A story that takes place post-"Choices" This is a work of fiction based on the tv show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" created by Joss Whedon. All names, characters, ect. are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended.
The walls were crumbling brick, and thick curtains of cobwebs coated the crevices of either side of the narrow stone stairwell. Faith's black combat boot carefully chose where it stepped; she was so far below the ground that there was actual slime on the steps and the walls. The lighter she'd brought -- there were no lights in the stairwell -- flickered precariously in the dank air. She shuddered inside her black jean jacket; it was icy cold and black down there. Time was she would only go this deep into this kind of creepy environ to hunt vampires, but those days were gone. Her alliance with Mayor Richard Wilkins III had taken care of her Slayer duties for good. Now she only ventured into the deep dark places of Sunnydale on missions from his Honor, to recover magical trinkets and kill off unwanted guests and the like. Tonight, though, it wasn't even an errand of the Mayor's that brought her down here. No, Faith was descending into the dark, unused corridors beneath City Hall simply because....she was bored. Why she had decided to come here, of all places, she couldn't say. She was not the kind who gave a damn about things that didn't concern her, and she could definately think of at least two other things she'd rather be doing...but Mayor Wilkins didn't need anybody assassinated at the moment, and all the hot young Sunnydale boys seemed to be either on vacation or dead. So she found herself wandering down the broken steps, further and further, until she reached the bottom and found a huge, heavy steel door. Questioning why even as she did it, she slammed her shoulder against the door until it gave with a metal groan. Once inside, she was briefly glad to find a dust covered light switch, which delivered grimy yellow light from a series of bare hanging bulbs dangling from the ceiling, half of them out, the ones that did work dim. Doors that hadn't been opened in fifty years lined the hall. She pushed a strand of hair back with a black fingernail, peering around. It was dead silent down there. She went to the first door she saw and turned the knob, peeking in. Piles and piles of boxes. Records, no doubt. Dull stuff. She shut the door and went on. As if sleepwalking, she passed the other doors, going to one about five doors down, twisted the knob and happened upon a storage room full of junk. Crap from probably the last two hundred years was piled up in there. For no particular reason, she stepped into this room. There were filing cabinets, boxes of more records. Furniture; the remnants of an old-fashioned four poster bed. Wardrobes, a clothing dummy, and -- Faith perked -- an ancient-looking broadsword lying on a table. She picked it up, hefting its weight; it was heavy even for her strong arms. "Damn," she whispered appreciatively, admiring the weapon. Designs were engraved on the tarnished blade, and what looked like Spanish words were inscribed on the hilt. Under the sword lay ratty, moth-eaten duds that looked like something Columbus might have worn to a scalping party, and on these sat a badly rusted but still intact Spanish conquistador's helmet. Crash. Faith had nerves of steel, but that one made her jump a mile. Her Slayer's instinct kicked in and she wielded the sword, ready for whatever might be in the room with her. She tensed at the sight of glowing eyes staring at her from the dark. "Did you ever pick the wrong person to stalk," she grinned as the thing came out of the dark toward her. It was an ordinary black cat. Faith lowered the antique sword, swearing under her breath. The cat meowed mournfully, then turned away and jumped off the pile of boxes it had been perched upon. It padded purposefully away, and Faith had had enough. With a final glance at the cool-looking sword, she set it down and made for the door. The door was gone. Faith stared, confused at the wall she'd thought the door was on. She looked around -- none of the walls had a door. That was stupid; there had to be a door. She'd gotten in, hadn't she? "Meow." The cat was sitting on another pile of boxes now, watching with interest. As Faith looked, it dropped to the floor and rubbed up against a pile of huge frames leaning against a wardrobe. The frames toppled over with another tremendous crash. Faith made a face. "Make all the mess you want, I'm not cleaning it up." But something made her walk over and look at the frames nonetheless. About five heavy oak frames had fallen over, revealing an especially large one lying on its side. Faith had to tilt her head to see that it was a painting of a dude that looked quite a bit like the Mayor, or his grandad at least, since the brass plate read 1903. By the man's side in the portrait was a woman in a stiff looking dress. The woman was pale and prim, her expression severe, her raven hair in a tight bun. Faith frowned. She felt like she recognized the face. "Beautiful, wasn't she?" said a voice. Faith whipped around to see a figure standing behind her. The figure was draped in a heavy black robe, and a death-white, doll-like face shrieked out from the darkness. Huge, shadow-rimmed eyes stared blackly, and she -- for it was a woman -- she did not blink at all. That plus the rags tied in her hair gave her the look of a creepy 30's Minnie Mouse drawing; with those overly wide, dark, dead eyes. A smile the color of dried blood ripped across the chalky face as she smirked at Faith, and then at the portrait. "Wicked creature -- absolutely hideous. She was the bride of Mayor Wilkins at the turn of the century." Faith, initially startled at the stranger's arrival, decided to roll with it, raising an eyebrow. "How many Mayors did this family crank out, anyway?" she cracked. The mysterious woman turned on her with a sharp smile. "Child, even you can't ignore the obvious for long. You know, in your heart, there has only been one Mayor in this town all these years." Faith shrugged. "Man's got skills," she said. "I wouldn't mind looking that good at a hundred odd years." The woman's eyes turned darker. "Be careful what you wish for," she advised bitterly. Her voice was a dusty rasp, and she spoke with great exertion, as if dragging her words up out of some bottomless pit. Faith rolled her eyes. "Uh, you obviously haven't been out much in the past century, but you've gotta know, that line went out with horse-drawn buggies." She spoke it sarcastically, even though she knew she probably wasn't far off when she said century. The stranger grinned horridly at her. "You clearly delight in your brilliance," she said, with more than a bit of sarcasm herself. "Sit down, child. I will tell you the story of the last unfortunate girl who crossed the Mayor's path." Faith wasn't about to stick around jawing history with a ghost. "No thanks," she said, turning to leave. "I've got better things to do." "You'll not get far without a door," pointed out the dark being. Faith would have knocked a hole in the wall if there had been anything big enough to do it with. Maybe the sword....nah, it was too rusted to get very far through plaster and wood. There was no window in the room either. She was trapped listening to this creaky old crone. "I'm in hell," she groaned, throwing up her arms. The robed woman grimaced. "You have no idea what hell is," she assured the girl.
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Edna Mae Mickelwhite's family, a well-to-do New England clan, moved out West at the turn of the century. The Wild West was by this time considerably tamer, but Thibault Mickelwhite was a cautious man. Unfortunately, he was not cautious enough: passing on towns with names like SixGun Flats and Bullskull, he settled his family in the safe-looking new township of Boca del Infierno. Yes, there was that unpleasant rumor about it being built on top of some cursed ground, and an unsettling number of disappearances were whispered about. But these were small worries compared with the train robbing and gambling and shooting going on in other cities, and so the Mickelwhites, a good Christian family of six (four daughters; Constance, Prudence, Edna Mae, and Sophie) immediately set about establishing their place in the town's social circle. It would never do to settle for less than top rung of the cultural ladder, therefore Mr. Micklewhite was thoroughly excited to recieve the family's first social invitation in the mail their first week in town. "Who is it from, Papa?" exclaimed Mrs. Micklewhite as the girls clustered excitedly around. Mr. Micklewhite was so proud he was about to pop a brass button. "The very Mayor, no less!" he announced. It was a Saturday picnic in the park. Carmelia Micklewhite was not pleased with this. "Everyone else in the God-fearing world holds a picnic on a Sunday," she grumbled. "I've never even seen the man in church. Can you imagine! A pillar of the community who doesn't attend church?!" Edna Mae, well past the age of her debutante ball, found herself increasingly weary of her mother's endless grumbling. "Perhaps he goes to a different church, Mother," she sighed, fiddling with the lace on her rose-colored dress. A porcelain-pale young woman, with thick raven hair and high, proud cheekbones, Edna Mae was not looking forward to another dull afternoon of lumpy cake and elderly politicians in starched collars. "Which is why she was so startled when her father finally introduced them to the Mayor," rasped the woman in black. "The man had such eyes. They changed color, you see -- they never seemed quite the same, turning from blue to grey to green, sometimes even while you were looking at him." The dark lady's white face softened. "Absolutely mesmerizing, they were --" Faith rolled her eyes. She herself had thought the man was kind of sweet in a goofy sort of way more than once, but geez. "I think I'm going into sugar shock," she grumbled, not real eager to hear about her boss's love life. The woman cast her dark, dead glare on the girl. "You should hope you live long enough to find an older man attractive," she sneered. "Suffice it to say Mayor Wilkins was much younger then than now. Oh, yes, he has cheated death --" a bitter scowl darkened the woman's face "-- but he is aging, even now. Much as he would wish otherwise. Where was I?" "Edna was getting turned on by the Mayor," sighed Faith, resigning herself. The woman wrinkled her nose cattishly. "You really should get your mind out of the gutter, dear. It's not at all ladylike."
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"Thibault!!" Mayor Wilkins came over to the Micklewhites grinning, hand extended. "Wonderful seeing you here, old man. Is this your lovely wife Carmelia? And these must be your girls --"Edna Mae politely shook hands, still rather stunned by how handsome the man was. A peculiar handsomeness, to be sure -- pale and angular, like a harlequin jester was what sprang to her mind; subversively, eerily charming. "An honor, your...Honor..." Edna murmured self-consciously. He smiled at that. He seemed to linger over her hand as well -- maybe he just forgot to let it go. "That's a very lovely dress," he complimented her. Edna blushed, unwillingly. "Father had it imported from Paris," she blurted, rolling her eyes -- what a brilliant reply, she berated herself. Mr. Mickelwhite didn't like anyone talking to his daughters for very long. "Ahem, well, Mr. Mayor, I believe we'll be moving to the buffett to sample some of this delectable food," he excused them. "Papa, may I stay and talk with Mayor Wilkins alone awhile?" Edna Mae asked out of the blue. Thibault Micklewhite froze like a dog spotting a fox. Two of his daughters were already courting, he had no desire to lose another of his girls. "Unchaperoned? I don't know...." Edna Mae uttered an exasperated sigh. "Father, for heaven's sake! If I'm not safe with the city mayor, who am I safe with?" Mr. Mickelwhite didn't answer that. This picnic was the first time he'd actually met the man, and he couldn't say he liked him much at all. A cold chill had fallen on Mickelwhite when they'd shook hands, and that seemingly permanent eerie smile unnerved him. There was nothing wrong with being cheerful, of course, and the man was a politician, but still... But in the end he let her go. "Your father's a cautious man," the Mayor noted when her family had finally wandered over to the buffet table. Edna Mae smiled demurely, swinging her bamboo parasol. "Last year a minister came courting my sister Constance," she related. "Papa insisted on chaperoning them every...where... they...went." She made a face. Mayor Wilkins chuckled. "Is that a fact?" Edna Mae beamed. "Yes, sir, indeed it is.""Call me Richard," he told her. She looked up and immediately looked away shyly. He was gazing at her like she was some dark, pretty jewel, and she was unused to that. She looked around the park to find something else to talk about. "What an unusual statue!" she exclaimed. It was over his shoulder; a small, twisted stone figure on a brass pedestal, a few yards from the grandstand. "Now that," the Mayor announced, "is old. One of the first ornaments in this field. I put that here...a long long time ago. Had it brought over from Spain. My first trick." He chuckled after this cryptic comment. Edna Mae approached it, her expression going from enchanted to confused. "What is it?" It appeared to be of a small boy, arms raised as if to fend off a hawk, face upturned as if... "That's curious," she murmured, frowning. "He -- it almost looks like it's... screaming..." A blaringly loud bark caused her to jump. A nervous-looking young man was up on the podium, speaking haltingly into a megaphone. "Citizens of Boca del Infierno, please welcome --" "Goodness, I almost forgot!" The Mayor cast a smile at her. "You'll excuse me, Miss Mickelwhite. Time to start the feeding." With an odd smirk he climbed the wood steps and assumed his place on the grandstand. The Mickelwhite sisters joined Edna Mae at the foot of the steps. "So what was so important that you had to speak with the Mayor, Edna?" taunted Prudence, gnawing on a chicken leg. Sophie looked nervously around. "I don't like this," she whimpered. "Do you feel it? There's a weird look in the sky...the air feels so..." Edna Mae didn't answer. Her eyes were glued to the Mayor as he began to address the crowd. "Well, what a fine day for a picnic, huh? I can't tell you how pleased I am to see so many people here today. The energy of this crowd...why, I bet it could power something the size of San Francisco." He uttered a peculiar giggle. "He's certainly a cheerful sort, isn't he?" sighed Mrs. Micklewhite, determined to find something positive about the man. Edna Mae started. The ground beneath her feet, for a split second, seemed to shift under her. "Did you feel that?" she asked Sophie. The Mayor was still going on. "-- so what more can I say, other than thanks for coming to our little picnic. You'll never know how important it is to have so many souls here. And now...well, eat up!" No sooner had he finished than a violent tremor shuddered through the park. The ground quaked, a low roaring that seemed to roll across the valley and into the park, right through the field where the picnic was. The assembled aristocrats dropped their plates and parasols and clutched each other, tumbling to the ground in a flurry of hats and chiffon. One man was standing by himself, and suddenly the ground ripped open right under his feet. Edna Mae blinked -- she could have sworn she saw a tentacle, much like that of an octopus, snake out of the hole, wrap around the man's leg, and drag him screaming beneath the earth. Similar horrific scenes were playing throughout the park. Men and women were being sucked into holes that opened right under their feet. One man ran across the park, trying to get away, and a ridge of earth followed him like a mole digging a tunnel. A hole opened, a white thing whipped out, and the man was lost. Edna Mae jumped, shrieking. The ground caved under her boots, and she felt herself slipping. She leaped back -- and felt arms grabbing her and pulling her to safety. She looked up to see the Mayor standing behind her. "Get up on the grandstand," he told her firmly. Edna, startled, was going to obey, but suddenly the earth crumbled again -- right beneath the Mayor's feet. "Look out!!" she cried, pushing him back. A tentacle, white and veined, was visible briefly before vanishing into the black dirt. "A little too close!" the Mayor exclaimed. He almost sounded like he was scolding.He shepherded Edna Mae up the steps to the makeshift platform. "Mother, up here!!" called Edna. One by one she helped her parents and sisters up the steps. From a safe height they watched in shock as the dreadful scene played out. Men, women -- even a dog were snatched, one by one, by the hideous tendrils and pulled to their deaths. At last the awful shuddering seemed to move under the grandstand, and the Mickelwhites grabbed each other as the platform rattled. Then it ceased. The tremor echoed over the hills and was gone. Left behind was carnage. The horrified picnicers were getting up from the ground, looking around in fright. Some young ladies were screaming down holes for the beaus they'd lost down them. "God Almighty!" exclaimed Mr. Micklewhite, straightening himself. Mayor Wilkins looked concerned as well. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted over the panicked crowd. "Everyone, please calm down! We seem to have had another of our famous Southern California earthquakes --" "My fiancee was dragged away by a squid!!" shrieked one hysterical lady.The Mayor ignored this. "-- may have opened some sinkholes under the park. If everyone will just move very carefully to the south end of the field...that's it, mind the holes..." Everyone, frightened as they were, seemed quite willing to believe an earthquake had occured. "Let's get out of here before there's another!!" shouted one man. "There'll be no more quakes," the Mayor assured him. Edna Mae looked at him oddly. "How do you know that?" she asked him. As the medic wagon and the horse-pulled fire wagon came over the hill to the scene, Mr. Micklewhite harrumphed. "Outrageous! Inviting people to a picnic on top of a...a...a fault line!! Come, my dears!" He descended the steps without so much as a goodbye to the Mayor. Mrs. Micklewhite, torn between etiquette and shock, wrung her hands, squeaked, ".....Ch-charmed, I'm sure!! --" and shooed her daughters down the steps. Edna Mae was the only one who stayed put. She didn't quite know what to think. All she was fairly certain of was that if the Mayor had not pulled her away, she herself might be down one of those dark holes. "Will I see you again?" she ventured as her family practically dragged her away. "Count on it," he promised with a smile. Edna Mae was of the age where a young woman becomes disillusioned with her family. Mr. Mickelwhite, so proud at being invited to the Mayor's picnic that first day, now disliked the politician to the point of voting for anyone that was running against him, Republican or not. Of course he was not pleased to hear that his daughter was falling for the man. This was the subject of many arguments between father and daughter that first year in Boca del Infierno. One evening, after one such loud disagreement, Edna Mae stalked out of the house in a huff, eager to go for a walk and settle her nerves. "That wasn't smart," noted Faith with a smile. The figure in black -- she faded in and out, becoming more shadow than solid at times -- nodded her dark, shapeless head. "Of course no one had told Edna that this city was a dangerous place to be at night. Perhaps she would not have listened if they had -- she was headstrong, that girl. However even her nerves were no match against what she met..... She had just come upon the park. Walking along the path, she turned a corner and stopped dead, uttering a cry of shock. She was reminded of two greyhounds tearing apart a hare on the family estate when she was a child. What she saw before her now was no less bloody and terrible. The two creatures -- as they turned to face her she knew they could not be called men -- had been lapping up the blood from their victim, it was running down their necks. Now they gazed at her with yellow, hungry eyes. Edna Mae knew with terrible certainty that this was what the unfortunate person on the ground had last seen. She knew that she was about to die. The creature closest to her sprang. Edna Mae cringed, shrieking as the man-monster sprinted toward her, fangs bared. In her fright her hands flew up, and they were clutching her bamboo parasol. The tip of it caught her attacker right in the chest. Through half-closed eyes, she saw the thing's face turn the color of saddle leather. He literally exploded right in front of her.Edna Mae opened her eyes, startled at not being dead. She stared at her parasol as though it were a foriegn object. At her feet lay a rather large pile of dust. The other vampire stared as well. "You killed my uncle!!" he shouted, enraged. "You stupid sow!! Yer gonna pay for that!!..." He came running at her.Edna Mae, panicked, did the first thing that came to mind: she swung back and broke her parasol over the creature's head. Then she ran away. But her dress tangling around her legs did nothing to help her escape and the creature quickly caught her, hurling her violently into a wall. Edna Mae screamed as the vampire tore her collar from around her neck. "Please," she got out, begging for her life, "Oh, God, please don't --" The vampire grinned, teeth glinting. "Just relax, darlin'," he sneered, "I like to take time with my drinks." He leaned over to tear her throat out..... "Stop right there," came a new voice. The creature turned, and Edna Mae was shocked to see Mayor Wilkins calmly walking down the dark alley. "Look out!" she cried, certain she was about to see him killed. "Richard, he's dangerous!! Watch --"But the creature suddenly backed away -- from her, from the Mayor, and into the wall. He almost seemed to be cowering. "Mr. Mayor!" he exclaimed, and Edna thought she could hear fear in the vampire's voice. The Mayor stepped forward, gazing almost reprimandingly at the creature. "Lyle," he sighed. "What are we going to do with you? Aren't there enough fine young women for you to lunch on in San Francisco without harrassing our citizenry?" The Mayor cast Edna Mae a pleasant smile. Edna Mae was bewildered. The vampire seemed utterly paralyzed at the sight of the mayor, yet as far as she could see, Wilkins was unarmed. "What're ya goin't' do?" the vampire asked. "Think yer gonna kill me?" He was trying to sound brusque but unable to keep his voice from shaking.Mayor Wilkins clicked his tongue. "Now, Lyle, how does that accomplish anything? Killing you? When I need you to do me a favor?"The vampire looked positively nervous. "What kinda favor?"The Mayor leaned forward. "I want every night creature and demon in the tri-county area to know that Miss Edna Mae and her family are off-limits. They're not to be bothered. Or harrassed. Or eaten. If I hear about one of them...ah, disappearing, or passing on suddenly...if even a dog of theirs is found drained, you and your gang will answer to me." He fixed the vamp with a intent stare. "Do I make myself clear?""Clear as glass, sir," murmured the vampire.The Mayor beamed, greatly pleased with this answer. "Good! Wonderful! And now I think you owe this young lady an apology for startling her. Go on." He gave the vamp a hard shove toward her. Edna Mae cringed, expecting the worst. But the vamp removed his hat in a most gentlemanly way and kept his eyes fixed on her boots as he mumbled. "Dreadful sorry, ma'am. It won't happen agin." Edna Mae was so bewildered she couldn't answer. "Is that a satisfactory apology, Miss Micklewhite?" asked the Mayor. Edna Mae forced herself to speak. "Oh, yes...yes, quite adequate," she fumbled. The vampire replaced his hat and slunk away, muttering fearfully to himself. Edna watched as the creature vanished, as the Mayor approached her, smiling. "That was a vampire!!" Edna Mae burst out.Mayor Wilkins cast a glance at the dark into which the being had vanished. "Yes, I believe it was," he noted cheerily. "Your parasol, Miss." He offered her broken, battered parasol to her. "It seems to have seen some hard times, hasn't it?" He chuckled. She stared at him. "Why didn't he attack me?" she wondered. "Why didn't he attack you? He killed that man, he could have killed us both!"Mayor Wilkins contemplated her, smiling. "May I have the honor of seeing you home?" he asked evasively.Edna Mae didn't know what to make of this. "Yes...yes, of course," she finally agreed, taking his offered arm.He told her much during that walk through the dark streets. "The future is knocking at our door," he told her. "It's a brave new age, my dear -- the 1900's. Great changes are at hand. Someday, and not long off, mind you, this city will look quite different than it does now. Quite different indeed. I'm going to be the one to turn this town into...well, so much more than it is now. To do that, I have to employ certain means." Edna Mae stopped short. "Are you a sorcerer?" she asked bluntly, thinking of the horror at the picnic. He looked her over intently. "Would it frighten you if I was?" Well, that was that. Edna Mae discreetly unhooked her arm from the Mayor's. "I see," she said. "Thank you very much for the lovely walk, your Honor, but I'm afraid I have to take my leave of you now --" He didn't seem put off, or even dismayed. He was almost smiling. "I've offended you?" "I come from a Christian family," she returned tersely. "We don't approve of such things. You shouldn't even joke about a thing like that!" "Really?" Wilkins gazed upon her interestedly. "Is there anything your father does approve of?" "It's not my father's view," Edna muttered, nervous under the politician's curious eyes. "It's mine, as well." "A very valid one," Wilkins agreed roundly. "But consider this, my dear. Consider this lightpost." He laid a hand on one of the brand new wrought-iron posts lining the street. As Edna watched in amazement, the pale yellow globe flashed, changed color. Slowly the light turned a brillant flourescent green, casting a greenish tint on everything within a ten foot radius. The color deepened to a blue straight from the deepest part of the ocean, then sharpened to an electric purple. Edna had never seen such colors outside of Christmas mass. Mayor Wilkins grinned, knowing he had her attention now. "Years ago," he continued, "the science that created this electric light would have been called black magic. Edison would have been burned at the stake. The energy that powers it can rage out of control, burn down your home, kill your whole family." He took away his hand, and the globe, flickering red now, went out like a candle. After a moment's darkness it tentatively came back on, its yellow glow beaming down on them once more as he stepped to her. "Yet we channel it with wires, and trap it in glass bulbs, and we call it a miracle. It warms our homes, lights our rooms, makes the streets safe for decent people to walk at night." "The streets aren't safe," Edna Mae pointed out quietly, thinking of the vampire. "But what if you had power so great that you could walk the streets without fear?" Wilkins returned. "Think of it, Edna -- never being afraid, not of man or beast, not of death, ever again. Knowing that nothing on this earth could harm you or kill you. That's the kind of power I have." "That kind of power is black magic!" she insisted. "It's straight from the devil himself! There's nothing good about it! It's terrifying!" "Exactly!" he agreed. "What better reason to try and gain complete control over it?" Edna Mae hated to admit it, but the Mayor's words were striking a chord in her. For a girl who felt so utterly helpless so often, complete control sounded very tempting. "Do you control those -- things?" she ventured, nodding into the dark. Mayor Wilkins shrugged. "Oh, them. Think of them as large dogs. Wild, they're a handful. Housebreak them, and...well, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But they know what side their bread's buttered on." He chuckled. Edna Mae shuddered. "They're vile," she muttered. "They ought to be wiped off the face the earth." The memory of the first vampire collapsing in dust upon her parasol gave her a bizarre, energized feeling. Almost as if she had been destined to kill him... But then he took her hand, and these thoughts vanished like snow in the sun. "Yes, well, I agree with you," he spoke in a low voice very different from his normal chipper one. "Rats serve their purposes. But sooner or later, even rats need to be exterminated."
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"You're yawning." The dark, raggedy creature eyed Faith. "Does my tale bore you?" Faith stretched one leather-clad leg, which was getting cramped. "Just thinking there's nothing like women's lib," she answered tersely. "I don't get it, she was such a nun, what'd she ever see in him in the first place?" The woman -- her face faded in and out, like a picture on an old black-and-white TV. Sometimes her features were old and wrinkled, and sometimes she looked young, but always her cheekbones jutted sharply and she remained deathly, waxy pale. She smiled that mocking, thinlipped smile. "Ah, but understand what the time was then. Back then a woman was brought up to believe she was nothing. Her family, her station demanded that she think herself such. Consider the plight of that young woman -- full of life, lost in a mob of sisters, not being considered best or brightest or most of anything. Imagine the resentment she began to harbor toward those things she had grown up trusting in. She knew she was different, yet powerless to do anything about it. Enter this man -- handsome, charming, who had power and was willing to share it. He dazzled her, showered her with gifts, and gave her power. Of course she became attached to him. Of course I don't expect a modern young thing like you to understand." The woman's red smirk slit the corners of her face. Faith didn't care for the way this witch was eyeing her. "So, uh, what happened next?" she muttered, eager to change the subject.
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They gradually formed a courtship, becoming more and more fond of each other. There were carriage rides, evenings at the town's modest theatre, endless strolls though the park. In 1902 when Edna Mae's birthday rolled around, Wilkins told her he had a gift for her. "And what is this gift, pray tell?" Edna smiled. "You have it already," he said. "Oh, really?" It was a brilliantly sunny afternoon, and they were picnicing on the side of the river that ran alongside town. There was a brass band playing somewhere in the distance, and a barbershop quartet had serenaded them as they walked through town on the way to the river. Now the Mayor was happily skipping stones into the water, and Edna Mae was seated primly on the picnic blanket, nibbling lemon squares, a gargantuan hat shading her face. They often played games with tricky plays on words, and she thought he was kidding her again. "You're so funny," she smiled. "I daresay you're the only man I know who brings his own rocks from home to pitch in the river." Wilkins had the strangest smile on his face. "Stress reduction, my dear," he murmured. "It's like... tossing away your troubles. This one's that insufferable blowhard who debated me last week." With a smooth snap of his wrist he winged it into the creek. It bounced three or four times before sinking to the bottom forever. With a satisfied leer, he came back to her side and sat down on the blanket. "So much for Mr. Elisha Briggs," he grinned at her. She might have been bothered the ominous tone of his words, if she hadn't been distracted by his smile. He had such a charmingly implike grin. Edna giggled. "May he rest in peace," she agreed. "So....this gift you have for me....am I to guess until I get it right? Is it animal, mineral or vegetable?" "You'll know it when you see it," he answered cryptically. He never took his eyes off her -- even when his back was turned, she thought she might be in his field of vision. It was a curious feeling -- creepy and warming at once. Edna Mae smiled skeptically. "I think this is your way of covering up the fact that you have, in truth, forgotten my birthday," she teased. Wilkins feigned dismay. "Oh, so that's what you think, is it? Really? Then what do you think of this --" As if by magic he produced a tiny box from thin air and presented it to her. Edna Mae's smile dropped off her face, and was replaced with awe. In the box was a diamond ring, and no small diamond at that. "Good Lord," she breathed, hypnotized by the sparkle. "It's the size of a dime, easily! You hope to blot out the sun?" He burst out giggling at that. Edna Mae gave him a funny look, then went back to admiring the diamond. "You can't possibly mean what I think you do by this," she said. "Well, why not?" he wanted to know. "Why shouldn't I want you for my wife? I'm soulless, I'm not made of stone." He looked positively wounded. Edna Mae was still not completely certain what manner of human he was, but she was by now used to this kind of talk. She knew he was skilled in the black arts, and she didn't care. "You could cast a spell," she told him, "and have any woman in this county, probably in the world. You could enchant me to do anything you desired. I know full well you could." She looked him straight in the eye. "Why are you going to the trouble of courting me?" He didn't seem surprised at this question. "Because it's worth more if you come to me willingly," he told her, in a voice that anyone else would have thought sinister. "My dear mother raised me to believe anything worth having is worth working toward. Patience is something I have great supply of. I can wait forever for you, if need be. I'm the only man you'll ever meet who can keep that promise." She smiled at that. "I almost believe that you can," she conceded. That night she made the mistake of confiding in her sisters about the Mayor's proposal. Prudence, the self-righteous tattletale, went straight to their father and related all that Edna Mae had told. Thibault Micklewhite was of course, furious. So commenced the be-all and end-all of shouting matches between father and daughter, such that the entire household was in an uproar and nobody noticed at first when the Latin housekeeper they had hired began screaming as well. The Micklewhite sisters tried to calm down the old woman, who was near hysterical, apparently trying to alert tham about a visitor. "What on earth is she shouting?!" wondered Constance. "El diablo!!" The maid's eyes were huge and frenzied, and she clutched at them in a desperate attempt to make them understand. "Un hombre con el fuego en sus ojos y muerte que siguen detrás! Él viene para uno de usted las vírgenes!! El Dios nos salva --" Just then the front door banged open, and the Mayor came striding into the house like he owned it. This sent the maid into a frenzy. "El diablo!!" she shrieked, collapsing on the floor in fright. Constance didn't like it either. "Sir, I think you should leave! You've got no business --" Amid all this noise, Edna Mae came running into the front hall and nearly leaped into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck in an embrace. "I knew you'd come," she whispered, hugging him hard. Mayor Wilkins threw a darkly triumphant glare at the shocked sisters and the maid huddled in the corner. "Why, whatever is the matter?" he asked Edna Mae in a kindly voice that hardly matched his horrific smile. She pulled away, shaking her head. Her face was paler than usual. "Get me out of here," she pleaded in a hoarse whisper. "I don't care where we go, I don't care what we do. I'd rather be dead than endure living in this house another minute!"The Mayor looked very pleased. Almost touched. "Does that mean you're coming to me willingly?" he whispered significantly. Edna Mae felt thoroughly bad -- bad in the good, little-girl-stealing-candy sort of way. "With all my heart," she answered with a mischevious grin, and he grinned back. "Edna!!" Her father picked that moment to come storming into the hall. His face turned even redder at the sight of the hated sorcerer inside his home, holding his daughter. "Get out of my house!!" he roared. Edna Mae backed against Wilkins, as if protecting and seeking refuge with him. "Papa, you leave him be!! I invited him here, he's my guest, you show some respect!" "Respect?!" Mickelwhite snorted. "You're a child, girl, you're too blind to see this man's true face, he's the devil himself as far as I'm concerned!!" Edna Mae was aghast. "How dare you?! How dare you embarrass me like this? How can you be so cruel?!" Her mother had joined her sisters and the maid, looking on worriedly. The Mayor stood back from the action, arms folded, watching with interest but not intervening as the fight raged. "I'm speaking against him because I love you!" roared her father. "And I say any man who tries to turn a girl from her family and her religion is evil!!" "Evil?!" Edna Mae laughed. "Compared with whom, Papa? With Connie's beau? The pious Reverend Esper? A man who sooner beats his wife with a ruler than take her to his bed? Is that the kind of suitor you'd have for me?!" Constance covered her face, whimpering in embarrassment. It was true her husband was unrelenting in his faith, but also in his cruelty. Mr. Micklewhite blew up. He stabbed a finger in the Mayor's direction. "Evil!!" he shouted. "He's the one putting those wicked words in your mouth!! How dare you speak about a man of God that way?!" Edna Mae had had enough. "Given the choice between the two, I'd take Richard any day," she snapped. "In fact...I already have." "What?!!" Her father advanced on her, wide-eyed and pale as a sheet. Edna Mae was quite frightened, but anger eclipsed her reason. "You heard me," she challenged. "Richard's asked to marry me, and I've accepted. What do you think of that?! I'm going to be Mrs. Edna Mae Wilkins, and--" A sharp smack resounded through the room as Thibault Mickelwhite slapped his daughter's face, hard. Her mother and sisters gasped as Edna Mae recoiled in shock, clutching her face. The Mayor stepped from the shadows to her side, as the girl suddenly burst out with a wild, hysterical laugh, spiteful and unearthly. Mr. Micklewhite paled, as if the voice of the evil one himself was coming from his daughter's throat. Mayor Wilkins stepped toward Micklewhite, smiling coldly. "Now, that's devotion," he sneered. "Most fathers spoil their children with trinkets. You sir, you love her so much you'll beat her bloody to prove it." Micklewhite was about a head shorter than the Mayor, but he would not be bullied. "If killing her were the only way to save her from a devil like you, I would do it with my bare hands!" he snapped. "Thibault, in the name of God!!" wailed Edna's mother, horrified. The Mayor raised his eyebrows, faux-dismayed. "Well!" he chuckled. "I do hope you're hearing all of this, my dear!" he called over his shoulder. "Every word." Edna Mae rubbed her cheek, casting a bonechilling glare at her father. Things had been changed, irrevocably broken, and they both knew it. She turned to follow as her soon-to-be husband made for the front door. Micklewhite, moved to rage, started after them. "Don't you walk out on me!" he shouted. Edna Mae whirled around, black hair flying. "Drop dead, father," she ordered through clenched teeth. Micklewhite opened his mouth to say something. He never made it. His face turned even redder and he clutched his left arm. He sank to his knees and collapsed on the floor, gasping in pain. His wife and daughters rushed to his side, and Edna Mae just stared, shocked. "Papa?" she uttered. The Mayor turned his leer on the terror-stricken maid. "Don't just stand there, senora, fetch a doctor," he directed. The poor old woman fled out the front door, though whether she planned to return with a doctor was anyone's guess. The old man was helped into a chair. Mrs. Micklewhite turned to the couple. "What have you done to him?!" she cried, and it was impossible to tell which one she was speaking to. Edna Mae thought it was her. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." "I'll bring Dr. Sloane!" exclaimed Constance, and off she ran, out the front door. Prudence ran to fetch washcloths, and Edna's mother ran to the parlor. "Mama!" called Sophie, going after her. Edna Mae, knowing her mother's agony was her fault, followed, hoping to calm her down. "Watch him!" she admonished her new fiancee. "I will," he promised with a smile, and she hurried out of the front room, leaving him alone with her father. The Mayor stepped slowly over to the chair where Edna Mae's father sat heaving and gasping. He leaned over the old man, a terrible smile on his face. "Oh, don't worry," he assured the frightened patriarch. "I'll not lay a hand on you. It may interest you to know, Ty -- may I call you Ty? -- that I'm prohibited to spill human blood before...well, for a good long time yet. Not that I can't have my people do my work for me, of course. But you needn't worry about that. Your beautiful daughter told me to watch you. And I will." The tone of his voice made it clear that it wasn't the old man's health he was watching out for. An evil fire lit the Mayor's eyes as he loomed over the man like a gargoyle. "You've lost her, friend," he mocked, his voice a low growl. "She's mine now...as surely as if you'd given her to me." He smirked. "Explain that to your God when you see Him." And with that despairing thought in his ears, Thibault Micklewhite's heart finally caved and he gasped his last, quitting this world. With a broad grin, the Mayor straightened and left the room, leaving the dead man in the chair. Edna Mae was outside, standing by the gate under a dead grey sky, having been banished from the house by her overwrought mother. The Mayor joined her as Sophie, her youngest sister, emerged from the house and came down the walk toward them. Edna tensed, waiting. Her sister stopped before them. "Papa is dead," she announced. Edna Mae whimpered. That wasn't all. "Mother says you are not welcome in this house," said Sophie. "It wasn't Richard's fault --" Edna Mae began. Sophie shook her head. "It's not him she means." With a sorrowful look, she turned her back on them and hurried back to the dark house. Edna Mae just stood there, thunderstruck. From behind her came the Mayor's voice, "Well, that was unbelievably rude. I mean, gosh, they didn't even let you get a coat! You'll catch your death out here!" Perhaps he was trying to make her feel better. She didn't care. "Did you do it?" she asked, her voice high and weak. "Was that your 'gift' to me? Did you kill him?" He'd removed his coat and arranged it neatly around her tense shoulders. "No," he assured her. "Did I?" She turned to face him. He looked almost exasperated. "Does it matter?" "It matters to me. Did I kill him?" He gazed at her, contemplating. "Yes." Edna Mae's dark eyes went wide as saucers. "He was an old man," Wilkins continued, "terrified by the thought of another man replacing him in his daughter's eyes. It literally scared him to death. So if you must take responsibility--" "What power have you given me?" she interrupted. He stepped closer to her, so that they were inches apart. "No power that you don't want," he said quietly, "and any power that you do. I think the real question is, did you want to kill him?" He gazed intently into her eyes. And she had to admit the truth; horrific as it was, it was strangely a relief. "Yes." He beamed. He really grinned. "Happy birthday," he said, and he leaned over and kissed her pale forehead, as if giving her a blessing. Edna Mae's eyes rolled back and closed, overcome with the despair of the situation. But then she opened them, and the whole situation seemed the slightest bit brighter. She gazed coldly at the house where she could never return again, and did not regret it one bit. Those people meant nothing to her now. Taking her fiancee's hand, she and he turned their backs on the Micklewhite house and walked away. continue > < Back to Archives
