Thirty One
1 November, 2001, Los Angeles
Alexius lifted the ‘cell phone’ contraption to his ear and listened. He heard the voice of what he recognized as the automated answering device. “My lord wizard,” he whispered urgently into the phone, “I pray that this message reaches you in time.” His eyes shifted about the parking lot, lit only by the street lamps around the perimeter. “I believe my cover has been compromised. I have had to abandon my routine observation of the target as I am now being pursued by a vampire.” The knight winced. “Obviously it is no ordinary vampire or I would not be so inclined to bother you—”
“There he is!” A voice shouted from behind. Footfalls pounded through the parking lot towards him. There were four of them, led by the vampire, with the soul-trader bringing up the rear.
Alexius shouted menacingly and dropped the cell phone, drawing his sword in a flash. Three of the four slowed their charge, dropping back as the leader continued, increasing his speed to a dead run.
Alex reached for the helmet and drew it over his mail hood, setting his jaw for the fight. He was on foot, unfortunately, having tied his horse in a little used corner of the park. He was more than a match for any ordinary vampire, even on foot; easily striking off its head, but he saw now why this vampire did not relent. He carried a sword of his own.
Alexius V, knight and protector of Byzantium, servant of the Lord God, raised his sword high above his head, widened his stance for balance and roared in battle-born rage.
The vampire, as he charged the enraged crusader, easily tossed his sword lengthwise in front of his, catching it now by the blade. As he drew near and the knight made a step forward to lunge, putting all force into his blow, the vampire deftly reached out with his sword and smashed the hilt into the helmet’s nose guard, jarring the startled knight’s face with tremendous force and shattering his nasal bone.
Blood poured from Alexius’ face as, with a great whoosh, he turned his downward blow into a circular slash. The vampire, however, was already behind him and smashed the knight over the back of the head with the shank of his short sword. Then his heel drove into the knight’s thickly armored legs, driving his knees out from under him.
With a clang, Alexius let fall his sword and collapsed to the pavement, his chain mail clinking noisily. Alexius looked up through bleary eyes as the four gathered around above him, looking down at him. He clenched his teeth and bore the throbbing of his face and skull. The humiliation was hardest to bare. The demon stood beside the vampire, his form a mockery to everything Alexius believed in.
“Who are you?” The vampire asked, lowering the tip of his sword to touch the knight’s throat.
“A knight,” Alexius spat, realizing he tasted blood in his mouth. “A knight of Byzantium.” He glared at the demon who faked a look of concern. “And I’ve been hunting him for weeks!” The sword pressed harder and Alexius steeled himself for the death blow.
“Wait a minute—” one of the human men asked. His voice was accented differently from all the others Alexius had heard. “—Byzantium?” He dropped to his knees to be nearer to the bleeding knight’s voice. “Are you truly a knight of the company of Byzantium, sworn to destroy the Key?”
“It–” Alexius strained against his suddenly heavy chest, “–is the will of God.”
“The Key?” The vampire asked, turning to the knowledgeable man who now stood. The man whispered something in the vampire’s ear and Alex saw him become much more agitated, angry even. Anger was something Alexius had never seen in this adversary. Not until now.
With a flash of pain, the sword tip tore up the knight’s brow, knocking his helmet and hood back to the asphalt. He saw the two become even more agitated when they saw his mark. The mark of Byzantium.
Alex found the sword tip pressed once again against the flesh of his throat. The vampire’s eyes were narrowed. “You were one of the knights who tried to kill Dawn.”
Alex strained against the crushing weight of his own chest, which he realized was being held down by the boot of the soul-trader demon. “Who?” The knight gasped in confusion.
“The Key,” Angel said angrily, “the slayer’s sister.” The boot crushed harder, but none of the others seemed to notice. “You nearly got them all killed.”
Alexius’ eyes widened. The slayer’s sister— His mind reeled as blood poured from his face and air was forced from his lungs. The will of God, he mouthed desperately.
With an angry flick of his wrist, Angel drew the sword tip across the larynx. With a wheezing, gurgling sigh, Alexius breathed his last.
The demon made the sign of the cross over the body, gently removing his boot from the knight’s chest, and mumbled something in Latin. At last he turned to the vampire. “Thank you for your assistance. I feared for my life.”
Angel nodded back to the priest. “Don’t mention it, Father Wethrin— it’s what we do.”
2 November, 2001, 60 miles West of Chamdo, Tibet
Delete all? Asked his voice mail. Logan’s finger touched the appropriate button. Messages deleted.
“That takes care of that,” he muttered, hanging up the receiver.
“What?” Asked Jade, sitting cross-legged on the floor at the center of Loki’s study.
“Nothing,” Loki smiled, turning back to his newest pupil. “Concentrate.”
“I am concentrating,” she said, annoyed. “I don’t see anything.”
“You only think you’re concentrating,” Loki advised, squatting in front of her. “Close your eyes.” She glared at him. “Close,” he said sternly.
She slowly closed her eyes. Loki appraised her. Wearing the standard robes, under which he knew she still wore those little, denim shorts and that pale yellow T-shirt— too tight to be seen wearing around so many men who were trying to concentrate— she looked like some pagan priestess. Though her luscious form was mostly concealed beneath the robe’s many yards of thick fabric, Loki still had use of his imagination. He shook his head once. “Sorry?”
“I said, I still don’t see anything,” she repeated, a frown marring her lovely face. He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek, but pulled it back just in time.
Holy shit, he swore at himself, quickly standing and stepping away from her. Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?? Loki swallowed and shook his head to clear it of the dissident voice.
“Master Loki?” She asked, her eyes still closed, her frown deepening. Her voice was clear and angelic —no trace of roughness or strain— just gentle, innocent concern.
Loki closed his own eyes to compose himself. “Picture—” he swallowed, hard. “Picture in your mind a vast expanse of mist. This is the sunyata; the void.” He opened his eyes, composed. No problem.
“I see it,” she said, her frown softening. “Now what?”
“One step at a time,” he said easily, casually walking closer and squatting again before her still form. “Concentrate on the void. It is everything in the universe that is empty and meaningless – everything that is not a part of you in the world.”
“I don’t get it,” her frown reappeared. She shifted uncomfortably on the floor.
“It’s okay,” Loki’s voice was gentle and reassuring, he placed a tender hand on her knee. “You’ll get it.” She made a small smile of gratitude. No problem at all.
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
