The Wind Beyond the Walls of the
Mind
Chapter 3
The Shining Trapezohedron
by Gaius Petronius
Synopsis:
At the dawn of the new millennium, an ominous planetary
conjunction threatens to tear the fabric of space/time, opening a
passage between the Void where the evil Ancient Ones are
imprisoned and the present reality. Led by Nyarlethotep, "the
three lobed burning eye," the Ancient Ones threaten to break
loose, reclaim their old dominions and destroy the world. The only thing standing between them is a sole legendary Guardian. . . and
a prophecy about a Slayer who is doomed to lose her soul
to save the world.
DISCLAIMER:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on
the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Fox
and Mutant Enemy, Inc. This story can be read on its own or as
a sequel to H. P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark"
from which the Ancient Ones, the Shining Trapezohedron and the
character of Robert Blake are derived.
The Wind Beyond the Walls of the Mind is set
roughly in mid-season four shortly following the death of Doyle
but before the creation of Adam and the death of Maggie Walsh.
* * * * * * *
Anson MacDuffie glanced up and pondered his
surroundings for a moment. His Sunnydale New Age Curiosity Shop
was dingy and disorganized with stands of small apothecary bottles
filled with herbs, extracts and essences lining the walls. Books
lay scattered around in the shelves in no particular order. The
countertop was cluttered with shoe boxes, each one filled with
a variety of polished stones, crystals and other less identifiable
objects. A large manual cash register took up a full one quarter
of the countertop while across the room several glass cases held
assorted estate jewelry and small wooden cigar boxes overflowing
with tarnished old coins.
The shop was dimly lit with one small lamp
on a desk in the back corner near a doorway that led to a storage
room. On the desk next to the lamp sat his computer and monitor,
an old clunky model that barely handled word processing and oftentimes
ground to a halt dealing with the higher memory and processor
speeds required for the Internet.
MacDuffie stood quietly by his desk holding
the old sealed envelope in his hand. In his early fifties, tall
with thinning brown hair, brown eyes and a dark mustache streaked
with the first splashes of gray, he looked the epitome of a quiet,
slightly eccentric dealer in the rare, the obscure and the just
plain different.
He carefully sliced open the envelope with
a pocket knife, and withdrew a multiple page letter. Slowly, he
read by the dim light. His father's handwriting leaped off the
page and the words echoed across the years in his mind.
"My dearest son, Anson,
As you are now reading this, the time must have arrived and 'the
Crystal' re-awakened. I felt it imprudent to burden you with this
information before it became absolutely necessary, although I'm
sure you have suspected the truth for many years. I now pass on
to you the dire necessity as it was handed to me as a young man
from old HP himself, our first and most powerful of the Guardians."
Anson MacDuffie lowered the paper briefly and
glanced over his shoulder to the partly open door leading into
the shop's storage room. From out of the dark inside, the faintest
hint of light, pulsating with an unidentifiable color, shown against
the ceiling of the shop and cast a splash of bizarre illumination
across his face. Anson MacDuffie returned his attention to the
letter.
"This is what you must confront. The object
accompanying this letter is the 'Shining Trapezohedron' or so
it was called by the Starry Wisdom Sect that inhabited the old
Free Will Church in Providence. Other more ancient texts refer
to it as "the Alexandrian Crystal." It is the gateway
or more properly the link to the Void wherein the Ancient Ones
now reside. When the sun and the planets of the solar system align
along a single plane in our three dimensional sphere, the resulting
gravitational and sub-atomic forces punch a wrinkle in our fragment
of space/time. It is at this point that the Void and our world
become near co-terminus."
"This is when the Ancient Ones can break
free of their imprisonment. The first to cross will be their Messenger,
the entity which prepares the way, Nyarlethotep, the god of air
and blackness, reeking of the Void itself . . . the three lobed
burning eye. The closeness of the two worlds in the weeks prior
to the alignment allows It to roam with limited freedom. It listens
everywhere. So it will search out the 'Crystal' and the 'Power'
that will set both It and all the Ancient Ones fully free to devastate
the world."
"The last alignment occurred in March,
1937. I arrived too late. Both Robert Blake and HP lost their
lives in that struggle. Howard held Yogsothoth at bay long enough
for the planetary conjunction to pass and Blake barely contained
Nyarlethotep itself, casting It into the aether between our reality
and the Void, the realm of dreams, nightmares and the unconscious.
The next conjunction is projected for May 5th, 2000, and it is
at that time that the Trapezohedron will re-awaken and it's pulsing
energy once more summon Nyarlethotep."
"In the weeks prior, It will roam the
earth seeking not only the Crystal, but the power of a Slayer
as well. Harnessed and magnified, that elemental life force, directed
against the fracture between the Void and our universe, will finally
open the portal the Ancient Ones have so long sought."
Anson MacDuffie stopped reading. After a moment,
he folded the pages of the letter together. Slowly, he walked
over to the front window of the shop and stared out into the darkness
shrouding the street. Nothing moved, no cars passed, the very
night itself was still as if holding its breath, watching and
waiting. After a moment, MacDuffie re-opened the letter and began
reading once more.
"My son, from the day you were born, the
weight of what you will confront has overhung my soul. As you
read these words, I and all those of my generation that have fought
this struggle will be long gone. In your hands, my dear Anson,
all our hopes and fears, the successes and failures of all the
Guardians, Watchers and Slayers, indeed the fate of the world
now rests. What actions you take next will determine all that
is yet to come, indeed the reality of the universe as we know
it. My dearest son, this is what you must do . . ."
MacDuffie read on silently. With each passing
moment, a stern resignation built across his face. He finally
set the pages of the letter down on the counter and spoke quietly
to himself with just the faintest hint of a Scottish accent.
". . . may the Gods preserve us . . ."
he whispered as he stared at the seemingly harmless sheets of
paper before him.
He turned and walked towards the open door
of the store room. Inside, boxes and loose artifacts were stacked
in the corners and all across the shelves which lined two walls
of the room. In one corner on the floor sat a medium sized wooden
crate with its lid removed and lying loose. The crate was packed
with old excelsium and, nested in the middle of the packing material,
was the Shining Trapezohedron. It glowed and its light pulsed,
washing the storeroom in a soft but otherworldly iridescence.
Anson MacDuffie stepped inside the storeroom
and stared fearfully at the glowing object. His mind pondering,
he heard again the voice of his father from the pages of the letter.
". . . What actions you take next will
determine all that is yet to come . . ."
The stern determination returned to his face.
He quickly stepped back out into the shop and walked away from
the storeroom, striding purposefully over to the store's counter.
From the shelves behind the counter, he withdrew a small address
book and thumbed the pages, all the while muttering to himself.
". . . Rupert Giles, Rupert Giles . .
. where is that number. . . Giles . . ."
Finally his eyes lit on the telephone number
he sought. He quickly committed it to memory and picked up the
telephone receiver. He started to dial the number but halted before
completing the first few numbers. His eyes widened as the words
of his father moved swiftly in and out of his thoughts.
". . . It listens everywhere . . ."
Anson MacDuffie slowly returned the receiver
to its cradle and stood motionless, like a chess player pondering
his next move. He began gazing around the store until his eyes
fell on the computer on the desk. He clenched his fist and whispered
to himself as if he had just discovered the trap laid by his opponent
and his own move with which to counter it.
". . . yes! . . ."
He quickly walked over to the desk, sat down
and powered up the old computer. As the operating system finished
booting up, his fingers flew across the keyboard. Now the quiet
tapping on the keys was the only sound in the store.
* * * * * * *
At the same time, the lights were low in Xander's
basement apartment and two people, hidden under the sheets and
blankets, were entwined in each others arms in Xander's bed. For
a few moments, only occasional moans and sighs drifted out from
under the covers.
". . . mmmhh . . ."
". . . Xander . . .," Anya suddenly
announced.
". . . hhhmmm? . . ."
". . . Xander . . . you know you really
should do something about that 'thing.'"
The movement under the covers suddenly stopped.
"Huh?"
Anya, naked with only a sheet tangled around
her body, suddenly sat up.
"That 'thing,'" she declared more
insistently.
A naked Xander now sat up as well, and stared
at her in disappointment.
"What 'thing?'" he asked, completely
perplexed at the unexpected turn of events.
"The "Thing!" she snapped back,
exasperated at his inability to follow her mental processes.
"Thing?"
Xander held his hands out at his sides and
ran them over different parts of his anatomy as if he were examining
himself for some kind of a growth or deformity.
"Not that "thing!" Anya
barked.
Xander's eyes widened as if his worst fears
were confirmed.
"The 'thing' . . . in the cemetery!"
she announced.
"Oh . . . " he stammered, "uh,
ya know, Anya, we've had this discussion before. You remember
how I've told you that when guys are like, . . . ya know, with
girls . . . it's really hard to stop . . . in the middle. So like
now, when . . ."
"It eats souls," Anya said, cutting
him off as if she were oblivious to anything he had said.
"Huh?"
"And the light," she continued. "It
can't stand any kind of light."
Trying to salvage some remaining shreds of
the moment, Xander wrapped his arms around Anya and turned her
head towards him. He kissed her lightly on the lips and ran his
hand gently across her cheek. She stared back at him with a completely
blank expression on her face.
"I've seen this before," she said
as if she were making a financial presentation to a board of trustees.
"It's going to destroy the world. We have to tell Giles.
. . now."
Anya moved as if she is about to climb completely
naked out of the bed and head for the telephone. Xander gently
grabbed her by the shoulder to keep her from leaving.
"I just have one question," he sighed.
"Yes?"
"Here we are together," Xander snuggled
up against Anya. "My naked body is right next to yours. We're
about to partake in nature's closest union between a man and a
woman. And at this deeply erotic and sensitive moment . . . you're
thinking about . . . the 'thing?' . . . in the cemetery?"
"Yes!" Anya answered briskly.
"Why???? What brought that on?"
For a moment Anya stared at Xander. She was
about to speak, as if her answer were the most obvious observation
in the world, but Xander cut her off.
"Never mind! I don't want to know! Sorry
I asked!"
Wrapped in the other end of the sheet, Xander
swung his legs out of the bed, sat up and reached over to the
bedside table. He picked up a small glass of cold water sitting
there and slowly poured the chilly liquid over the top of his
head.
"Hey! What did you do that for?!"
Anya squalled.
"The cold water spigot in the shower's
on the fritz," he replied dejectedly.
* * * * * *
Anson MacDuffie's fingers moved rapidly across
the keyboard as he rushed to complete the e-mail. He finally stopped,
quickly proof read the text on the monitor screen, then tapped
the return key. He watched the monitor for a moment more, then
sighed.
". . . fly, I pray . . . swiftly fly .
. ." he whispered to the computer.
At the same time, as he stared at the monitor,
the bizarre iridescence of the Shining Trapezohedron flickered
from out of the storage room behind him.
* * * * * * *
Willow slouched at her dorm room desk in front
of her computer but she was paying scant attention to the monitor.
Every few moments, she tapped a key to advance a screen and then
stared off into the room. She had been waiting for what seemed
like hours for Buffy to return after the blow up in the cemetery.
Finally she heard footsteps advancing down the hall towards the
door. She perked up at the sound and a hopeful smile stretched
across her face as Buffy entered.
". . . hi . . ." Willow said meekly.
"Hi," Buffy replied quietly. The
Slayer struggled to remain cool and firm. After all, the Scoobies,
largely at Willow's urging, had pretty much ruined her evening's
patrol and any attempt to gather more information on the entity
that was stalking her.
Buffy's willpower began to fail as she glanced
at Willow sitting in front of her computer.
"Are you okay? Are we okay?" Willow
asked.
It was all over after that. It was always Willow's
smile that did it. Buffy couldn't stay angry after seeing that
grin. Defeated, Buffy flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
"Yeah. I'm not mad at you, Will,"
she said towards the ceiling. "Heck, you guys have been following
me around trying to protect me for years. Nothing changes. 'Same
MO,' as Riley says."
Reassured, Willow's grin broadened.
"Where'd you go?"
"Giles' place."
"Giles figure anything out?"
"Nah . . .," Buffy answered, a touch
of worry in her voice. "This one's got even him stumped."
"What happened to Riley? I saw him finally
go after you."
"I blew him off." Buffy sat up in
the bed. "Told him I'd talk to him in the morning."
"You guys are still okay?"
"Yeah, but this is getting to be a real
problem, him lurking around all the time." Buffy lay back
on the comforters draped across her bed and complained partly
to Willow and partly to the posters on the wall.
"I mean, I do my stuff my
way but . . . this Initiative of his . . . all of sudden it's
like there's dozens of Xanders running around blasting at anything
that moves. Somebody's liable to get hurt!" Buffy tried not
to smile at the image.
Willow smiled back.
"It's not funny, Willow!" Buffy said,
struggling not to laugh herself.
Willow adopted a pseudo-serious scowl. With
that, Buffy knew it was all over. Willow had won again.
"Don't be too hard on Riley," Willow
said sweetly. "He really cares for you, and he's just doing
what he's been trained to do."
"Which conflicts big time with what I've
been trained to do," Buffy complained again to the posters.
"You guys'll work it out."
"I guess," Buffy answered but there
wasn't the slightest bit of certainty in her reply.
"I'm just gonna finish cleaning out my
e-mail and I'll turn everything off," Willow finally said
as her attention returned to her computer
Buffy glanced at her bedside clock.
"Oh shit! It's like two a.m.! I gotta
get some sleep! I got western civ at 8!"
Buffy sat up, dangled her legs over the side
of her bed and sighed. She wanted to get ready for bed but Willow
pecking at the keyboard distracted her. She watched as her roommate
deleted e-mail after e-mail without even opening them.
". . . porno . . . " Willow said
to herself in sing songy voice as she clicked on an offending
e-mail and hit the delete button with a tap, ". . . porno
. . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click) . . . save that one for
tomorrow . . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click)."
Willow stared briefly at one file and shook
her head in disgust.
"I wish Xander'd stop sending me those
forwarded surveys. If I have to answer what kind of toothpaste
or tampons I use one more time I'm gonna slip him an IM bomb!"
"Wow, you get a lot of mail!" Buffy
remarked in awe as she watched Willow continue to delete e-mail
after e-mail.
"Yeah, almost all of it's spamcrap,"
Willow said as she kept hitting the delete key, ". . . porno
. . . (click) . . . porno . . . (click)"
"How did you end up getting all these
porno come ons?"
"Remember that week I let Xander use my
laptop to get on the net?"
"Oh, geez!" Buffy exclaimed, rolling
her eyes.
"Yeah! Big mistake!" Willow said,
still deleting files. ". . . porno . . . (click) . . . porno
. . . (click)"
Suddenly Willow stopped and her face squinched
up in a frown.
". . . that's funny . . ." she said
to herself.
"What?" Buffy asked, her interest
perked.
"I got an e-mail here from Mr. MacDuffie,"
Willow said as she studied the e-mail file.
"Who's that?" Buffy asked as she
jumped up out of bed and stood looking over Willow's shoulder.
"The old guy that runs the New Age Magic
Shop downtown where I get all my Wicca stuff. He's sorta neat,
kinda like Giles only weirder."
Buffy almost laughed.
"That's a trick, weirder than Giles. What's
he want?"
Puzzled, Willow was silent for a moment as
she opened the e-file and began reading.
"It's a message for Giles," she said
finally. "Mr. MacDuffie says here it's important,and I should
get it to him right away. . . And not to use the phone?"
Willow's eyebrows raised in a question.
"Yup!" Buffy nodded. "Definitely
weirder than Giles."
Suddenly Willow was silent. As she read, her
face dissolved into a look of panic and fear.
"Buffy, . . . you gotta read this,"
she said and her voice trembled.
"But you said it was for Giles."
"Buffy! Read it!" Willow said firmly,
and the trademark grin was nowhere to be seen.
Buffy leaned further over Willow's shoulder
as the two read the e-mail from MacDuffie. Their eyes widened
with each paragraph. Finally Buffy stood back from the computer
and stared straight ahead, her face an emotionless mask as if
all of her vibrant young spirit suddenly had been drawn out of
her. Willow looked back over her shoulder at her friend.
". . . oh, no . . ." she barely whispered
as she shook her head.
". . . so . . ." Buffy said quietly
as she stared across the room, "that's what it is!"
"We gotta get this to Giles," Willow's
voice quivered with the urgency both felt.
She reached over from her seat and turned on
her printer. She tapped several keys, then hit the return key
and waited patiently for the printout.
"Aw, man, Will! Another all-nighter!"
Buffy exclaimed in despair.
"Well, at least you can sleep during western
civ," Willow replied, shrugging her shoulders. "How
many are in that lecture? Two hundred?"
"I gotta cut it. See there . . ."
Buffy pointed at the screen as the printer quickly ran off the
pages of the e-mail.
"See, it says right there, " Buffy
continued, "He wants Giles to meet with him at eight a.m.
tomorrow at the shop." She pointed at the text on the monitor,
"'And bring the Slayer.'"
"At least you always get invited."
Buffy stepped around Willow and snatched the
pages out of the printer tray.
"Okay, I'm outta here," she announced.
Willow jumped up from her desk to follow, switching
off her printer in the same smooth motion.
"You're coming?" Buffy asked surprised.
"I can't sleep after reading that,"
Willow exclaimed, indicating the pages in Buffy's hand. "With
this new info we're probably gonna have to go into super research
mode. Besides," she grinned again, "I like tormenting
Spike!"
Willow quickly hit the lights just before Buffy
slammed the door. Their voices echoed down the hallway outside
the dorm room as they headed for the stairwell.
"Xander said you beat Spike at strip poker!"
Buffy chattered, the adrenalin now pumping again.
"Right down to his undies," Willow
smirked. "Giles broke it up. I would've won, too. I had a
flush!"
"You cheated didn't you!" Buffy exclaimed.
"You used a spell to stack the deck!"
". . . So! . . . And you'll never guess
what he wears!"
Willow whispered to Buffy.
"No! Get outta here! The ones with the
frillies?!"
Buffy and Willow disappeared down the stairwell
and their voices faded away. The hallway was silent. Then, slowly,
a faint hint of red light glowed from the open crack where their
dorm room door meets the floor. It steadily built in intensity
until it shown like a beacon across the linoleum floor.
* * * * * * * *
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