Thirty Nine
3 January, 2002, Amsterdam, Netherlands
Loki held the phone’s receiver to his ear. “Hello, boys,” he said with all the good humor he could fabricate. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you — good work so far. Now I have something very important I need you to do.” There was a pause. “No, our original agreement is still on... that’s right: Whatever you want. But now I need something more...” he waited patiently as the Geek Trio considered this, then voiced their objections on principle. “No — you’re right. There’s nothing much more I can offer you than I’ve already promised, but consider this: The slayer is already your enemy. Kill her and you can all rest easier. Understand?” There was a very long pause. Finally Loki nodded. “Great, good. Someone will be along to collect her once she’s dead.” With a beep he set the phone back on the table.
Loki turned to Indris who stood with his arms crossed by the tallest bookshelf in the library. Loki cocked his head. “It’s done.”
The necromancer did not seem particularly convinced. “And your agents are reliable, are they?”
Loki shrugged. “As reliable as you are.”
There was a long scowl from Indris which then suddenly erupted into a wide grin. “Magnificent!” He clapped his hands together. “In that case I expect we’ll both part ways completely satisfied.”
Just then the door opened and Oz entered, flanked by two servants. As always, their eyes were downcast and Indris ignored them. “Did you find one among the volunteers that is acceptable?”
“Three of the seven volunteers didn’t actually volunteer. They say they were coerced into coming here,” Oz reported, looking only at Loki as he spoke, in a tone just low enough to be insulting to the necromancer. “Two of the other four are vampires – one of whom is clearly insane.” He stopped, remembering the encounter. “She told me...” he thought hard, “my gardener needed tending or the picnic would be cancelled.”
Loki was shaking his head. “Vampires are unusable anyway. You can’t exactly reanimate ashes — besides, without a soul there’s really no point.”
“Right,” Oz nodded. “Of the two that were left, one of them was a specter."
Loki sighed. “That just leaves one. Any good?”
Oz raised an eyebrow. “Some monk who was very eager to be chosen.”
Loki shrugged and turned on Indris. “Not a very impressive selection, I must say. Now we’ll have to see if it’s worth what we’re paying you.”
Indris nodded to the servants. They turned and headed out. “My servants will bring the monk to the work room. It may take some time to prepare us both for the procedure.” As the servants left, the necromancer selected a book from the center of the tall book shelf, then led Oz and Loki out of the library.
“What are we paying him?” Oz whispered as he and Loki walked out of earshot behind the necromancer.
“We’re giving him the slayer,” Loki answered casually.
Oz’s blood ran cold. He had to work hard to keep his face calm. “Oh,” he said, his voice cavalier. He needed to find a phone.
3 January, 2002, Sunnydale
Anya slid the books one by one into their places on the shelf of the Magic Box. Something slid off one and landed on her shoe. Frowning, she set the book down and retrieved the small thing.
It was a small leather pouch tied with a drawstring. Tentatively, she undid the drawstring and brought the sac’s contents to her nose. Inhaling and smelling nothing, she touched the inside of the sac with her finger tip and brought the stuff to the tip of her tongue. After a moment of contemplation, she made a disgusted face and pulled the string tight again, looking around for the display from which this mysterious item could have fallen. Finding no empty displays, she pushed a space between two vials of incense and arranged the small sac aesthetically.
Taking a display tag from behind the counter, she retrieved a pen and marked down in black ink:
Slightly Bitter Sand — $ 39.99
4 January, 2002, Amsterdam, Netherlands
Loki slowly opened his eyes. It must be morning. His internal clock always woke him first at about three in the morning, then at seven... ish. He wondered which it was. Oz was fast asleep on the next chair over. Loki stretched out with a groan. They were comfortable chairs.
Indris was still standing over the head of the table upon which laid the monk, his head in the light. The necromancer had a hand on the monk’s forehead and both their eyes were closed.
Loki stood and began to pace, not noticing that Oz slowly opened his eyes. The conjurer’s head was still sluggish to allow him to think clearly and he decided that it must be three in the morning. At least, three o’clock Tibet time. He only suffered form jet-lag when, ironically enough, he didn’t take a jet but teleported instead.
With Loki’s back turned and Indris’ eyes closed, Oz slipped from the chair and left the room, heading back to the library and the telephone he had seen there.
Suddenly Indris’ eyes snapped open. “I am ready,” he said at last. Loki, now thoroughly distracted, turned back around without noticing his companion’s disappearance.
“May I speak to him first?” Loki asked, peering down at the brightly lit, serene face of the monk.
Indris shrugged. “If you can wake him.”
Loki took the sleeping monk by the shoulders and shook him. The man came awake with a start. “We’re ready,” Loki told him. “Now listen, you must observe carefully. Tell me everything and everyone you see there.”
The monk nodded. “I understand,” he said with a thin British accent. “But– I must ask for Last Confession. I really must insist.” His eyes darted nervously between the necromancer and the conjurer.
Indris raised his hand to call a servant for a priest, but Loki stopped him. “No. My family got no special attention,” he turned to the monk, “and I want to know where they went.”
The monk’s eyes grew wide. “You don’t understand. I have sins– terrible-” Indris lowered his hand to the monk’s forehead. With a scream of agony which drowned out the necromancer’s chant, the monk’s soul was torn from his now lifeless body and sent to whatever place would have it.
Oz lifted the receiver and began to dial the overseas code on the telephone. It was ringing.
“Hello?” It was Dawn’s voice on the other end.
“Hello, Dawn?” Oz himself was nearly whispering. “Find Buffy, you have to find–”
“Hello?” Dawn repeated. “Whoever this is, I can barely hear you–”
Suddenly a hand came down on the telephone and disconnected it. Oz jumped as a pair of strong hands turned him roughly around. One of the servants glared at him as he set the phone back on the table.
“It is not polite to use the house phone without permission,” Indris’ voice sounded from the servant’s lips. The servant stepped forward as Oz backed up, and two more servants entered the library, all of their faces now lifted, their lifeless eyes staring at the young man.
“I am very disappointed in you, Oz,” the three said in unison, all in Indris’ polite voice. “I’m afraid I’m going to now have to ask you and your friend to leave.” The three servants roughly took Oz by the shoulders and led him stiffly from the library.
“Three... two... one.” Loki counted with a raised eyebrow. “Bring him back.”
Indris nodded and again pressed his hand to the monk’s brow, chanting low and in the same ancient tongue. A pulse of light erupted behind the monk’s eyelids and he opened them with a shriek of terror.
As two servants held him down, he arched and bucked on the table. Indris calmly drew his hand in circles, several inches above the monk’s face, chanting in a higher pitch. Slowly the thrashing stopped. A dreamy expression replaced the one of terror and the servants backed away.
“What did you see?” Loki demanded, his hand on the monk’s arm. “Who was there? Was there anyone there?”
The monk made a blissful moan and opened his eyes a crack. “Babies,” he said dreamily.
Loki swallowed. “There were babies there? Children? Young people?”
The monks all but squirmed in delight at the memory of where he had been. “Mm, babies. The most beautiful babies—”
Loki and Indris turned as three servants dragged Oz into the room. Loki frowned and took a step towards his companion. “Where were you?”
Before he could answer, Indris put a hand on his arm. “Where he need not be. I find your business here concluded. You can find my contact, Rack, in Sunnydale, California. Please, now, be on your way.”
“How did you do that?” Oz demanded, stepping away from the three escorts. “How did you know where I was?”
Indris’ expression changed very little. “My servants,” he offered a hand and all five stepped forward, “are lifeless corpses. I control them directly. They will see you to the door, and so: I will see that you leave. Immediately.”
The monk rolled onto his side sleepily. “Ah, babies.” Loki turned back to him as the monk’s face clouded. He sat up abruptly and placed a hand on his stomach. “I am very hungry,” he said with a frown. “Do you have any babies I could eat?”
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