How I Survived My Summer Vacation Page 8

  “I gave it my all,” he repeated.

  “But your all . . . wasn’t enough,” Absalom said.

  He brought his right hand around. In it he held a stake.

  Before Kevin could so much as cry out, he was dust.

  The Anointed One shifted on the throne and sighed.

  “Do not lose patience, my prince,” Absalom said soothingly. “I will find a spell to undo the consecrated protection.”

  He turned to the vampire who had been watching from the shadows. “Which cemetery?” he asked her.

  She smiled. “Shady Hill,” she replied. “They buried his bones in Shady Hill.”

  Absalom smiled broadly. His fangs glistened. His eyes glowed.

  “Not for long, little sister,” he promised. “Praise be, not for long. For I say unto you, before this season dies, our Master will live again.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Rupert Giles.

  “I’ll never understand you, Rupert,” Jenny Calendar replied lightly, though Giles could hear the nervousness in her voice. It was their first night together on patrol. He figured she was entitled. “It’s the middle of the night. We’re in a graveyard. What’s not to like?”

  “And here I was actually afraid I might miss Buffy this summer,” Giles remarked.

  “Are you comparing me to a teenager?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “Or not.”

  But perishing brought Giles right back to his original problem.

  I’d really much rather be patrolling on my own.

  But with the Slayer gone for the summer, that simply wasn’t an option. Giles needed all the help guarding the Hellmouth that he could get. At the moment, that meant patrolling with Jenny Calendar, a thing Giles had definite mixed feelings about.

  Jenny was brave. She’d proved that during the fatal encounter with the Master. Fatal to the Master, that is. But she was also inexperienced, not accustomed to the rigors of patrol.

  Not only that, being one-on-one with her in a potentially dangerous situation was proving difficult for Giles in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

  I’m far too old to become a slave to my own hormones.

  He did have them. It was true. And, at the moment, they were working overtime.

  Because the rest of the truth was that Rupert Giles was having serious feelings for Jenny Calendar. Feelings he was afraid would interfere with his ability to fight effectively when she was by his side. He’d been raised to be a gentleman, as well as a Watcher.

  A combination that in this case, he very much feared had the potential to become a fatal double whammy. The urge to protect those for whom he felt responsible was strong.

  Carefully, Giles avoided stepping into a gopher hole. Or at least he hoped it was a gopher hole, and not a place where something small, nasty, and underworldly had crawled up to see what was going on. He turned to warn Jenny to be careful.

  He was just in time to watch her drop to her knees, a stake in one clenched fist, and sink it full force into the hole. She pulled her arm back out, brushed dirt from the sleeve of her jacket.

  “It’s all right. It’s just a gopher hole,” she announced.

  Giles felt his stomach lurch, then settle. This was much worse than he had thought.

  “Do you suppose you could be a little less precipitous?” he asked, his tone sharp.

  Jenny got to her feet, tucking the stake into the back waistband of her pants. She made such a big production of it that Giles knew she was hurt. “I said it was just a gopher hole.”

  “You had no way of knowing that ahead of time,” Giles went on. “You could have been sucked right in by . . . whatever might be down there.”

  Jenny eyed what was left of the hole a little doubtfully. “I don’t think I’d fit through there, Rupert.”

  “Anything can be made to fit anywhere if sufficient force is exerted,” Giles said shortly.

  “All right,” Jenny challenged with a lift of her chin. “What would you have done?”

  “Used my foot,” Giles replied.

  He moved away, his walk betraying his continued agitation.

  “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Jenny asked as she hurried to keep up. “I can always tell.”

  “I am not.”

  They walked a few steps in silence.

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “I’m doing what again?” Giles asked. The pace of his walk slowed.

  “Wishing I’d be a good little woman and just stay home.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m a male chauvinist?” Giles said, stopping altogether. “That’s degrading to us both.”

  “That’s right, it is,” Jenny said, growing heated in her turn. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d just knock it off. I can take care of myself, Rupert. You ought to know that by now.”

  “It’s not your abilities I doubt,” Giles snapped. “It’s —”

  “Get down!”

  Without warning, Jenny hurled herself forward, crashing into Giles’s chest and knocking them both to the ground. Giles felt the breath shoot from his lungs.

  “Miss Calendar — Jenny,” he managed to gasp out. “Much as I appreciate your boldness, I hardly think —”

  “I saw something,” Jenny whispered as she rolled off him. “I’m pretty sure it landed in those trees over there.”

  She pointed. Giles could see her extended forefinger tremble ever so slightly.

  “I don’t see anything,” he said as he got cautiously to his knees. “But the trees would provide excellent cover.”

  “What should we do now?” Jenny asked. “I know. We could split up, try to trap it between us.”

  She boosted herself to her feet, staying low. Before she could take so much as a step, Giles’s arm flashed out. He gripped her wrist tightly, halting her forward momentum.

  “Absolutely not.”

  Jenny’s head swiveled to face him. “What?”

  “Absolutely not,” Giles said again. “We don’t know what it is. There’s strength in numbers. We go together, or not at all.”

  “Well, all right,” Jenny said, her tone aggrieved. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is.”

  Jenny jerked her arm away. “The macho look does not become you.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement.” Giles got to his feet in a crouch. “Stay behind me.”

  He began to lope toward the trees, staying low. As he ran, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a stake.

  Giles didn’t know if what they were facing was a vampire, but it seemed as good a place as any to start. The followers of the recently vanquished Master were scattered, but they were still very much present.

  And unless he missed his guess, they had revenge on their minds.

  Giles slowed his pace as the trees loomed ahead. No sense in rushing in blindly, he thought.

  “You’re sure you saw something?” he whispered to Jenny.

  “I’m sure,” she whispered back. “I still think we —”

  “Well, well,” a voice interrupted. “Look who’s come to call. So nice of you to pay a visit. And you’ve even brought a date along.”

  Giles stopped cold. So suddenly that Jenny crashed into him, making him stumble. He gestured for Jenny to keep behind him. In the midst of the trees, he thought he could just make out the silhouette of a figure. Tall. Slim.

  “Do you see it?”

  “I see it,” Jenny answered. “But I don’t recognize it.”

  New kid in town?

  Giles took a step closer. If Buffy were here, she’d fight first and ask questions later. But that wasn’t Giles’s style. “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,” he announced.

  “In more ways than one,” came the reply from the trees. There was a rustle of sound as the thing launched itself toward him. Giles felt a movement at his back.

  “Jenny, no!”

  But Jenny was already off and running, angling away from Gil
es toward the far right of the clump of trees. Trying to divide and conquer, Giles thought. He saw their unknown adversary skid to a stop.

  Giles hesitated, his body swept by warring instincts. His brain said he should go left, countering Jenny, complementing her action. Trying to put the thing they faced between them.

  His gut said he should protect Jenny at all costs.

  His brain never even stood a chance.

  With an oath, Giles sprinted after Jenny Calendar.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the thing from the trees pivot and begin to hurtle toward Jenny at a dead run.

  I’ve got to get there first.

  Giles reached Jenny just as they passed under the cover of the trees. His fingers closed around her arm, jerking her back, sharply. He heard a sickening smack as she connected with a tree trunk. Jenny tumbled to the ground and lay still.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  The figure skidded to a stop. He and Giles regarded one another. Quickly, Giles tried to take stock. His adversary was slim, a thing which Giles told himself should work to his own advantage. But he wasn’t so sure. Something about his unknown adversary’s stance reminded Giles of tightly coiled wire. Dangerous energy barely held in check.

  The figure made a movement toward Jenny. Giles stepped to block his way. The figure stepped back.

  “Nice going,” he commented. “If all the humans I had to deal with were like you, life would be a whole lot easier.”

  “Can we just dispense with the small talk?” Giles asked, heart pounding.

  “Sure. No problem.”

  How badly is Jenny hurt? Giles wondered. Did she need a doctor? A trip to the hospital? And just how furious was she going to be when she woke up?

  That was easy. Plenty. He’d never hear the end of it, in all likelihood.

  The figure glided closer, and Giles shifted position again. The only way this thing was getting to Jenny was over Giles’s dead body.

  “Just what are you, anyway?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll find out sooner or later. Actually, how about right now?”

  With a fluid motion, the figure leaped straight toward him. Giles fell backward, stumbling over Jenny’s inert form. He landed full length on his back on the damp ground. Before he could begin to rise, strong, supple fingers wrapped around his throat. Giles looked up into a pair of eyes the color of mercury.

  Quicksilver, he thought. It was probably a clue, but he seemed to be having a focus problem. Probably due to lack of oxygen.

  “I must say, this was much easier than I thought it would be,” the thing choking him said in a conversational tone. “Not that I don’t appreciate all your help, of course.”

  Giles bucked. He lifted one arm to try to drive the stake into the creature’s back, and found his arm pinned tightly to the ground. The strength of the grip on his throat never faltered.

  Giles’s breath began to come in gasps. Lights exploded behind his eyes. His chest felt like there were hot bands of iron wrapped around it, squeezing tighter and tighter.

  “But it does sort of take the fun out of things,” the figure went on. “Still, it pays to be flexible, don’t you think? I can cope.”

  “Try coping with this,” said a voice Giles recognized.

  Through his dimming vision, he saw two hands descend upon his adversary’s shoulder. The pain in Giles’s chest ceased abruptly as the thing that had been choking him flew through the air over his head. He heard a thud as it hit the ground.

  For the first time in his life, Giles found himself grateful to be staring up into the face of a vampire.

  “You all right?” Angel asked.

  “Ughhh,” Giles replied.

  Angel shrugged. “If you say so. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.

  “What do you think it was?” asked Jenny.

  The three night patrollers were gathered at Giles’s apartment. Jenny had come to not long after Angel had chased the whatever-it-was away, then resisted all of Giles’s attempts to take her to the hospital.

  “You’ve looked after me quite enough for one evening, Rupert,” she’d remarked, waspishly.

  Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, for the time being anyway, Giles had retired to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Now, they were reassembled in his living room, cups of hot liquid steaming on the coffee table.

  The vampire. The Watcher. And the pagan.

  Even Angel had taken a cup. He sat in one of Giles’s overstuffed chairs, cradling it in his hands. Apparently, he was having a let’s-fit-in-with-the-humans sort of night.

  “What were you doing in the graveyard?” Giles asked now. Jenny cleared her throat, then cocked an eyebrow at him. A signal Giles interpreted as a request to ease up on Angel a bit. After all, this was twice now he’d come to their aid. First he’d helped to rescue the Slayer. Now, her Watcher. Not to mention Jenny, herself.

  “Not that I’m not grateful, of course,” Giles went on.

  Jenny snorted. She took a sip of tea, wincing a little as it burned her tongue.

  “That’s very good. What kind is it?” she asked.

  “Irish Breakfast,” Giles replied.

  Angel set his cup down on the coffee table. Giles took a sip of tea.

  “So — what do you think we’re dealing with here?” Jenny asked once more.

  “I don’t know,” Angel replied. “But I don’t think he’s a local guy. I didn’t get a very good look at him, though. Or, not the front of him anyway. He took off as soon as I showed up. Giles is really the only one who got a good look at him. It. Whatever.”

  “Rupert?” Jenny asked.

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m a little hazy on the details,” Giles said. “I was having the life choked out of me, if you’ll recall. Still, there was something —”

  He made a face, trying to remember, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, but it seems to be gone. No doubt it will come to me when I least expect it. Probably in the middle of the night.”

  “It is the middle of the night,” Jenny reminded him.

  “Yes, well, I can’t remember anything else right now,” Giles said shortly. “But I do know that, whatever it was, it was fast and strong.”

  “I’ll go back out,” Angel said, rising to his feet. “Rattle some cages. See what crawls.” He moved to the door.

  “Take care of yourself,” Giles said suddenly.

  Angel paused. His dark eyes were unreadable as they stared across the room at the Watcher.

  “You’re welcome.”

  The ones who had followed the Master dwelled underground.

  Long tunnels sloped deep into the earth. Water seeped slowly, inexorably, from nooks and crannies. The air was close, and bitter. The kind of cold that froze men’s souls.

  Fortunately nothing that dwelled there had one.

  Absalom sat on a chunk of concrete, surveying what was left of the Master’s followers, what was left of his kingdom.

  There’s no place like home.

  But this was hardly the time to get sentimental. The Slayer must be made to pay, Absalom thought. She and all those who helped her must be made to wish they had never been born.

  Easy to say, of course. Still, every vampire needed a dream. Something to which he could aspire when the sun went down. The question was, how to accomplish it? How could he assemble the dispirited group around him into an effective fighting force?

  A force capable of exacting revenge.

  A commotion at the entrance to one of the tunnels attracted Absalom’s attention. The scuffle of footsteps. Raised voices. The sound of a fist connecting, hard.

  Then a figure he’d never seen before shot through the entrance as if shoved roughly from behind. It lost its balance, fell to its knees.

  Absalom rose to his feet.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

  Two of the vampires he’d set to
patrolling appeared at the tunnel mouth.

  “We found this lurking in the upper tunnels,” one of them said, moving to the figure who was even now trying to rise to its feet and giving it a shove. It sprawled facedown in the damp earth and lay still.

  “Your orders were to bring anything we found snooping around to you, so we . . . encouraged him to come with us.”

  “Let’s have a look at him,” Absalom said.

  The second vampire moved forward. Together, the two vamps hauled the slim figure to his feet and dragged him forward. They gave it a rough toss, depositing it facedown at Absalom’s feet. Slowly, it rose. Now Absalom could see that the interloper was a slim young man.

  He removed a snowy white handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped the mud from his face. Then he returned the handkerchief to the pocket and straightened his clothes. Only then did he address Absalom.

  “I meant no disrespect in coming here, I assure you.”

  “None taken,” the ancient vampire replied.

  Is this a creature of the Council? he wondered. Some sort of spy? Not a particularly happy thought. He looked young, but then so was the Slayer. And his speech reminded Absalom of the Watcher, clipped and precise. Still, whoever — whatever — this was was presently outnumbered by about twenty to one. Under those circumstances, it was unlikely to pose much of a threat.

  Absalom could see the faithful of the Master shifting closer out of the corners of his feral yellow eyes.

  “Who are you?” he asked. “What do you want?”

  “Actually, I think it’s more a matter of what you want,” the figure replied.

  So, Absalom thought. It was to be a challenge of some kind. He could kill now, ask questions later. Or he could keep it talking. Stall for time.

  “You think you know what that is?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “And you can get it for me.”

  “I can,” the figure replied.

  The vampires around the chamber began to mutter.

  “Quiet!” Absalom barked. He got to his feet and circled the figure. What was this? he thought. Its form was tall and slim. It held its body easily, power in reserve. A potentially dangerous adversary, the vampire thought. An opponent would never know which way it was going to strike.

  The eyes were strange, like liquid silver.