[Reviews - 137]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2456 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks for the feedback - it's what makes me update quickly (hint, hint!)
Chapter 7



Professor Michael Mackness leant back from his crouched position over his computer with a groan. I must learn to stretch more often, he thought as he tried to rub the ache out of his shoulders.

He thought back over the last few years, to when he was a happily married man with twin boys and a satisfying job at the university. True, his peers rather looked down at him because of his research into demonology, magic and legend, but life had been good until five years ago, when his wife died, leaving him with two teenagers and not an idea of how to bring them up.

Well, he thought, I couldn’t have done a bad job - they have both gone to university. But that was when he realised how much he had relied on his wife to look after the finances. Sending both his sons to Cambridge was very satisfying but also very expensive. Money had become such a problem that he had reluctantly thought about selling the family home, and buying a much smaller house further out of London. Then out of the blue, a man had contacted him.

“Professor Mackness? My name is Martin Fraser, I saw you on TV the other night, and I was so interested that I managed to get hold of your book – “Vampires and demons – fact or fiction?”.”

Michael was a little embarrassed about the rather populist book, which he had been persuaded to write, as a way of raising some money. It had not been a success, had barely covered expenses and it had not been well received at the university either. Then when the first Harry Potter novel had been published, a BBC researcher had contacted him and asked him to come on to a children’s TV show, called “Blue Peter”. He had agreed and, since then, they had wheeled him out whenever there was a discussion on magic or demons.

A couple of days before, the BBC had contacted him again to talk about the new Harry Potter film. This time he managed to get a plug in for his book, hoping that it would get back into print, and earn him some much needed money.

He had realised that the man was still speaking. “I wonder if I could have a few moments of your time Professor. I think you can solve a problem for me about the disposal of certain, um, creatures.”

That was how it had started. Fraser had offered him twice the salary he received from his teaching job, research facilities and the incredible information that vampires not only existed, but that there were hundreds of them infesting the Underground railway system. All he had to do was to work out a way of ridding them of this “problem”. He felt as if his life’s work had been vindicated and the only blot on the horizon was that he was sworn to secrecy.

“If word gets out Professor – think about the panic it would cause – not to mention the loss of business for London Underground.”

So here he was, with an office larger than the Dean of the University’s and a small, but well equipped research facility. True, he couldn’t share his work or research with anyone else, but he had always been a lone wolf and it gave him such great satisfaction. The company employed a team of men who were paid well not to ask any questions. They were a bit rough around the edges – no who was he fooling – they were rough all the way through, and not a little stupid. But he was happier than he’d ever been, with actual vampires to study and catalogue, in fact they had brought him so many, that he’d had to stop the supply just recently, to give him time to catch up.

In fact that was why he was spending so much time crouched over this damned PC, there was an enormous amount of information to catalogue. He had discovered that the forehead ridges of each vampire were slightly different and was busily scanning in the digital photographs he had taken. At first he just used a few randomly selected vampires to keep for his tests, but he found that they seemed to either lose interest in living, or went mad when deprived of their food for any length of time, and even demons didn’t deserve to suffer that much. So now he asked for a fresh supply of the demons every few days, to enable him to cope with all the new information, and then had them disposed of. He had almost lost one of his “assistants” the first week, when a vampire tore through the bindings they thought were unbreakable, and he had to hastily bring in some reinforced steel manacles to restrain them, when he was taking measurements and samples.

He was shaken from his reverie, when someone pounded on his door. He frowned in annoyance, “Who’s that? I thought I told you that I was not to be disturbed.”

Johnson, one of the disposal team, popped his head round the door, “You told us to let you know if we saw anything special Prof. - well come and see this!” The man was practically hopping up and down with excitement.

Michael sighed, “OK, I need a break anyway – what is it? A new type of ….”

He was interrupted by an unearthly howling.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Hilda Norton had smiled vaguely at the tweed-suited men who’d knocked on her door. No, she knew nothing about any unconscious men at her employer’s house; she only worked there a few hours a week. She brightened up, what had happened? Were they burglars? Had there been any fighting? Was there blood? Could she come and look? They were uninterested in her questions and seemed desperate to get away after a few minutes.

When they had left, she’d collapsed against the door trying to stifle her chuckles. It was a shame that she had no-one to share the fun with, knowing that she could never tell anyone – not even her own coven – what had happened over the last day or so.

The next morning, she busied herself in the garden, garnering herbs and vegetables, and weeding as she went along. At last, a little tired, she made herself a cup of tea, and reflected upon all the events of the last couple of days - the three unique people that had come into her life. A Watcher, a Slayer and a Vampire, mmm sounds like the title of a bad novel she thought to herself, although who would believe a story like that!

The Watcher – there was a misnomer if you like – he couldn’t see what was happening under his very nose – or perhaps he just didn’t want to see that the vampire loved the Slayer. He was unusual, a Watcher who thought of his charge as his daughter, she thought uneasily. If he allowed himself to recognise the facts, then he wouldn’t hesitate to stake Spike. Well, all she could do was hope that Buffy would see Spike for what he was before that happened.

And then there was the Slayer, a beautiful, strong young woman who held the non-beating heart of the vampire in the palm of her hand. A classic case of denial if she had ever seen one. Though who was to blame her, after all it was what she had been taught – all vampires are evil, murdering monsters – and to admit to anything else was to deny her calling. If only they hadn’t had to rush off, perhaps I might have convinced her that this vampire is different from the blueprint, Mrs Norton thought sadly.

And then Spike, ah Spike, she thought, if only I were ten years younger (well all right twenty), she smiled to herself. The first time she saw him, she had known what he was, and her first instinct was to destroy him there and then. Then she saw his aura, and was absolutely staggered. No demon that she had ever seen or read about had colour in its aura, yet parts of this creature’s glowed. It left her wondering if she had made a mistake, so she exposed his hand to the sun, which had proved beyond doubt that he was a vampire. His first reaction should have been to launch himself at her and rip out her throat, but instead (after a bit of colourful cursing) he had apologised! And then he had engaged her in a lively conversation, only quietening when the Slayer had entered the room.

She had seen his face when he caught sight of Buffy and, for a second, the hard expression he used normally had slipped and his love shone out. She smiled ruefully and had to admit to a small shaft of jealousy, but they had made a magnificent, if incongruous, couple

Suddenly she gasped and doubled over in agony – was this what a heart attack felt like?
No, she felt a blade of pain in her back and another in her upper leg – she was sure that the left arm was involved in a heart attack, not the left leg. She muttered a few words and forced the pain down, examining herself for wounds or marks of any kind. She could see nothing, even when she stripped off in the bathroom and looked awkwardly over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. Then the pain faded into the background, and she almost sobbed in relief. Staggering into her bedroom, she lay down and tried to think what could have caused this. She must have dozed off, because she woke with an almost unbearable pain in her throat. She gasped and choked putting her hands to her neck – what the hell was going on? Then an unearthly howling filled her mind.


-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Buffy groaned, and tried to push away the hand that was shaking her shoulder.

“Buffy! Thank goodness you are awake.”

She opened her eyes to see a relieved Giles smiling down at her, and pulled herself up on to her elbows. She groaned again.

“The nausea and dizziness should stop in a few moments” he said reassuringly.

She looked around. They were alone in a large room with bunk beds around the walls, “Where’s Spike?”

“Oh, I expect he ran off at the first sign of trouble,” Giles sounded resigned.

“No he didn’t.” Buffy then explained to him what had happened.

“He carried me?”

“Yeah, and half carried me too. The last thing I remember was him sheltering us and trying to fight off a crowd of humans. Where are we? Have you looked around? Maybe he is in a different place?”

“Buffy, we have to face the fact that he is probably dust by now.”

She looked at him blankly, no that couldn’t be right – Spike no longer existed? Her heart clenched in her chest, and she found suddenly that it was difficult to breathe

“I won’t believe that until we have searched this whole place from top to bottom.” She said firmly.

Suddenly they heard a faint and unearthly howling.





You must login (register) to review.