New Girl in Town: Part Seven
by Byn
At six o'clock sharp, Eliza pulled up to the Round Room in her black Volkswagen Cabriolet. She saw Snyder standing near the entrance, checking his watch. Great. Punctuality freak. She hoped her attire would be suitably somber--black pantsuit of Oriental flavor, black pumps, gold earrings and bracelets. No nonsense. Of course, there was always the bun-and-glasses look, but she'd discarded that years ago and wasn't about to revive it. Dowdy and frumpy were no longer in her vocabulary. Snyder’s eyes lit as she exited the car, and positively glowed as she walked toward him.

"Good evening, Miss Wells. Right on time. Our table is ready."

Eliza smiled and waited for him to open the door for her, which, after a few moments, he eventually did, mumbling an embarassed apology. Their table was in the back corner of the restaurant, candle-lit, and there was a rose across her place. She had the sinking feeling that this dinner was going to turn into one big cliché.

"So, Principal Snyder," she began after they had ordered and received their appetizers.

"Please," he interrupted. "'Principal Snyder' is too formal for a quiet dinner for two. Call me Arden. And may I call you Eliza?"

"Arden. Of course," she nodded. "What else can you tell me about the troubles in the school?" She began to dispose of her shrimp cocktail with dainty precision. Whatever else happened this evening, she could chalk up the food and service in the 'excellent' column.

"What troubles?" Snyder said defensively.

"Why, the ones you alluded to in your office today. Specifically, Buffy Summers and the other troublemakers that you keep such a close eye on." She kept her tone deliberately neutral.

"Oh. Ah. Yes, yes I guess I did." Going to be difficult, was he? she thought.

"That was the reason you invited me to dinner, no? To discuss these situations?"

"Um, yes. I did." Arden shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But shop talk. . . is so dull over an excellent meal. Isn't there something else you would like to talk about, Eliza?" he asked hopefully.

Hints the size of anvils, Eliza groaned inwardly.

"Actually, no. I'm quite dedicated to my work, you see. Not much else interests me. So, if you would favor me with the information you promised," she smiled sweetly, shrugging. "You must know so much, being the principal and all." Ugh! Over the top! she chided herself.

Arden stuttered into silence and tried to cover by shoveling a forkfull of salad into his mouth. He was clearly unhappy with the way the conversation was going.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat after swallowing. "Buffy comes from L.A. She had the same problems at Hemery. The fighting, the poor grades, the tardiness, except there it was worse. She actually was responsible for burning down the school gym during the sophomore dance." Eliza, having heard Buffy's version long before now, managed a creditable, if rehearsed, look of shock.

"And that's what got her expelled."

"Yes," Snyder nodded. "And given her penchant for violence, I'm inclined to believe that she's in league with other more unhealthy forces in the area."

"Unhealthy forces," Eliza repeated cautiously. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but decided to let him do the elucidating.

Arden looked uncomfortable for a moment, undecided. He had said too much as it was. Ah, well, he would simply make her understand that silence was safer.

"You probably won't believe me. Or maybe you will. Whether you do or not," he continued earnestly, "your life may depend on your silence." This time Eliza's shock was not feigned.

"Please, go on. If there is danger, I'd prefer to be prepared for it." At that moment, their meals arrived. Conversation ceased as they bent their attention to their food. Eliza took time to savor the perfectly prepared scampi and sirloin.

"Okay. But before I continue, Eliza, believe me when I tell you that you must not breathe a word of this to anyone. I work for someone besides the school board, someone much, much more powerful than that august body. If he and his associates knew that I'd said word one to you, both our lives wouldn't be worth that," Arden snapped his fingers for emphasis. "And let me tell you, they have their ways of finding out."

Eliza felt a small seed of fear bloom deep within her but quashed it. "Who would you work for besides the school board? Didn't they hire you?"

He chuckled at her naive query. "Oh, no, the school board is under advisement on these matters from the Mayor himself."

"I see."

"I'm not talking about gangs, or any of the usual stuff schools deal with. No, I'm talking about vampires," he said, eyeing her intently.

"Vampires," she repeated carefully, quietly. "Really. I mean, real fangs, fear, and blood? But that's just fiction."

Snyder's smile got a slight sneer to it. "Yes, I had forgotten your hobby." Eliza bristled. "Perhaps you should consider your literature as research and fact rather than metaphor. And the fact is, wherever they are, Buffy is sure to follow." Eliza nodded at him to continue. "She's all mixed up in this somehow. I don't know how, but I intend to find out."

"And what is your role in all of this, exactly?"

"Public relations. Spin control. Any time something unusual happens, I explain it. I make it go away. Lots of odd things happen on campus. Usually the explanations work, but it's getting tougher."

"Really? Why?"

"Incidents are becoming more frequent. More gruesome. Difficult to explain away by gangs, drugs, gangs on drugs, packs of wild dogs, that sort of thing."

"What else do you do?"

"Keep the Mayor informed and assured that all things are handled."

"And what happens if the day comes when you can't explain it all away, or make sure it's handled?"

Snyder looked down at his plate and then locked gazes with her. "Then I’m a dead man," he said flatly, his face carefully devoid of all emotion. Eliza pondered this in silence for a while, and Snyder watched her. Satisfied that she was convinced, he reached across the table and covered her hands with his--dry, cool. She startled at his touch, looked up and tried to pull her hands away. He tightened his grip.

"Eliza, I can protect you, if you'll let me. I can teach you what you need to know."

She thought frantically for something, anything to extract herself from his proposal. Then she smiled as the obvious made itself known to her.

"Actually, I think I’m better able to protect myself than you think, given what my 'research,' as you call it, has taught me. I will need crosses and other religious icons, garlic, holy water, and wooden stakes. I must carry mustard seeds or something of that sort to throw in front of vampires in pursuit of me. And I must never invite one across my threshold." Eliza looked up expectantly.

Snyder looked astonished. She smiled widely at him. "Bram Stoker did his research thoroughly, Arden."

Relief melted the harsh lines of his face, and he exhaled slowly. "Thank goodness you know what to do. I won't worry so much now. But your class has to go. If you don’t stop teaching it, I can't be responsible for what might happen." A clock discretely chimed the eighth hour. "I need to leave. Can we do this again some time?" he asked eagerly.

Eliza opened her mouth to protest his statement about her class but instead replied to his second question. "I don't think that would be wise."

"How so?" His tone was taught with suppressed anger, hurt, and insult.

"Given what you said about your boss, wouldn’t it endanger us both to be linked in any manner other than professionally, especially after what you’ve told me? And this is a pretty small town." Eliza hoped that would be enough to deter him.

"You're right, of course," he sighed. At least for now. "Oh well. Maybe some day, when all this is over. . . ." he let the sentence hang.

"Perhaps." But will it ever be over, she wondered.

"Good night, Miss Wells. Thank you for a lovely evening."

"A pleasure, Principal Snyder."

With that, Snyder took his leave. Eliza counted five before she followed him. Where was he going, she wondered, and why?

His nondescript brown Chevy Caprice Classic was just pulling out of the parking lot. To the left, which Eliza thought odd. The school and business district were that way. She unlocked her car, got in, and made to follow, but quickly decided otherwise. As she looked in her rearview mirror, she saw a dark figure standing hidden in the bushes behind her car. A tall man, wearing a dark trenchcoat. Beyond that, and a feeling of menace, she could tell nothing about him. But she did turn right toward the residential section of town and drove straight home. Once safely inside, she turned off all the lights and peered out each of the downstairs windows. You’re being paranoid, dearie, she chided herself.

But her fear was founded as the moon brushed its silvery light over the landscape after emerging from some clouds. There he was, in the shadows across the street. This time, she could make out pale skin and blond spiked hair. Fortunately, crosses adorned all the doors and garlic festooned the windows beneath the treatments. If it was something undead watching, there was no entry for him. Time to call Giles.

C'mon, c'mon. It's only 8:30. Dammit, Giles, where are you? No luck at home. The library, then, please God. On the third ring, he picked up the phone.

"H-hello?"

"Giles," she said, relief flooding her voice. Thank God.

"Eliza? Are you alright?"

"Yes. Well, no," she replied. "I-I just needed to call you and let you know I made it out unscathed," she laughed lightly.

"Ah. So what happened?"

"I really can't discuss it over the phone. But I think I was followed home."

"Oh? By Snyder?"

"No." Eliza described the figure she saw across the street. "Black trenchcoat, blond spiked hair. That's all I could see." Silence on the other end.

"Giles?"

"Is he still out there?"

Eliza took a very cautious peek. "No. At least, I can’t see him now."

"Eliza, listen to me very carefully. Have you protected your home as I instructed?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Good," he said, relieved. "I am coming to your place. For God's sake don't open that door until I get there."

"But Giles, what if. . . ."

Giles cut her off. "Eliza, everything will be fine if you do as I tell you." He hung up and grabbed his coat. The Slayer and her friends looked up from their discussion as he came out of his office. Buffy raised her eyebrows at him in question.

"C-could you please lock up for me when you leave? I have something rather urgent to-to-to attend to."

"Sure," said Buffy as the others nodded. "Eliza?" she asked softly.

"She's fine. At least, for the moment. However, she's worried, a-and I think with good reason."

Buffy nodded and watched him leave.


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