Courting Disaster
by Melanie (Shuvcat) Alford, © 1999
Courting Disaster
by Melanie Alford, © 1999
This is a work of fiction based on the TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer, created by Joss Whedon. All characters, names, ect. are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. No copyright infringement is intended.
They were married in May of 1903. Edna wanted a traditional church wedding, something Wilkins was dead set against, though he never ever said so. "Of course we'll have it in a church," he assured her. "Why, we'll even invite your family. I trust not all your kin has damned you for marrying me. It'll be a bang-up affair, I promise." He ended this sentence as he did so many, with a peculiar chuckle. The day of the wedding dawned dark and stormy. In her boudiour, Edna Mae fretted over how ghostly she looked in her lace wedding dress, her black hair crusted with white flowers and lilacs. As she was making the final preparations for the ceremony, she heard the door of the room creak open behind her. Startled, she turned -- and was dismayed to see her beloved walk into the room, smiling. "What do you think you're doing?!" she chided. "I'm not supposed to see you before the wedding, it's bad luck!" He shrugged. "So close your eyes," he suggested. Edna gave him a funny look, but she did as he said. When her eyes were shut the Mayor stepped forward, and in one swift motion placed his hands on her face and drew his thumbs briefly over her closed eyelids, as quick and gentle as a feather. Edna Mae jerked as a blinding headache flashed through her skull, and vanished just as abruptly. She opened her eyes, startled. "What --" she began, then froze. The entire world looked different, rosier. The dark, gloomy storm clouds outside had vanished, the sun was shining brilliantly. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and was stunned at how lovely she looked; how white her dress and peachy her cheeks were. Even her husband-to-be looked more handsome than ever. "See you at the altar, my dear," he beamed, bowing before her in a ridiculous way as he backed out of the room. The church was decorated beautifully for the occasion. Blood red flowers draped the altar, and the white cross gleamed as they walked down the aisle. The elderly minister beamed kindly at them as they fed each other the holy sacrament and made their vows of undying love. Edna Mae couldn't believe how perfect it was, like every wedding day in every fairy tale ever written. She couldn't have been happier. If only she had seen what was coming up the walk, outside the church. Her sister Constance's husband, the Reverend Emil Esper, was stalking toward the darkened building with a determined scowl on his face, in spite of the howling wind and driving rain pounding him. Constance followed behind, crying and whimpering. "Emil, this isn't safe!! Something terrible's going to happen here!!" she cried. Reverend Esper turned and loomed over her, scowling. "Courage, woman," he snapped. "Do you want to save your sister's soul or not?! She is held hostage in that den of the damned, a harlot to the devil himself. Will you turn and run away when she needs you the most?! Come --" And wrenching her arm he dragged her down the walk, closer to the black building. Constance waited on the lawn as Reverend Esper clambered up the wrought iron fence, jumping onto the church window. Drying the rain-slicked window with his coatsleeve, he peered inside. He witnessed a truly bizarre, chilling sight. Inside the dark building were a thousand candles ringing a dreadful figure standing at an altar upon which a bloody sacrifice lay, and before this stood the damnable Mayor Wilkins and with him, dead pale in the dark, was Edna Mae. Had she been able to see what actually surrounded her, that the assembled guests in the accursed church were all, in reality, vampires, she would have been as filled with horror as Reverend Esper was now. "God have mercy," he murmured. "What do you see?" called Constance. The Reverend jumped down from the window. "Give me the weapons," he instructed. "What did you see?!" demanded Constance. "Where's Edna? Is she there? How do we save her?!" "We don't!!" the Reverend barked at her. "Your sister is lost, woman, she's given her soul to that evil thing, and there's nothing we can do now but rid the world of their wicked influence!" And leaving Constance wailing in grief, he took the bag of weapons he'd brought and jumped the fence one more time, meaning to break into the church. Inside the reception hall, the celebrations had already begun. Edna Mae was half under a spell and half not; she caught glimpses of things that at the most made her do a double take, but whenever she looked too closely whatever it was would look as normal or as kindly or as shiny as anything. And her new husband would herd her away from whatever she was staring at and preoccupy her with something else. At last he just grabbed her hand and spun her toward the center of the elegant ballroom, leading her into a waltz. Edna shrieked delightedly as they danced around the room, the perfect married couple. Suddenly there was commotion at the far end of the hall. Edna Mae and Richard watched in amazement as the crowd parted like the Red Sea; the guests suddenly cringing and shrieking and behaving very unbecomingly for a wedding reception. It was Reverend Esper who was clearing them from his path like he had the plague, and as he stalked toward the couple they could see why: he had a monstrous gold cross in his hand. He walked right up to Edna Mae and planted the cross in the middle of her forehead. "Begone!!" he screamed, "thou unspeakable, unholy, depart this earthly vessel and leave this child of God in peace!!" Edna Mae didn't do anything. She didn't scream, or melt, or spin her head around. She just fixed Esper with a perplexed frown. "Oh, Emil, for pity's sake," she sighed. The Reverend was only briefly confused. He resorted to the one sure way he knew to make people obey him: he smacked Edna down and held her to the floor, pressing the cross onto her head, hollering holy Latin phrases. This didn't go on long; the Mayor himself grabbed Esper and shoved him away, jerking the cross from his hand. As he helped his wife to her feet vampires descended on the reverend, dragging him across the room and slamming him against the wall. The Reverend was trapped and watched in dread as Mayor Wilkins walked very calmly toward him. The first thing Esper noticed was that the Mayor's eyes were literally glowing, a fearful, hate-filled green glare. The second thing was the sword. The Mayor smiled unpleasantly. "Reverend. Now how do I repay this kind visit. I have a lovely room in the cellar; shall I put you down there? Perhaps I'll give you garbage to eat. I wonder if the Almighty will send you rats bearing bread, like He did for His other disciple?" The Reverend glared steadily at the sword. "I'm no small person to eradicate," he pointed out. "Do you think you can cover up a murder of a member of the church? It won't sit well with your voters when they hear you murdered a man of the cloth with a sword." "Oh, my sword." Wilkins chuckled. "Do you like it? I won this sword a long time ago...lot longer than I care to recall, frankly. This weapon and I have been through a lot together. Pretty much an ornament now." But he twirled it as if he were an expert swordsman, watching the candlelight flash off its tarnished, engraved blade. "Used to be nothing made me perkier than swordfighting... and plundering, and slaughtering innocents, terrorizing everything we could find. I was pretty darn good at it, too. But y'know, years go by and you start to wonder if there's something more to life than pirating the seas...not that that's not fun, mind you. So I came here. America really is the land of opportunity, isn't it?" He chuckled. "I found all sorts of goodies here. I founded a town, gathered a legion of minions, met my beautiful wife..." He looked to Edna Mae, who looked kind of stunned at the sight of him with a sword. "...I couldn't ask for more, really." His voice dropped, turned low and dangerous as he turned on the Reverend. "And I'll be dead on a Sunday before I let some self-righteous little worm like you take all that away. When I founded this town in 1899 I had to make a vow that I wouldn't spill human blood. And I've kept it. I always keep my promises." With startling speed he gave it one final twirl and aimed the blade directly at the center of the Reverend's skull. "But let me tell you, friend...I've never been as tempted to break a promise as I am right now." "Stop!!" shouted Edna Mae. She was staggering toward them, recovering from the fall. The Mayor turned to his new wife with a sigh. "Aw, c'mon!! I know he's your brother-in-law, but you never liked him anyway, and..." Edna Mae came to stand by her husband's side. She glared at the intruder. "Good evening, Reverend," she greeted coldly. "How is my sister Constance? Healing nicely, I presume?" "Your sister is in a much happier position than you are, witch!" shouted the Reverend. "Beats the position you're in," snickered the Mayor, raising the sword. Edna Mae grabbed his arm. "Don't kill him," she warned. "He's insulted your honor, my dear --" She faced him, staring into his eyes. "Do you want to lose everything you've worked so hard for?" she said. "Is the pleasure you'll get from killing him worth it? This puny nothing...he'll be the one who ruins it all? Is that what you want?" The Mayor seemed to know she was right, captivated under her dark eyes. "What would you have me do?" he asked softly. Edna Mae beamed. It was a startlingly similar smile to that of her husband's. "Give a man garbage and you feed him for a day," she pointed out. She turned to Esper with a chilling black glare, her pale face suddenly lit by an unearthly fire. "Turn him into a PIG....and he'll be eating garbage
for the rest of his miserable life." It was horrible to watch. Esper's mouth dropped open and the noise he made as his body twisted and shrunk was like nothing ever heard on this earth before or since. In a very short time the transformation was complete, and there was a pig scrabbling around the floor, squealing in fright. The vampire guests reacted to this variously; some with shock, others regarding the animal hungrily. The Mayor and Edna Mae stood gazing down at the creature, twin leers on their faces. Wilkins looked vaguely awed.
"Well. Guess that blows the evolution theory all to heck." And they both burst out laughing maniacally. The pig squealed, terrified. Even the vamps looked nervous. The ballroom echoed with the bloodchilling sound of the Wilkins' laughter. "Oh," Edna gasped, wiping her eyes, "oh, Dickie, you're just a stitch!!" she giggled. The assembled vamps suddenly cleared out of the room for good. The stragglers all backed as far into the walls as they could, fearful expressions on their faces. Edna Mae looked around questioningly at this strange behavior. "What on earth?...." she wondered, looking to her husband. He was still smiling, though it was a grim smile. Edna couldn't possibly have known that the last person who'd called him that hideous nickname, an accursed little whelp of a cabin boy, was presently standing frozen on a pedestal in the city park. But he shrugged it off, giving the vamps a good hard stare. "Oh, honestly, she's my wife!" he scolded them all. He looked down at her, smiling a dark, disturbing smile. Outside the church, Constance was running madly around the perimeter, screaming her husband's name, frantic at his prolonged absence. The rain was coming down harder, her clothes were stuck to her, and she looked quite the lost, melancholy wretch. She finally found the back door and ran toward it, pounding wildly on the wood. "Emil!
Emil!!" she shrieked, near hysterical. The door suddenly flew open, and there stood Edna Mae, eyes black as death. She was holding something in her arms, and she threw it at Constance. The squealing
thing hit her in the chest and scrabbled away into the rainy night. Edna glared. "Get him out of here," she commanded her sister in a terrible tone. "I was able to spare him tonight. I won't even bother next time." Constance was mad with fright. "What is it?!!" she cried. "It's your husband," smirked Edna, and shut the door.Constance looked down with wide eyes at the pig turning circles in the mud. And she did the only sensible thing: she opened her mouth and screamed.
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ "Will you do an old woman a favor?" asked the dark woman. Her face was quite young now, it seemed to change with the story she told. "Will you let me braid your hair?" Faith blinked. "What?" The woman wrung her bony, white fingers. "I used to braid my little sister's hair," she whispered. She suddenly looked very unhappy. "It was my absolute favorite thing to do. You look so like her..." The idea of that dead thing raking its claws through her hair would have normally turned Faith's stomach. But she turned her back to the woman, almost unconsciously, and let the creature start separating her hair into strands. "What happened next?" Faith asked, interested in the tale in spite of herself. "I know they got married. I bet they never had kids." The way the Mayor acted toward her sometimes made Faith feel like she was the kid he never had. Although Faith couldn't see it, the woman's face had turned almost a glowing pink. "They did indeed," she whispered mournfully, folding one lock over another. "No, my dear, you're mistaken there. They most definately had one child."
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ Edna Mae delivered a boy in the winter, while her husband was away. For as far beforehand as the first signs of her condition, she had been having terrifying dreams regarding the child -- dreams of blood, of men becoming monsters, of her baby being devoured and obliterated by a dark, shapeless shadow even more evil than the vampires she was surrounded by. She became convinced the child would be the bringer of doom -- to her, to her husband, to everyone. So, about a week after the birth, while the Mayor was still away, Edna sent for her last confidant; her sister Sophie. The youngest Mickelwhite sister approached the Wilkins house fearfully that day. She had not dared try to contact Edna Mae since the wedding. Poor Constance had been carried off to a mental asylum after her husband had vanished, and Sophie had heard unimaginable recounts of the events that had occured that dark day. The word around town was that the Mayor's wife was even more evil than he was. And indeed, the ghastly thing Edna's note had urged Sophie to bring, that which she now carried in a large picnic basket, seemed like a request from nothing less than a madwoman. But deep down Sophie couldn't believe the dreadful matter was what it seemed. She still loved her sister, and felt reasonably sure Edna would let no harm come to her. So she went to the house, carrying the large basket. She cowered fearfully as a ghastly looking vampire met her at the front gate. "F-f-fruit...I bring my sister fruit," she explained, holding up the basket. The vamp ignored it, and led her into Edna's room. Edna Mae was sitting in bed, cradling her newborn. "Dear Sophie!!" she exclaimed cheerfully as the girl entered. "Come meet your new nephew!"The vampire left the room. Edna Mae's smile dropped off her face, and she fixed her sister with a terrible stare. "Did you get it?" she asked pointedly. Sophie approached the bed, clutching the basket with white knuckles. "Y-yes...yes, Edna, it was easy to do. Easier than I thought --" "Bring it here. Let me see." Sophie reluctantly put the basket down by Edna's side. She opened the top, and Edna peered in. Her face went pale, and she nodded grimly. "It's perfect," she said. "You did very well." Sophie sat nervously. "I never thought I'd be happy to say there's something of an epidemic," she sighed. "Edna, it's terrible. It's absolute madness." Edna Mae looked grimly down at her sleeping child. "It's the only way," she said firmly. "Take it out." Making a face, poor Sophie reached into the basket and pulled out a small something wrapped in a plain brown hospital issue blanket. It did not move as she unwrapped it and handed the blanket to Edna Mae, who had taken the quilt off her yawning son, wrapping him in the brown blanket. Squeamish, Sophie hurriedly wrapped her bundle up in the quilt and traded it with her sister, eagerly giving up the dead infant for the live one. She peeked curiously into the blanket, awed at the sleeping child's face. "He looks so normal!" she marveled. Edna Mae gave her a look. "You expected a monkey?" Sophie immediately relented. "I don't know what I thought, with
him for a father. I'm sorry, Edie..." Edna Mae let it go. She gazed sadly at her sister, holding her son. "He's your child now," she whispered, her face softening into a smile. "Now you get to play the mommy. Take him back to Boston, make a new life for yourselves." Sophie was overjoyed, but miserable at once. "Edie, come away with us!" she pleaded. "We'll go somewhere that he'll never find you, we don't have to go back to Boston. He'll never guess you're in London, let's go there!" Edna Mae regarded Sophie with surprise. "I don't want to leave him!" Sophie looked sorrowful. "Edna, you don't know what you've entered into with him," she pleaded. "You didn't see his face that day at the picnic. He wasn't frightened like everyone else. He was
smiling. Like the world was his fish pond and we were all frogs to be got rid of before it looked pretty. He'll be the death of you. Especially when he thinks your baby has died!" Edna Mae shook her head. "I'm not afraid of him." But she didn't smile when she said it. Sophie rolled her eyes. "No, only enough to send away your only son, never to be seen again!" Edna's eyes clouded over. "That's different. I can't explain how I know, I just have this feeling that it'll fare badly for any child of ours living in this town." She looked desperately at her son with hollow eyes. "It'd be better for all of us if you never let him come back here. Him or any of his kin." She sat back, weary. "You'd better go now, while he's quiet. And take this --" She stuffed a roll of bills into Sophie's coat pocket. With a sad look, Sophie placed the sleeping boy in the basket that she had brought the small corpse in. She carried it to the door, looking back. "I love you, Edie," she told her sister. Edna Mae nodded. "When he asks, tell him his father was a great man," was her only farewell. Sophie shuddered, and vanished out the door. Edna Mae never saw either of them again. She sat back in the bed, cradling the dead infant in her arms. The next week when the Mayor returned to his home, he found all the servants more frightened of him than usual -- indeed, too frightened to be in the same room with him. Even his vampire minions had made themselves scarce, the ones who did show their faces looked nervous and whispered to each other. "What is it?" Wilkins demanded, going from one to the other, getting nothing but mumbles and grunts from them. Finally he found Edna herself, slumped in a chair in the orchid-filled sitting room, similarly hiding her face -- and noticeably without her child. Every vamp in the room with her stood, fearful. The Mayor cast them all a frustrated glare. "What's going on? Are you all under a spell?" He would have chuckled at that, but for once he didn't feel like laughing. He went to his wife in her chair. "What has happened?" he asked her. Edna Mae lifted her face to meet his. Her eyes were red and her face was drawn and haggard, whiter than usual. "I lost the baby," she got out, and her face crumpled and she began to cry. Between wails she related her account of what happened -- the child had become sick, and there was no cure for him, he had died while he slept in his mother's arms. The doctor couldn't save him, had no explanation other than that something had bitten and drained it of all its blood. Edna Mae glanced fearfully at the vamps as she whispered this part. She sniffled and wept at appropriate moments, blamed herself where she could. Though all this her husband sat, wide-eyed, dead silent. "For God's sake, say something," she begged at last. "You must hate me, I should have been watching him -- it's all my fault--" The Mayor snapped out of his stunned trance. "No," he told her, clasping her hands. "no, no, it's not your fault. Not in the least. I won't allow you to blame yourself for this. It's tragic, to be sure...we've just got to keep our heads up. For pete's sake, Edna, it could have been worse!" Edna Mae couldn't quite cotton to that notion. "How can it possibly be any worse?! We've lost our son!"Wilkins smiled -- and for once there was nothing eerie in it. "But I might have lost you, my dear." And he embraced her, rather clumsily, as she was seated, but gently nonetheless. Edna Mae clung to him, shaking all over, and not just from grief. It worked, he believed her. "I lost my baby," she repeated miserably, and wept all over again. Her tears were not entirely false. After spending the better part of an hour trying to console her, the Mayor finally left the sitting room, glowering darkly. "Bob," he snapped at a vampire nearby. "Gather the others. Find out which one of them it was. I want a name to put on his tombstone. I want to know who would dare do this. And keep a watch on my wife. Bend over backwards, give her anything she wants." He paused, dissatisfied. "And the doctor, the one who assisted in the birth, now what's his name..." "Dr. Sloane," supplied Bob. The Mayor nodded. "Yes, yes, that's the man. Hunt him down and kill him." "Yes, sir." Grinning, the vampire went off to do as he was told.
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ "You seem preoccupied, girl," said the dark, pale apparition. Faith was jolted from her train of thought, which was so serious that her brow had furrowed in a frown. "Uh...nothing...I'm just thinkin'...Boston, that's, that's where I used to live." A bitterly pleased smirk bled across the dark woman's face, unseen by Faith. The ghost was recalling a day, a lot more recently than the era she was relating, a day when the Mayor and Faith had been meeting in his office, plotting some terrible point on some wicked plan, and Faith had agreed, of course, with everything he said. "That's my girl," chuckled the Mayor.
"Yes, she is," the ghostly Edna Mae had rasped in his ear. The Mayor had straightened, staring at the Slayer as if for the first time, with wide eyes. At that moment, even though a hundred years had passed, he knew, he realized, what his wife had done. "Clever girl," he whispered aloud. Faith, staring at his award wall at the time, had looked up questioningly. "What'd you say?" she asked. The Mayor had stood there in thunderstruck silence for a moment more, then beamed. "You need a new wardrobe," he proclaimed. Faith had raised an eyebrow. It was not long after they had formed their alliance, and she was still getting used to this weird guy. This behavior was way out of left-field. "I do?" "You do indeed." He came toward her, grinning. "Why don't you sit down? No, take my chair, the big plushy one. Do you like cookies?...." Now the ghost grinned as she deftly weaved -- Faith's hair, her tale. "You must know," she continued, "that Edna Mae was quite right to falsify her child's death. The Mayor had already been alive for quite some time. His lease on life, though extended, was almost spent. He had already arranged to become immortal, but can you imagine how the town's residents would have reacted to a Mayor that didn't age? Now that would have been peculiar, even for this place. It had to be widely known that he had a son. He meant to assume his son's place." "What did he figure his son was gonna do?" wondered Faith. "Move to Mexico? Go underground?" The ghost tugged Faith's hair a little too hard into place. "I don't know," she replied ominously. "Edna, for her part, wasn't going to take the chance. She adored her husband, but she would have been happy if they never had any more children." Faith was sure she looked dippy as hell with her hair in braids, but she was too sleepy to care. "But he did take his son's place," she argued. "He's on what, the second one now? How'd he do it if he didn't have any kids?" The woman's eyes grew even blacker. "I'm sure I don't know," she repeated bitterly. "He always found a way to do...things...."
÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷ It was in October of 1909 that Edna Mae became ill. She was so dreadfully weak that she could barely drag herself from one room to another. She would sit in a chair and remain there for most of the day, simply because she didn't have the strength to move. It was the most peculiar, disagreeable feeling, like her will to live was sapping away...like she was slowly bleeding to death. She was too weak even to be frightened of the bizarre illness, though she knew it was frightened she ought to be. He brought her a glass of lemonade one evening, as she lay near lifeless on the settee. She accepted it gratefully, needing both hands to hold it up. "I can't think why I feel so out of sorts lately," she murmured. "I'm as weak as a kitten." "Drink your lemonade," he told her. Something about the way he said it made her give pause. She looked up and saw that he was watching her closely, too closely. "All of it," he prompted. "Believe me, my dear, you'll thank me later." Edna Mae didn't know what to think. Something about his tone made her quite certain that not finishing her lemonade would be a mistake, and yet she was filled with forboding as well. But she tilted the glass up and drank it all, to the last drop, and when she was done he took the glass from her hands. "What was that all about?" she asked. He was smiling. That eerie, curious smile. "Forgive me," he said. "I have had to do something without telling you. It's something I can't ask of anyone else, and would not ask of anyone..." "You're making me nervous," she told him in no uncertain terms. His smile had turned sinister, as he gazed at her with those sharp, pale eyes. "To do everything I'm going to have to for this town," he said in a even, measured tone, "I'll have to be around for a very long time. Longer than most. I need to become immortal. And I have. With your help. What you've been feeling these past weeks is your youth and vitality draining from you. I've been pooling them." In all the time during the past seven years Edna Mae had never once feared her husband. Not even when she was lying to him about their son's death. Not really. She was damn frightened now. A cold, trembly pit was hollowing in her stomach. Sophie's voice sounded in her ear:
"He'll be the death of you..." Edna's eyes were as wide as wagon wheels. "If...if you're taking my youth," she got out, her voice shaking, "what...what would that make me?!" The Mayor smiled beguilingly at her. "Why, it would make you a feeble, withering husk of an old woman," he told her outright.
"If you hadn't already taken the Elixir of Bavsurius. That will sustain you until we find some expendable young person to, uh, volunteer his youth for you." Edna Mae looked down at the glass, and realized in the selfsame moment that she did, indeed, feel stronger. Much stonger than she had for the past week. Her arms, which had felt like limp daisy stems only a moment before, suddenly were energized. She felt like she could have done cartwheels if she'd had a mind to. "Oh, for Pete's sake, you didn't think I was going to go through eternity without my wife by my side, did you?" the Mayor chuckled at the trepidation on her face. "What's the matter? You're not afraid of immortality, are you?" Edna Mae knew she should be relieved -- she was, plenty relieved that her husband wasn't going to kill her -- but she also felt curiously hollow. "I...I had expected to die someday," she murmured. This seemed to genuinely confuse him. "And yet three seconds ago you were pale with fear that your death was upon you," he murmured. "I know, I..." He couldn't comprehend this. "Why? Why on earth would you want to get old and die?" She shrugged, shaking her head. "Because that's what people are supposed to do," she returned. "Because life becomes tiresome. The body becomes old and weak.""It doesn't have to!" he argued.Edna ignored that. "A soul yearns for lost loved ones, for sleep," she muttered. She looked up to see him staring at her like she'd sprouted a pair of angel wings. "Don't you ever feel that way?" "In the end, that was what separated them," Faith's ghostly storyteller rasped. "The one area where they couldn't see eye to eye. He really couldn't understand why she would someday have liked to die. In any case she didn't have much choice about it. The charm was already started. She was strong again, but it wouldn't last. The Mayor sent his vampire minions to find some eligible, young, non-missable person that could be "persuaded" to give youth to Edna Mae, and they found one Roberto Ruiz, a drifter from south of the border. The young man told them that he was suicidal because of his bride's sudden flu death and wanted to be closer to the end of his life. "Easily done," leered the Mayor. So preparations were made. Ghoulish ingredients were sent for. Evil books were dug out of cubbyholes and propped open. When everything was ready Mayor Wilkins went to fetch his bride from the observatory where she often sat, gazing at the view of the town. It was sunset and the bloody light cast them both in red as he drew near. "We're all set downstairs, my dear," he said. No answer. "Still nervous, huh?" he asked. He took her hand reassuringly. "Would you really rather get old? Head a steady downward spiral of age and disease and death? Just say the word, and I'll send them all away. You know I will." But it wasn't really what she wanted after all. "No," she finally answered. "No, I'm not afraid anymore. I'll admit I've always thought there's nothing more romantic than being buried next to the one you love." She turned and smiled at him. "But the fact is I don't care whether we're alive or dead, in heaven or hell." Her eyes, and his too, were tinted oddly red from the sun. "But together, we've got to be together, Richard. I can't bear to be apart. You're like a curse. You're my curse." It was a term of endearment, and she said it with a smile. And having said it, she was suddenly uneasy again. "Tell me that's why you orchestrated this, that that's why you wish me to become immortal. And I'll do it with an eager heart." "Because she knew," snarled the ghost to the young Slayer, "She wasn't stupid, though you may think otherwise. She knew even then what he was capable of. If only --" The ghost's face turned black briefly, the facade fell for a moment and Faith caught a glimpse of the face of death. The grotesque apparition made a hideous noise that sounded like a moan of grief. The temperature in the dark cubbyhole dropped ten or twenty degrees. "Stupid," the woman's raspy voice hissed. "Stupid, wicked, cursed girl...." Edna Mae was led down the stairs to where the boy Ruiz was waiting. They stood in an evil circle together and had charms spoken over them. They drank from the same bowl of chicken's blood, and a sudden brilliant flash of green light burst from the boy's stomach and enveloped the mayor's wife. The spell was working. The boy writhed as his hair turned grey, his body shrunk. He opened his mouth -- but instead of a cry of pain, a loud peal of mocking laughter came from him. At the exact same moment, Edna Mae was the one to utter a bloodchilling scream, like she was being skinned alive. Even the Mayor jumped; the awful sound rattled the windows. The green glow vanished with a jolt, and Edna Mae collapsed on the floor. The Mayor could see that something was terribly wrong. He turned to give the Ruiz boy a good talking-to, but stopped as Ruiz, or what was left of him, leaped on the Mayor, clawing his clothes. The drifter had changed from a young man of twenty to an ancient, ancient creature, scabrous and pitted and crumbling. The Mayor was too upset even to think that his suit was getting dirty. "What have you done to my wife?!" he demanded. The boy -- no longer a boy, and not much more than a corpse, sneered. "Surely you've not forgotten my brother?!" he rasped. "Your cabin boy?! Frozen forever in your city park?! I have sacrified everything to live this long to avenge his death, and curse you --" and these were his last words as his jawbone crumbled to dust and vanished. Edna Mae lay lifeless, moaning, on the floor. The Mayor crawled to her side and sat her up, and to both their horror her hair crumbled like dead grass in his hands.Edna moaned, disgusted by this sight. She looked up at him with desperate eyes that didn't want to focus. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, fearful. The look on Wilkins' face was indeed, about the closest to frightened that she'd ever seen him look. And then Edna let out a pained cry as her skin drew and tucked around her bones. She looked at her arms, which were about the texture of ancient parchment. The dreadful weakness had seized her again, and worse, her whole body felt like it was shrinking. She had begun to age rapidly. She looked at him again -- a horrible, hurt-filled glare of rage that he'd remember for eternity. "What the hell have you
done?!" Edna cried. She did not get better. In the fall her black hair faded and began falling out in earnest. In the winter her eyesight went, and she took to her bed, growing weaker with each passing month. Her beautiful face shriveled; her cheekbones, which had always been a source of pride for her, became more and more gaunt as the supernatural aging ravaged her. She was going to die, and they both knew it. And for whatever reason, it was the last thing the Mayor wanted to happen. And so he devised a sick, twisted plan. One unseasonably cold, dark evening in May of 1910, the Mayor recieved a visitor. The vampire hailed from Cairo, Egypt and had been around since the days of the pharoahs, and was said to be greatly skilled in arcane magic besides. "I'm told you're the, uh, creature for the job I have," the Mayor greeted the stranger, extending his hand. The vampire's appearance was more genie-like than vampiric. His skin was literally gold-bronze, as were his eyes, and his ears were elvishly pointed. Black kohl lined his eyes and his dress bore scarabs and runic symbols. The visitor stood with folded arms, disregarding the Mayor's hand. "You have outlined what you want me to do," he spoke in a voice as bronze as the rest of him. "Let me see if I understand you completely. Your wife --" The Mayor nodded, ignoring the vampire's complete lack of etiquette. "Is very sick," he finished. "At death's door, as it happens." "And you want me to..." "Bring her over." The Mayor chuckled. "I do believe that's the term, isn't it? Turn her? Change her into one of your kind?" He turned and crossed the rug to the liquor cabinet. "You can do it, can't you?" The vampire made a move that might have been a shrug. "It can be done, and easily," he assured. "But...are you certain that's what you want?" "Well, you tell me." The Mayor poured a shot of scotch for himself and a pint of strained virgin's blood for his visitor. "What's the downside to your, ahem, delicate condition?" The vampire leered. He had two rows of sharp teeth, and the second set didn't quite hide behind the first. "You have no way of knowing that I will answer you truthfully." The Mayor handed the glass to the vamp with a smile. "That's true," he conceded. "On the other hand, the last gentleman who crossed me...well, let's just say he met a bad end." The bronze creature conceded. "She will no longer be the woman you know." "Change is good," reasoned Wilkins. "She will lose her soul. She will become undead...a demon." "This just gets better and better," said the Mayor. The vampire's smile melted away like fat on a fire. "She will thirst for blood," he said. "Particularly after the change. She will kill anything to get it." He fixed the politician with an intense stare. "Including you." The Mayor nodded, considering this. "Yes, I suppose she might, at that," he murmured in a strange, low voice. "You just let me worry about that. That's one of the perks of being immortal...death just doesn't mean what it used to." He crossed the floor, his back turned to the visitor. "You must understand, sir...behind every great man is a great woman. I need her. I need her to give me an heir. You have no idea how important it is that I have a son." A shadow of cold calculation darkened his face. The vampire leered at these words. This did not go unnoticed by the Mayor. "I understand the change may interfere with that somewhat," he said pointedly."You are talking about taking a live woman and turning her into a corpse," sneered the vampire. "You can't possibly expect her body to remain as, shall we say, useful as it is now. Why do you search for the living among the dead? Let her die, give her a magnificent burial, and find some young trollop to give you a child." The Mayor's eyes had gone dangerously dark. "Why, you --" he started. Then he checked himself. "-- you're certainly a gutter-minded individual, aren't you?! I don't
want another woman. I want her. I brought you here with the understanding that you could work a miracle and by golly, I can certainly put you someplace unpleasant if you don't." He settled back, effectively keeping a lid on his seething wrath. "Now...
can you do what I have in mind or not?!" The vampire leered. "I can," he assured. "The process is delicate, but it can be accomplished with the right incantations. I can be ready by tomorrow evening." "Wonderful." The Mayor nodded. "Tomorrow is our special day. I'll have one more day with her...you can do it at sundown. Mind you --" he added, as the vampire turned to leave, "...don't...don't let her know what you're doing. My Edna Mae has something of a phobia about your people." The Egyptian vampire grinned, a full-fanged leer. "I'll be very gentle with her," he promised, teeth gnashing. And he left the room, and the house, soon to return. The Mayor watched him go with an almost pensive expression. But the deal was done, it was as good as finished. He had no way of knowing that while he and his visitor had been talking, their conversation had echoed up through the heating vent, between the walls, up to the third story bedroom where a small, weak shape huddled, trembling in the sheets, and not from the chill. She crumpled in the bed, horrified by what she had just overheard, clear as day even with her blocky hearing. "He can't," came her raspy voice, shaking with fright. "He wouldn't dare."
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