Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
Will’s breath hitched in his chest as Roger Wyndam-Pryce – Thing One – came into view, looking for all the world like a hairy Dr. Evil. All that was missing was Mr. Bigglesworth and the cheesy music from that old movie.
Time seemed to slow as Mr. Chalmers entered the room. EJ was once again overpowered and the creepy guard slapped a nylon strip around her wrists, making sure she couldn’t flip him again. Will could feel his wrist bones grating as his own guard tightened his hold.
“Slowly, now,” Thing One said, aiming a gun in Will’s direction, “and lock the door behind you, or the boy dies immediately.”
Following directions, Nathaniel locked the door and stared down his erstwhile mentor.
“Let go of me, arse-face.” EJ stomped viciously on her guard’s foot, but her soft-soled trainers deadened the impact and she was unable to wriggle out of his clutches. “Mr. Chalmers?”
He ignored the girl’s soft plea. “What is going on here, Roger? Why are you man-handling my charges?”
“Nothing for you to be concerned about, Nathaniel. I’m returning logic and balance to the program you’ve managed to cock up so completely.” He snorted his derision, steadying the gun and re-training it on William’s chest. “It’s imperative we repair the mistake I made in allowing you to treat that little monster as if he were human.”
“Letting me?” Nathaniel spluttered. “You were removed from the project by the Council Board, Roger, or don’t you remember?”
Thing One fumed, striking the desk with his fists in anger. “Because of you. Because you were too weak to see this little monster for what he truly is. He’s fooled you. Pulled the wool over your eyes.”
It’d been a long time since Will had been subjected to language and hatred that intense. His hands balled into fists and he strained against the man holding him, wanting desperately to beat the stuffing out of that hurtful, old man.
“Come now, Roger. Surely you’ve noted by now that he’s nothing more than a lad with a dormant demon. It’s lent him strength and speed – though not up to par with a young Slayer. With discipline and training, we’ve managed to keep it under control, and his progress is excellent. William is thriving as his workouts with Emma Jane show…”
“Shoot her,” Wyndam-Pryce ordered one of his cronies. A single, muffled gunshot sounded and EJ wordlessly crumpled to the floor, a red bloodstain blossoming around the hole directly above her heart.
William screamed as Mr. Chalmers knelt down next to her. “Why?” he cried, unable to believe the events of the past few moments. “EJ’s not a monster. She’s a Slayer – a good guy. Why would you…”
“She was a Slayer,” Thing One spat. “One that you contaminated by your very presence. She should have taken you out the moment you met instead of playing pat-a-cake with you. Her blood is on your hands.”
Never lowering his gun, Wyndam-Pryce looked down at the spreading puddle of blood underneath Emma Jane, and spoke to his ex-colleague: “You were paving the way for another Buffy Summers,” he sneered. “A vampire layer in the making. Never again, Chalmers. Once more our Slayers will be dutiful tools, not disobedient and willful little girls.”
Will couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. The hatred in Thing One’s voice was tangible.
“I didn’t do anything to EJ,” he sobbed, sagging in his captor’s arms. “She’s my friend.”
Mr. Chalmers cradled the girl in his arms – it was obviously too late to do anything for her – helpless as she bled out her young life in his lap without a word.
“Just a child,” he murmured.
“She was a weapon… a weapon you corrupted irreparably by involving it with that demon-spawn. Death was a mercy for her. Worthless trash that couldn’t tell the difference between a demon and a human,” Thing One barked.
The nausea overwhelmed him. Will felt lightheaded, broken. EJ had been his friend, and now she was dead… because of him. Because he was a monster. She had died for no other reason but knowing him.
Gently settling Emma Jane’s body on the ground, Nathaniel Chalmers closed her un-seeing eyes and stood, pulling his own gun from its holster under his jacket. Before he could steady his aim, his foot slipped in the viscous red fluid and he went down, hard, jarring the gun from his hand.
The sight of the gun near his feet pushed Will into action. If they were gonna call him a monster, maybe it was about time he acted like one. With no thought to his own safety, Will let out a primal scream, kicking back at the large man holding him – targeting his balls. Sure enough, the big lug went down, releasing Will with a yelp of agony.
Will looked into his eyes for a moment before grabbing the gun at his feet. Hot anger, full of disgust… and something else. Something… inhuman in their stillness. Will tore himself away from the man’s gaze and aimed his weapon at Thing One.
His hands were shaking and he knew he’d probably hurt himself before hitting his target but he no longer cared.
“You call me a demon, and… and maybe I am, S-sir,” he stammered, heart pounding away in his chest as his arms shook wildly. “But I never hurt anyone on purpose… before.”
Nothing about his situation made sense. Not EJ’s death, or Mr. Chalmers not coming to his rescue… or the total lack of fear in Thing One’s attitude. Will raised the gun higher, trying to focus through the cross-hairs to give him the most painful and deadly results.
“Don’t do it, lad,” Chalmers called from the floor. He seemed to be holding onto his ankle, unable to rise. “Fight your instincts. We’ll get through this, together.”
“So what’s stopping you, demon?” Wyndam-Pryce sneered, raising his arms in a mockery of a crucifixion. “Surely you have the balls to fire that weapon? Unless it’s too much for an ignorant beast like you. Go ahead and fire if you dare.”
Will knew he’d have just one shot. He could feel the guard creeping up behind him. His finger pulled back on the trigger a bit… then a little more, until…
“Need a little more incentive?” Thing One raised his gun and fired twice, destroying the top of Nathaniel Chalmers skull, spraying bone fragments, brain matter and fluids everywhere, including over and across William, himself.
The older Watcher appeared in front of him suddenly, yanking the gun from his nerveless fingers and slapping him hard across the face.
“I was never in danger from a little pipsqueak like you.” Thing One dismissed the possibility with a wave of his hand. “Any human worth his salt would have fired that gun and at least tried to save himself.”
Will desperately wanted to say it wasn’t true… that he’d wanted to pull the trigger and blow the creep’s brains out just like he’d done to Mr. Chalmers, but he couldn’t speak… he couldn’t cry. Nothing more than a whimper passed through his lips.
The guard took advantage of his frozen state, securing his hands behind his back like they’d done to EJ… with a piece of nylon. In that very moment, Thing One grabbed at him and Will went wild. He snarled, wildly kicking out at the elder Watcher, and snapping his jaws each time the man’s hands came anywhere near his head. However, restrained as he was by the guard, it wasn’t long before his hair was grabbed and his neck exposed. He felt the sting of a hypodermic needle, the burn as something was shot into his system, and then he went numb.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t allowed the blessing of unconsciousness. As the drug coursed through his system, his limbs grew impossibly heavy and he was unable to move. His breathing was labored and blinking nearly an impossibility. His hearing was unimpaired as was his ability to feel, which he found out when his captor dropped him painfully to the ground.
“Time to get moving, gentlemen,” Thing One ordered. “The bodies will be found eventually, but walking out of here clean and calm will gain us time. I’m not sure how long the beast will remain under the influence of the tetrodotoxin, however, and I would prefer it be alive when we arrive at our destination.”
Will watched as clean clothes were removed from a large duffel bag on the floor, and he listened to the running water in Mr. Chalmers’ bath room. The sound of the hamper top thumping down meant… oh God! Bloody clothing on top of EJ’s favorite unicorn shirt. Was it only yesterday that she’d spilled her juice on it and had to change?
“Don’t forget the rubber sheeting, Forbes. We don’t want to take a chance on anything leaking through the bag.”
“No worries, Sir,” the lackey replied, rolling masking tape around the boy’s ankles, then folded his knees backwards, taping them in place.
Thing One’s vindictive eyes were the last thing Will saw as the man leaned over him and sneered: “No more molly-coddling, William. It’s about time we found out what you’re truly made of.”
He stood and motioned to his accomplice. “Let’s get finished here. The longer we stay, the more we’re pressing our luck.”
Will felt himself wrapped up in a sheet of something stretchy and was unceremoniously dumped into the now empty duffel bag. Inside, his guts churned as the zipper was closed; he was petrified at being alone and in the dark.
***
Outside the office door, Roger Wyndam-Pryce fastidiously wiped his fingers with a handkerchief. Just the memory of touching that foul demon-child made his skin crawl. Thank goodness for doctors and assistants.
He made sure to put the ‘Do Not Disturb During Lessons’ placard in the holder. That should give them at least two hours of lead time before anyone found something amiss.
Turning to his guards, Wyndam-Pryce clapped them on their shoulders.
“Good work, Mr. Forbes. Mr. Harris. Please load the demon into the trunk, and we’ll be on our way.”