrades!”

“W-why you!” The war mantis rushed Rodimus in a frenzy. Unfortunately, that made him easy prey for the halberd.

“Doryaa!” The fight ended the instant that Rodimus yelled out. The war mantis’ torso had been divided cleanly in two. The lower half took several steps before walking into a tree. The upper half fell to the ground, squirmed for an excruciating while, then stopped. The remaining combatants scattered without a word.

“Thank you for coming,” Zelgadiss said humbly, “but I believe we have things under control.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Gourry smiled, and then turned to the two elder swordsmen. “Seriously, just so we’re clear: We’re all on the same side here, right?”

“For the time being,’“ the handsome guy responded.

Wait, where have I heard that voice before… ?

“I’m sorry for dragging you two into this, Rodimus… Zolf,” said Zelgadiss.

Z-Z-Zolf?! The good-looking guy was Zolf?! Nuh-uh!

Zolf’s gaze turned in my direction. “Well, young lady I’m glad to see you made it.”

Yeah, I’ll bet.

Don’t go thinking I changed my mind about him just because he was a looker, okay? All that mattered at this point was that he was an enemy of Rezo the Red Priest. That made him a friend of mine… an inordinately good-looking friend of mine.

“In the interest of maximizing our forces, I hope we can agree to a fresh start,” he said.

I nodded, indicating my intention to let bygones be bygones. “You do have small feet. I’m standing by that one. And you are a third-rate sorcerer—and a sadist. But an ally is an ally. Since we’re stronger together than separate, I’ll be happy to call you friend. “

“Lucky me. Guess I’m not the only one who can hold a grudge.”

“Who, me? No, not me. You are totally forgiven for trying to get me knocked up by a walking flounder. Totally. The only people who hold grudges are the ones who let their pride get the better of them. It warps their personalities after a while, and no matter how good-looking they are—”

“Look, you little bitch—!”

“Lina!” Gourry butted in. “Not to change the subject, but I need you to catch me up on what I’ve missed.”

Oh, yeah. I hadn’t given Gourry any of the details yet. Starting with the moment we’d been separated, I filled him in on everything that had happened since. The church, the fish, the escape, Dilgear, the poison, my nap… I recounted it all in rich detail. I have a gift for storytelling, as you well know.

I finished up as the sun set, “… and that’s where you came in. Understand?”

I fished for a response. “Hellooo? Any questions?”

Gourry didn’t say a word. He looked—no, stared—blankly in my direction. Everyone but me was sitting on the ground. I guessed all that fighting had worn them out. Sheesh, you guys. And I thought I had a problem with stamina.

“You know,” Rodimus said, staring at a series of tally marks he’d made on the ground in front of him. “You’ve been talking nonstop for over an hour.”

“I have?”

Everyone nodded decisively

Really… ? Huh.

“Well, anyway You got the gist?”

“Oh, I think I got more than the gist,” Gourry said, climbing slowly to his feet.

“I have a question,” Zelgadiss said, and he rose to his feet as well. “Will you now hand over the Philosopher’s Stone?”

“Nope.” I sighed. “Sorry.”

“I’m not surprised,” Zelgadiss replied. There was hostility in his tone.

“Rezo wants it to restore his sight. You want it for vengeance. They’re both selfish acts, neither of them worthy of the stone.”

“Do not judge me, girl, unless you intend to start a war.”

“I don’t want to start a war, Zelgadiss, but I’m not going to hand over the stone. That’s all there is to it. If that means we’re foes, then so be it. I haven’t ruled out the possibility that this is all a scheme between you and Rezo, remember.”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” Zelgadiss said, drawing his sword. “But it seems you give me no choice.”

“You could walk away,” Gourry said, hilt in hand. I guess he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Aw jeez, guys.

Zolf and Rodimus took their places on either side of Zelgadiss.

“You two fall back,” Zelgadiss commanded.

At least he was after a fair fight. Rodimus took a single step backward, then managed a grin.

“B-but…” Zolf stuttered.

“Fall back,” Zelgadiss repeated.

Dejected, Zolf withdrew.

“Wait,” I said. “Cut it out, all of you! This is stupid!”

Neither combatant could take his eyes off his foe. Zolf and Rodimus wouldn’t look at me, either.

Gourry and Zelgadiss gradually closed the distance between them.

I raised my voice. “I said, cut it out!” I screamed. “We’ll have plenty of time to fight among ourselves later. Right now, we have more pressing problems to attend to!”

“The lady has no idea just how right she is,” said a voice like very sharp glass. It was coming from right behind—no, right beside my ear. I felt something sharp and cold making its way up the back of my neck. I knew instinctively that if I so much as flinched, I’d die.

Everyone’s eyes swung around in my direction, and had a good look at who was behind me. I didn’t have to see him to know who it was. The voice was unmistakable.

“Rezo.” Gourry was the first to say his name.

“Yes. Sorry for not keeping in touch. Let us skip the usual formalities, shall we? You must know what I want, don’t you… Gourry? Oh, yes. I can feel it. Yes, you most certainly do.”

“You want the stone.”

“I do indeed want “the stone,’ as you have so disrespectfully called it. I’m certain that you understand, but please let me spell it out for you: If you should try anything rash, if you should so much as sneeze unexpectedly, I might lean forward the slightest little bit. And that motion, however slight, would be enough to drive this needle into this lovely neck, killing the girl… instantly.”

Yikes.

My heartbeat picked up the pace as I grasped the reality of what was happening. I started to sweat. Buckets.

I don’t want to die.

“He’s bluffing! Don’t do it!” Zelgadiss raised his voice to a shriek. No one bought it for a moment. Zelgadiss knew better than anyone that Rezo wasn’t the type to bluff. He was willing to sacrifice me for the stone.

A drop of sweat made its way down my cheek to my chin. It might have looked like a tear.

“Tell me what you want with the stone,” Gourry commanded.

“The girl explained it to you earlier. I desire only to see the world with my own eyes. Nothing more.”

“You would sacrifice my life for your sight?” I asked him, standing rigidly. “Why?”

“There is no explanation that a sighted person could possibly understand.”

So, that’s that.

“Now, the stone…” He tightened his hold.

“All right.” Gourry dropped his blade.

“Stop! No! Don’t give it to him—!”

Ignoring Zelgadiss’ pleas, Gourry produced the Orihalcon statue.

“Here,” he said as he tossed the statue to Rezo. It seemed to have curved through the space between them in slow motion. Rezo extended his right hand and caught it, clasping it tightly.

“I have it,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “I have it… After all these years, it is mine!” His voice had changed. He was overcome with wicked delight.

“Let the girl go!” Gourry shouted.

“Never you fear. I will release her momentarily.”

With a smash, the Orihalcon statue self-destructed as Rezo held it in his hand. The proximity of the power of the great sorcerer combined with the power of the stone was too much even for a substance as strong as Orihalcon.

Rezo extracted a small black stone from the rubble. It looked like… a rock, or maybe a piece of coal. Nothing a geologist would bother picking up. That pebble was the Philosopher’s Stone.

“Yes! This is it… this, most certainly, is it!”

Rezo tossed me onto my back.

“Oof!” I slid several paces over rough ground before coming to a stop. I reached back right away, found the needle still protruding from my neck, and pulled it out.

Brrr. Just the thought still gives me chills.

The pain had been bearable, but if that needle—which was about the length of a man’s thumb and more like a tiny sharpened razor than a pin—had been pushed in any further; it would have severed the bundle of nerves in my spinal column, and I’d have been dead or paralyzed for sure. That fiendish plot was brought to you by the renowned Red Priest. Thankyouverymuch.

Zelgadiss began chanting a spell. Gourry drew the Sword of Light.

And Rezo? He took the tiny stone from his hand and popped it into his mouth.

He wouldn’t…

Yes, he would. He swallowed it.

A strong wind gusted out of nowhere, sending my mantle flying into my face, and nearly scooping me up like a kite into the air. I covered my mouth as nausea welled within me. It wasn’t vertigo or fear. It wasn’t the wind. It was the certain knowledge that something was very, very wrong in the world.

The shears of wind that tore through the air weren’t part of a sudden storm. They were the physical manifestations of an intense miasma. In the center of that miasma, Rezo was alone. And laughing.

A roar came from Zelgadiss. With it, he sent a pillar of blue flames toward Rezo. They wound around the Red Priest like a chrysalis and then… disappeared.

Whatever spell that was—and I wasn’t familiar with it—had no effect whatsoever.

“Ah ha ha ha… ! I can see! I can SEE!”

I was mesmerized. We all were. We’d never seen anything like it in our lives. Rezo’s eyes opened. Orbs of red emanated from the darkness within. His eyes were at once the color of rubies and blood, and the tongues of fire, and behind them…

“Bwa ha ha ha ha ha! They’re open! My eyes have opened!” The flesh from his cheeks fell to the ground with a plop. Something white could be seen underneath.

“What was that?” someone asked.

Plop. From his forehead this time.

And then… I understood. I knew what had been sealed behind Rezo’s eyes. Rezo’s face transformed into a mask of white stone, with rubies fit in where his eyes should have been. His entire body, still covered in red robes, hardened into something that wasn’t human.

“It can’t be…” Zelgadiss muttered. He’d recognized it as well: Ruby Eye Shabranigdu lived.

A silence fell across the land like no silence before or since. The birds ceased their singing. The gurgling of the rivers hushed. It was as though everything had stopped to witness what was happening.

“You may choose the path that you desire,” Rezo, or Shabranigdu, said calmly, his marble mouth fixed open. “If you choose to obey me, you will be permitted to live out your natural lives. I offer you this as an expression of gratitude for having restored me to life.

“However, if you should choose to be enemies, then I will show you no mercy. Before I go to release the Demon Lord of the north, another aspect of myself that was sealed up long ago, I shall be your opponent. Choose wisely.”

It wasn’t exactly what you’d call an easy choice. To allow him to release the Demon Lord of the north was to condemn the world to destruction. To fight him was to take as our enemy one of the seven aspects of the Demon Lord, whom a God—a God—had divided while both fought for hegemony over the world. Victory in that battle had drained every ounce of that God’s power. A band of unorganized sorcerers and warriors, then, was not likely to fare well.

To outlive the destruction of the world was no better a fate than death itself.

Such was the choice we faced.

“This is foolishness!” Zolf belted out, showing no appreciation of the weight of the situation whatsoever.

“Humans are not as you remember us, Lord Shabranigdu! We have had a thousand years to evolve while you stayed stagnant!” he boasted. “No Demon Lord of the last era can stand against Zolf!”

Wow, he really did not get it. He raised both his hands high above him as he began to chant a spell.

Thou art darker than night, Thou art redder than the flowing blood, Thou through whom time flows, I call upon thy exalted name.

No way! The Dragon Slave?! The Dragon Slave is the school of Black Magic’s most powerful spell.

The Dragon Slave is a highly destructive spell that was originally created to take down a dragon in a single blow. Two or three sorcerers chanting the spell at the same time could wipe out an entire kingdom. I couldn’t believe that Zolf could handle the Dragon Slave.

I know it wasn’t very nice considering our status as allies, hut up to this point I had no idea why someone like Zelgadiss would put someone of Zolf’s apparent abilities on retainer. Mystery solved. So much for third rate…

But…

Just as I’d feared, the spell wasn’t going to defeat Shabranigdu.

“Stop it, Zolf! It’s useless!” I cried, but Zolf wasn’t listening.

“What’s this now?” Ruby Eye wondered admiringly. Of course, he knew damn well what it was.

“Wait…” Zelgadiss feebly attempted a cry. Zolf had finished his spell a moment before Zelgadiss had put it all together.

“Dragon Slave!“

An enormous explosion shot out from around the Demon Lord’s body.

“Yes!” Zolf shouted, raising his arms overhead like he’d just won a joust.

“Zolf! Ruuuun!” Rodimus shouted. He sensed it, too. It was still alive.

“What?” Zolf still didn’t understand, but a look of doubt was slowly making its way across his face.

“Dammit!” Rodimus muttered as he broke into a run toward Zolf, intending to tackle him.

A moment later, the two were engulfed in a sea of flames.

“Rodimus! Zolf!” Zelgadiss cried out. “Nooo!”

The only reply came in the form of a red silhouette in the midst of the flames. A silhouette glowing more crimson than the flames themselves.

No…

I felt like I could almost hear a voice from within the roar of the fire, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was saying.

“Run…” Zelgadiss muttered under his breath.

“What?” I replied, starting to unfreeze.

“RUN!”

On that note, the three of us fled like rats leaving a sinking ship.

* * *

Silently, we watched the small flames of our campfire burn. Each of us was reminded of the wretched sight we’d all witnessed earlier.

We didn’t stand a chance against Shabranigdu, and we knew it. We’d escaped for the time being, but we knew that no matter how far we ran, he’d find us. And you can’t outrun your destiny.

“I’ll fight…” Zelgadiss muttered at last.

“I realize I won’t win, but if I keep running, Rodimus and Zolf will never forgive me.”

Poof. The fire burned out again.

“Guess I’ll go with you,” Gourry said, perhaps finding an omen in the dying of the flames. “Even if it’s not going to work,

I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’m sorry… it wasn’t your fight,” Zelgadiss whispered.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s my world, too. And it’s my choice,” Gourry replied.

With that settled, they both returned to silence. I understood, of course, that they were waiting for my reply. It wasn’t that I couldn’t say it. It wasn’t that I wasn’t paying attention.

I was just watching the fire smolder.

“I…” I opened my mouth and tried to speak. Neither of them responded, not wanting to influence my decision, I suppose. They remained still, gazing at the glowing embers.

“I don’t want to die,” I muttered, and I kept my eyes on the fire.

“No one’s forcing you to,” Gourry turned and looked at me kindly as he spoke.

I got up. I felt anger in my blood.

“Is that so? You know what? Fighting to die is stupid. Men always talk about stupid things like ‘backbone’ and ‘honor’ before throwing their lives away! When you die—that’s it! It’s all over, folks. You can’t take honor to the grave!”

“You do as you must,” Zelgadiss spoke. “Keep running if you so choose. Just… do not ally yourself with him. If you do that, I will kill you with my own hands.”

I put my hands on my hips and let out a huge sigh. “Hey… did you hear me say I wasn’t going to fight?”

“What?” They both looked up at me, neither one understanding.

“Don’t get me wrong. Saying ‘I don’t want to fight to lose’ isn’t just another way of saying ‘I don’t want to fight,’ got it? It’s another way of saying ‘I don’t want to lose.‘ If we have even a 1 percent chance of winning, and we fight to lose, that 1 percent becomes a big, fat zero.

“I absolutely do not want to die. That’s why, when I fight… I fight to win! With you guys, of course… if you’ll have me.”

The two of them exchanged glances.

“Of course, we want to win, but I don’t know that we have even a 1 percent chance, Lina. I’m sorry,” Zelgadiss replied in what was, for him, an unusually weak voice.

“I certainly can’t defeat him with my Black Magic, but maybe in combination with your Shamanic Magic, we might have a chance….”

“No, Lina.”

“N… o? No?”

“That’s right. No. Did you notice the spell I cast on him at the time of his revival?”

“The blue flames? Yeah. I didn’t know what spell you were using, but it bounced right off him. Wait…”

“Yes. It was Ra Tilt.”

“Holy crap!” I held my face in my hands.

“What? What does that mean? What’s a raw tilt?” Gourry asked, clueless as ever.

“Ra Tilt is…” I paused, searching for a simple answer. “Ra Tilt is the most powerful attack spell of Shamanic Magic. It’s a technique used to destroy an opponent from the astral plane. Although it affects only one individual, it’s as powerful as a Dragon Slave in its own tradition.”

“Drag and slave?”

You bonehead! Haven’t you ever read a book? “Dragon Slave is the most powerful Black Magic spell that humans can use. It was the first spell used by a sage named Ray Magnus to destroy a six-thousand-year-old Arc Dragon, so they called it Dragon Slayer.

Over time, that evolved into Dragon Slave. That’s the spell that Zolf tried to use on the Red Priest.”

“If these spells are so powerful, why didn’t they work? Did they do them wrong?”

Argh, I’d had enough. “Pass. Zelgadiss, you explain it.”

“Shamanic Magic is composed of magic that uses the four major elements—earth, water, fire, and air—as well as spiritual magic that uses the astral plane. As Lina said, Ra Tilt is a spell that draws on spiritual energy from the astral plane. However, a Demon Lord is much closer to a being of pure spirit than is a human being. So, even an attack powered from the astral plane, if done by a human, barely registers against a demon. It goes without saying that elemental spells of earth, water, fire, and air can destroy a human. But of course, the power level required to destroy something made of spirit is much greater than what Shamanic Magic can muster.

“So, all the tools of Shamanic Magic are pretty useless in this case,” he concluded. “Pass.”

“Black Magic will not work on Shabranigdu for a very simple reason,” I explained, picking up where Zelgadiss left off. “The primary source of the power of Black Magic is the dark side of human nature: hatred, fear, and malice. But the ultimate embodiment of that power is the Dark Lord himself.

“Zolf said it at the start of his spell, remember? Thou art darker than night, thou art redder than flowing blood. That’s Shabranigdu he was talking about.”

I was interrupted mid-sentence.

“He said that?” Gourry looked at me funny.

“Of course he did! You were there! Oh, yeah, that’s right, you don’t know about Chaos Words.”

“Chaos Words?”

“Yeah, they’re… they’re the words you use when you’re casting Black Magic. It’s hard to explain. Anyway. That’s how it is. It’s a trade secret. Explaining it further is like saying, ‘Here, let me help you kill me!’ Even you can understand what idiocy that is.”

“What do you mean, even me?“

Oops.

“At any rate,” I continued, “White Magic doesn’t really have any attack spells. It has spells for exorcism that’ll work on ghosts and zombies, but they aren’t nearly powerful enough to affect him.

“So the long and short of it is this: Zelgadiss and I can’t beat him using magic.”

“Well, we’ve got to do something,“ Zelgadiss said, turning his gaze toward Gourry. “It looks like you and the Sword of Light are our best hope.”

“So, in the end, you’re the one who’s going to have to fight him. We’ll back you up as much as we possibly can.”

“Huh. All right. That’s easier said than done, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t think there are any other options left,” I said. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Well… no,” Gourry sighed.

“It’s settled, then.” Zelgadiss nodded, sealing the deal.

“I’m pleased you’ve finally come to an agreement.”

Our gazes shot in the direction of his voice. There was no mistaking that fiendish sound.

When did he get here? How long has he been there? His blood-red darkness hidden in the nightshade of the trees… the Dark Lord, Ruby Shabranigdu.

“Combatants such as the two who met their fate back there… they weren’t—how shall I put this? They weren’t a good exercise. Too easy. I so hoped that you would choose to train with me. I have been locked away for so very long. I am—how do you say it—rusty? My countless important travels can wait until we have completed our exercises.”

“This is bullshit….” I muttered, rising to my feet. He wants to slaughter us for practice. He went to the trouble of following us so he could train, because his destruction muscles were apparently feeling a little stiff.

Sure, Zolf had a distasteful personality. Sure, Rodimus wasn’t very easy on the eyes. But he burned them alive… for sport.

I didn’t think I was qualified to give any lectures on acting humane. I’d killed people, too. And it was certainly no different for Zelgadiss or Gourry.

But…

This was different somehow. This, I would not forgive or forget.

“Train, you say? Sure, we’ll play along. We could use some training, couldn’t we, boys? But be careful, Rezo. You might be the one to regret this.”

“Ha ha ha. Perhaps. But these high spirits are good. Feisty is what I want. Or else, coming after you would have been a waste of my time.”

“We don’t intend to lose, you know,” Gourry said. Both he and Zelgadiss rose.

“Intent is completely irrelevant. Surely even you could realize this.”

“Sure,” I replied. “I get what you’re saying, Lord Shabranigdu. But we still intend to kick your ass.”

It might have been my imagination, but I thought I saw the Demon Lord flinch.

“Let us begin.” And with that, the Demon Lord stabbed the ground with the staff he held in his hand. And the earth moved,

No… !

The movement wasn’t coming from the ground, rather, it came from under the ground—from the roots of the forest’s trees. Shabranigdu had animated them, causing them to creep through the earth beneath our feet like giant serpents.

“That’s kind of a lame attack.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, Zelgadiss!”

“Right! Dug Haut!” He instantly understood my request.

This time, the earth truly shook.

With a single quake, the tree-root snakes were torn asunder. The twitching roots fell into their ready-made graves, the cracks in the earth spawned by Dug Haut.

“Okay, next one’s mine!”

“All yours, young lady.” Zelgadiss strained to smile.

“Oh, goody. I wonder what you’ll try. Do make it something interesting?” the Demon Lord whined.

“It’s not anything big. It’s only special because it’s mine,” I raised my right hand. A ball of light burst into being.

“Surely, you do not intend to use a fireball against me?” said the Demon Lord. He sounded disappointed. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Yep! fireball, sure enough…” and I lightly tossed it in his direction. The flaming ball lazily winged its way to Shabranigdu, finally stopping right before his eyes.

“This one is orange…” the Demon Lord said, the same way a child might identify a pet: “This one’s a bunny .”

“A direct hit from a fireball—even a direct hit from an orange fireball—won’t harm me in any way,” he whined, bemused.

“I know that,” I said, “But let’s give it a shot, just for grins and giggles.”

“I am neither grinning, nor giggling,” Shabranigdu said, slowly raising up the staff he held in his hand.

“Break!” I shouted at the appropriate moment. The ball of light split apart, its remnants falling on the Demon Lord in a helix pattern.

“What now? What is this?” the Demon Lord asked, his voice registering surprise. He hadn’t been prepared for this, and his form soon disappeared in a fiery sandstorm.

“Gourry! It’s your turn!”

“Gotcha!“ Gourry responded, breaking into a run, Sword of Light at the ready.

“Run, Gourry!” Zelgadiss called out.

“DIE, Demon Lord!” Gourry issued his battle cry. The Sword of Light hummed.

Then… Shabranigdu, the creature we’d first known as Rezo the Red Priest… began to laugh.

“The Sword of Light? The sword that slew Zanaffar, the Demon Beast, at Sairaag, in the City of Sorcery? Oh, I am sh-sh-shaking, my foes,” he stuttered. He was shaking all right. With laughter. “You will find that a Demon Beast half-breed is a gnat compared to a Demon Lord.”

Then he… stopped the Sword of Light with one bare hand.

“A little warm, perhaps, but it feels almost pleasant,” he guffawed.

Quite a monster, he was.

Gourry growled under his breath. No matter how hard he pushed, the sword wouldn’t budge.

“Little man, even in the hands of a master, such means are far too weak to defeat me. However, if it will give you comfort, you may die knowing you’ve done as much as a human can do.”

There was an explosion.

“Gwaa!” Gourry was blown back about fifty feet. He hit the ground hard.

“Gourry!”

“I’m all right!” He shouted while still on the ground, and not looking “all right” at all.

“I believe I am done toying with you. Have you made your peace? Your time to die has come,” the Demon Lord announced matter-of-factly. Some bedside manner, huh?

“Dammit, no!” Zelgadiss retreated. His form was instantly engulfed in flames.

“Zel!” I screamed.

“He’s made out of rock, Lina, it’s all right! He’s not going to burn. And anyway—take this!” Gourry shouted, tossing something in my direction. I caught it reflexively.

The heck?!

I grasped it but my eyes were on the Demon Lord, who took a step forward.

The Sword of Light?!

“Use it well, Lina!” Gourry said. “Use the sword’s power with your Black Magic!”

“You intend to use the power of Light to heighten the power of Darkness?” Shabranigdu was so amused, he no longer tried containing his mirth. “Foolishness…” He chuckled.

He was right. You can’t combine Light Magic and Dark Magic. The two opposing forces only cancel each other out.

However… !

“Sword! Give me your power!” I felt its power building in my hands. In a second, the blade of light sprang forth. Whereas when Gourry had used it, the blade was the length of a long sword, but this blade was the size of a short sword.

Which meant I’d figured right.

“Such futility!” The Demon Lord sneered. He was growing impatient with this little training exercise. No telling how much longer it would last. I began chanting as quickly as I could.

It started out just like the Dragon Slave. A spell calling on all the darkness in the entire world was nothing compared to the darkness of Shabranigdu, but I knew of another legend, about a Demon Lord among Demon Lords, who had fallen from the heavens themselves. He was known both as the Golden Demon Lord, and as the Lord of Nightmares.

Black Magic calling on Shabranigdu’s own power could not be used to harm Shabranigdu himself. But it was possible that even Ruby Eye could be wounded by power drawn from an even more powerful Demon Lord.

Thou who art darker than dark, Thou who art deeper than night, Thou of the Sea of Chaos, The Golden King of Darkness…

I swore I saw Shabranigdu begin to tremble. “You crafty little bitch! Who told you to call that name?”

I ignored him and continued:

I call upon thee, I pledge myself to thee; Let us stand together, And let the fools Who would destroy us Feel the force of our true power.

Darkness suddenly appeared, surrounding me. It was as though the air bled black—darkness become visible. An impenetrable absence from which no one could be brought back… a portal into death itself.

It worked both ways, I knew. If I lost control of the spell, the magic would absorb all of my energy… and I would die.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, having calmed considerably. “And it’s almost charming how you refuse to see the futility!” Still contemplating my charm, the Demon Lord began to chant, creating and releasing several energy balls. Each undoubtedly contained enough power to split a stone.

Suddenly, the darkness coiled around me vanished. This was to be my first-ever public demonstration of my most secret of secret techniques—the Giga Slave.

The first time I tried it, I turned a nice sandy beach into a huge inlet. I’ve heard that even now, fish avoid the place.

I was aware that no single spell of mine could defeat Ruby Eye. No matter how hard I might try. No human in history had ever been able to devise a spell that could defeat a Demon Lord. There was only one alternative left.

The shining blade of the Sword of Light continued to absorb the darkness around me. Maybe that, at least, would be felt by Shabranigdu.

The Light Magic imbued within the sword was in fact canceling out the Dark Magic from my spell. That part, Gourry hadn’t expected. However, I suspected something else was happening, too.

Confirming my suspicions, the Demon Lord appeared nervous.

Got to give it a shot… “Sword!” I called out. “Consume the darkness with your blade!”

“What are you up to, girl?”

The darkness created by the Giga Slave flowed from my hands into the blade, merging with it. It was just as I’d thought:

The Sword of Light was an amplifier of human will. The “light” is just the form it takes. What tipped me off was how Gourry could use it despite neither possessing nor understanding mystic power whatsoever. It’s willpower that both controls it and determines its strength.

I wasn’t at all convinced my plan would work, but it was quite literally the only option remaining….

“Enough of this!” The Demon Lord readied his priest’s staff. He muttered in a low voice, speaking in a language I had never heard before.

Not good! My sword still needed more time to absorb all of the darkness from the Giga Slave.

No matter how large or small the spell a sorcerer is casting, a mystic field protects him or her for the duration. As long as I was casting the Giga Slave spell, the field would be protected from those powerful energy balls. The question was: How much could the Demon Lord’s mystic field withstand while he cast a spell? To be honest, I really wanted some way to test my idea before actually trying it.

In any case, I was still in the middle of pouring the Giga Slave’s energy into the sword. Finding out whether or not the mystic barrier would hold was going to have to wait.

The tip of the Demon Lord’s staff glowed red.

Faster!

A Demon Lord wasn’t going to go down in half-measures. This was—

“End this!” Zelgadiss’ voice called out.

Who is he talking to?

“That’s enough…! You said you wanted to see the world, didn’t you?! I don’t believe you want to destroy it! LORD REZO! Hear me!”

His speech was frenzied. He was close to babbling.

But then… the spell stopped. The red glow atop the Demon Lord’s staff vanished.

Shabranigdu—or Rezo, perhaps?—lowered his gaze to stare at Zelgadiss.

Gotcha! I just need a moment more…

After a long pause, Shabranigdu spoke scornfully, “Foolishness…”

At that instant, the Sword of Darkness was fully loaded.

“Rezo the Red Priest!“ I called out. “Hear me!”

The blade of the Sword of Darkness extended as I spoke.

“You can allow Shabranigdu to completely devour your soul, or you can avenge yourself! The outcome is yours to determine. Choose well!”

“Yes…” whispered a gracious voice from within the Red Priest’s form.

“Impossible,” cried Shabranigdu from the same mouth, at the same time.

“Sword! Destroy the red darkness!” I said as I brought my weapon down upon him.

The black light abandoned its shape and advanced toward the Demon Lord.

“Such a pathetic little cloud! I shall return it to you in a storm!“ The Demon Lord raised his staff. Dark energies massed together, forming a pillar of black flame, and then…

Something went wrong on his end. Perhaps whatever was left of the good priest Rezo had intervened… ? What-ever had happened, the power of the sword was able to break through.

“Yes…” I whispered, and for a moment, felt real hope. I wiped the sweat off my brow.

Within the pillar of flames, I could discern a quivering form. The silence was finally broken.

“Ha ha ha ha ha!” The Demon Lord’s laughter was loud enough to shake the forest.

“No…” I collapsed to my knees.

“Congratulations, human!“ he continued laughing. “I didn’t think it possible!”

I heard a quiet crackling sound.

“Well done. Well done, little bitch. You, above all others of your kind, deserve to hold the title of “Master.’“

Hey, I’m usually happy to take compliments wherever I can find them, but at that point, I had no energy left for happiness. I had used all of my power in that one attack. Not one ounce of strength remained for escaping the radiating heat of the pillar of fire. All I could do was fall to the ground and try not to breathe in the searing smoke.

“Unfortunately, child, I doubt you’ll live long enough to repeat this feat. As impressive a sorceress as you may be, you are still only human.“

CR-ACK.

That crackling sound, again. What… ?

“Then again, those who employ sorcery sometimes live for centuries. Even I cannot predict the course of history, or if another part of me will awaken while you live….”

Huh? What does he mean… ?

I raised my head, finally seeing it: Countless small cracks ran along the body of Shabranigdu the Demon Lord.

“I could recover over a lengthy period, and do battle with you again… but no… no. I choose to honor you, and accept… my destruction.”

“Here… I die.” Both voices became heavy. Ruby Eye Shabra-nigdu’s, and Rezo the Red Priest’s.

The cheek of the Demon Lord’s mask split off. Before falling to the ground, it turned to dust and scattered through the air.

“It was amusing… young… lady…” the wind sang. “Thank you… my regrets…”

“Truly… truly…”

“Ugh… uhhhh… ughhh…”

I stared blankly as the smiling form of the Demon Lord, Ruby Eye Shabranigdu, turned to dust before my eyes.

Only his laughter remained, released in the wind.

Epilogue

Is it… over?” By the time Gourry finally broke the silence, Shabranigdu’s body had long since blown away. “Yeah,” I croaked, my voice dry with the smoke and heat. “Thanks to Rezo.”

“Rezo…” Zelgadiss spoke as he stared at the place where the Demon Lord had stood. He was finding it hard to believe it had been destroyed.

“You knew it, didn’t you? That Rezo’s soul was still there inside him? Even after the Demon Lord corrupted him— over months and years, a part of the good in him remained, hating the Demon Lord for having deceived him. Without his help… the dark energy I created would have drained my own.”

“Just the same, Lina, what you did was really something.” Gourry stared at me, speechless.

Then, Zelgadiss too.

I bet they’re both in love with me. It just goes to show you— “Your hair,” Gourry whispered. They were staring at my silver hair. The mark of an excessive drain on one’s life force.

“L-Lina… your hair…” Gourry stepped back. Like it was contagious.

“I’m A-okay. I just used a little too much power. I smiled sweetly. “I am tired, though. How about you guys?”

“I’m… fine….”

Liar. Despite what he said, Gourry seemed a bit wobbly “I’m… not dead yet, at least.” Zelgadiss looked like he was doing just a bit better than Gourry.

“Okay, well, I’m glad,” I murmured. Still smiling, I spread myself flat on my back and closed my eyes.

It felt good to just let my tired body… rest.

* * *

It took us three more days to get to the point where we were within sight of Atlas City. I raised my voice as I caught a glimpse of the cityscape in the distance.

“Yay!” I shrieked. “Tonight we can eat good food and sleep in soft, fluffy beds….” My hair hadn’t returned to its normal chestnut yet, but I’d completely recovered from the fatigue.

“It’s been quite a trip,” Gourry sighed.

“Well, then… it seems this is where we part company,” said Zelgadiss abruptly.

“Why?” Gourry and I both asked at once.

“Although I have appreciated our time together, someone of my appearance is ill-suited for large cities such as this one.”

“Oh… I see. I’m sorry.” I knew arguing with him would be pointless. “What are you going to do from here?”

“Well, I’ll do as I please on my own. I’d just cause trouble if I stayed with you two….” He rubbed the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“Should we live much longer, I’m sure we’ll meet again…. I only hope that the next time, it is I who can be of assistance to you!”

“I’m sure well meet again. I hope so,” I said, and before he could leave, I awkwardly shook his hand.

“Someday,” Zelgadiss replied softly.

You know, for a guy with stone for skin, he was quite a softie.

“Take care.” Gourry waved lightly.

“Yeah. You, too.”

Goodbyes said, Zelgadiss released my hand, turned his back, and walked away

“Lina…” Gourry began, as we both watched Zelgadiss’ shape grow smaller in the distance.

Since the battle with the Demon Lord, Gourry had taken to calling me “Lina” instead of “little lady.”

“Lina, the way you shook his hand… you’re not falling for that guy, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I laughed.

“I don’t think it’s so ridiculous,” he said, and mercifully changed the subject. “So, what are you going to do when we arrive in Atlas City?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know…” I fell into thought. “How about if you give me that Sword of Light like you said you would, Gourry?”

“I said what? When?”

“You’re not going to hand it over then?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s too bad. I’d be nearly invincible. It would make a spectacular research project….”

“I said no.”

“Yeah, I know,” I nodded.

“So what are your plans?” Gourry asked in confusion.

“I’ve decided I’ll keep traveling on ahead.”

Where to?” he asked, still not getting it.

“Wherever you go.”

“Huh?”

I’m going to follow you everywhere you go until you decide to give the Sword of Light to me.” I winked. “Anyway… let’s go.” “Oooooh,” said Gourry, smiling. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With that, we began moving forward. On to Atlas City.

[kimjongdaely]

The War [Chapter 6]

Mafia!AU

Pairing: Kai x Reader x Xiumin

Warnings: Language, violence

Summary: After the tragedy of your ex-boyfriend, you find yourself constantly thinking about him. Memories are hard to erase, after all. Then in comes a man you met by chance and who stole what’s left of your heart. You find yourself stuck between your old love and new love.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Epilogue

“Hyung!” Jongin calls for his brother early that morning. “Good morning!”

“Morning.” Minseok greets Jongin with a smile. “How do you feel? Hungover?”

“A bit.” Jongin admits, a sheepish smile on his face. “I got really drunk, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Minseok cracks a grin as they make their way downstairs together. It’s still about dawn, but the needs to go check up on the income from last night.

It was silent for a bit, and from the corner of his eyes, Minseok knew Jongin wanted to say something. Jongin has been trained to always stay calm and collected under any circumstances, but as his brother, Minseok can always tell. The way his eyes glances sideways ever so slight and the way his jaw clenches tighter than usual gives it all away.

Finally, he sighs. “Do you have something to say?”

Jongin look surprised for a second before it melts away and he nods slowly. “Uh…I just wanted to ask if I said anything stupid last night? I don’t really remember.”

“Well,” Minseok starts as he turns right, heading straight for the locked door at the end of the hallway. “You were acting a little weird.”

Jongin groans, his face a grimace. “Shit, don’t tell me I was—”

“You were congratulating me like crazy, saying how happy I’ll be and things like that.” Minseok stops and turns to look pointedly at Jongin. “It was weird.”

“Oh.” Jongin seems relieved at his brother’s answer. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that too.”

Minseok cocks his head and waits for him to continue.

“I want to go to your wedding after all.” Jongin pauses before shyly whispering, “Can I?”

“I thought you didn’t want to.” Minseok says, confused, but warm at his brother’s words.

Jongin nods, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink. “I thought it over. There’s no reason that I wouldn’t go to my own brother’s wedding. No matter what happened, she’s your fiancée now and my future-noona.”

Minseok’s eyes softens and a small laugh escapes from his lips. “Yes, Jongin, of course you can come to my wedding.”

“Noona!” Jongin greets you with a wide smile, surprising you slightly. Momentarily you are reminded of the sight of him crying last night.

“Good morning.” You smile at him, unsure of what to do.

“I just want to apologize for any weird things I’ve done or said last night while I was drunk.” He bows deeply, and you immediately tell him to straighten out.

“It’s fine.” You tell him sincerely and, jokingly, you add, “I don’t even remember what you did or said either.”

Jongin smiles before reaching for your hand and squeezing it. “I know I’ve been kind of overreacting about you and Minseok-hyung.” He lets out a soft laugh. “But I’m completely over that now and I just want to congratulate the two of you from the bottom of my heart. So,” he pulls you into a warm hug, and your breath hitches as tears sting your eyes. He whispers, “Goodbye, Choco.”

You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him back. Your tears stain his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Goodbye, Nini.” You’ve always called him that as a cute little nickname, but now it leaves you bittersweet.

He let’s go and beams warmly at you.

You’re family now.

The sudden change in Jongin’s attitude leaves you a little skeptical. Looking at him, it feels as if he’s really completely fine now. But how could he possibly be fine?

If you were gone for four years and come back to find your lover engaged with someone else—not to mention your own brother—you don’t think you would be fine.

You can’t help but feel as if he’s pushing himself too much. Trying too hard to pretend to be okay.

When you watch Minseok, you can tell that he’s worried too. Minseok knows Jongin better than anyone in the world. You see the way Minseok’s eyes follows Jongin’s movements, his face always tense and filled with concern.

Both of you seem to be waiting for Jongin’s breaking point.

Maybe Jongin knows he’s reaching that point too. So maybe when he does reach it, he won’t ever let the two of you know.

The two of you who will be happily married soon.

He doesn’t want to ruin that for the world.

“Wow hyung,” Jongin teases with a grin. “I didn’t know your taste was that bad.”

Minseok exclaims in disagreement, the two brothers bickering at what colors to decorate the venue with.

You giggle lightly as you watch, your chest warm and fuzzy. It feels good to be a family like this. For now, you just want to believe that everything is fine.

“Yah, noona. Quit laughing at us and help us choose! You’re the bride-to-be.” Jongin waves you over and you reluctantly make your way to them, happy to just watch. You’ve always been a little indecisive with things, and you hate yourself for it.

“Well,” you start as you look through the designs. “Maybe brighter colors. Like sky blue?”

“Oh, I like that.” Minseok breathes as he flips through the pages of the magazine they were looking at.

“Yeah.” Jongin mocks. “And you were saying something about bright green. Ew.”

“Shut up Jongin.” Minseok grumbles, but you smile widely at them. It’s been so long since they’ve seen each other and the second Jongin got home, they’ve been cold to each other because of you. Now they’re finally comfortable with each other again.

Time passes quickly. A month comes quickly, people scrambling around to get their boss the perfect wedding. Because of this, you’ve also become slightly closer with the other mafia members such as Baekhyun and Chanyeol.

They were going to be the MCs at your wedding, and you wouldn’t have it any other way since the two of them are hilarious together.

Jongdae has been like a comfort blanket, always there for you when you get a little lost. Minseok has been busy lately to plan out future plans of his mafia while also trying to make the wedding as perfect as can be. Jongin spends most of his time working in the mafia now too, to make up for the time he wasn’t there.

“Nervous?” Jongdae asks with a wide grin the day before your wedding, everyone getting the final touches down.

“What do you think?” You grumble. “I’m having a panic attack.”

Jongdae let’s out a soft laugh, his voice like little bells and it soothes you. You would much rather have Minseok here with you where you can lie on his shoulder and watch the stars, but you’re glad you still have Jongdae (you asked why he has so much free time to be with you but he merely says he’s not really needed in the mafia at the moment).

“It doesn’t feel real.” You whisper after a pause. “It’s hard to believe I’m getting married tomorrow. I still feel like a child and suddenly I’m going to be someone’s wife.”

Jongdae hums in agreement and you almost laugh to see little tears in his eyes.

“Stop laughing!” He whines loudly when you finally can’t hold it in. “I’m just happy, okay? I can’t believe our Minseokie is getting married. I feel like a mother watching her child grow up.”

“M-Minseokie—” You laugh harder at his words, all the tension you had previously are wiped away. “I can’t believe you said mother. You’re not even a father? You’re a mother.”

“Shut up.” He snaps at you with a large pout. “The point is: I’m happy.”

“I am too.” You smile, giddy. “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

A few girls you’ve never met before help you into your dress early the next day. They pin up your hair perfectly, helping you apply light makeup for the occasion.

You were more nervous than anything. You feel like you’re going to throw up.

“Relax.” Jongdae tells you as he comes to check up on you. He looks dazzling in a formal suit, his lips curled up into a bright smile. “You look beautiful. Today’s the big day, so smile!”

You finally bring yourself to smile as you glance at yourself in the mirror again, making sure nothing’s wrong. For some reason you’re feeling extra paranoid today.

This is it.

You’re getting married.

“It’s almost time.” Jongdae announces as he bounces on the soles of his feet, his shoes squeaking against the marble floor. “Shall we go?”

You take in a deep breath, a wide smile gracing your lips as you nod, taking Jongdae’s hand and letting him lead you to the venue.

The doors open for you when you arrive, and you feel the room physically hold their breath as everyone turns to look at you. All the higher ranked people from Minseok’s mafia is here. Some you recognize, most you don’t.

The room is large, an extravagant buffet on the right and the aisle in the middle. Decorations fill the ceiling and walls with delicate ribbons and balloons. You take a deep breath as the piano starts playing. Baekhyun is playing it.

Jongdae leads you down the aisle and your breath hitches as your eyes land on Minseok’s form at the end of the aisle, his suit a dark navy blue, his hair slicked back with the happiest look on his face. He looks handsome, practically glowing. Jongin is by his side looking equally amazing.

When you finally reach him, he takes your hand and you feel warmth spread through you, causing you to smile widely at him.

You listen to the priest go through the usual, the feeling of Minseok’s hand in yours perfect.

You almost stop breathing when you hear Minseok say “I do” next to you. You almost drowned their voices out until you realize you’re next.

Your heart thumps when you hear the priest ask you if you want to take him as your husband, and you feel the two words on the tips of your lips. The words that will seal your fate with his. The words that you so desperately want to say.

Suddenly, you hear the doors slam open, screams and cries filling the room as people you don’t recognize come pouring in.

Minseok’s hand on yours tightens until it’s almost painful.

You can’t hear what he says but he yells orders at his men, his tone harsh and authoritative.

Jongin and Jongdae both come and they each grab ahold of your arm.

You don’t remember if you screamed or not.

But Minseok let’s go of your hand to join the others in his mafia, and you think you cried.

Jongin and Jongdae lead you to the back of the venue, away from the chaos. You don’t remember what happened, but you felt a hard impact against your back and the three of you go tumbling down on the floor.

Jongin and Jongdae are removed from besides you, and you feel alone as you try desperately to get back up and run.

Your dress is in the way, large and hard to move in, so you barely manage to get up before a foreign hand grabs your arm.

You try to scream, but a cloth covers your mouth and the chemicals make the room spin.

Darkness fills your vision as sounds become a slight throb.

Someone calls your name, but you’re not sure who.

You feel yourself falling.

Falling, falling, falling.

Falling into the darkest depths of an endless void.

You are utterly alone now. Your mind goes blank as panic kicks in, but also an emptiness that you can’t decipher. Everything happened so quickly you don’t even know what happened. You don’t even register what happened to you, or what’s going to happen to you.

Minseok…

For a moment you wonder if he’s safe. But that thought floats away too and emptiness eats away at you again.

You’re free-falling.

The two words you weren’t able to say reverberates in your mind and you cry, but you can’t.

I do.

Previous Chapter│Next Chapter

The War Mini Masterlist

A/N: It’s getting a bit more intense now~~ Just throwing in a little external conflict because every mafia fic needs one. Please tell me what you thought about this and give it lots of love! Thank you for reading again!

©kimjongdaely

Request and let’s love!

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

AN: Inspired by events in BTVS 7.17 “Lies My Parents Told Me.”  Links to character sheets at the bottom of the story.

Chapter 33: New Man

Spike’s heart pounded against his ribs, begging for a break. His lungs burned, each breath large and deep, like he was trying to inhale oceans. He ran until sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped his forehead and stared at his fingertips glistening in the sunlight.

Having run from the house in a t-shirt, the cool winter air nipped at his damp skin until goosebumps peppered his arms. He was still on the outskirts of town surrounded by houses and one mission-style Catholic church.

It clearly not being a day for bursting into flames, Spike entered the church and found two old women praying at the altar. He couldn’t smell them over the incense. Usually, old women reeked of creams, ointments, and god-awful perfume. The stench was part of why vampires avoided the elderly.

He stole a seat in the back at stared at the twisted body hanging at the front of the sanctuary. Like any good Victorian Londoner, Spike had been raised in the church, Anglican specifically, but the idea of God escaped him. Why would anyone, let alone the son of God, sacrifice themselves for him? Who believed he merited a second chance?

An elderly priest leaned into his pew. “Can I help you, my son?”

“Yeah, thought I’d start the new year off right with God, but I seem to ‘ave forgotten my prayer beads.”

The priest smiled at him. “You may borrow mine.” He pulled his rosary, a simple design of dark wood with a brass cross, from his pocket, and dropped it in the vampire’s hands.

The vampire did not burn.

All Dean could understand from the girls screaming at each other was that someone’s something had gone missing. Buffy and Willow were doing their best to calm the situation when he and Sam decided to seek out the quiet of the still-wrecked Impala parked in Buffy’s driveway.

“Maybe it was a mistake not telling them about Lucifer,” Dean said, bunching up a blanket to use as a pillow.

“Trust me, Lucifer isn’t comforting news. Besides, I think they’re still riding the high of burning those Bringers; plus, most of them are starting a new school Monday. Probably shouldn't add to the emotional cocktail.” 

“Are you done touching the feelings?”

Sam shrugged. “I just remember what it was like to be a teenager-by-day, monster-fighter-by-night. Add to that, they’re far from home, have cultural barriers, and are all pretty new to this. They’re not going to be insta-buddies. Besides, it’s not like we didn’t have stupid fights when we were kids.”

“We’d have had fewer fights if you weren’t so stubborn.” A light rain began to patter on the car. The clouds gave the sunset an eerie glow.

Sam tapped the front bench seat, staring at his fingers like they were giving him a message in Morse Code. “I’ve been doing some research.”

“Water is wet.” Dean’s joking did nothing to ease the anxiety on his brother’s face.

“According to Slayer lore--”

“Here we go.”

“--the first Slayer was created by combining the ‘heart of a demon’ whatever that means, with some teenage girl. Good news is, nothing happened to Buffy when we did the exorcism so--” 

“The fuck?” Dean shot up, ignoring his sore body while his blood boiled. “No. You do not just move on from that statement. Were you fucking experimenting on my girlfriend because you thought she was fucking possessed?”

“I didn’t think she was possessed, but that’s what the lore says,” Sam said, innocently. “If I thought she was dangerous, I would have told you.”

Dean knew the look on his brother’s face, and knew he wasn’t sorry one bit. He tamped down the desire to sock Sam in the jaw. “Don’t fucking put on that innocent puppy face with me! What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking she’s a vessel, too, and I wanted to know what ‘heart of a demon’ meant because clearly it’s not literal demonic possession.”

“Fuck no it’s not!”

“God, take a breath, Dean. You’re turning purple.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!” he yelled. “For once in my life, I feel like I have a fucking life. There is this amazing woman who actually gives a rat’s ass about me for more than one night -- hell, she loves me for christssake -- and you’re pokin’ at her to find out what makes her tick?”

“I didn’t want to tell you because, crazy idea, I thought you’d lose your shit,” Sam snapped.

Dean’s ribs reminded him they were still healing as he tried to take deep breaths. “You have no right.”

Scratching his head, Sam sighed. “Dean, how many comic books have you read? How many horror movies have you seen? Whatever the Slayer is, there’s an origin story, but it’s not the story that’s in the lore. I just want to know why there’s a monster-fighting superhero here, but not at home.”

They glared at each other, jaws clenched, nostrils flaring, for a minute before Sam asked, “Do you want to know what I’ve found?’

Dean didn’t, but he did. He leaned back against the seat and tried to relax.

“Remember how I was looking into possession? It looks like there are only a few types of people who can be possessed -- Slayers, vampires, and witches -- and each has special conditions under which it can happen. We know when someone gets bitten by a vamp, they lose their soul and the demon takes their corpse for a ride. Given what we just did to Spike, that one pans out. But the lore says the Slayer is also possessed by a demon, and that just doesn’t hold --”

There was a knock on the window before Buffy opened the door and climbed in the seat with Dean. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I’m super jealous of the calm in here.” Damp from the drizzle, she nestled against her boyfriend.

Dean was happy to be holding her no matter what his brother thought. He kissed the top of her head, eliciting a contented sigh.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Sam asked.

“Shut up,” said Buffy. “Today’s been weird, okay?”

“Girls okay?”

“Okay-ish? No one’s talking to Lili, but I’m too worried about Spike to care.”

After being freed from the demon parasite that had been riding him for over a century, Spike had run out into the daylight and disappeared. At first, Buffy had been practically giddy. They had taken something from the darkness, but as the day wore on and Spike did not return, she poured her nervous energy into scrubbing the entire house from top to bottom and snapping at anyone who came near. It was like waiting to hear news from the surgeon. Someone had been opened up, but was the operation successful?

“I’m sure the poofy’s fine. He’s probably sulking in a mausoleum somewhere.”

“Or he’s being tortured by Lucifer again,” she said.

“Is he even still a vampire?” asked Sam. “I’m not sure the vampire and the demon are separate here.”

Dean glared at his brother. Not that he shared Buffy’s concern, but the last thing he wanted to do was compound her worries.

She drew little patterns on Dean’s chest with her fingertips, a habit when she was mulling an idea over. “If Spike is okay, if the exorcism managed to get rid of the demon and save the man, I was wondering if we could head to Los Angeles after all this Lucifer stuff is over and maybe --”

“I guess we could ask him,” Sam said, pointing to the end of the driveway where a pale figure paced back and forth in the rain.

They got out of the car as Spike walked by, shivering in his t-shirt. “Got a bloody clown car going?”

“Where have you been?” Buffy asked.

“Around.” He shuffled his feet and bounced, trying to get warm. “Can go all sorts of places in the daylight now.”

Dean tossed him a blanket from the backseat. “You can probably catch cold too. Let’s head in. It’s dinner time.”

The next day, Sam straddled a chair across from Buffy’s desk as they listened to the gaggle of girls on the other side of the cubicle wall. The school’s bewildered guidance counselor was trying to organize the flood of unexpected transfers whose papers Dean had faked.

I can’t believe this is working! Buffy mouthed. Having all but six of them in school all day was a relief.

“I wish we were in the same classes,” Cloé complained in Spanish.

“Chiquita, we’re two grades apart,” Gabi laughed.

“Why couldn’t they lie about that too?”

“It’s only seven hours, and look, we have the same lunch and study hall. Ooh, we have Sam for study hall. He’s cute.”

“Ew, he’s old,” protested Cloé.

Sam pretended he hadn’t heard them and asked Buffy, “Ready to jump back into ‘My parents don’t get me’ and ‘My teachers are so mean?’”

“God yes!” She twirled a pencil in her fingers. “You do remember how unvacationy vacation was, right?”

Sam patted the angry scars that ran across his abs. “I have my holiday souvenirs. Can’t wait for spring break.”

Being back at school was surreal. Sam was about to dive back into nearly eight hours a day helping teenagers and teachers with research, organizing the books, and updating files. Yet his Clark Kent hours bore a sickly green edge today. Caring about the state of the biography section seemed pointless when Lucifer was out of his cage and lurking near the school.

Killing the Turok-Han and a handful of Bringers had been spitting in Lucifer’s eye. Disarming his vampire sleeper agent was stomping the Devil’s toe. Any moment, he could send something new their way -- tormenting visions of the dead, an army of vampires, drunk clowns with knives. Different world. Different rules.

Just then, an unsmiling Principal Wood showed up, eyeing them with suspicion. “Glad to see you’re all up and at ‘em after your accident.”

“Couple of regular Christmas miracles,” said Buffy with a nervous smile.

Wood nodded before turning to Sam, all friendliness gone from his face. “Mr. Winchester, I was hoping to catch you before the bell. Would you mind stepping into my office?”

They walked through the remainder of the girls waiting for a student guide for their first day. Wood assumed his seat and stared at him over steepled fingers. The clock ticked louder than the bustle of students on the other side of the wall. He’d been in enough principals’ offices and interrogation rooms to know this tactic. Sam stared back.

The bell rang.

The clock ticked.

Opening a file, Wood said, “You don’t need to worry about the library. I was able to find a substitute.”

Sam continued to stare.

“I got bored over winter break, decided to investigate. You’re an intelligent man, Mr. Winchester, but something’s always been a little off about you. You swept in out of nowhere right when we needed a new librarian, waving your freshly printed Stanford diploma. You know Mr. Espada the chemistry teacher? He went to Stanford, too. His diploma doesn’t look like yours.” Wood slid copies of both documents across the desk, but Sam ignored them.

“I thought, ‘Maybe they changed the format.’ After all, he graduated a few years before you. But it gnawed at me, so I dug a little further and found Tiffany Tusing. Remember her?”

Judging by the giant smile plastered on Wood’s face, he was about to hit a home-run.

Sam continued to stare.

“Tiffany Tusing died in a car accident in 1993, which I am surprised we didn’t know before seeing as you’re using her social security number. Do you care to tell me why you used the social security number of a dead girl and falsified records to secure a position as Sunnydale High’s librarian?”

“I like books.”

“Suffice to say, as of right now you’re suspended while I investigate further. I will call you when it’s time to clean out your desk.”

Jada was excellent with a knife. Dean sat at the kitchen counter watching her chop vegetables with fury. If she ever decided to throw down against the monsters lurking outside, she wouldn’t be half bad in a fight.

“I still can’t believe he suspended you! Your reviews have been good. He hasn’t complained at all. What is his problem?”

“It’s personality clashes wrapped in politics. I’m sure it will be cleared up soon,” said Sam as he put salmon fillets on a baking sheet. Their fake identities obviously weren’t on the list of supernatural weirdness he’d explained to her.

“Want one, Dean, or are you having dinner with Buffy?” Sam asked with a smirk.

One glance at the fish and Dean curled up his lip in disgust. “Nah, she’s busy with the girls.”

“Girls?” Jada asked brightly, clearly happy to think about something other than how much she hated Principal Wood.

“Remember how I said there’s trouble at Buffy’s?” Sam asked.

“And the trouble is girls?” she repeated with an eyebrow raised. “Little girls or big girls?”

“Too many girls!” Dean grumbled. “Anyway, I think I’ll leave you to your whatever the hell you call that and take this leg out for a spin.” Tired of feeling useless, he had insisted the doctors x-ray his broken ankle. They were shocked to see it had healed in half the normal time, but Dean -- finally cast-less -- scooted out of the hospital before they could start running tests.

“Oh, okay, have a good time, Dean!” Jada waved at him with a smile. She was in comforting mode. He hoped Sam remembered to put a sock on the door.

Full of fries and a cheeseburger, Dean grabbed his beer and sauntered over to the pub’s neglected pool table. Before they’d decided to stay in Sunnydale, he and Sam had hustled pool at every bar in town to keep themselves in beer and scratchy sheets. Enough time had passed, they should be able to do another round. They could at least hit up nearby Santa Barbara. Keep the Potentials in cereal and whatever else a houseful of teenage girls could need.

Halfway through his second rack and third beer, someone said, “You’re pretty good.” At the other end of the table stood a tall, dark man with a goatee and shaved head. He was smiling, friendly.

After Buffy had told Dean about the extensive stalker file she’d found in the principal’s office, he had decided to look Robin Wood up. Brooklyn-born, he moved to the suburbs of Los Angeles after his mother was murdered when he was four. Always athletic, he played baseball and tennis all through school. He’d graduated in the middle of his class at UCLA, and spent several years in Teach for America before heading back to school for an administrative degree. On paper, he seemed like an all-American, up-from-nothing success story. Standing before him now, Dean didn’t like whatever secrets were behind Wood’s shining eyes.

“Wanna play?” Dean asked.

Wood whistled low. “Pretty sure you’d play me out of house and home.”

“Nah,” said Dean, racking the balls, “I only swindle my friends. You new to town, mister, uh?”

“Calvin! Name’s Calvin. Yeah, just moved up here from LA.” Wood extended his hand for a shake, but Dean left him hanging.

“That so?” Dean took the opening break shot, sinking two solids.

“Liking the small town life. Quaint. Calm. What about you, buddy? Lived here long?”

“Few months.”

“What brought you here?”

“Work.”

“Really? What do you do?” Wood asked, clearly determined to keep up his cheerful ruse.

“Exterminator.”

“Exterminator? Are the pests different in Sunnydale than where you’re from?”

“A bit.” Dean sunk two more balls. He was half finished before Wood even started.

Without a clear shot, Wood chose to bump his ball in Dean’s way. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”

Wood pursed his lips and nodded his head. “You’re not the most sociable guy are you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like you,” Dean growled.

“You don’t even know me.”

Dean flexed his fingers. The principal was an inch or two taller than him, with the thick arms of someone who’d spent time punching a bag. But bags didn't hit back.

Dean’s phone rang. Keeping his eye on his new friend, he answered, “Hey Girly. What’s up?”

“I’m done with training. Mind if I come over?” The bubbly tone to her voice indicated patrol had gone well.

“Sounds good.” He hung up and bumped into Wood’s shoulder, smirking. “It’s been fun, Robin. Let’s not do this again.”

Wood banished from his mind, Dean paced his room as he waited on Buffy to arrive. She hadn’t been over since Christmas Eve, and he was still pretty beaten up then. Though he’d spent the last week at her place, they’d barely had any time together.

A satisfied moan came from Sam’s room.

The pressure in Dean’s jeans was painful, so he went to the window to distract himself. He could just make out Orion’s belt through the bright lights of town. Buffy, not knowing where the mythic figures started and stopped, had claimed the cluster of stars making Orion’s shield as her own. The Slayer’s Heart, she called it. It was sappy and silly, but it was theirs. He wanted to share the sky with her.

Turning his face from the heavens to the street, Dean’s smile faded. A blue 1997 Dodge Stratus, the same car Robin Wood drove, was parked across the street. Dean was lacing his boots to confront the principal when Buffy opened his bedroom door.

In an instant, she was in his arms, her legs around his waist as he pressed her against the wall. Their kiss long and deep reveling in their perfect fit. “Missed you, Girly,” he said as he moved to kissing her neck.

A moan rose from deep in her throat as she played with his hair. “I can’t stay long -- twenty minutes tops, but I had to see you.”

He set her on top of his dresser and rubbed her leather-clad thighs. She knew those pants drove him crazy. “You’re smiling like you had a good day.”

“Mostly. You’re out of your cast. Spike came out of the basement and tried to feed himself; Alma had to teach him how to cook. Both Vi and Keisha staked vampires tonight. That’s three successful trainee patrols in a row.”

“I miss patrolling with you.”

“You, mister, are distracting with those kissable lips.” She sucked on his bottom lip like he was her favorite candy. “And that deep, rumbly voice. God, when you talk dirty--” She tugged off his shirt, a wolfish hunger in her eyes. “Other than the little things like Lucifer being out there doing God knows what and Wood suspending Sam--”

“Ugh.” Dean shook his head. “That jackass is outside.”

“What?!”

“Wood. I went down to the bar for dinner, and he was there trying to chat me up. Now he’s parked outside.”

Buffy dashed to the window. “I see you!” she yelled, pointing at her eyes and the car. It pulled away, disappearing down the block.

“Well, he just jumped up my priorities list,” she grumbled, the smile leaving her face for the first time.

“I was gonna pay him a visit tomorrow.”

“Don’t kill him.”

“That’s not Plan A.”

Sliding his hands under her sweater, he cupped one of her breasts. The tension melted from her face as he kneaded her body. “Right now, Plan A is to see how many times I can make you come in twenty minutes.”

“Challenge accepted,” she purred, pushing his pants to the floor.   

Robin Wood lived in a small, well-maintained bungalow six blocks from the high school. The inside was sparsely decorated in cheap furniture from I’m Totally Normal Monthly. The warehouse plastic smell of newness still hung in the air. The kitchen drawers were full of kitchen supplies. The living room drawers were full of typical homeowner paperwork, DVDs, travel mementos, and one picture -- an old white man with his arm around a young black boy. The office was equally boring with proposals, budgets, and books on child psychology and educational theory.

It felt like a set.

In the bedroom, an old steamer trunk and a bookcase stuffed with old leather books sat at the foot of the bed. Like in his own room, the trunk was full of stakes, holy water, crossbows and any other weapon a vampire hunter would need. The extensiveness of the collection told him Wood wasn’t new to hunting -- and if he wasn’t new to hunting, maybe he knew who Buffy was.

He grabbed a book from the shelf and started reading.

After a couple of hours, keys jingled in the door. Not working late tonight. Dean listened as Wood walked around the house with the casual care of someone not suspecting an intruder. He lightly laid his finger on the trigger of his gun and aimed it at the door of the bedroom.

Wood entered the room and betraying only the slightest surprise, raised his hands. “I thought you didn’t want hang out anymore, Dean.”

“I believe in second chances. Haven’t decided yet if I want to shoot you, so I’m gonna put this gun down. You’re gonna go for the machete you keep by the door, but I already moved it. And I think you know fucking with me would hurt.”

Dean held up a book, a journal more specifically. “At first, I guessed you were a hunter with a Slayer fetish. Got all these Watcher’s journals to jerk off to. Explains why you’ve been stalking Buffy so hard.

“Then I get to this.”

He read from the first page, “‘She came back. After surviving her Cruciamentum -- while pregnant no less -- I encouraged Nikki to hide. I made all the arrangements and was ready to face the Council when they discovered the truth.

“‘But I should have known Nikki Wood couldn’t stay away from a fight. She returned with her infant son and went right back into the dark, stake in hand.

“‘Her son is sleeping soundly in a makeshift bed beside me while his mother is out saving the world. It’s not fair she was chosen. Not fair that so much will be taken from her. It is not the boy’s fault, and I fear what will become of Robin when his mother meets her inevitable end.’”

Dean snapped the book shut. “Your mother was a Slayer. So what, you have some oedipal crush on Buffy?”

“Don’t act like you know me,” Robin said through gritted teeth.

“What do you want with Buffy?”

“I’d prefer to tell her directly.”

“You’re driving. Pretty sure you know the way.”

Buffy and her boss sat alone in her kitchen. He stared at his hands with contrition. She hadn’t been sure what to make of Dean’s call telling her he was coming by with the most-likely-not-dangerous principal. “I wish you would have just told me this up front instead of acting like a creepy stalker.”

“In retrospect, I see how my research looked more unwanted ex and less detective dossier, but Slayers aren’t Girl Scouts.”

She watched two dozen Potentials practicing fighting forms in her backyard as she mulled over Wood’s story.

A Slayer had a child. A Slayer was a mother. Buffy firmly rejected certain Slayer traditions. Being alone. Being on the outskirts of society. But being childless always made sense. Even if she and the baby survived the pregnancy, she would never see it grow up. It would never remember her.

She didn’t want her four-year-old son at her funeral. She didn’t want him dedicating his life to avenging her. She didn’t want another Slayer down the line to look in his face and say, “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

Wood sighed, “Can’t say I blame you. First Evil sounds pretty demanding.”

“Keeps me on my toes.”

Spike, his hair mussed from sleep and with dark circles under his eyes, emerged from the basement. “Sorry, I’m just ‘ere for eggs,” he mumbled.

Gabi, Cloé and Vi dashed through the kitchen, giggling. Gabi assumed her instructor’s station at the front of the group outside, while the other two found places in the crowd.

“You’re late!” Dani yelled, zeroing in on Cloé while ignoring the other two.

Cloé bowed her head, her shoulders slumping as if bracing for a blow. “I’m sorry, we --”

“I don’t care! This is life and death.” The other girls stopped their exercises and stared at the scene with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Chum because you’re not going to be good for anything other than vampire bait.”

“Hey!” Gabi snapped. “I made them late. If you want to scream at someone you and I can do it later. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Dani curled her lip in disgust as she glared at Gabi. “Look, I’m in charge here--”

“No.” Gabi rose to her full height, a head taller than Dani. “Buffy is in charge. You’re not even number two. You want to take this inside or keep training?”

Looking back at the crowd of expectant girls, Dani pointed at Cloé. “Arms up, ladies! You call that a stance?”

Wood turned away from the scene, eyebrows raised. “At least I’ve solved the mystery of the flood of transfers. I’m assuming the Winchesters forged all of their paperwork?”

Andrew stomped in. “Spike, don’t forget to wash the pan when you’re done. I had to clean all of your dishes yesterday.”

Wood pointed at the two men. “Not Potentials.”

“No! This is Spike and Andrew. The First is after them, so they’ve been living in my basement.”

“Spike and Andrew.” Wood eyed Spike’s back as the former vampire plated his food. “Buffy, does this First thing have anything to do with this goat-face seal I keep finding in the basement?”

Andrew gulped. Spike turned to look at Wood, a burning intensity in his eyes.

“Who are you?” Spike asked.

“Robin Wood, principal at Sunnydale High.” Wood extended his hand, which Spike reluctantly shook.

“Wood’s mother was a Slayer.”

“Slayers have kids?” Spike looked the new guy over with renewed interest.

“One did at least. Nikki Wood. New York. 70s,” Wood said.

“Sorry, my Slayer ‘istory’s not so good,” Spike said, grabbing a fork and taking his eggs to the basement.

With a sigh, Andrew put Spike’s dirty pan in the sink. “You’ve seen the seal?”

“Yeah, someone keeps digging it up. I found a body down there once lying on top of it.”

Andrew avoided eye contact. “What did you do with it? Asking for a friend.”

“Seeing as this is Sunnydale, I buried the kid outside of town. Last time I found the seal exposed, I covered it in concrete, reburied it, piled supplies on it, and had the door welded shut.”

“Thorough,” said Buffy, relieved Lucifer wasn’t going to be able to pull any more Turok-Han from the Hellmouth. At least not soon. “You know if you want to help…”

“Much as I want to spend more time with teenagers, I think I’ll stick to searching for the vampire who killed my mom.”

“You’re certain it’s in Sunnydale?”

“Absolutely. Tell you what. I’ll lift Sam’s suspension. Not like I could have found a replacement librarian in the middle of the year anyway. What’s their deal, by the way? I couldn’t find anything on the Winchesters.”

Buffy chuckled. “The Winchesters are a different kind of wild story. If you want to know, come back and ask them yourself. After you figure out how to get on their good side.”

Spike leaned forward over the utility sink to get a closer look at himself in the mirror. He’d forgotten what he looked like. Too angular for Victorian sensibilities, but handsome for the modern day.

Hadn’t that been the entire problem? William Pratt was always too something for his neighbors, his mother, his adored. Too meek. Too earnest. Too emotional. William Pratt did not belong.

Now wasn’t much better. He wasn’t a vampire, but was he a man? He was stronger than average. A little faster.

Before Drusilla had turned him, he’d written longhand ledgers, a human calculator. What was he supposed to do now? Wash sheets at the Motor Inn, saving to get a crumby apartment? Worry about his cholesterol and toenail fungus? Not think about the murders he’d gladly committed?

No, whatever was in the mirror wasn’t a man.

“What are you doing?” Andrew asked.

His voice startled Spike, who’d been so absorbed in his reflection, he hadn’t noticed the arrival of his roommate. “I was just marveling at wot a ‘andsome devil I am. Cheekbones.”

“Some guys have it all,” Andrew said with a sigh as he settled onto his cot.

“Is that guy gone? Big black fellow?”

“Yeah, he left a while ago. Didn’t seem too happy.”

“Right, well, I guess I’ll see to that...thing that needs seeing,” Spike said, heading upstairs.

Buffy stood on the back porch, overseeing Dani and Gabi leading the Potentials in a series of martial arts exercises. Spike didn’t know much of trained fighting. Seemed to take the fun out of it, especially when it came to fighting a disciplined, organized, knowledgeable Slayer, the ultimate test of improvisation.

He decided to leave out the front door, but Sam and Dean were in the driveway repairing the Impala. Spike hadn’t seen the car after Buffy wrecked it, but from the stories, he was surprised it wasn’t in a junkyard.

“Hey, Spike,” Sam called, waving him over.

Dean rose from where he’d been crouched by the front fender. “Hit it, Sammy.”

Sam flipped the knob to check one turn signal then the other. Dean gave a thumbs up before disappearing in front of the car again.

“How’re you doing?” Sam asked.

At one point in the underground church, Sam had lost hope and began to confess his darkest deeds. He’d hunted down a demon named Lilith. “I wanted revenge because she’d killed Dean, but Dean was back, so it was really about me, wasn’t it? My power. My abilities. Me saving the day.”

“Did you kill the bitch?”

Sam had chuckled, a thin wheeze, at the question. “You know what I had to do to get strong enough to kill Lilith? I killed and drank a demon possessed pediatric nurse. I drank until she turned ashen. I drank until my stomach strained, and I told myself, ‘Greater good, right?’”

“You’re making me hungry.”

“Wanna know the irony? Me killing Lilith, that’s what unleashed Lucifer.”

And now Sam, far from the brink of death, sat in his brother’s car testing turn signals. A not-so-innocent human with demon-blood tainted veins.

Spike opened the back door and slipped into the back seat. He almost missed the blood lust. His demon had guided him, amping up his every dark impulse for over a century. Without it, he had all of the baggage of someone he knew and no idea where he was going. But he didn’t want to go back. “I feel like I just woke up from a coma, but it’s ‘alloween and I’m in a blimey gorilla costume.”

Sam squinted at him, confused. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Metaphor needs work. Point is, I feel a little out of sorts with just myself rattling around up there.”

“It’ll take some getting used to.”

“Does anyone ever get used to humanity?” Spike asked, twisting his lips in a smirk to cover his sincerity.

“No,” said Sam quietly. “Some voices and faces always haunt you.”

“Like the nurse?”

Sam looked away in shame. They may both be killers, but only one of them had ever been proud of it. “Her husband never even knew what happened.”

“But sorry doesn’t change the past, no matter ‘ow many lives we get, does it?”

“No.”

“But life is just living, isn’t it?” Spike said. “The pain, the sex, the shame, the victories, they’re all part of the package.”

Finished with training, the Potentials began to flood the front yard, doing cartwheels and chasing each other. Enjoying the last bit of sun before nightfall forced them inside.

Giant grin plastered on his face, Dean sauntered around the car. “Baby’s ready to roll, Sammy.” His grin faded a bit when he saw Spike. “Dude, you’re practically glowing. It’s like you haven’t seen the sun in a century.”

Spike sighed. “Look out, George Carlin. A new wit has arrived.”

Dean shrugged. “We hid the beer in the cooler if you want one.” He left them to pick up his tools.

Sam smiled, soft and concerned, at Spike. “One day at a time. It’s going to be hard and weird, but I’m here for you. Call me if you feel like doing anything stupid.”

Spike was about to do something stupid. He paced in the pool of a street light in front of the little green bungalow. He wished he had a cigarette, but trying to smoke made him cough, his lungs burn. After sunset, he’d had a beer or three to convince himself his idea wasn’t suicidal.

What he did know with certainty: William Pratt would not have come. William Pratt would have wrung his hands, written at length, then waited in hiding until his mother handled the problem.

Damning evidence in hand, Spike would confront this head on.

He knocked on the door. Robin Wood answered immediately as if he’d been waiting on Spike to call. “I heard about your mum, and I, uh, I have information about her.”

Wood nodded slowly. “Meet me in the back, okay?”

New York in the 1970s had stunk of piss and cheap cigarettes. Between horny business men looking for fun in Times Square and a flood of punks wandering in and out of clubs, it was an easy meal. Not even having a Slayer in town did much to stem the tide of deaths.

Behind Wood’s house stood a dark garage with the door ajar. Spike peeked inside. “‘ello?”

It hadn’t taken Spike long to hunt down New York’s Slayer. Tall and lithe, Nikki moved with the grace and force of a prize fighter, exposing bone with her fists, sending teeth flying into the night. Spike watched her as she killed standard vampires without breaking a sweat. Once she tangled with two members of the Sisterhood of Jhe, throwing one into the other, impaling them at the same time when they were trapped in a dumpster. He was going to enjoy dancing with her.

A sting in his neck. Spike spun on his heels and knocked a shadow back against the garage door frame. Feeling woozy, he raised his fists.

Spike and Nikki had fought in the park a week before, a congenial how-do-you-do sort of fight. When he caught her in the subway, empty but for a few late-night party kids puking their guts out, he knew she was tired and ready to fold. With a smile on his face, he’d snapped her neck.

The door slid closed. Wood chuckled, “Feeling a little sick? My own mix. A little sedative and a little holy water.” The light blazed on, highlighting the cross-covered walls.

Wood, slipping on a pair of brass knuckles, stood between Spike and the door. “Oh, did you think I didn’t know you, Spike? British punk trash. About a hundred and forty. Lately, spotted with the Slayer. Strange since he killed two, including my mother.”

Spike dodged a punch. He may not be a vampire anymore, but he was still oddly quick. “What’s the plan then? Kill me and mummy comes back to you?”

They circled each other. A jab. A weave. The formerly cool principal was practically rippling with rage.

Wood lunged. Spike grabbed his arm and swung him into a table, knocking the air from him.

“She didn’t say anything when I killed her. No begging. No pleading. No final thoughts of you.”

“She died a hero, unlike you,” Wood growled.

“Maybe we died the same,” Spike said, ignoring the threat in Wood’s voice. “Alone, in the dark, running away from people who cared about us. Is that what bothers you most? Mummy’s good and dead because she kept picking us over you.”

Wood shouted, picked up a set of throwing knives, and began to use him for target practice.  Thunk! The first blade hit the wall close to Spike’s head.

Thunk!

The sedative was pulling Spike down, his limbs rubber, his vision blurry. He twisted trying to dodge the knives, but one grazed his side, another cut into his arm.

Thunk! Thunk!

Once the knives were all stuck in the wall behind him, Spike dove at the principal’s legs. They rolled on the ground, trading punches. Spike jabbed Wood with his elbow and landed a cracking blow to his ribs.

“Show me your real face!” Wood screamed, rolling on top of Spike, hitting him over and over. Spike could feel his flesh tearing, the blood spilling out as vengeance pummeled his face and body.

Using every bit of strength the drugs had left him, Spike pushed Wood off and grabbed a cross from the wall.

Nothing happened.

Wood stared, dumbfounded. “But the Watcher’s diaries --”

“Were right,” Spike said, pointing to a plastic grocery bag he’d dropped by the door. “I killed your mum. Came here to apologize. But then you were a twat so I didn’t.”

Holding his breath and with his eyes still on Spike, Wood knelt down to open the bag. Inside was a long leather coat. His mother’s coat.

The garage door slid open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” yelled Buffy.

The principal, bleeding from a cut above his eye, rose and glared at Buffy. “This doesn’t involve you, Slayer.”

“You beat up one of my friends, you bet it involves me,” she said through gritted teeth.

Wood snorted, eyeing Spike with disgust as he slowly found his footing. “Friend? Do you even know what he is?”

“The vampire part or the killed your mom part? Yeah, I figured it out.”

Eyeing Spike with a little more curiosity than loathing, Wood asked, “Is he a vampire?”

“Was,” Spike said, trying and failing to stand. “You missed filling your life-long vengeance quest by about two days.”

“There’s -- there’s a cure?” Wood asked quietly.

“Only for very good boys.” Spike spit blood and grinned.

“Are you listening? Because I want to know if you can follow the simplest of instructions.” Buffy asked, her arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. “ But here’s the thing, Robin, even if Spike were still a monster, he’d still be more of a man than you.”

Wood’s jaw flexed, his eyes dark and cold. “You don’t--”

“Did I say you could talk? If you come around me and mine again, I recommend crawling on your hands and knees.” Buffy helped Spike up and lead him outside.

“What were you thinking coming here?” she asked, shifting to support more of his weight.

The cold air sucked at the sweat and blood coating Spike’s skin sending a quick shiver through him. “You really think I’m a man now?”

“Well, Jeffrey Dahmer was a man, so the bar is low.” Buffy stopped and gazed at him. The moonlight glistened in her eyes as she gently touched the bruises on his face. “Do you think you’re not?”

“Thought making amends would be a good first step.” He held his breath while he took in the angles of her nose, her large sad eyes, the fluttering kiss of her fingers.

“You tried to kill me,” she said softly. “Then you helped me save the world. And now look at you with your soul without your demon. You’ve survived more and grown more than most men could dream.”

She shook her head sharply, the trance broken, and continued walking him down the block. “We need to get you patched up. Infections are totally a thing.”

He still craved her touch. “‘ow’d you know where I was?”

“Sam thought you were acting weird. I followed you.”

Spike hoped they weren’t walking far. As the fight drained out of him, the pain grew, his head throbbing, knuckles aching, one ankle sharp. “What do you think’s out there for an ex-vampire? Side show freakery?”

“You know what I want for you?” she asked. “I want you to find someone who could just know William Pratt, the man who has sacrificed himself for love over and over. Sometimes stupidly. Sometimes selfishly. Often perfectly.”

“You a fan of Pratt, then?”

Buffy shook her head. “Not for me, William. Be that man for her, whoever she is.”

With the stomach-churning taste of blood on his tongue, he chuckled. “You think love is in the cards for me?”

She half-smiled. “You’ve been a vampire, captured by the government, and been to Hell. I think you’re due for something good.”

They turned the corner where Dean was waiting in the freshly repaired Impala. Spike sighed but said nothing.

Buffy still picked up on his let-down. “You smell like a vampire Happy Meal. Probably better we don’t walk through town. You can crash at Dean’s. We don’t need the the girls knowing their principal beat up Crazy Basement Guy.”

“Is that what they call me?”

“Also Mystery Guy and Andrew’s Roommate.”

Spike slapped his hand over his heart in mock horror and climbed in the backseat of the Impala.

Read Giles’ dossiers on: Lili    Alma   Dani    Vi    Cloé      Molly     Lys     Grace    Wook    Keisha    Leticia     Naomi   Kate    Gabi   Jabulela

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[demitgibbs]

Justin Theroux: The Spy You Wouldn’t Mind Being Dumped By

No straight man has ever offered to make me a crop top, but Justin Theroux is no ordinary straight man. If you’ve seen him in all his shirtless, ripped, oiled glory in 2003’s Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle or bore witness to all that was bouncing around in his grey sweatpants in HBO’s The Leftovers (I know you saw that; you haven’t stopped seeing that), you have likely wished him gay.

The vers 46-year-old actor is, at least, the closest a straight man can get to being gay, palling around with the new Queer Eye posse and portraying a deep well of gay characters during his two-decade career, from Marshall in 2000’s The Broken Hearts Club to an assortment of gay Englishmen in numerous New York theater productions. Significant gay cred aside, his acting instincts have resulted in an impressive mix of unpredictable career choices rooted in pathos and humor, David Lynchian mystery and Herculean ruggedness: from 1997’s Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion on through Mulholland Drive, Strangers with Candy, Sex and the City, Zoolander and, most recently, The Spy Who Dumped Me. Directed by Susanna Fogel, the action-comedy caper stars Theroux as Drew, an on-the-run spy who inadvertently gets his ex (Mila Kunis) and her best gal pal (Kate McKinnon) embroiled in his messy assassin-fighting mission.

Things are tamer in a hotel suite in New York City on the day Theroux sits across from me with his rescue pit bull Kuma. Theroux – imagine if he dumped you; what an honor – is not wearing sweatpants. But my mock disappointment isn’t sweatpants-related; it’s knowing that he made Queer Eye guy Jonathan Van Ness a crop top but didn’t bring me one. And do I let Justin Theroux wreck the shirt on my back? I do, right? “I would so do it,” he politely insists. “If you have a t-shirt and a pair of scissors, I’m happy to quickly fashion you one.”

Let’s talk about how you invented sweatpants.

(Laughs) I invented the grey sweatpants! I brought them back, I know! You know, I was the one who made a shirt for Jonathan. We were going to gay Pride and he was like, “F*ck, I gotta go out,” and so I made him a shirt. I was like, “I wanna make one of those crop top t-shirts with the tassels,” and he ended up wearing that.

Do you regularly make crop tops for your gay friends?

No, that was the first one I’ve done. It was just like, “It’s a perfect moment in time. I’m with Jonathan and I have a t-shirt and we have scissors and I think I could pull it off.”

We’ve become a good little clutch. Tan, Antoni and Jonathan have come over a bunch of times and we’ve gone back and forth, and I’ve disappeared into the bathroom with Jonathan and we’ve talked products.

Can a straight guy have a queer eye?

Keeping my fingers crossed. Season 3! Maybe we should do a whole thing where it’s like, “Straight Eye for the Gay Guy.” Find some gay guy who’s not got his shit together and I can go and help him out. I don’t know if I’d be that helpful.

WATCH:

I must say, you’ve got your shit together.

I put a little effort in sometimes. (Queer Eye guy) Tan’s trying to get me to wear some color. I’m pretty much blacks and greys. White is technically a color for me.

We need to get you in floral.

I don’t think it’s gonna happen! I just can’t pull it off. I keep looking for a Hawaiian shirt that’s 95 percent black with just a little pop of color in the flowers.

Recently, Jonathan was obsessing over your shirtlessness in Charlie’s Angels. Is that the role most gay men fangirl over when they meet you?

I mean, the first one was actually The Broken Hearts Club, which was a movie I did years and years ago. I remember being at gay Pride and people being like, “Oh my god, this is the guy from Broken Hearts Club!” (Playing gay) was kind of my bread and butter in New York on stage. I would do Joe Orton plays, or Shopping and Fucking. I’d do all these gay Englishmen. That was my thing that was my calling card.

Why go for the gay roles?

It was something that just happened. It wasn’t like I was seeking them out. It was just something that presented itself. At the time, there was that kind of question when you’d go into the audition: “Are you comfortable kissing a guy?” “Yeah, of course.”

In 2000, some actors were being told not to play gay characters for the sake of preserving their careers. Was there any pressure on you not to play that role?

No. My agent at the time was gay, so it was never a discussion. It always boils down to, is the part good or is the play good? If the material is good, I’m happy to do it. If it’s bad, then I don’t wanna do it. But I wouldn’t want do it for a straight part either.

Did it feel like an important movie at the time for the LGBTQ community?

It didn’t, because it’s not necessarily my community. But it was one of those I was happy (about). It was the first (LGBTQ) movie that showed – at least that I had been a part of, or had seen – just a normal relationship. No one’s dying of a disease, no one’s fighting with their parents. It felt like a great episode of Thirtysomething or a great episode of This Is Us.  (Its gay themes were) just built into the fabric of the movie, as opposed to being the fabric of the movie. There weren’t big red arrows pointing at each character going, “Oh, and by the way, they’re gay!” They were functioning, normal people in their lives, which is reality. In a weird way, its normalcy was the thing that made it special and that felt like a good reason to do it.

Growing up in Washington D.C., what was your introduction to the LGBTQ community?

God, you could argue it was probably Catholic school and noticing the priests. Not their behavior; I didn’t think anything nefarious was going on. I don’t think they were doing anything horrible to the boys of the school, but I remember thinking, “These men seem effeminate and they carry themselves in a different way, and I think these guys like other men, like other gay men I’ve seen.”

They didn’t fit the typical heteronormative archetype. 

Yeah, exactly. And it was an odd kind of thing, where I thought, “Oh.” I’ve since come to think maybe the priesthood is like an enclave for people who aren’t comfortable with their sexuality and they wanna shut it down and they think, “Please make it go away. I’m just gonna go to this place and go to seminary school and hope that this feeling leaves me,” which is a shame.

You strike me as the kind of guy who’s surrounded by gay men for various reasons.

Yeah, of course. I went to a very progressive high school that had gay boys in it. In college, it becomes quickly normalized. But you can’t live in New York and not be friends with every kind of person, whether they’re gay, trans, straight, whatever.

You were ahead of the game?

Well, I think most people in the city or in pockets of the country were kind of ahead of the game. It felt like, “Wait, this conversation is still happening? Oh yeah, I guess it still is. I guess we do need to keep having this discussion.” (I) marvel at people who are still made uncomfortable by it. Like, how on earth? It’s like being made uncomfortable by a sofa; you’re like, “It’s a sofa.” It couldn’t be more normal.

You should know that you’ve been called a “gay men’s dream” by the National Enquirer, probably their most accurate reporting.

Cut to 10 years later: Ew, who’s that old guy? (Laughs)

No way. Our gay icons never age.

Oh yeah, that’s right!

So this movie: Was the title The Spy Who Dumped On Me ever considered?

(Laughs) It’s the James Bond they never made! Idris Elba, Daniel Craig, why wouldn’t you do that movie?

RELATED:

Susanna’s friends call her the “lesbian whisperer.” And, of course, Kate McKinnon is queer and one of two leading ladies in this film.

It’s so cool.

Did you get a lesbian read on Kate McKinnon’s character, Morgan, in the movie?

Yeah. But what I liked about her character: again, it wasn’t the focal (point). It’s kind of ambiguous. What she brought to the part was super hilarious. She works really hard on specific jokes, beats, alternate lines, trying to come up with other stuff that isn’t necessarily on the page or in the direction. Kate really goes in and scribbles on the sides (of her script) and it looks like A Beautiful Mind on her script. She approaches her work (in) really sort of (an) academic way.

You’re long overdue for a gay role.

What’s the last one I’ve done? Maybe (my character) Kevin Garvey from The Leftovers is, who knows. Don’t tell anybody. No, I’m joking. (Laughs) You could argue he was really put-upon and maybe that was the reason why, ’cause he was in a hetero marriage.

(Theroux’s handler peeks in to say, “One last question.” “Two more,” Theroux whispers, giving me two fingers.)

What would you look for in a gay role now?

I don’t know. It’s really always the story. I want the story to be good and compelling. I want the character to be good and compelling, and that could be anything. A la Broken Hearts Club, you do sort of hope that eventually these all become just the background to the characters, because it’s way more interesting just playing the relationship and playing the story than it is playing the orientation.

If you were to date any of the guys you have played in your career, which ones might you go for? Personally, I’d shack up with Joe from Six Feet Under.

Joe in Six Feet Under was a sweetheart. But if I dated Joe, he was straight, and so I think that would be problematic.

He’s only straight till he drinks four beers.

Until he drinks four beers, then all bets are off! The bondage gear comes out. Like, we all know Joe liked being tied to the bed. (Laughs) I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d really wanna date. And it’s weird to think about dating yourself. Just visually awkward.

Actually, Matt McGrath’s Broken Hearts character was an adorable character. But I don’t know, I played some pretty f*cked up guys, so they all seem like they’re not great relationship material.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/08/16/justin-theroux-the-spy-you-wouldnt-mind-being-dumped-by/ from Hot Spots Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.tumblr.com/post/177060262410

[hotspotsmagazine]

Justin Theroux: The Spy You Wouldn’t Mind Being Dumped By

No straight man has ever offered to make me a crop top, but Justin Theroux is no ordinary straight man. If you’ve seen him in all his shirtless, ripped, oiled glory in 2003’s Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle or bore witness to all that was bouncing around in his grey sweatpants in HBO’s The Leftovers (I know you saw that; you haven’t stopped seeing that), you have likely wished him gay.

The vers 46-year-old actor is, at least, the closest a straight man can get to being gay, palling around with the new Queer Eye posse and portraying a deep well of gay characters during his two-decade career, from Marshall in 2000’s The Broken Hearts Club to an assortment of gay Englishmen in numerous New York theater productions. Significant gay cred aside, his acting instincts have resulted in an impressive mix of unpredictable career choices rooted in pathos and humor, David Lynchian mystery and Herculean ruggedness: from 1997’s Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion on through Mulholland Drive, Strangers with Candy, Sex and the City, Zoolander and, most recently, The Spy Who Dumped Me. Directed by Susanna Fogel, the action-comedy caper stars Theroux as Drew, an on-the-run spy who inadvertently gets his ex (Mila Kunis) and her best gal pal (Kate McKinnon) embroiled in his messy assassin-fighting mission.

Things are tamer in a hotel suite in New York City on the day Theroux sits across from me with his rescue pit bull Kuma. Theroux – imagine if he dumped you; what an honor – is not wearing sweatpants. But my mock disappointment isn’t sweatpants-related; it’s knowing that he made Queer Eye guy Jonathan Van Ness a crop top but didn’t bring me one. And do I let Justin Theroux wreck the shirt on my back? I do, right? “I would so do it,” he politely insists. “If you have a t-shirt and a pair of scissors, I’m happy to quickly fashion you one.”

Let’s talk about how you invented sweatpants.

(Laughs) I invented the grey sweatpants! I brought them back, I know! You know, I was the one who made a shirt for Jonathan. We were going to gay Pride and he was like, “F*ck, I gotta go out,” and so I made him a shirt. I was like, “I wanna make one of those crop top t-shirts with the tassels,” and he ended up wearing that. 

Do you regularly make crop tops for your gay friends?

No, that was the first one I’ve done. It was just like, “It’s a perfect moment in time. I’m with Jonathan and I have a t-shirt and we have scissors and I think I could pull it off.”

We’ve become a good little clutch. Tan, Antoni and Jonathan have come over a bunch of times and we’ve gone back and forth, and I’ve disappeared into the bathroom with Jonathan and we’ve talked products.

Can a straight guy have a queer eye?

Keeping my fingers crossed. Season 3! Maybe we should do a whole thing where it’s like, “Straight Eye for the Gay Guy.” Find some gay guy who’s not got his shit together and I can go and help him out. I don’t know if I’d be that helpful.

WATCH:

I must say, you’ve got your shit together.

I put a little effort in sometimes. (Queer Eye guy) Tan’s trying to get me to wear some color. I’m pretty much blacks and greys. White is technically a color for me. 

We need to get you in floral.

I don’t think it’s gonna happen! I just can’t pull it off. I keep looking for a Hawaiian shirt that’s 95 percent black with just a little pop of color in the flowers. 

Recently, Jonathan was obsessing over your shirtlessness in Charlie’s Angels. Is that the role most gay men fangirl over when they meet you?

I mean, the first one was actually The Broken Hearts Club, which was a movie I did years and years ago. I remember being at gay Pride and people being like, “Oh my god, this is the guy from Broken Hearts Club!” (Playing gay) was kind of my bread and butter in New York on stage. I would do Joe Orton plays, or Shopping and Fucking. I’d do all these gay Englishmen. That was my thing that was my calling card. 

Why go for the gay roles?

It was something that just happened. It wasn’t like I was seeking them out. It was just something that presented itself. At the time, there was that kind of question when you’d go into the audition: “Are you comfortable kissing a guy?” “Yeah, of course.” 

In 2000, some actors were being told not to play gay characters for the sake of preserving their careers. Was there any pressure on you not to play that role?

No. My agent at the time was gay, so it was never a discussion. It always boils down to, is the part good or is the play good? If the material is good, I’m happy to do it. If it’s bad, then I don’t wanna do it. But I wouldn’t want do it for a straight part either. 

Did it feel like an important movie at the time for the LGBTQ community?

It didn’t, because it’s not necessarily my community. But it was one of those I was happy (about). It was the first (LGBTQ) movie that showed – at least that I had been a part of, or had seen – just a normal relationship. No one’s dying of a disease, no one’s fighting with their parents. It felt like a great episode of Thirtysomething or a great episode of This Is Us.  (Its gay themes were) just built into the fabric of the movie, as opposed to being the fabric of the movie. There weren’t big red arrows pointing at each character going, “Oh, and by the way, they’re gay!” They were functioning, normal people in their lives, which is reality. In a weird way, its normalcy was the thing that made it special and that felt like a good reason to do it. 

Growing up in Washington D.C., what was your introduction to the LGBTQ community?

God, you could argue it was probably Catholic school and noticing the priests. Not their behavior; I didn’t think anything nefarious was going on. I don’t think they were doing anything horrible to the boys of the school, but I remember thinking, “These men seem effeminate and they carry themselves in a different way, and I think these guys like other men, like other gay men I’ve seen.” 

They didn’t fit the typical heteronormative archetype. 

Yeah, exactly. And it was an odd kind of thing, where I thought, “Oh.” I’ve since come to think maybe the priesthood is like an enclave for people who aren’t comfortable with their sexuality and they wanna shut it down and they think, “Please make it go away. I’m just gonna go to this place and go to seminary school and hope that this feeling leaves me,” which is a shame. 

You strike me as the kind of guy who’s surrounded by gay men for various reasons.

Yeah, of course. I went to a very progressive high school that had gay boys in it. In college, it becomes quickly normalized. But you can’t live in New York and not be friends with every kind of person, whether they’re gay, trans, straight, whatever. 

You were ahead of the game?

Well, I think most people in the city or in pockets of the country were kind of ahead of the game. It felt like, “Wait, this conversation is still happening? Oh yeah, I guess it still is. I guess we do need to keep having this discussion.” (I) marvel at people who are still made uncomfortable by it. Like, how on earth? It’s like being made uncomfortable by a sofa; you’re like, “It’s a sofa.” It couldn’t be more normal. 

You should know that you’ve been called a “gay men’s dream” by the National Enquirer, probably their most accurate reporting.

Cut to 10 years later: Ew, who’s that old guy? (Laughs) 

No way. Our gay icons never age.

Oh yeah, that’s right!

So this movie: Was the title The Spy Who Dumped On Me ever considered?

(Laughs) It’s the James Bond they never made! Idris Elba, Daniel Craig, why wouldn’t you do that movie? 

RELATED:

Susanna’s friends call her the “lesbian whisperer.” And, of course, Kate McKinnon is queer and one of two leading ladies in this film.

It’s so cool. 

Did you get a lesbian read on Kate McKinnon’s character, Morgan, in the movie?

Yeah. But what I liked about her character: again, it wasn’t the focal (point). It’s kind of ambiguous. What she brought to the part was super hilarious. She works really hard on specific jokes, beats, alternate lines, trying to come up with other stuff that isn’t necessarily on the page or in the direction. Kate really goes in and scribbles on the sides (of her script) and it looks like A Beautiful Mind on her script. She approaches her work (in) really sort of (an) academic way. 

You’re long overdue for a gay role.

What’s the last one I’ve done? Maybe (my character) Kevin Garvey from The Leftovers is, who knows. Don’t tell anybody. No, I’m joking. (Laughs) You could argue he was really put-upon and maybe that was the reason why, ’cause he was in a hetero marriage.

(Theroux’s handler peeks in to say, “One last question.” “Two more,” Theroux whispers, giving me two fingers.)

What would you look for in a gay role now?

I don’t know. It’s really always the story. I want the story to be good and compelling. I want the character to be good and compelling, and that could be anything. A la Broken Hearts Club, you do sort of hope that eventually these all become just the background to the characters, because it’s way more interesting just playing the relationship and playing the story than it is playing the orientation.

If you were to date any of the guys you have played in your career, which ones might you go for? Personally, I’d shack up with Joe from Six Feet Under.

Joe in Six Feet Under was a sweetheart. But if I dated Joe, he was straight, and so I think that would be problematic.

He’s only straight till he drinks four beers.

Until he drinks four beers, then all bets are off! The bondage gear comes out. Like, we all know Joe liked being tied to the bed. (Laughs) I don’t know if there’s anyone I’d really wanna date. And it’s weird to think about dating yourself. Just visually awkward.

Actually, Matt McGrath’s Broken Hearts character was an adorable character. But I don’t know, I played some pretty f*cked up guys, so they all seem like they’re not great relationship material.

from Hotspots! Magazine https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2018/08/16/justin-theroux-the-spy-you-wouldnt-mind-being-dumped-by/