Chapter 4: Scarlet
Previously: Buffy Summers leads a normal life, but she feels that something is missing. She is approached by Seyhan D’Harken, a Vashkan lord and he asks for her help in breaking Scarlet. In England, the Scoobies are offered the same proposal by the other Vashkan leaders. Scoobies and Vashkans come together to put together a strategy and discover that Angel may be an indispensable link to their search for Scarlet.
***
“Are you ready?” Giles asked her gently.
She nodded, hoping for calm that didn’t come. Here was another one of her relationships that didn’t turn out the way she had hoped it would. Inside the black building of stone and glass that they now faced was the first man she had ever loved. She and Angel had gone through life’s rough storms together, but they had faced the hurricanes separately. Once upon a time, Buffy didn’t think it was possible to live without him.
Turned out she was wrong.
Not too long after defeating the First, Willow had stumbled upon a spell that lifted the curse on Angel’s soul. It was a gift, she’d said, a gift for Buffy, because she was the one person in the whole world who deserved that kind of happiness.
But up until now, Buffy and Angel had yet to figure out where their love really stood. They’ve given each other the space they’ve both decided they needed in order to make the right choice. That space had stretched out to four years.
“Slayer?” she looked up to see Selig’s handsome face creased with concern, “Are we going in, or not?”
“Yeah. Yeah, we’re going in.” Buffy replied with forced decisiveness.
Buffy’s first choice as Vashkan representative to see Angel had been Yesha, because Rumus was too aggressive and Selig was too aloof. Yesha, by far, was the calmest of the three.
But she had declined, offering instead the idea of taking Selig. Selig hadn’t refused, even after Buffy told him that Angel was a vampire. He was past the point of caring whether he associated with demons or humans.
Getting up to Angel’s office was too easy. It turned out that Angel and Co. had already seen them. Well, duh, this was Wolfram and Hart. Harmony Kendall led the way to the vampire with a soul’s private domain. The ex-cheerleader’s presence in the firm never failed to amaze Buffy. But less so now than before. Even she had noticed that Harmony was no longer the same ditzy blonde that she used to be. She’d changed―grown, according to Angel. The most incredible thing about her was that she chose to do good, without benefit of a soul.
Buffy knew of only one vampire who had ever been strong enough to do that. And unfortunately, he wasn’t the one she was about to talk to now.
“Buffy!” Angel stood from behind his oak desk and crossed over to them in long strides. He shook Giles’ hand, greeted Selig politely, even though he looked slightly confused at the Vahskan’s presence, and gave Willow a hug.
He held Buffy in his arms just a split second longer than he did Willow, and grazed her lips with his own in a gentle kiss.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, brown eyes warm.
“Sorry, we would have called, but we were kind of in a hurry,” Buffy explained, stepping out of the loose circle of his arms. She went to stand beside Giles, a move that Angel didn’t miss. He was silent for a second; a second that Willow filled nicely.
“Angel, this is Selig D’Harken. Selig, this is Angel,” she said formally, “Selig is―”
“A Vashkan,” Angel said. At everyone’s surprised looks, especially Selig’s, he hastened to explain, “I have contacts … not just in L.A. I’ve heard of your arrival. Kind of hard not to when demons were all panicking over it. You’d think the apocalypse has come for them this time.”
Selig only frowned.
If he was offended, Angel didn’t show it, “Have a seat,” he invited, and waited patiently until everyone has taken a seat on the U-shaped table that faced his desk in the middle of the vast office.
Selig, impatient now that he was this close to getting to his enemies, went right to the point, “Angel, I need to know how you know these humans,” he put emphasis on the last word as he held out his hand to Giles, waiting for the Watcher to give him the photos of the criminals.
Angel looked at Buffy, “What?”
“Um … Selig, let us explain this first, okay?” the blonde Slayer said, “I’m telling you, Angel’s on our side. He’ll help us if he can, right, Angel?”
Angel smiled tentatively, “I wouldn’t mind knowing what it is I’m supposed to be helping you with.”
With Giles’ and Selig’s help, Buffy once again related the whole Vashkan situation, up to the part of the photos of the scumbags’ that Faith claimed came from Angel. Giles handed the photos to Angel when the vampire asked for them.
If it weren’t impossible, Buffy could’ve sworn Angel had grown paler, “Are you sure it was them?” he asked.
“I’m positive,” Buffy said emphatically.
“How did you get these photos of them, Angel?” Willow asked.
Angel practically shoved the black and whites at Giles, “Must have stumbled on them somewhere,” he muttered hastily.
“Stumbled on them?” Selig crossed his arms over his chest, “These are not the kind of people you just ‘stumble’ upon, Angel. They pick you, and then they kill you.”
Angel’s head snapped up, “Even I can’t be expected to know everything.”
“But you know about them,” Buffy said, glancing at the photos briefly, “I know that you study every single piece of information that crosses your hands, Angel. You have to, because, otherwise, they’d be useless to you.”
Angel’s jaw jutted out, “I’m sorry, Buffy. But I only found these photos on the Net. I only gave them to Faith so she’d know what they looked like. I don’t know anything.”
“Is that why you also ordered Faith to drop her search for them?” Giles snapped sarcastically, “Because you don’t know anything?”
Angel glared at him, but didn’t say anything.
“Angel,” Willow pleaded softly, “We need to find the Balancer. We can only guess at how powerful it really is. Even Seyhan, its guardian, doesn’t have an exact idea. And we all know what power can do when in the hands of … evil …” she pressed her lips together briefly, “We should get it back before, you know …”
Angel was stubbornly shaking his head, “No,” he said firmly.
Buffy gritted her teeth, “No what? You―”
Selig’s hand came down on her shoulder. Buffy looked up at him, surprised. Selig’s eyes were hard and cold as he looked at Angel, his regal lips pulled back in contempt, “We can’t force those who are not willing to help us.”
Angel and Selig stared at each other as long and tense seconds ticked by. Finally, Angel looked away, “You have my answer.”
Selig’s composure never cracked, “I hope you are still on our side, Slayer,” he said carefully.
Buffy nodded, “I said I am, didn’t I?” She met Angel’s disapproving stare boldly. She didn’t know what it was he thought he was doing. She knew he knew something. Angel never could lie to her very well.
“I suppose that’s it, then,” Giles said quietly. With a hand on the small of her back, he guided Willow towards the door. Selig followed them, walking beside Buffy.
“Buffy, wait,” Angel suddenly came to life and caught up to her, grabbing her elbow. Selig and Giles turned to him so fast, that even Angel stepped back involuntary. He let her go, “Can we talk? Alone?” He waited anxiously as she pursed her lips, clearly debating the merits of being alone with him. Finally, she sighed.
“Go on ahead, guys,” the Slayer told her companions, “I’ll be right with you.”
Reluctantly, the three left, with Giles shooting Angel a look of pure protectiveness. “Well? What did you want to talk to me about?” Buffy asked wearily.
“Don’t do this,” Angel said softly, “Don’t get involved with the Vashkans and their feud.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not! It’s too dangerous!” when Buffy stiffened, Angel tried another tactic, “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said sincerely.
“I’ve been hurt before. Without you. I coped.” Buffy said shortly.
Not this way. You won’t be able to cope with this, Buffy, Angel thought. But he could see her guilt. She held herself responsible for the Vahskan’s tragedy. He knew better than to think Selig had anything to do with this. D’Harken was far too proud to make himself look like a pitiful victim. No, Buffy must’ve concluded that she had any control at all over what had happened to the faeries all on her own.
He wasn’t going to be able to stop her from doing what she thinks she must do. But … maybe he can stall her.
Just until he can fix things, so the hit won’t be so painful for her.
“Maybe I can help, after all,” he said softly. She looked up at him, green eyes guarded, and he found himself wondering just when it was that she decided she needed to keep her thoughts and feelings from him.
Buffy shook her head, “I don’t need you to do anything for me, Angel,” she said. She turned to the door, not seeing Angel’s dismay as she walked through it.
~*~*~*~
“That’s it?” Tierre stared at the shapeless crystal that sat inside the glass casing, unimpressed, “That’s what you almost waged war on Vashkans for? A little trinket?”
In the corner near the empty fireplace where he stood, Logan, the leader of Scarlet Mercury, the team sent to ‘retrieve’ the crystal from the Vashkans, stiffened. His mission hadn’t been easy, even for him, “It’s not a trinket,” he said curtly.
“The Balancer then,”
“It’s not the Balancer, either.”
Tierre cocked his head to the side curiously, “You’re tellin’ me you took on an entire race because you wanted somethin’ bright, new and shiny?”
Logan tried not to make it obvious that he was gritting his teeth. The punk was belittling his achievement. As much as he might deny it, Tierre’s lack of respect for him stung. He knew Wolfson didn’t take him seriously. He thought he was so much better than the rest of them because he sat on Scarletta’s right hand, a position that Logan had been aspiring to ever since he had first joined the original team headed by Ivo Scarletta himself. Even then, Logan had known that his chances were slim to non-existent, he couldn’t very well compete with Ivo. Franco Scarletta was a family man and Ivo was his son.
But despite his father’s tendencies towards nepotism, Ivo had been surprisingly fair. He never held any of his men back; he priced the mission above his own pride, and didn’t take favorites. Logan had worked hard, knowing that his efforts did not go unnoticed.
Until a skinny, golden-haired hellion had scaled the wired, high walls of the Scarletta estate in Summer’s Cove, took down the scattering of guards and went about causing a fortune’s worth of destruction, all for the sake of one woman.
Logan should’ve known then, the true reason why Ivo had taken it upon himself to stop the wiry bundle of uncontrolled fury on his own. Ivo had seen something there, something he liked. Something he respected.
And that respect grew even more when Tierre Wolfson finally defeated him and had said, with all the nobility of ignorant youth, “I’ll let you live, if you give her back to me. I promise you that.”
No one had ever defeated Ivo Scarletta before. No one. Least of all a bag of skin and bones with the appetite of a sumo-wrestler and a hopelessly idealistic sense of honor that was at complete odds with his appearance. When Tierre Wolfson had joined the fold, everybody’s else’s chances were shot to hell.
Up until now, Logan had never truly been able to accept that.
To be fair, Tierre was far from overrated. He would be an amazing leader if he weren’t so fond of going off on his own all the time. He was frighteningly good at what he did, which was damn near everything. He lived up to his legends, except for one, small, highly important part.
The part that said Tierre Wolfson had no weakness. That one wasn’t true. Logan knew because he had been there when it had all unraveled.
Not that it mattered. That was all in the past, and Tierre was now the boss. And who knew? Maybe now Tierre really didn’t have a single weakness anymore.
Except.
It had happened once. It could happen again, as unlikely as that may be, for just where did a man go after Maria?
Still, there was hope. Logan would just have to be patient, just have to wait and see.
He was good at waiting.
“Your father doesn’t seem to think it’s that trivial, Master Tierre,” he said instead, with ingratiating politeness.
Tierre’s head snapped up, “He’s not my father,” he said shortly.
Logan tried not to smile smugly, “You sure about that? He calls you ‘son’ all the time. And look where you are now. Sitting right behind what used to be Ivo’s table.”
Gold flashed in the blue of Tierre’s eyes and Logan instinctively backed up. He’d pushed too far. He hated that he instantly searched for the quickest escape route, but then, there it was.
“Logan …” Tierre drawled.
Logan stiffened, “Yes?”
“How many times must I say that I’m not taking anyone’s place? I’m not his replacement,” Tierre’s voice softened, although it didn’t make Logan breathe any easier, “There is no replacement for Ivo.”
Logan could only nod.
At that moment, the door to the library opened and Franco Scarletta strode in, “You’re both here. Good,” he said. He glanced at Tierre and smiled, “I thought you already left.”
Tierre shrugged, “Call me curious,” he said.
“We have a slight problem,” Franco began, “It seems that your mission, Logan, has an … unforeseen side effect.”
Logan nodded, “Yes sir. I’ve received reports that a Vashkan has followed us. He lost track of us in London, though,” he said. Not to gloat too much. Not with Tierre around.
Scarletta stared at him levelly, “Not for long. The Vashkan has been seen in California. San Francisco, to be exact.”
Logan shoved his hands in his pockets so his clenched fists wouldn’t be visible. Damn Vahskan. Just what did that idiot faery think he was going to do? “I’ll take care of it, Mr. Scarletta,” he said, already devising plans in his mind for ironing out this wrinkle.
“Why would a Vashkan come after you?” Tierre frowned. He looked at Logan. The man met his stare proudly.
“They didn’t like my methods of taking their crystal.”
“What methods? You said you gave them a show of force and then took the crystal. Those elves don’t really know the true value of that bauble, anyway, and they’ve plenty of other fancy treasures to play with. Why would they come after you?” Tierre’s voice became calmer, the way it always did when he got angry, “What did you do?”
“What I had to.”
What he had to. Tierre knew full well the measures Scarlet Mercury was always eager to take. Fury rose in him and he battled it back. Coolly, he shifted his blue gaze to Scarletta, “Hope this Balancer thing is worth the waste of our resources,” he said, referring to the cut on the numbers of the small contingent that Logan had taken with him to Scotland. Those people had merely been hired hands, not members of Scarlet, “Because to me it looks just like a cheap rhinestone.” It didn’t, of course. The stone looked like a diamond of the first water. It caught the sunlight that streamed in through the nearest window and refracted it in a thousand shimmering colors.
“Oh, but that’s not the Balancer, Tierre.” Franco said enthusiastically, “That crystal is merely the gateway to the dimension where the spirit of the Balancer resides.”
“Then what’re you waitin’ for? Open it up already.”
“It’s not that easy. It still lacks a few … ingredients.”
“Tongue of dog? Eye of newt? Shit of wankers?”
“ ‘Cen ke Basalt Kavar―Blood of the Guardian, Blood of the Child.” Franco intoned.
A chill skittered down Tierre’s spine at the words, “You got this from that scroll o’ yours?” he asked.
“Where else?”
“The translation’s comin’ all right, then?”
“Oh, very!” Franco said, “We’re almost where we’re supposed to be.”
“So it’s not complete yet?”
“Patience, Tierre. I think we’re making great progress,” Franco frowned slightly towards Logan, “Progress that can easily come to an abrupt halt by one little slip.”
Easily understanding his boss, Logan was quick to offer reassurance, “The Vashkan is―”
“―mine.” Tierre finished. Both men looked at him in surprise, “What?”
“You’ve never before shown any interest in this, Tierre, why the sudden change?” Franco asked.
“I’m not interested in your murky plans. It’s the Vashkan I’m interested in. I’m bored, and he sounds gutsy enough to distract me. Too bad he’s lost. Guess I’m off the San Francisco, set his course straight an’ all that.”
“If you’re going to do this, do it fast, Tierre. Finish him off in San Francisco. I don’t want him finding his way here.”
Tierre grinned, “Especially not with the first soiree of the season coming up.”
For a second, Franco looked confused. Then he rolled his eyes, “Oh, right, that. Blasted parties,” he grumbled, “You are coming this time, I hope?”
Tierre was already heading for the door, shaking his head, “Nah. Y’know how I hate things like that.”
~*~*~*~
Driving to New York was almost peaceful. Tierre could feel the knots in his shoulders ease up. It was better in New York. Here, he enjoyed at least a pint of anonymity. He’d changed so much over four years, that most of the denizens of Hades found it hard to recognize him on sight.
He arrived and went up to his apartment. He spent most of his free time here, more time than he spent over at Maggie’s, as depressing as the thought may be. But frequent visits from him weren’t good for her safety.
With these thoughts, he stripped himself of his clothing and stepped under the shower, turning it up hot. He scrubbed at his skin hard. By the time he was done, he was faintly red, but he felt clean again. He got dressed, then padded to his living room and stood before the fireplace that he never allowed to bear fire. Touching a slight imperfection on the brickwork, Tierre watched impassively as the colors of an oil painting depicting an old drunk slumped against a wall―maybe dead, maybe alive―above the fireplace blurred, mixing, blending until it became one blank canvas. Then even the canvas disappeared and the painting revealed its true self to be a state-of-the-art computer.
Tierre shook his head at the scene of a gorgeous beach with lots of scantily-clad women, buffed-up men, squawling brats and middle-aged people walking about, splashing in the water and tempting the fates.
“What do you think?” a tall, lean man with straight, blue-black hair and eyes almost as dark, appeared on screen.
“I think I oughta fire you,” Tierre said dryly. He didn’t comment on the beach.
“Why don’t you? It’d make my life easier.”
“What’re you doing on the beach, Ryan?”
“Working on my tan,” Ryan Alvarez, hunter non-pareil, flashed a rare grin, “Something you oughta do, T-Wolf. You look like Spike.”
“Be thankful there are miles between us.”
“Excuse me while I offer prayers of thanksgiving and gratitude.”
“Did you find anything?”
Ryan scowled, “What kind of question is that?”
Tierre was instantly contrite, “Sorry, mate.”
“Yeah, I found something. The Vashkan apparently, is Seyhan D’Harken, some kind of lord where he comes from.”
Tierre snorted, “Sure. A lord without a sense of direction.”
“You think he’s lost?” Ryan ran a hand through the center part of his hair. The shiny mass fell forward again, “He has a reason for coming here. He wanted reinforcements.”
“I thought Vashkans pretty much stay in their heatherfields.”
“Not Vashkans. Slayers. Or just one.”
Tierre rolled his eyes, “He’s gonna need more’n that if he wants to play with us.”
“Tierre. He came to see Buffy Summers.”
“Huh. As Slayers go … right, he’s got their second general. Is she with him on this?”
“Apparently. I got dizzy following her from England to L.A., and then back again. She went to see Angel, asked him what he knew of Scarlet Mercury. ‘Course, she didn’t know that they’ve got photos of three of Scarlet M’s members.”
“Did Angel tell her anything?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“He looked even more tortured than usual, trying to tell her what to do.”
“Even better.”
“They don’t know anything about Scarlet, yet. But I wouldn’t put anything past them. I saw that old Watcher and the redhead witch with them.” Ryan’s tone grew impatient, “So, is that it? I have a lot of things to do, you know.”
They terminated the conversation. Then Teirre went to his room and hooked up his laptop, a smaller, portable version of the one in his living room. This one was custom-made, specially designed just for him. It was one of the most powerful machines he’d ever known, next to the human mind. He’d lovingly baptized her Pizza, because she looked like a pizza box, although smaller and flatter.
He sent the obligatory e-mail to Scarlet Unseen, their spy unit. They had instructions to find the Vashkan in San Francisco, check what he was up to and report back to him. Everything else after that was up to him. Tierre didn’t care that he already had enough information and he didn’t need Scarlet Unseen at all. The point of the exercise was that anyone who might be looking can see that he was doing what he was supposed to.
His thoughts wandered to Ryan’s report. So, the Vashkan had involved the Council in England. Hmmm … and the Slayer Buffy Summers had joined their team now, too.
Tierre smiled. There were more players than he had expected. This game just got a helluva lot more interesting.
~*~*~*~
ENGLAND:
Faith’s call was unexpected, but was definitely welcome.
“Faith, hey! So glad to hear you still talking!” Willow winced inwardly at her own tactlessness. But she had been worried. Faith has been on a deep undercover mission to bring down a black market smuggling ring that dealt with stolen human and demon organs in Barcelona. She had made no contact with the Council ever since she went under.
Faith’s laugh still sounded genuine even through the messy static, “Yeah, well, managed to keep my tongue while down here, Will,” she said, “Just called to say that a couple more days tops and I got this case cleared.”
“That’s great! But can’t you keep in contact more often during one of these cases?”
“No.”
No, you work alone. Our very own Jane Bond, Willow thought. Giles and Xander probably had the right idea, not worrying about Faith so much. She wasn’t just a Slayer―she’d already achieved a level far higher than that on her own. It wasn’t very loyal to Buffy to think of Faith as the top Slayer. But for the past few years since Buffy left the Council, that was exactly who Faith had been. And still is.
“’Kay, Will, that was it. Ciao.”
“No, Faith, wait!”
“What?”
Willow chewed on her lip, “Do you remember those photos you sent us of those guys who you said were responsible for killing almost an entire clan of werecoyotes in New Mexico?”
“Yeah?”
“Well … um … did you find out anything else about them?”
“What for?”
Willow hesitated. If she told Faith the truth about the Vashkans, it would distract her from her own mission. As long as the case was open, Faith’s full focus on it was necessary. It was crucial to her survival.
“We … we think we got a lead on them. But we’re not sure exactly, we don’t even have a name to call them by.”
“Willow―is something wrong?”
“No! No, nothing at all. Everything’s fine here. We were just cataloguing all the Big Bad factions out there, that’s all.”
“I don’t know much. I gotta go.” Faith said abruptly.
Willow frowned, “Not even a name? You were pretty hot on their tail, Faith. Why did you drop the search, anyway?”
“It led to nothing,” now Faith sounded testy, “I’ll take it up again when I have the time. Satisfied?”
“Whoah, Faith. I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m just asking for a name, if you got one.”
There was a long pause. When Faith spoke again, her voice was weary, “Scarlet,” she said, “Look for a group called Scarlet Mercury.”
“Thanks,” Willow tried not to sound too eager, “Thanks a lot.”
~*~*~*~
Barcelona:
Faith stared out the window of her hotel room, her mind running over her conversation with Willow.
Scarlet Mercury. Scarlet.
An image of a young, wandering warrior with a face that had stunned her to her core and a smile that had melted her heart flashed through her mind.
She pushed away from the window. She had to move faster now, had to clear up this case and fast.
She had to go back home.
Yesterday.
~*~*~*~
The e-mail said: Meet me at Washington Square Park. A.
Tierre gritted his teeth. Stupid wanker, who did he think he was, giving Tierre orders?
Well, technically, it was Fred who had sent the order. Angel didn’t know how to handle computers. Tierre allowed himself a small smile at the thought of Fred. A smile that he carried with him to the park that night. Angel hated his smile. Tierre had always assumed it was because it made him look even more like Spike.
He stood near a fountain. There was no need to specify a time and place for this meeting. Since Angel had been the one to issue the invite, it was only common sense to assume that the vampire had his many minions crawling all over the place, ready to report back to their fearless leader the exact moment that Tierre entered the park.
Tierre waited a while. Then he made as if to leave.
Angel, predictably, bounded in at that moment. He’d lost a bit of his dramatic flair because Tierre didn’t stick around long enough to allow him a grand entrance.
“Fashionably late, as always,” the blond freak of nature drawled.
“Gotta keep up appearances,” Angel replied as coolly as possible. Which was pretty damn hard, considering who it was he was talking to. The tall, slim young man in front of him didn’t say anything else. Just stood there and waited. And glanced at his watch.
“In a hurry?” the vampire asked, unable to disguise the sarcasm in his voice.
“I waited, dint I?”
“For all of five seconds.”
Tierre grinned.
Angel couldn’t help but look away from that grin. It was a cruel shadow of Tierre’s real smile. It had none of his warmth, of the good-natured humor he once possessed. So much of Tierre had died two years ago.
And Angel had been partly responsible for that.
“What’re you up to this time, Tierre?”
“You’ll have to be more specific. I’m up to a lot of stuff. Same old, same old.”
“You know what I’m talking about. The Vashkans.”
Tierre raised a dark brow, “I had nothing to do with that.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” Tierre cocked his head to the side, “Is that it?”
Angel shook his head, “Did Franco order the hit on the Vashkans? Selig mentioned ‘picking you, and then killing you.’”
“Who’s Selig?”
“The Vashkan.”
“You mean Seyhan.”
“It’s Selig. Selig D’Harken.”
Tierre rocked back on his heels. Selig. Seyhan. Angel had talked to the Vashkan, but Ryan never made mistakes. So … there was more than one, “Huh. How ‘bout that,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ve gotta go.”
When Tierre turned away, Angel reached out and grabbed his shoulder without thinking.
Wrong move.
He’d forgotten just how fast Tierre could move. As a boy, he had been equal to the vampire. Now a grown man with more than enough experience than anyone ever had to go through, Tierre’s blows were damn near invisible. Too bad they were so effective. Angel hit the fountain with enough force to break either the marble, or his spine.
The marble cracked beneath him. Angel sighed in relief.
“Sorry,” Tierre muttered, not sounding sorry at all.
“I’m sure the fault was all mine,” Angel gritted out.
If Maggie wouldn’t be so disappointed in him, Tierre would have laughed out loud. As it was, out of respect for the only woman in the entire bloody universe that he still cared about, he held out a hand.
Angel took it and pulled his heavy, bulky self to a standing position. Tierre watched him try to regain his dignity by wiping off dirt from the seat of his pants.
“You’re looking for Mercury. They’re the ones the Vashkans want.” Tierre said.
Angel looked at him, shocked, “Why are you―”
“My turn,” Tierre cut him off, “Why’re you so bothered with this deal, anyway?”
“They came to me. Asked for my help.”
“Broke your merciful heart, did they?”
Angel glared at him, “D’Harken is very proud. He’s the kind who would never ask for help unless he desperately needs it.”
“You said ‘they’. Who’re the others?”
“Like I’d tell you.”
“Mmm … lemme guess … how ‘bout … Buffy Summers?” Tierre’s eyes glittered with unholy glee at the look on Angel’s face, “God, I’m good.”
“Tierre …” Angel’s voice broke and for one horrible second, Tierre was afraid the wanker might cry, “Tierre, stay out of this mess. This is Franco’s problem. Not yours. You don’t have to―”
“What’re you so afraid of? And stop sniveling, will you?”
Angel knew he had to be honest. If only for Buffy’s sake, “I’m afraid you’d hurt Buffy.”
Tierre snorted, “Why would I do that? I don’t even know her.”
Angel refrained from pointing out the obvious, that he didn’t have to know someone to cause them pain, “You once did,” he said quietly.
Tierre waved a dismissive hand, “That was Spike. Not me.”
“Just … just stay out of this, please. Until all this blows over.”
Please. Did Angel just say that? This just kept getting better and better.
“I can’t make any promises. Tell Wesley howdy for me, yeah?” Tierre shrugged, “You know what, I’ll do it myself.” He turned and located the dark Englishman easily, hidden among the shadows cast by trees. Anyone else would have missed him, even in broad daylight. Wesley was good. Tierre had always given him that. He waved and smiled, nodded at Angel, then left.
He disappeared, swallowed by the darkness that had claimed him for the second time in his existence.
Angel trudged back to Wesley. He didn’t have to say anything. His look spoke volumes.
Wesley sighed, “This is bad,” he said.
~*~*~*~
The spy ran to catch up with the long-legged strides of the blond man who had just left the park. As soon as she was beside him, she said, without once turning her head or breaking stride, “ The Vashkans are hunting for Mercury. There are four of them, royalty from the way they act. They’ve asked the Council for help, but they’ve made it pretty clear that they will summon their own army if necessary.”
Tierre nodded, “Do they know anything about Scarlet?”
“Not yet.”
Another nod.
“Logan’s sent Luis to do some spying of his own. I spotted him. He didn’t spot me. He knows as much as I do.”
Damn Logan. He just couldn’t give it a rest, could he? Whatever. It was nothing unexpected. Maybe he should wait and see what the git would do.
The spy continued to walk beside him, “What should I do next?”
“Go home.”
Without another word, the spy did as she was told.
~*~*~*~
Buffy had to pick up Seyhan from his hotel before they both used Willow-lines to go to England again. The younger D’Harken hadn’t wanted to leave San Francisco.
“Willow said she had some news for us,” Buffy told the Vashkan lord while driving her car. Seyhan sat stiffly in his seat. Buffy almost felt insulted. She knew she wasn’t the world’s best driver.
“Is it good news?”
“We’re not sure yet. We have a friend―a contact really. She knows a lot about the Underworld.”
“Underworld?”
“It’s kind of complicated. It’s sort of this seedy community formed by creatures who are evil and those who want to be evil.”
“That wasn’t so complicated.”
Buffy grinned, “I guess not.”
They made it back to her house. The circle of light that remained of Willow’s teleportation spell was glowing a luminous orange in the middle of Buffy’s living room. “Go on, stand in the circle.” Buffy told Seyhan, “I’ll just lock up here.”
“Back in our mountains, we never had to lock up our houses,” Seyhan said wistfully.
Buffy felt a pang of guilt at his words. These Vashkans were rare; powerful, yes, but they didn’t feel the need to use that power against anyone, unlike most of the other non-human races. They were content to live on their own―a way of life that was self-sufficient and peaceful.
Until humans―beings that the Slayer has defended for ages―came and destroyed that peace. Buffy felt responsible for their suffering. But she wasn’t fooled. The Vashkans would never allow themselves to be just victimized. Sooner or later their hatred will consume them and they will start to hunt and kill indiscriminately. She could never allow that to happen.
“It sounds like a nice place to live in, your mountains,” she murmured.
“It was,” Seyhan replied, “It will be again.”
Buffy smiled, “If you say so, your majesty.”
Outside the Slayer’s house, shadows moved stealthily forward
~*~*~*~
ENGLAND:
“Scarlet, huh? Whoo … but you’re playin’ in the big-leagues now,” Elsa Campbell, hacker extraordinaire, crowed, chomping noisily on the club sandwich she’d made Andrew prepare for her, “That lot is mean. Just mean. And―incidentally―brilliant. You don’t wanna tango with them.”
Buffy smirked, “They asked us to dance,” she said dryly.
Elsa gave her an appraising glance, “Well … considering you’re Buffy Summers …”
“Elsa,” Andrew said impatiently, “Quit stalling. I know you’re into your whole Families of Hades phase and you’ve got the skinny on just about all of them.”
Xander frowned, “Family? Like in the Mafia?”
Elsa nodded, “Kind of.”
“And … Hades?” this from Willow, who was a little put-off that the Council of Scoobies had to turn to another computer person in order to find anything at all on the elusive Scarlet. Willow had just kept slamming into wall after wall on all the routes she’d tried. Elsa had told her―baldly―that it was because she didn’t know what she was doing. Elsa was like Anya, only with less charm.
“Hades. Underworld. Underground. Shadow Community, etc, etc.,” Elsa said, “And there was quiet a number of Families there back then. In the early 40’s to 60’s, most of the Families were of the demon clans. But now the tides have changed, and the humans rule.
One of the strongest families―hell, who am I kidding? It is still the strongest family―is known in Hades as Scarlet. The head of the family had taken up Assassin Breeding as a hobby. They’ve got connections all over the world―and a lot of other dimensions besides. They’re like … like …” Elsa looked up at the ceiling as she searched for the right analogy, “ The junction where all dimensions―those that matter, anyway, meet. They’re the ones demons and humans go to if they need someone killed, they need this world conquered or …”
“This race eradicated …” Rumus supplied helpfully.
“This Balancer stolen …” Seyhan murmured.
“That’s not all,” Elsa continued, warming to her topic, “The Scarlet clan is headed by humans. They can move freely up here. The head is extremely powerful and extremely rich. He has the ears of kings and presidents, his hands elbow deep into the pockets of the richest businessmen. Over the years, this Family has bested every other competition they were up against out there. Not that they’ve eliminated all―just that their enemies are crippled now and no one really wants to fight them anymore.”
“That was before us,” Yesha said coolly. She was beginning to chafe at the enthusiasm in Elsa’s tone when she talked of Scarlet, uncaring that the woman was merely excited about showing off her knowledge.
“Is that what they wanted the Balancer for?” asked Giles, “They wanted to sell it to some other―”
“I don’t think so. The head is also fond of one of a kind artifacts. He collects them.”
From the corner of his eye, Giles saw Selig stiffen. He understood. If what Elsa said was true, then Scarlet had ravaged the Vashkans simply because of their employer’s fancy.
“What about Scarlet Mercury?” Willow asked.
Elsa grinned like, I thought you’d never ask. She hoisted her laptop on the table, and used power point to show off to the assembly the result of six years of hard work.
An elaborately designed website appeared. Lords of Hades came on screen, “You like it? I designed it myself,” the hacker bragged, earning eyerolls from Willow and Andrew, “Okay … scroll up to … Scarlet … oh, here we go. Look, I’m not finished with this yet. This family covers their collective asses pretty good.” A few seconds passed while Elsa tinkered with the mouse, “Okay … Scarlet. Scarlet is the name of the entire group. Each and every single member of the group possesses skills deadly and efficient enough as to almost be supernatural.”
“Almost.” Selig said darkly.
Elsa looked at him, “They’re mostly human. That makes them even more dangerous,” she said softly, “For years, headed by the Family’s son, this team was one whole unit. But two years ago, something changed. The son disappeared without a trace, and the daughter was murdered. The one who took over divided the unit into smaller teams with specific specialties. Scarlet Mercury …” she clicked on an icon and individual pictures of six men and women filled the screen, “ …has been assigned the task of ‘retrieval’.”
“Stealing,” Giles said. Everyone else stared at the screen. Only the Vashkans’ natural reserve prevented them from erupting in anger at the sight of the hated murderers.
“That’s them,” Seyhan hissed, “Vile, murdering thieves!”
Buffy’s lips pulled back in a cruel sneer at the familiar faces of the three most recognizable ones.
“Scarlet Mercury is brutal. After the division of the original unit, they’ve been enjoying more freedom to operate as they please. Most of them had been trained for assassination and for them killing is … their raison d’ etre.” Elsa finished helplessly, “They are also the most arrogant ones, not caring much about exposure whereas the other teams are more subtle, but no less dangerous.”
“What about the family that heads Scarlet?” Selig demanded.
Elsa pulled the disk out, “What about them? I thought you only wanted Mercury. I can show you some of Mercury’s missions …”
“They are the ones truly responsible for what we’ve been through.” Yesha said, “How can you even think that we will settle for an arm when we can cut off the head?”
Elsa suddenly burst out laughing, but there was no humor in her voice, “You can’t cut off the head!” she snapped, her laughter coming to an abrupt halt, “You’d be much better off trying to destroy Mercury, and even with the Council on your side, you will need lots and lots of prayers.”
Suddenly, Yesha was out of her chair and before anyone could stop her, she had lifted Elsa clear off the floor, one hand crushing the front of the woman’s shirt, “You dare to laugh at us? We were caught by surprise the first time, you irreverent child, but that is no longer the case! You will tell us, or I will force you to!”
Everyone stared at her―no, gaped, would be the more appropriate word. Even the other Vashkans were shocked that the cool, calm, Yesha Kavrois had shown her infamous temper, something she hadn’t done since she had been elected as one of her tribes’ Council members.
Elsa was shocked, too, as evidenced by her wide-eyed stare and o-shaped mouth, but she soon recovered, “You’re a leader, aren’t you?” she snapped.
Yesha was confused, “Yes.”
“How did your people choose you to lead them? Or were you born to the responsibility?”
“Yesha and I were elected,” Rumus spoke up, “Only the D’Harkens were born to the throne.”
“Right. Same goes for Scarlet,” Elsa struggled in the Vashkan’s grip, “If you want me to explain, you’d better let me go. I do my talking best when I’m standing on the floor.”
Non-plussed, the Vashkan queen let the hacker go.
Elsa made a show of smoothing out her ruined shirt, “Right, then,” she sniffed, “Damn royalty,” she muttered under her breath.
“Scarlet used to be lead by the head’s children. But even then, those two were the best in their entire unit. Scarlet chooses the best as the leaders, never anything less. You’ll see that if you’re damned enough to meet the other teams. My guess is you’ve never fought this man, have you?” in a quick move that spoke of years of experience, Elsa had slipped the disk back in and in a few moments, she had the small arrow pointing at the first picture in the icon labeled Mercury , under Leaders, “His name is Logan. He’s their leader. Have you seen him? You have? Have you fought against him?”
Seyhan’s jaw locked, “I saw one of my generals go down under his assault,” the memory came back vividly, along with it the shock of seeing one of his finest warriors bested by one whom he thought was merely human.
Elsa had lost her cocky attitude, replaced by a grim seriousness, “You can’t lead any team in Scarlet unless you yourself have proven yourself unbeatable in your own contingent. And the man you’re looking for has been chosen to lead all of them. Do you understand what I’m trying to say here? Or are you still hellbent on committing suicide?”
The room fell silent.
And then Rumus said, “I don’t know about the rest of you. But I’m still hellbent on committing suicide.”
At that, Buffy laughed. Maybe there was something more to Rumus Grifinker after all, “Come on,” she said confidently, “Whoever he is? He can’t be as bad as the First.”
Xander and Willow crossed their arms and grinned, “If they dish it, then they damn well better be prepared to take it,” the brunette said.
Giles said, “You want unbeatable? You’re looking at them.” Pride showed in his voice, and he even accepted Xander’s high five.
Buffy felt the energy rise around her, pulling her back to the time when the Scoobies were an army of four against the harbingers of hell. Excitement hummed in her blood. This was it. This was what she’d been missing, the one thing that normal hadn’t been able to give her.
The Vashkans were quiet, but the way they looked at Elsa let her know that they fully expected her to give them what they wanted. They’ve reached the peak, and there was no turning back.
Elsa sighed, “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, “I don’t have a picture of him …yet. But I’ve heard lots of things about him. Apparently, most of them are true.”
“Just spill it,” Andrew, quiet for most of this time, but now getting even more impatient, whined. He knew the name of the man who reputedly headed Scarlet, but that was all. He wanted to say it himself.
“Tierre Wolfson,” Elsa finally revealed, “Scarlet is headed by Tierre Wolfson.”
TBC...
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, I'm not so sure how this text is gonna turn out. It seems so crowded, and I just can't change it. Don't worry, I'll change it when I figure out how.