Prince of Pierce - Act 3
“I’m here to see Victoria.”
The receptionist glanced up to see the blonde in the black leather jacket. Glancing back down at her visitors list, she raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Name?”
“Niki Valtaine,” the Slayer said easily. The entire atmosphere of this place could drive a person insane. Pale green walls and low stuffed furniture. Creatively placed fluorescent lights and doctors wandering here and there in white coats. A hush laid heavily over the entire institution and found its way down the Slayer’s throat making it difficult to speak. She swallowed hard.
The receptionist nodded at long last. “Ah, yes. She’s expecting you.” The woman with severely drawn back hair and eyes stood from the desk and led the Slayer down the pale green corridor to the very end. At the door stood a friendly looking security guard who looked like he would offer you a hug while unclipping his baton.
The severe receptionist nodded to the guard who unlocked the door and opened it. There was no window, so Niki was taken by surprise when sunlight flooded her senses. It was an arboretum. Amid the bleak winter scene outside, this glass room contained a summer playground. Warm sunshine somehow radiated from the ceiling, a gentle breeze somehow wafted here and there. Grass covered the ground.
At the center of the playground was a swing set. On the middle of the three swings a young girl swung back and forth, her white school uniform streaked with green grass-stains and her face covered in white gauze bandages.
With a look of warning to the Slayer, the guard and the receptionist left the arboretum and closed the door behind them. Niki frowned and walked carefully toward the girl who was apparently the powerful seer. “Hello,” she said hesitantly.
Victoria wore a look of uncertain worry. “Hello,” she said. There was a worried pause on her end, then she spoke up again. “Is Tom dead?”
The question caught the Slayer so much by surprise that she didn’t answer. She blinked several times. This wasn’t adding up. “Aren’t you—? Don’t you know?”
Victoria looked down sadly. “I don’t see things I want to see. I only see bad things.” She looked up again. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
Niki shook her head adamantly. “No, Tom’s fine. My name’s Niki, I got your message.”
Victoria’s face became frozen. If her eyes had been visible, they would have been wide as saucers. “Niki,” she said in almost a whisper. “The bad man is meeting with darkness again tonight. Darkness is telling him to kill everyone– and everyone will die... but you first.”
The Slayer wasn’t sure what this little girl was talking about, but she caught the ‘you first’ part. “Is it Pearce,” she asked, “is he meeting with darkness?”
Victoria scrunched her face and concentrated. “It... says kiss on his shirt. That’s the bad man.”
Niki was already heading for the door. “Niki,” Victoria called, standing from the swing. “He’ll kill you in the park: Don’t go to the park.”
Niki opened the door and dashed down the corridor. It was several hours by taxi back to New York City. It might be dark by then.
As the sun dropped below the line of buildings, Pearce and the vampire in black were already waiting in the shadows of Central Park. They had already been to Master Aizawa’s martial arts studio and ‘borrowed’ his kenjutso sword. The vampire in black was swinging it with ease through the air like a master.
“You will need this,” he told Pearce. “She will come for you and she will do everything in her considerable mortal power to kill you.”
Pearce took the sword. “I cannot defend myself.”
The vampire in the black suit laid his hand on Pearce’s shoulder. “You must defend yourself.” He lifted his hand from the vampire’s shoulder and placed it on his cheek.
In a flash, Pearce was facing a scene from his own nightmares. He was standing beside the unconscious Slayer. She lay on a table, like Pierce had laid out many victims before her, and he looked down at her with an emotion he couldn’t recognize himself. She was bleeding from her stomach where it appeared the vampire had impaled her, but with a sudden start, the Slayer grabbed the edge of the wooden table, tore a chunk from it and drove it into the vampire’s chest. Pearce watched as his body collapsed into dust on the dark floor. In the dim light of the room, the silver bracelet glinted as it landed in the dust. IXI.
Pearce shook his head free of the vision and took a step back from the vampire in black. “What the hell was that?” he demanded, raising the sword defensively, though he knew he could not use it.
“The future,” the vampire answered easily. “What will happen if you do not kill her tonight.” He nodded as Pearce’s expression told him all he needed to know. “You are ready then? Ready to do what is necessary for your renewed reign?”
Pearce’s eyes narrowed. The cold night air filled his lungs and permeated his body. “Yes. Do it.”
The vampire smiled a pleasant and triumphant smile. He turned slightly to face the air. “Halfrek?”
With a thunderous clash of light and smoke, a hideous creature appeared. She looked to be several months dead and rotting, but very much alive and perpetually furious. “Darling,” she said pleasantly.
“Sweety,” the vampire in black smiled. To Pearce’s utter disgust, they embraced and the vampire kissed the demon passionately. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything for you, sweetcakes, you know that,” she glanced over to see Pearce standing in the cold in his KISS T-shirt. “Oh, it’s him.”
“Before you start complaining,” the vampire held up a hand, “I’ll tell you how this works to your advantage.” He nuzzled her grotesque face. “You know I’d never ask you to do anything that would get you in trouble.”
She smirked. “Well, I guess you’re right.”
“The Slayer,” he said into her ear, “dumped her boyfriend recently... broke his heart. He needs–”
“Vengeance?” Halfrek said eagerly. “I can do that! All he needs to do is say the word–”
The vampire nodded. “That’s the problem,” he said gently. “The poor man doesn’t know it works like that. He needs us to get vengeance for him.” He looked over at Pearce who was very confused. “This vampire here is the only one who can exact that vengeance.”
Halfrek looked over to Pearce with contempt. “But he hurt that poor little boy. He got what he deserved.” She glared at him. “If it were up to me, I’d have you boiling in some hell dimension for several eternities.”
“But sweety,” the vampire said gently, “no one can find vengeance but him– and to do it, he needs to be able to fight.”
Halfrek thought about this, looking from Pearce to her sweetcakes. “Oh... what the hell.” She grinned, a fearsome sight, “the curse is lifted.” Her face took on a completely serious expression. “But only,” she warned, “until you’ve gotten vengeance. Then it's back to the little vampire that couldn’t.”
“Thanks, sweety,” the vampire kissed her hideous lips again and she giggled.
With a shudder, Pearce felt his old power returning to him. His flesh crawled and his senses were magnified. With a gasp, he realized his face was transformed, vampiric and terrifying. His eyes searched the night like those of a wolf, penetrating the shadows and searching for food. His nostrils filled with the scent of food. It wandered about this whole city– unaware of his return. The Prince was back.
“Pearce,” Niki called from the darkness of the trees. She was sprinting towards him, a stake in her hand, a cold, unfeeling look in her eyes.
“Oop, got to go,” Halfrek raised her hand. “Give her hell, kid,” and she vanished. The vampire in black moved around behind Pierce, gripping his shoulders as a coach would his prized fighter.
Niki swallowed as she saw Pierce in his full strength standing with the sword clasped in his hands. There was really nothing she could say. Somehow, they had lost Pearce. The Slayer felt herself desperately alone. She had driven off her Watcher, then her lover, now her last ally. Now the Council was out of contact, her lover was happy to never see her again and her last ally was about to slaughter the city. “Pierce,” she said simply. “Put down the sword.”
There was a pause as Pierce felt his whole history catching up with him in a tremendous rush of energy. All the pent up sadism from these years without a throne surged through his muscles and seemed to radiate off the blade in his hands. How good it would feel again to drive it through terrified flesh. To smell the fear, drink in the fear. “Put down the sword?” he growled, his teeth feeling more natural now than they ever had. “I think not.” He raised the blade above his head and charged.
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