SLAYERS: THREE OF A KIND
Chapter II - The Hand You're Dealt
Bright and early, in that den of corruption they call New York City...
"And you can CRAM your apology where the sun don't shine!"
With that, Olivia Lowsley, a seventeen year-old Junior at nearby Yorke Preparatory, slammed the passenger-side door of the mauve Volkswagen beetle so hard the window cracked, then stalked off down the West 77th Street sidewalk, clutching her steaming paper cup. Her blue school-issue pack bounced against her shoulder-blades and her pleated tartan skirt swished angrily about her knees.
"Fine then!" shouted her now ex-boyfriend Mark from his car, then he gunned the engine and surged forward, matching her angry pace, "It's not like I had any fun being with you, in fact I think you gave me frostbite!" he shouted as he drove.
"Good thing you had Sarah Gelson to warm you up then!" she shouted back.
He scowled through the window, "I wouldn't have needed her if you weren't so knee-knocked. I mean it's the 21st Century now, you can take the chastity belt off every now and then."
She responded with the finger. Mark returned it double, nearly lost control of his car, then grabbed the wheel again and pulled away from the curb, "Fine then! Be that way!"
"FINE!" she howled back and threw the cup after him. It struck the rear window and erupted into a foamy-brown mass. The beetle screeched to a stop for a long moment as if he was going to come back, then pulled away again with a squeal of tires. It zoomed off and turned left onto Central Park West, then was gone.
"Fine..." Olivia muttered sullenly to herself, then stuffed hands in the pockets of her dark blue peat coat and headed for the crosswalk, head down and welling with embarrassment. People on both sides of the street were staring at her now so she doubled her pace and then was across and passing through the gate into Central Park itself. The vast grounds spread out before her, but she saw none of it.
"Stupid-assed Mark, he owes me a Caramel Macchiato." she consulted her mental map but the anger and resentment bubbling through her psyche was disrupting it's materialization in her mind so she couldn't remember if there was another Starbucks nearby.
"Hell, there's always another Starbucks nearby, I'm in the center of friggin' New York City."
She had exited West Drive now and was passing Lake Pavilion, as the thick forest rose up before her. A moment later the way had thinned and she was alone in the thready early morning light of the Bramble. Spying an opening on the left, she exited the gravel path and disappeared into the shrubs and trees.
She tracked through the underbrush for five minutes, then emerged into a small sheltered meadow, highlighted by a rising crag of grey stone in the center. She stepped up to it and swung off her backpack, dumped in on the ground beside the rock and unzipped it. She pulled out a plaid thermos of coffee, made sure the lid was tight, then proceeded to slam it down, over-and-over, onto the solid rock.
"Bastard!" wham! "Sonofabitch!" clang! "Cheating on me with that whore!" bang! "I'll SHOW YOU, YOU STUPID DICK!" CRUNCH!
The final impact cracked it and the cylinder burst in her hands. With a sob she dropped the ruined thermos and sat down on the stone, put her head in her coffee-stained hands and wept quietly.
It's not fair, she sobbed inside, it's just not fair, why'd he do it? What's Sarah Gelson got that I don't have? Damn, yeah. She's got Mark, that's what shes got...
The cool breeze whisping around her bobby-socked legs seemed to rise for a moment, and plucked at her tartan kilt. She didn't look up though, still lost in the throes of the betrayal.
Behind her, shrouded in the depths of the thick trees, a man named Johnny Mustow stared at the back of her dark-haired head and fingered the rusty hunting knife protruding from his mud-stained jeans.
Perfect, just perfect...
At thirty-one years of age, Johnny had already amassed an impressive arrest jacket for aggravated assault and robbery, and by all rights he should be cooling it in the can for the next three years after braining an eighty-year old lady for her food stamps. But his usually shiftless lawyer had actually come through and gotten him off on a technicality.
So here he was again, doing what he did best: living under Central Park and mugging women for spending cash and of course the fun of it. He'd trolled the Park all last night and no opportunity had presented itself, but here, at seven thirty in the morning, according to the lady's Swatch he wore on his left wrist, opportunity was knocking. And she was young and distracted, and the girl's braids were a real turn on. He wasn't in to messing with them, but a little grab and squeeze wouldn't hurt anybody. And neither will your fat allowance little girl, he grinned, and your Daddy's credit card he gave you for emergencies. Emergencies like a case of beer for ME...
He took a deep breath and tugged out his knife, prowled forward and left the line of trees. He creeped across the dewy grass toward the sobbing girl, then lunged forward and caught her about the neck with one arm, pressed the rusty blade to her throat.
"Okay, sweets, no screaming or I'll scalp that pretty hair from your narrow head, 'kay?"
Olivia gasped and looked up, hands flew to her sides, then she screamed. Johnny winced and pressed the knife harder to her throat, producing a drop of blood. She clammed up instantly.
"Look, kid, I just want your wallet, nothin else. Give it to me and I'm history."
She nodded fast, "Su-Sure, please d-don't hurt me!" and Olivia looked down for her backpack.
And screamed again, twice as loud as before.
"Dammit all!" growled Mustow and he released her, whipped around the wide stone to confront her face-to-face, "I didn't want to hurt you, bitch, but now-" he tripped over something wide and large, fell flat on his face.
He sputtered in the wet grass and flopped over, the girl was still howling. He sat up, waving his knife furiously, "I'm gonna cut you now, bitch! You really asked...for...it..." his eyes bugged from their sockets.
Olivia was leaning back on the rock, her face a white mask of terror, her hands gripping the stone so tight the knuckles were vibrating. She was staring down into her lap where a large white horse was currently resting it's head and staring up at her with an expression of deep affection.
It was resting on the ground, stretched out before the stone, and that's what Johnny had tripped over. The creature's powerful legs were folded underneath it serenely, and it's glossy alabaster coat glistened a rich and creamy white in the morning sun.
But this wasn't the most shocking part, not in the least. For a large spiraling horn rose from the beast's forehead, nearly touching the howling teen's chin.
"Holy Mary Mother of God... What the hell was I drinking last night?" breathed the mugger and he began scrambling backwards across the grass.
With a sputter of breath, the creature raised it's head and looked round at him, it's solid blue eyes narrowing at the sight of the knife in his hand. With a quiver of thick musculature it rose, far faster then Johnny thought possible. He yelped and jumped to his feet, spun about and made to run.
He managed to get about a meter, then the beast slammed into his back, impaling him in an instant, and slammed him into a tree so hard the bones of his face and chest were shattered in thirty-seven places.
The thing yanked it's horn free with a spray of blood and splinters, then turned back toward the stone. The smashed thermos and backpack were still there, but the girl was gone, though her steady screaming could be heard dwindling into the distance. The beast puffed a hot breath out it's wide nostril and stomped the ground with a heavy hoof.
"What did I do?" the unicorn asked the dead mugger in bewilderment, "Was it something I said?"
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Four and a half hours later...
Far outside the city, pressure rocketed up to titanic proportions in the massive water reclamation plant that fed all of Manhattan. A grate flew open and in a rush the super-heated air was released and it blasted away and down, burrowing deep into the ground, forcing it's way through sluice pipes that split it off in twenty different directions. The air inside of the thirteenth pipe accelerated to blistering levels, gathering hydrogen molecules as they went and everything churned together as it exploded upwards toward the surface so that when it at last blasted free of it's earthly bondage it was a flash of white steam, spraying up in a mad fury from the 5th Avenue grating.
The three figures didn't hesitate, they stepped right through it, and for a single pristine moment in time they were framed as the iconic figures they were, even if they didn't notice. Two women, one man. Each from completely different worlds, each a vestibule of both mystical and natural strength in their own, unique way, brought together by... chance? By accident? By pure galactic coincidence? Or was is it something more...
It's been said that three is a magical number, that the fate-driven synergy of a trio working as one force has tremendous power. That even if they are unaware of the heavy mantle which had been placed upon their stalwart shoulders, they still have the unstoppable force of will to reshape Destiny itself. If so, their external monologue must be glorious, and filled with deep wisdom:
"Guys are like parking lots," Faith said to Ariel as the two women crossed the threshold into America's most famous city grounds, "all the good ones are taken, and the rest are handicapped."
"Hello, this guy can hear you." frowned Xander from where he was holding open the iron-wrought gate for them.
"No probs, Harris," replied Faith with a sly grin to the wide-eyed blonde walking beside her, "we don't think of you as a guy anyway."
He chuckled darkly, "Gee, story of my life." then let the gate swing shut and jogged after them.
He glanced for a moment at the two women who so suddenly had become paramount in what could only be considered the most bizarre life a twenty-something high school graduate had ever had.
For Xander Harris and his friends, the world was dark and strange, filled with odd magics and demonic beings, of both good and evil. And now he was in New York City, continuing the good fight. An all-new chapter had begun in what he sort of hoped would have been a bit more normal then what had come before, just to give him a moment to breath and appreciate the simple things in life. But of course that was not to be. Destiny didn't seem to want to let him off the Gothic carnival ride, so he'd just have to grin and bear it.
You can't beat the company though, he reflected as he hurried to catch up.
Faith was a raven-coiffed amazon, and even though she was still in the same black jeans and red t-shirt she'd worn upon her arrival in the city four days earlier (laundered yesterday of course), she was still just as striking as the young woman on her left. Xander was sure any man would have a hard time tearing their eyes from Ariel even if she was sporting muddy work-boots and torn overalls, in fact he firmly believed the pale-skinned blonde would look good in anything she chose to wear. Today it was a white silk blouse and acid-washed jeans, with a burgundy trench-coat belted over top, and Diore sunglasses concealing her ghostly-hazel eyes from the world. To him Ariel looked beyond perfect, and not worthy of his blue-collar attention.
Muddy work-boots and torn overalls, Xander mused, hmmm, now there's a Penthousy image I'm going to have to fight to erase from my tunnel vision...
His heavy boots clicking across the cobblestone path, Xander reached Ariel's other side, pulling a narrow black device from his grey coat as he came, "Heh, don't buy Faith's act. Her only expertise in men lies in the seducing of them, then chucking them away like mouldy pizza sixty minutes later."
The dark-haired Slayer laughed, "Heh, more like thirty. And in some cases fifteen." she winked at Xander who reddened.
Ariel slid hands into the pockets of her dark trench and looked back-and-forth between the two of them in confusion, "Am I, uh, missing something?"
Faith immediately looked straight ahead as if scanning the rising hills and paths of Central Park for possible ambushers, while Xander quickly turned on his stolen scanner and began to pan it about.
"Getting anything on the Slayer-finder?" asked Faith after a minute, as they crossed a stone bridge and entered the sheltering trees of a man-made forest.
He frowned over the glowing green screen set into the device's base, "Not a thing. Maybe I'm using it wrong because I'm not even picking up on you."
"I thought you were a quick-study on all things G.I. Joe."
He pursed his lips and tried another random hitting of buttons on the tiny triangular key pad, "Yeah, I can strip a 5.56mm M16 assault rifle in forty-one seconds and pilot any model of Bradley battle tank the US Army utilizes. But this Initiative demon-tech is a whole other magilla."
Faith shrugged, "I'd of thunk you'd figure it out anyway, seein as it looks like a cast-off from that Space Trek show you go all drooly over."
"Star Trek." corrected Xander and Ariel in unison. He glanced at her in surprise and she reddened, looked round fast in embarrassment, then pointed in relief, "Hey, isn't that it?"
Ahead of them, on the left side of the gravel path, a gap in the foliage seemed to vanish into the trees. It was blocked off with an orange sawhorse and a warning sign. And currently guarded by a tall NYPD Officer. He was leaning against it, brushing particles of invisible grime from his black uniform.
The trio halted and moved back a step before he might spy them.
Xander nodded, "Just like the MPEG I downloaded from the net."
While Ariel and Faith had lunched at McDonald's, he'd been next door in an internet cafe, checking local websites for any signs of either Slayer or Initiative activity. And poking around in the local police server, thanks to a virtual backdoor Willow had arranged for him two days prior. The report of a mugger getting impaled and a schoolgirl's backpack being found on the scene had been hard to miss. It sounded alot like what they were looking for, so...
Faith's eyes narrowed, "What's an em-pig? Lunch quarter-pounded went right through me, so no chattin 'bout food, yo, until after I can, like, chow-down again."
Ariel stared at her in admiration, "But you ate like three of those heavy burgers, and two orders of biggie-sized fries. How can you still be hungry?"
Faith slapped her stomach, "We Slayers need our jet fuel, let me tell ya. You think all that acrobatic-kicking-of-ass comes from our magical demon D-cells? Nope, gotta supplement it constantly."
"Yeah, but you're supplementing through our budget way too fast." Xander frowned at the thought of his rapidly thinning wallet, "It's not like the Watchers Council grows money on trees."
"I thought they spun gold from hay, or something like that."
"Actually, I don't know where they get their funding from. It's not like they ever paid Buffy a salary or anything. It took Giles to put us on even a basic pay-role, remember." he frowned,
"But our meager share is getting leaner by the nanosecond." he continued, "Your appetite is one thing, Faith, but I'm also paying for the hotels every night, and soon we're going to have nothing." he held up a hand as Faith opened her mouth to suggest what he knew she would suggest, "And no, I'm not breaking out the Watcher's Council credit card. That's for emergencies only. We're just going to have to get some jobs, or-"
"Or you could stay at one of my places." suggested Ariel, "I mean, we all could."
"One of your...places?" Xander stared at her, "As in plural? What do you mean?"
"Um...I-"
"There! He's turned away." Faith made to charge the policeman, but Ariel caught her arm.
"He's innocent in this, and sort of on our side." the new girl suggested, "Why not let me distract him."
"Yo, no Five-O is on my side." Faith snorted, "Any day of the week, no way, no how." she flexed her fists, "Look, I was just gonna knock him around, nuthin permanent-like, maybe a few stitches, perhaps a pelvic fracture."
Xander shook his head, "No, Ariel's right. Anyway, we need to keep as low a profile as we can here. Right, Ms. Douberville? Remember all your airporty fun?"
Faith scowled and folded her arms, leaned back on her heels, "Yeah, okay, whatever." she nudged the blonde forward with her elbow, "Well, get to it then, girl. Make with the metro-sucking."
She nodded and headed off.
Xander watched her go, then his one eye narrowed slightly, "Metro-sucking? What are you talking about?"
"Her powers, they come from sucking a bus. Or something like that, she said."
His eye un-narrowed his eye, "Huh? I don't get it."
"There's a shock."
Ariel reached the break in the foliage and leaned up against the sawhorse, hands meekly laced behind her back. She coughed politely and the Officer looked round in surprise.
"Hi there." she said in her husky 'can you guess the color of my panties' voice, "I'm lost."
"Huh? Look, miss, you can't be here, it's a crime scene."
She smiled coyly at him then straightened up, stepped primly across the gravel and into his personal space, "But you're a policeman. When girls are lost, you gotta help them get back home, right?" and she ran her palm up the front of his flak vest.
"Uh..."
She beamed up at him sorrowfully and batted her long eye-lashes, her retina's flashing soft pink for a moment. And the cop smiled toothily, "Well, gee, of course I can help you. I mean, it's my number one duty. Where should I take you?"
"How about behind that large tree over there?"
Back down the path, the pair watched Ariel link arms with the Officer and lead him away. Xander frowned, it bothered him for some reason, though he had no time to question exactly why right now.
Faith watched the new couple leave the gravel and vanish behind a tall oak, "That girls got major hojo goin for her, I'll give her that. Come on, Xand." she caught his arm and they loped off, zipped round the sawhorse and vanished into the woods...
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Ten blocks away...
The tall man in the long tan duster and wide-brimmed bush hat left the street. He swaggered down a narrow throughway, then turned at a marble abutment and stomped down a short set of stone steps, coming to a stop at last before a heavy wooden door, framed and hinged in bronze fixings. A plaque set into the center read: Typhon's Crypt. He rang the bell then toyed with the grip of the large-bore pistol strapped to his left hip until the door buzzed open.
He stepped through into the dark depths of what to the untrained eye appeared to be just another overly-cluttered junk shop. Old pine chairs and strangely-shaped lamps mixed with stacks of oversized books and about a million green wine bottles. A glass-windowed counter was set at the far end and yellow lights illuminated a variety of ancient artifacts within, all of them interesting to look at but worthless. A barrel of old and rusting swords sat to the display case's left, and on the right a stuffed Bengal tiger rose up on it's hind-legs, growling silently in all it's taxidermied glory.
The man regarded the long-departed feline with an gaze of disapproval, "When are you going to get rid of that, Swathmore? You know it's a fake. No Bengal ever attacked like that, not without fracturing it's pelvis anyway."
The curtained exit behind the counter slid back and the curio shop's owner stepped forth, carrying a stack of tomes and a small jeweled bottle. He was a man of medium height with thinning dirty-blonde hair and a thick mustache. His eyes were his most striking feature, bright and blue, and constantly shifting in their sockets. He set his items down on the counter and spread them out, "I trust you came prepared, Boone."
"Always. My vans out front with the boys and everything I should need. And the Calyx of course." he chuckled wryly, "Not like I could lure him into a trailer, and anyway I'll be pushing it by taking just the van into Central Park." he frowned at the thought of all he was about to get into, "Look, you sure I can't just kill it and hack the stupid horn off right there. It sure would save alot of trouble."
Swathmore shook his head, opened a book and thumbed through it's dogged pages, "No. Carfax's Paleonomicon is very specific. It must be removed during the proper ritual."
"Okay, whatever." Boone tipped back his hat and ran a hand through his short-cropped black hair, "But I can wound it, right?"
"You'll have to, just to slow it down. But no tranquilizers. There's no way to predict the proper dosage, as one of these things haven't been seen for centuries." Swathmore's eyes glistened at the thought of being able to write the first modern treaties on unicorn physiology. I can't wait for the vivisection, it will be glorious...
He picked up the white cut-glass bottle, handed it over gingerly, "Break this where you want to lure it, and he will come."
Boone took the tumbler gently and held it up to the dim ceiling lamp above. He grinned lecherously as pink light danced within, "The essence of sugar-and-spice, huh?"
"And everything nice. We don't have the time to find and verify a maiden, so that's the next best thing. And it's been tinged with a drop of boggan root to mimic great sorrow and distress, so it should work perfectly."
The hunter slipped it inside his duster, "Is there anything you don't have back there in that vault? You always seem to have exactly what's needed, no matter-"
"Just go get the beast." snapped Swathmore, "Before somebody else does, or it vanishes back to wherever the hell it came from."
Boone scowled, then turned away and headed out, "Whatever. Just have my twenty-five thousand ready, you got me?"
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"Would you look at THAT." breathed Xander as he and Faith stood in the center of the muddy clearing, their backs to the flat stone protruding from the center of the small meadow.
Yellow police tape rung the trees all around them, and small orange labels were set at different points on the ground and rock, indicating evidence that had been either dug up or just taken away. But the most impressive part of the display was the large beech tree rising up before them.
It was on a slight lean, as if it had been struck very hard from within the clearing, and the side facing them was smashed in, the bark all cracked and crushed into a tall oval shape. A four-inch hole lay in the center of the depression, and there was a crusty red stain all around it. But what was truly bizarre was the chalked-off figure splayed AROUND the violent indentation.
In all my years in Sunnydale, I've seen lots of crime-scene chalk lines, Xander mused as he tilted his head to the left and leaned closer. But this is the first vertical one I've ever come across...
"Sonofabitch... The guy was smashed into the tree so hard his body stuck there." muttered Faith.
"The police must have had to pry him off with a crowbar." Xander ran his fingers over obvious tool marks.
"I've hit guys hard, REAL hard, yo," Faith said, "but never THAT hard. What the frig..."
"And look at this." Xander had turned back and was crouched over the ground, "They dug up a few of them for evidence or whatever, but there's still a few left."
"Few of what?"
He pointed across the churned mud and grass to a pair of large omega-shaped markings. Faith stepped to them and raised an eyebrow, "Hoof prints? Yer kiddin me. What, so, a moron playing Sir Dance-alot?"
"Lancelot."
"Or that. But a guy shootin from the saddle, with what, a really long sword?"
"Or a lance. Like Lancelot liked to use."
Faith snorted, "Whatever, man. Sounds like some geek has been droppin acid while playin Dungeons-and-Dragons."
"Don't knock it until you've tried it." he grinned, then stood and fished out the scanner, thumbed it to life once more, "Let's see if I can pick up anything."
"And if you do?" she wasn't betting the next meal he was going to be paying for on it, "What then? Call Skywalker and have him beam the Black Knight up to the Enterprise cargo bay?"
"You really need to work on your science fiction references there, Faith." he pressed what he had decided must be the mode key, because it was on top and glowed the brightest.
"No. I don't. Actually, I think YOU need to quit playin Flash Gordon and-" the device's screen lit-up brightly and it began to bleep loudly. She blinked and exhaled in surprise, "Damn, Harris. Paint my face stupid and sign me up for the Space Patrol."
"Yeah, I'll get right on getting you a decoder ring." he studied the alphanumeric code flying across the small screen and hesitated from pressing any more keys, lest it stop doing whatever the hell it was doing. I should have checked that soldier's pockets for an instruction manual or something, he brooded, then maybe I wouldn't be stuck here playing Greatest American Hero with the scanners functions...
Faith moved beside him to get a closer look, but then looked up sharply, "Uh, Harris..."
He gave in and started pressing keys, "Wait, I think I've converted the incoming data into a tracking feed."
"Xander." her voice rose and she tugged on his arm.
"Not now, I think I've triangulated the demon signal-"
"So have I." and she caught his chin and swiveled his head up to look straight ahead.
"Holy Macaroni..."
"You get dorkier by the minute, you know that? But is that what I think it is?"
A tall horse, it's coat a glistening shiny white, now stood on the opposite side of the clearing, it's solid blue eyes studying them intently. A spiraling horn easily three feet long arched out of it's forehead and the tip seemed to waver in the air, like it was beyond sharp. Which it most likely was.
"Um, that looks like a-"
"You aren't the one." snorted the unicorn in a distracted tone and he peered past them. His voice was throaty and rumbled, but he spoke perfect English.
"Guh... it talks..."
"Well, you learned how to talk, Harris, so I'm willing to accept pretty much anything else being able to do it too." Faith took a step forward, spread her arms wide, "Hey there, Mr. Ed. We aren't here to hurt you, but I'll bet it was you who shiskibobbed that low-life this morning, right?"
The creature looked her up and down critically, "You aren't the maiden."
"Not for a long, long time, I'll bet." snorted Xander.
Faith elbowed him in the gut, then nodded, "Nope, no maiden me. But where the heck did you come from?"
The beast sniffed the air loudly, then shook his mane vigorously, pawed the earth, "But one is close, very close. I must find her, she calls to me."
Xander frowned and stepped forward, held up a hand, "I'm sure you think you do, but you need to listen to us, you just can't go galloping around New York City stomping over who knows what-"
The creature whinnied loudly, it's lips peeled back all at once, "She is in trouble! I must go!" it lept forward in a fly of heavy hooves and barreled directly towards them!
"CRAP!" Faith lept at Xander and they bowled over, tumbling out of the way just in time as the unicorn thundered past in a spray of dirt and grass.
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One minute earlier, twenty meters away...
"Uhhhhh..." moaned the Police Officer, as he lay splayed back over the park bench, his vest open and shirt pulled free, exposing his gorilla-like chest. His uniform cap lay on the grass beside the tall oak and his head and arms were thrown back, his eyes clamped shut as waves of ecstacy broiled over him.
Ariel straddled his lap, her head thrown back and her teeth gritted, as her hands dug into the Officer's torso, rose-colored lightning crackling up from his skin to disappear into her bare arms. She writhed and puffed, her knees gripping him tighter and tighter, "All...most...there..."
"Guhhh...what's...happening..." gasped the cop, fighting against the assault.
"Almost...finished..." replied the breathless half-demon as she drank his sexual energy in, her fingernails clawing at his stomach, "And then...you...won't remember a...thing." and she prepared to break contact, just a little more. Just a little more. She could stop it in time, no problem. No problem, she breathed hard, I'm...in perfect...con...trol...
"Uh! Ahhhh..." the cop started bucking, his arms flailing, and blood began to bubble from his nostrils.
"N-No!" Ariel tried to pull away, her palms prying up from his flesh. But then they sucked back down like he was a magnet and she iron, and the extraction doubled in strength. Her head lulled and she fought it with everything inside her, tried to break the contact before...before...before he DIES! I've got to! I've got to stop! Oh why did I do this, why? Wh-CRASH!
Something slammed into the bench and the two of them were tossed flying. They hit the ground and were knocked from each other, the blazing connection severing with a loud crackle. The cop rolled into the bushes while Ariel bounced down the path and landed on her side. She looked up through foggy eyes in time to see the massive ivory shape of a horse galloping off into the forest. She looked back to their bench which the beast had clipped in his mad dash, it was broken cleanly in half and splinters were spiraling down even as she regarded it.
"...Thanks?" she exhaled in boggled relief, then Xander and Faith burst through the bushes on either side of her.
Xander looked down at her with concern, "Are you okay? Did it knock you down? Did it stomp on you?"
"Uh, no-no. I just, um, was thrown." she smoothed down her blouse and stood, brushed her golden curls back into place, sort of. She pointed to the opposite side of the clearing, "It went that a-way."
"Ya think?" growled Faith, staring at the smashed back gap of foliage and trampled bushes.
Xander grabbed them both by the wrist and took off at a run, "Let's go. We gotta catch him before he railroads over a pack of school kids!"
"And then what? We distract him with a carrot and get a saddle on him?" Faith shook her head but matched their pace. I should have stayed in Cleveland with Robin...
Ariel gave one last forlorn look back over her shoulder at the tall grass where the Police Officer had been tossed. She could see one of his boots sticking out and it was twitching randomly. At least I didn't kill him, but it's getting harder and harder not to now.
She forced the thought from her mind and disappeared off into the Park with her two friends...
End of Part I...