New Reign - Act 1
Her fist was closed. Her nails were biting into her palm as she held her fist as the formidable weapon it was. Hard and fast, as merciless a killer as any demon.
“You are a vampire slayer: These are your assets.” Thud– thud– Her fists punished the punching bag. Logan was here, but only as a voice: her world was restricted to her assets and her targets. “Your speed.” A bamboo cane came out of nowhere and whizzed above her head as she ducked and spun away. “Your strength.” The punching bag launched itself towards her along its track but she caught it, shoving its massive bulk back into her attacker. “Your cunning.”
With a sudden back flip, Niki dodged the knives that came at her from the darkened other side of the room. Each struck and stuck into the wall inches behind her. As the final blade entered the boards, she lowered herself stealthily into a crouch in the deepest shadows. Her attacker strode from across the room, a lethal rapier cutting the air around him with sharp cracks like thunder.
He was thin and fit, the speed of his weapon testifying for his strength. His boots were black and tied with laces up silver eyelets. His dark blue denim jeans bore several blood stains and were threadbare at the knees. His close fitting black sweater obscured his form in the dim light, throwing his face into high contrast. His pale face which had seen too many injuries in others and too few in himself glanced quickly and alertly from shadow to shadow, his close cropped blond hair beginning to stick together from perspiration.
His hands were as invisible as his sweater in the dim light, sweeping the air in black leather gloves. The rapier was the only indicator of his intentions as he crossed his own steps in search of his prey. The steel cracked as he swept it through the dense atmosphere, a bolt of electricity shivering into anything it touched.
“You are a vampire slayer,” he repeated, the air buzzing with tension as his sword searched for flesh. “What are your assets?”
With a flash of lightening faster than anything he had conjured, one of the knives tore past him and sliced the cord supporting the board above the room’s small window. With a thump, the room was plunged into complete darkness.
There was a snicker of laugher from one of the corners and Logan’s sword was bent into the wall there in less than a heartbeat. But of course, Niki was not there.
Logan first felt the warm breath in his ear as the cold metal slid around the back of his throat. With her hand on his forehead and her blade at his jugular, he could do nothing but share her laugh. “Try it.”
They both groaned as the room’s light flashed on. Shielding their eyes and squinting in irritation at the figure at the door, Niki lowered her knife from Logan’s throat and Logan lowered his own from her gut.
“If you kids are done,” Whistler flashed them a skeptical look, “Mr. Addison is awake.” The barkeep left the back room of the Nail Biter which had been emptied of precious liqueurs and filled with deadly weapons. The demon reentered the other room which had been emptied of various ales and filled with a torture table and an old man.
Addison groaned and mouthed a curse as he looked up into the faces of Niki Valtaine and Logan Kilpatrick. “You...” he muttered glaring at the girl.
Niki frowned and tilted her head to Logan. “Give us a minute,” she said gently. Logan nodded.
“If I don’t see you... before,” he said quietly, “then good luck.” He turned and followed Whistler out.
The slayer helped the old Watcher sit up from the table where he’d been recovering from his three days on the Cure Table. They’d bandaged him up and let him sleep in drug-induced bliss for two days after the Nosphoric infection had been purged from his blood.
The man looked up from a pale face framed by hair that was whiter than ever. “How long?” he said at last, his voice still a little sore from the unique experience.
“How long since you went under, or how long since you got infected?” Niki raised an eyebrow which might be misconstrued as amused, but was simply appealing to the rapport that the two now shared.
“The infection...” the man squinted trying with difficulty to remember the last few months. “When was that?”
Niki shrugged. “We don’t know. It could have been as long ago as last September. What’s the last thing you remember clearly?”
Addison blinked his forehead furrowing. “I- I’m not sure. What’s the date?”
“March first.”
Addison’s gaze narrowed on her in astonishment. “Nineteen eighty six?”
With a face of stone, Niki blinked. “Nineteen ninety one.” After a beat she cracked a smile. “Just kidding.”
The old Watcher sighed, his hand catching his chest in relief. “Don’t do that to an old man,” he warned, lifting himself from the chair. “What’s happened?”
Niki stood and followed him closely, afraid he might collapse. “Not much. Wars, plagues, the occasional hippy uprising.” She swallowed as he stretched his legs and began to pace in his classic lecture mode. “Actually, there’s something kinda big coming up.”
The man who had been a father in all the ways that didn’t matter raised a curious eyebrow. “If you think it’s big, there must be some merit to it.”
“For the past few months,” she explained, sitting herself down, “none of which you can apparently remember... you’ve been working with the Nosphorus in Europe to infect the Watcher’s Council with the Plague.” She might have continued, but she let him digest that for a moment. He sat.
“I see.” His eyes examined the floor worriedly. He exhaled. “Was... I successful?”
The Slayer nodded slowly. “As far as we can determine, you got all but one of them. That’s why we haven’t heard anything from across the pond since you returned– except this.” She carefully unfolded the small piece of paper and handed it to the perplexed Watcher.
Slayer: Concerning Nosphorus. There appear to be more in Europe. We have to assume there are some in America, likely in New York. Destroy them as soon as possible at all costs.
-R
Addison squinted at the small handwriting. “I don’t recognize it,” he said at last. “The only Council member whose sir initial is R is Sir Kyle Raleigh...” he blinked rapidly as a memory forced its way into his mind. “And... I believe I got him first.”
Niki shrugged. “Well, that was when we decided it’d be better if I were cured ASAP. And Pierce...” She let the comment hang there as the elder man picked up the tone and guessed the rest. He looked down, the paper falling from his fingers.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “He and I–”
“I know,” Niki replied with the same volume. She held out her wrist and the bracelet which hung from it. “And...” her throat tightened, “thank you.”
After a long silence, he looked up with a newfound resolve and solitary peace behind his eyes. “So what are our plans?”
Niki looked up and met his eyes with the look she had only ever given to her father. “I’m ready to be the Slayer.”
Logan reached across the island in the center of the Kilpatrick kitchen and took the coffee Rachel had poured for him. He glanced around for the cream with a frown when he met his wife’s gaze as she held the carton with a sardonic gleam in her eye. She poured and stirred for him before letting him take his mug. But he didn’t drink.
For the shortest of all the long moments between them, he kept his gaze locked with hers. The coffee got cold in that short moment. “Hanna’s going to miss the bus,” Rachel said at last, breaking the gaze and closing the cream before it expired.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Logan smiled, never taking his eyes from her.
“I’d mind,” Rachel replied, folding the newspaper crisply in half and handing it to him. He grinned and tucked it under his arm as he rounded the island and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Have a nice day, sweetie,” he said with a friendly sneer. This prompted and smirk from her and she smacked him gently on the arm.
“Your daughter will be late,” she reminded.
He nodded and hurried to the door where Hanna was waiting, sullen and cynical as mornings always found her.
“I hate taking the bus,” she said bluntly. “Why can’t you drive me?”
Logan shrugged apologetically. “The other kids’ parents called me and told me they weren’t getting enough of you, what could I do?” Hanna gave the sneer which said she wasn’t that he wasn’t funny anymore. Logan flashed a smile and tugged at her chin patronizingly. “Oh, you’re so cute when you’re not taking crap.”
“Mom,” Hanna called into the kitchen, “dad’s swearing again.”
Logan snatched his coat and hustled them outside before the lecture could get started. The bus stop was only a few houses down, but habit kept Hanna from wandering outside without her father or mother. It never registered to her as odd for an eleven year old not to be allowed to leave the house without an escort. This was just the way it was.
When they got to the bus stop, they found that they were in fact early. Now it registered to Hanna and she went into preteen embarrassed mode. There was nothing worse than standing around with her dad. He was always so... I love you Hanna.
Today, however, he was oddly silent. Only when the bus appeared at the end of the street did he speak up. “You know why I can’t drive you, right?”
Hanna shrugged. “Work. It’s always work.”
Logan shrugged and nodded candidly. “Well, yeah, it is. But this week it’s very important work.”
“You gonna get promoted?” she asked, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder as the bus approached.
“Wouldn’t that be nice...” he pondered. The bus screeched to a halt. “Hanna,” he said, taking his beloved daughter by the shoulders and turning her sullen face to him. “I know I said it and you eventually stop listening... but I do love you.”
She sighed and nodded, trying to wrest herself from his grip as the bus’s doors creaked open. “If you loved me, you’d drive me to school,” she answered with a smirk.
Logan laughed and let her go, quickly kissing two fingers and touching her forehead as he sometimes forgot to do these days. She trudged up the steps into the bus and he called after her. “Have fun.”
Niki felt the weight of the short sword in her hand. She had never trained with anything so... medieval before.
“Feel the grip the sword gives,” Addison directed, lifting the buckler lashed to his left arm and raising the short sword in his right. “You’ll have to figure out how hard you need to squeeze.”
The Slayer swung the sword experimentally and let its own weight do some of the work. It had a clean cut and made a pleasing sound as it parted the air. “Have you been able to remember anything else about the past few months?”
Addison widened his stance and began to circle the Slayer, threateningly, forcing her to turn around and follow him. “Not a great deal,” he admitted. “It’s all rather like a dream and it only comes in floods of feeling and impressions. I gather I was having quite a good time over there, getting some real results from the Council for once, even if it involved having them all bitten by infected vampires.” He took a warning swing near her and she took a step back, gripping the sword with both hands. “Attack me,” he ordered.
Niki dropped one hand from the sword and straightened. “Are you serious?”
Addison laughed and raised his buckler, stepping quickly from side to side. “Come on, then!” he poked the air to her left with his sword and stepped quickly back again.
Niki sighed with amusement and lifted her sword high above her head.
Logan tried to relax as the fasten seat belts light went off. The high pitch sound of the engines had faded into the background and he resigned himself to his situation. Goodbye New York. Goodbye Rachel, Hanna. Goodbye Niki.
“Nuts, sir?” the flight attendant asked, offering a tray from her trolley.
“I must be,” he agreed, closing his eyes and sliding the window blind down. “Just wake me when we get there.”
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