Chapter Forty-One
For almost a week, the occupants of the safehouse waited with increasing tension for the story to hit the newsstands. Worryingly, they had heard nothing from Henry since he’d called to confirm the receipt of the photographs Willow had emailed him two days after his visit.
The waiting affected Spike and Mark the most. Mark, however, though nervous of the publicity that would undoubtedly surround the report, had seemed to come to terms a little with what had happened to him. He began to see the others as allies in bringing Maggie to justice and realised that what had happened to him might be the only way to get public opinion on side to close the place down. Dread still filled him at the thought of the world knowing how he’d been mutilated.
Strangely, it was Spike who seemed best able to communicate with Mark, and the pair was often found in each other’s company. The vampire had studiously avoided looking at the images of himself on Willow’s digital camera, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to avoid them once the story broke. He didn’t want to see the freak that they had made him. From the other trackers, he knew how bad his eyes looked and though Buffy never seemed to recoil from them, Spike couldn’t help but wonder how she could love him looking as he did.
The familiar burst of static accompanied Willow’s return from buying the morning newspaper. Today it was also accompanied with a yell.
“Everyone! We’re headline news!” she called out. “I’ll put the TV on in the living room.”
A few minutes later, they were all gathered together pouring over the newspapers.
The Initiative: Good or Evil?
The story beneath the headline called into question the methods used in training vampires and went on to cite what had happened to Buffy’s sons and Mark at the hands of Maggie Walsh. Mark’s photo to his utter relief, was pixelated out and only his first name was given, allowing him the chance of a normal life once it the news faded from the public eye.
Spike’s worst fears were realised when he found his face staring back at him from the front page. The image used had him looking to the side, but with one eye blindly staring straight forward, it was an unsettling sight.
Henry had done them proud. The story covered the front page and continued for four more pages inside. There was even a photograph of Maggie Walsh scowling at the camera as she strode to her car.
Buffy tuned the TV to Sky News and soon the story was prominently featured on there too. Henry had obviously contacted the television station to offer them an interview once The Times had been printed, for there he was talking on the programme.
“So, Henry,” said the host, “you have spoken to this vampire personally?” The man tapped a photograph of Spike with his fingertips.
“Yes I have. When not controlled by the programming the Initiative instils, he is capable of speech and of rational thought.”
“I find that hard to believe. This footage shows what vampires are really like.” As he continued to speak, film of vampires attacking humans played over the screen. “Are you really telling us that vampires are just like us?”
“Carl, I am not trying to say that at all. In fact, if you bothered to read the article, you would know that I am not suggesting that the vampires should be freed back into society.”
The camera returned to Henry’s face.
“What I am saying is, by doing this to them, doesn’t it make us the demons? I spoke at length with both the former tracker in question and with the retired slayer, Buffy Summers. Both agreed that if vampires are a problem, then the only solution is to stake them rather than to trap them, torture them and mutilate them.”
Carl sneered slightly. “The vampire calls himself Spike, doesn’t he? Not a very endearing thing to call oneself.”
“My sister had a dog named after an old movie, Zoltan: Hound of Hell, but that wouldn’t make it right for the animal to be blinded, or to have digits ripped off, or to have an implant in its brain that could cause such pain as to make it pass out.”
“Vivisection in the name of medical science is not illegal,” countered Carl, leaning towards Henry. “Tell me, how is this different?”
“Vampires were human once. They are more aware of what is happening than say a rabbit or a rat. And how is medical science improved by replacing their eyes with cameras that can relay images only back to a computer if they so wish? How is cutting the arms off a vampire to prevent it from damaging the implanted eyes going to advance medicine?” Seeing Carl struggling to counter it, Henry rapidly continued.
“Let’s take the vampires out of the equation for a moment. What of the workers there? What of anyone who gets in the way of Professor Maggie Walsh’s programme?”
“Ah, Henry, you are referring to the disgruntled employees that you spoke with.” Carl’s tone was condescending.
“I think you’d be disgruntled if your boss castrated you for failing in a task, don’t you?”
Carl’s face blanched and a snort of laughter was heard off camera.
“Mark,” continued Henry, suppressing a smile at how discomforted the presenter was, “had worked for that woman for twenty years. He’d travelled to the UK on her orders to help set up the branch over here, yet when a scheme cooked up by Walsh failed, she castrated him. I have seen it with my own eyes, Carl. That man will never be the same again and the only reason for that is Maggie Walsh.”
Henry sat up straight. “There is one photograph that I withheld from the newspapers.” He slid a 10x8 photograph across the shiny surface of the desk to Carl. “When they had gelded him, like you would a horse, he was thrown in with this creature.”
All the people in the living room held their breaths as they watched a whole gamut of emotions pass over Carl’s face.
Before the man could speak, Henry pushed another photograph towards him. “The picture is not a fake as I have met and spoken with the man whose lower body that is.”
“But he’s…” Carl stopped, his hand to his mouth, shaking his head. “How can he live like that?”
“That poor man,” Henry looked straight into the camera, “fell foul of Professor Maggie Walsh. He was then used as an experiment, his lower body taken away. Drugs have kept him from questioning his existence, and Walsh’s technology is undoubtedly keeping him alive.” He picked up the photograph and looked at it for a moment. “That woman also kept his lower half alive by attaching it to someone else’s torso!” With a flourish, he flipped the photo over and for a moment the image of Lilah was broadcast live to viewers world-wide, before the camera angle was suddenly changed.
Carl regained his composure a little. “Henry, you are renowned for your integrity, yet you come on here and use circus tricks to shock the viewers.”
“They are not tricks.” Henry once again looked directly at the camera with a red light on the top of it. “Ask Professor Walsh to show you round her facility today. She will stall you. No doubt, the poor creature in that photograph will be destroyed, but the man who has been so cruelly mutilated, is alive and in a safe place.”
For a moment the two men stared at each other, before Henry once again took control of the interview. “It could be said that, the man who was castrated deserved what he got for being involved with the Initiative, but I would like to show you some footage now of two boys – young men – who had absolutely nothing to do with the Initiative until Maggie Walsh stole back the tracker whose ownership had been officially transferred to that of the retired slayer, Buffy Summers.”
Craig gave a gasp as images of him on the pitcher’s mound filled the screen. Buffy leaned over and squeezed his hand. Henry’s voice continued over the film.
“This is Craig Evans, Buffy Summers’ eldest son. A baseball scholarship to a good college was thought to be the stepping stone for his professional career in the major leagues.”
The video stopped and was replaced by still pictures of Craig’s right arm.
“Craig’s arm and his career were shattered by Maggie Walsh. The newly recaptured Seventeen, as Spike was referred to in the programme, wasn’t cooperating. So she used the one weapon that she knew would work. A threat of violence towards the people he had lived with as family.”
“A threat, Henry?” Carl said. “Those photographs look like more than a threat was carried out.”
The camera returned to the men.
“You’re right. In order for a threat to work – first you have to prove that you will carry it through. This is what they did to make Spike behave as they wished him to.”
“Uh…I don’t think I want to see this.” Craig stood up and ran out of the room.
On the television, the film of the attack on Craig that Cameron had downloaded from the Initiative’s files was played in full.
As one, the people gathered in the living room winced when Craig was knocked to the ground and then had his arm twisted until the joint exploded. Cameron heaved himself up with his sticks and walked slowly out to find his brother. He knew that his injuries were to be the next to be shown, and he really didn’t need to see footage of being able to walk with ease, while he was stuck with struggling along with the sticks.
He found his brother on the patio at the rear of the house.
“Hey,” he said, lowering himself into one of the chairs.
Craig glanced at him over his shoulder and inclined his head. “Hey, yourself.”
Silence stretched between them, before Craig spoke again. “I know it’s stupid, when I see what’s happened to everyone else.” He cast another glance at his brother before looking off. “I mean…look at what they did to you… but…” He shook his head and breathed in deeply.
“But it hurt like hell to see you pitching?” Cam’s voice was low and heavy with emotion.
Craig’s shoulders tensed. “But it shouldn’t, should it? I mean… how can I even think that when you can’t… when you…”
Cam got to his feet and crossed the few yards to his brother. “They may have fucked up my legs, Craig, but they didn’t destroy my dream.” He eased both walking sticks into one hand and tapped at his temple with the fingers of the other. “I always just wanted to use this – and I still can.”
“Oh, God, Cam.” Craig’s face crumpled and he batted impatiently at his eyes as tears began to overflow. “But you want to be a surgeon. You can’t even stand unaided.”
“If House can still be a doctor, then I guess I can too.”
“What?” Craig met Cameron’s gaze properly for the first time. “House is a fucking TV character.”
“I know.” Cam took back a stick in each hand. “Principle’s the same though.” He grinned at him.
“Oh, shit, little brother…” Craig stepped closer and pulled Cam into a crushing hug. “How can you say that?”
“Uh…need to breathe,” said Cam. “And sit down,” he added when Craig released his hold on him.
Craig helped him to a chair and pulled one up so that he was sitting opposite Cam.
“Look, Craig, don’t feel guilty about my injuries. Don’t try to compare who’s been hurt the most. For a start, I think the winner of that would be Spike or maybe Mark.” Cam ran a hand through his hair before staring intently at his brother. “Um… I’ve been thinking, and maybe vampire blood could help you too? I think the elbow would have to be re-broken and maybe even the plates removed, but I think I could make it work.”
“Hey, hey, slow down.” Craig held his hands up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I still remember everything – from in there.” Cam met his brother’s eyes. “I know how to operate.” He leaned forwards. “I think I can fix you.”
Leaping to his feet with a speed that caused a pang in Cameron, Crag shook his head. “No way are you cutting me up!”
Seeing the wild expression in Craig’s eyes, Cam decided not to pursue it. He’d planted the seed, and he knew that his brother would come back to him about it one day soon.
*~*~*~*
“I want to speak to Henry Garthorpe, please.”
“May I take your name please, and what’s it regarding?” The telephonist’s voice had a nasal quality to it.
“Brian Lancaster, and it’s about the vampire on the front page of today’s paper.”
“Please hold while I put you through.”
Brian ran a hand over his face, he hadn’t really expected the journalist to be available, and now felt uncertain what use his little bit of information would be. But the vampire’s plea to be killed had stayed with him, as did the way the soldier had treated him. If someone had done that to his sheepdog, Moss, Brian would have punched the bastard.
“Henry Garthorpe.”
The journalist’s voice cut through Brian’s thoughts.
“Uh…hello, my name’s Brian Lancaster, but…er…you already know that…um—”
“Sir,” Henry said patiently, “I understand you have some information regarding the vampire in my report?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s right. I saw him…it was a few weeks ago now. He came into my farm yard and—”
“Where is that, exactly?”
Brian gave Henry the full address and explained how they had been warned of an escaped mental patient.
“The man in the report…not the one who…uh…who…”
“You mean Riley Finn?”
“Yes. That’s him. Well, I’m not sure what he’s doing being on the vampire’s side now, because when he came to collect him, he was a right bastard. Made the vampire scream in pain and stomped on his bollocks as he lay helpless. I mean…you wouldn’t treat a bloody dog like that.”
“That is our point exactly, Mr. Lancaster.”
“One thing stayed with me and that’s why I’m calling you today. I know that vampires are evil and soulless, but I swear when something that looks so much like a man begs you to kill him; it makes you think just who the monster is. Whatever he was or is – on that night at my farm, he was petrified of going back there.”
“Can I quote you on that, Mr. Lancaster?”
“Yes, I hope it helps, ‘cause it’s just not right.”
The men said their goodbyes and hung up. Within an hour, Henry had organised a team of telephonists to take down details as more calls like Brian Lancaster’s flooded in.
A public enquiry into the methods used in the Initiative was being called for, and the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals of all things, had been granted permission by the government to inspect all the vampires and demons in the facility.
Henry leaned back in his chair and grinned. Tomorrow he was meeting with Professor Maggie Walsh. The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to take the bitch down.
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