Chapter Twenty-Nine- Fatal Premonitions

Susan Dobson had a bad feeling all morning. She was sure something bad was going to happen. She wouldn’t leave her seven-month-old daughter’s side for even a second. She begged her husband, Rick, to stay home that day from work. He told her she was being silly and went anyway.

Rick called during his break to check on his family. His wife told him that nothing had happened, but that her dire inkling wouldn’t go away. He reassured her that everything was fine and that he would be home in a few hours.

The remaining time at Lake City Bank went smoothly for Rick. He opened a couple new accounts and signed up someone for a debit card. He headed home in good spirits, confident that everything would be fine when he returned to his wife and child.

He whistled a tune as he walked up the driveway. He opened the door and stepped inside the house. He stopped dead in his tracks.

There on the usually pristine white carpet, was red. Not the red from Kool Aid. This was a trail of blood. It led into the kitchen.

Rick’s heart seemed to jump from his chest. He rushed into the kitchen.

What he found made his eyes widen in horror. Susan was crumpled on the tile, unmoving. The phone was off the hook, fallen to the floor next to her.

Rick went to her side and turned her over. The side of her neck was torn open. Blood trickled from the wound. She must have crawled her bleeding body from the living room. He took a hand and checked for a pulse. To his relief he found one. It was faint, but it was there. Thank God.

He grabbed a rag and placed it to the injury. He pressed at it with pressure, praying that it would stop the flow. He reached for the phone to call an ambulance.

A hand clamped around his arm. It startled him and he dropped the receiver.

Rick looked over toward Susan. Her eyes were wide open.

“Susie!” he exclaimed.

“Q-Quiet,” she begged him softly.

He stroked her cheek. His brown eyes threatened to spill over with tears. “God, Suse, I was so worried. You’re going to be fine. Just let me call for help.” He moved to grab the phone again, but his wife stopped him.

Susan shook her head. “No, you can’t!”

“Why?”

“They’ve got her,” she rasped.

“Who? Who has who?”

“Our daughter,” Susan informed. “They’re downstairs. They think I’m dead. They can’t know you are here. Go, leave. Go get help.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. The ambulance and the police. . . “

“Can’t know. This is . . . They’re . . . Monsters.”

Incredulous, Rick said, “Monsters?”

“He bit me. He had fangs. And the other one. . . Nothing I’ve ever seen. Monsters.”

Rick smiled down on her. “You’re hurt. People hallucinate when. . .”

“No!” Coughs took her over.

“Susan?” Rick was scared again. He needed to get help. Fast.

Susan’s grip tightened. “There isn’t much time. You must stop them. They said something about tomorrow night. They want to do something called The Ritual of Bound Destruction. And the slayer. Find her. She is important. The one whose face changed. . . “ She winced in pain. “H-he mentioned her. She’s special. She is the only one who can hel . . .”

“Susan!?”

Susan gasped for air. Her body began to convulse.

“Susie!” His voice was desperate.

“Find. . .”

Susan went still. Everything was still. The only sound that hit Rick’s ears was the dial tone of the fallen phone. He clutched his dead wife to his chest and closed his eyes in agony.

All of a sudden there was a jarring cry from below. Rick shot straight up. A baby. The bastards Susan had told him about were in the basement with his daughter.

Rick made his way to the basement door. His fingers curled over the knob, about to turn. He froze. Monsters. Susan’s words echoed in his mind. They’re monsters. Find her. She is the only one who can help.

Rick fled the house in search of the slayer.

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Buffy was behind glass. The clear wall separated her from a basement. She watched the scene before her with hopeless desperation.

A demon was hovering over a baby. The child was lying on a table, naked and cold. A vampire was nearby, chanting ancient words.

The baby wasn’t hers. It had piercing emerald eyes that stared right at her. They were pleading with her for aid. Not her baby, but important just the same. She wanted to help. She needed to help.

Buffy pounded on the glass. She had slayer strength but she still couldn’t break it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. I’m sorry, she thought. I’m so sorry.

The baby cried in pain as the vampire’s chanting intensified. From faraway Buffy could hear another infant cry out. Then it turned into a scream of a much older individual. Female and familiar.

“Alexis!?” Buffy called.

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Buffy shot up in bed. She was sweaty and her heart raced a mile and minute. Strong arms encircled her shoulders.

“Bad dream, ducks?”

Those English accented words were rich and soothing. They almost comforted her. Almost.

“Yeah, bad dream.” She took in a deep breath. “That’s all.”

She hoped so.

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Short. Sorry, but that seemed like a good place to stop.