Three Days, Three Nights - Act 2
Night 2
“Be silent,” the Nosphorus commanded, fully aware of his power over the incapacitated Slayer. “Roll over,” he said with a sadistic grin.
Her jaw set —unable to make a noise— Niki’s face contorted in exquisite agony as the virus’ hold on her brain forced her to attempt the impossible act. With her wrists, ankles and forehead leather-bound to the table, she was only able to twist her abdomen to one side, twisting the silver spike through her gut and back, where it penetrated.
She stifled cries of pain, biting her lip until she drew blood so as not to make a sound. There was nothing more nauseating than the feeling of a foreign object pushing aside one’s internal organs - pressing just to one side of the spinal cord.
Even as consciousness threatened to leave her, she couldn’t force herself to abort the move, her master watching with a hideous grin. The blood draining into the bucket beneath the table increased from a steady drip, drip to a continual patter and finally a drizzle.
Dizziness overcame the struggling Slayer and her eyes fluttered as she finally felt herself approaching the paradise of unconsciousness.
“Stop,” the Nosphorus ordered, seeing her condition. She sagged back on the table, her bleeding slowing as it soaked a broad red circle into her white shirt. The gauze which had been packed around the silver spike was now hanging off her side, soaked with fresh blood. “Wake up,” he said and her eyes shot open.
The Nosphorus leaned in close to her ear, the lovely scent of her exhaustion and pain greeting his nostrils. “I could tell your heart to stop beating,” he whispered with pleasure. “I could tell your lungs to stop breathing. I could tell you to burn alive: and you would obey me.”
Niki’s lips trembled, even though her eyes were open, she was barely conscious. The virus was controlling the chemicals her brain was releasing, keeping her awake like a drug might. With a deep breath, she opened her mouth and let her eyes track across her vision to the face of vampiric Pierce.
The Nosphorus cocked his head with curiosity. “Speak,” he allowed.
“You won’t kill me,” she said hoarsely, tasting blood coating her throat. One of the pins in her neck must have pierced a blood vessel. Nothing critical, or she’d be bead by now.
“Won’t I?” the Nosphorus asked with amusement.
The corners of the Slayer’s mouth lifted with a supreme effort for her to smile. “I know,” she croaked, “why you’re scary again...”
The Nosphorus straightened, considering this. His eyes searched the memory of the vampire he inhabited. The vampire had been cursed: prevented from transforming to his natural vampiric state. That had changed.
“What do you mean?” the Nosphorus frowned, resting his hands on the edge of the table.
Niki moved her glance back to the ceiling. With the barest smile still on her lips, she said nothing.
“Answer!” her master commanded, leaning over and glaring down into the Slayer’s face.
Slowly, Niki opened her mouth. With infinite pleasure, she spat in his face, her bloodied saliva hitting him under the left eye. The Nosphorus snarled and raised a hand to strike her, but stopped. He calmed himself and wiped the blood from his face. He knew his control was slipping: she was being purged of the infection with every drop of blood she lost.
“Once you are off this table,” he said with a deep breath, “I will enjoy infecting you again... and again... and again...”
Day 2
Addison slowly set his suitcase on the curb as the cab drove away. With a deep breath he took in the air of New York City yet again. Logan promptly picked it up and marched to the door of the apartment.
“Where have you guys been?” the lawyer asked with a hint of irritation. “No one’s heard from the Council for months!”
Addison raised an eyebrow, as if this were the most inappropriate question one could ask. “We have a great number of matters to deal with. We can’t afford the time to send you daily reports.”
Logan sighed and shook his head. “Whatever – look, thanks for the heads up on the Nosphorus situation. It gave us time to prepare.”
Addison looked sharply at the man, at first completely unaware of what he was talking about. Slowly, however, the information filtered into his mind. “Oh yes, of course.” His frown ever-present, he cocked his head in curiosity. “Just how are you preparing for this... situation?”
Logan considered telling the Watcher that Niki and Pierce were infected with the Nosphoric plague, then thought better of it. “Just getting weapons together,” the man shrugged it off. “What I’m more interested in,” he went on as they stepped out of the elevator on the ninth floor, “is the one who started this whole thing.”
Addison nodded. “Ah yes, this ‘Creep’. Utter balderdash. Complete fairytale. Nothing more.” The old man waved it off and marched into Niki’s apartment, indicating to Logan where to drop his things. “I’m disappointed that you’ve distracted yourself with such a notion.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he said uneasily. “Forget I said anything.”
“What we should be worried about,” the old Watcher argued, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table, “is the rampant paranoia surrounding this minor issue of the Plague—”
“Minor?” Logan whirled on the old man, his expression shocked. “One Nosphorus nearly instigated a full-scale war on the streets! There’s no telling how much damage someone could do with the power to create as many Nosphorus as he wanted!”
Addison raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Well, then it’s fortunate that the book containing the spell to do that is not in enemy hands, isn’t it?”
Logan winced internally. “Yes. I suppose it is.”
Addison nodded outwardly. Stupid human, he thought. He will be one of the first to die. “So I should think,” the old Watcher said stiffly, “that irrational panic is the prime concern in this case. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Logan glanced down at the floor. Things were, unfortunately, much worse than the old man suspected. Logan would have to tell him eventually. But for now... “Yeah,” he said resentfully. “You’re absolutely right.”
Niki lay on the gently rolling hillside, her mother squeezing her shoulders with a broad smile on her face, her father with a casual hand on her knee.
The sun was setting: of course. Always in the act of disappearing, always staining the sky new and dazzling colors of red and pink, each more stunning than the last. The quiet wind was gently fingering her hair as the sound of distant lazy music drifted past.
With a little grin, she saw the man coming over the next hill - dressed in his long leather jacket, a broad grin of recognition on his face. She felt her skin tingle at the perfection of the moment. The unending moment.
In the space in time of a blink, the perfection was gone. With a blood-chilling blast of cold air, the sun finally sank below the horizon and darkness fell across the land. Niki’s eyes widened in panic as a figure in a black suit, carrying a black briefcase approached her leather-clad lover from behind. Before she could utter a sound, the flash of a knife caught the last dead rays of the sun as it slashed across the man’s throat, dropping him to his knees.
Unable to move, Niki lay on the suddenly cold hard ground as the cold wind picked up and the grass became straw, coarse and brittle. With shivers running through her, she awaited the form in the dark suit, nothing but his legs seeming to move as he crossed the barren distance between himself and her family.
With a heart-stopping suddenness, grass all around them burst into flames, an infernal circle rising higher and higher, closing around the suited figure as he approached. Niki heard her mother scream.
In a flash, the figure was upon them, driving his knife into her father’s forehead, taking her mother by the hair and throwing her into the flames.
Niki couldn’t make a sound as the Creep looked down at her with a calm and calculated face.
“Wake up Knicks,” he hissed, his mouth open but his lips motionless.
Niki awoke with a hoarse scream on the table, the Nosphorus gone now that the sun was setting. With her breathing ragged and painful, she sobbed into the darkness of the room. The hopeless darkness was silent in return.
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