Three Days, Three Nights Act 1
Joshua Valtaine took in the breathtaking beauty of the sunset. The gentle wind washed over himself, his wife and their daughter. Dressed in their Sunday best, the three sat comfortably on the hillside watching the endless art of this incredible place.
Only Niki had some vague notion of where this was, as if she had been here before. The grass swayed gently and the scent of lavender and wild roses caught the wind. The clouds were spiked with a stunning magenta.
Samantha hugged her daughter snugly and shone a smile at her husband as they watched the never ending sunset – the symphony always reaching the crescendo, but never passing it. A universe on an edge...
Niki awoke from the familiar paradise into a terrifying nightmare. Pain flooded her senses as she tried unsuccessfully to move her head.
Struggling futilely, the Slayer's eyes moved constantly through the darkness of the room. Her breath was rough and fast as the throbbing from her gut told her something was piercing her that wasn't supposed to be there. She groaned as she twisted her head slightly, lances of pain issuing from her neck and throat. With a wave of lightheadedness, she ceased her struggles.
--
Night 1
Logan gently shook the Slayer's shoulder, with a moan she focused her eyes on his. "Hey," he said quietly, his eyes dark shadows in the dim room. His gentle squeeze, however, conveyed all he wanted to say. He glanced across her bound body, the bloodied silver spike protruding from her stomach and the silver pins sticking out under her chin. The unimposing drip, drip of the blood into the bucket under the table was a constant reminder of the passage of time.
"Where am I?" she croaked, feeling the horrible pressure of the silver bolts across her larynx.
"Don't you remember?" he asked with a concerned expression, lost in the darkness. "We talked about this already. You're on the Cure Table... the one we had built when you thought I was infected... remember?" Niki blinked. She had no recollection of that discussion.
"Why am I here?" she said hoarsely. Even though she didn't know it, her throat was sore from screaming for hours earlier that night.
Logan's brow furrowed. "You were infected," he reminded her gently. "With the Nosphoric Plague. Do you remember that?" Niki made no indication that she did. Logan swallowed. "Do you remember killing Tom?" She nodded weakly, the unwanted memory of that gruesome morning filling her groggy mind. "It was a few weeks later," Logan continued, "you were almost done rehab, we got a weird report from the Council– do you remember that?"
Niki closed her eyes and tried to think. The memory came to her. Someone had warned them that several Nosphorus had been discovered in Europe and that there might be more in America. "I remember that," she said hoarsely.
Logan nodded. "And we decided that it would be best if you were cured before we fought any kind of battle with them."
Niki's eyes suddenly grew wide. "Pierce– where is he?"
Logan nodded, calming her down. "It's okay, I know Pierce is a Nosphorus. He's the one who infected you. I've been watching him for weeks now. He's agreed to let me tie him up whenever he feeds. He's not a threat."
"Don't trust him," the Slayer argued, shifting her shoulder to lessen the burning pain through her throat. Each word was like swallowing a razor blade. Another wave of dizziness washed over her. The drip, drip, drip of her own blood into the bucket finally registered. "How long do I have to stay here?" she asked.
Logan glanced down, almost as if he was afraid to answer. Each time she woke up, there was no telling what she would remember. "Three more days," he said apologetically. When she closed her eyes, he sighed and held the hypodermic needle to the light cast by the small window. Tapping it gently to separate the bubbles, he squirted some out, then proceeded to inject her with the antibiotic to prevent infection... of the normal kind.
The Slayer winced at the needle prick. "What day is it?" she asked almost inaudibly.
Logan slowly drew the needle from her bound arm. "It's February twenty first," he said gently, "... nineteen eighty six," he added just in case. After a pause, he glanced down at his light up digital watch. "Two sixteen in the morning."
At this, she opened her eyes and tried her best to look directly at him. "What about your family?" she asked, her voice like tires on gravel, still – the worry was evident.
Logan brought his finger to her lips. "Shhh, go to sleep. You don't need to worry about anything but getting better."
"But Pierce—" she countered, her arms tugging against their bonds.
"—is no threat," Logan said reassuringly. "No General means this army has no leader: Pierce is under control."
Niki nodded, then painfully realized she would never attempt that again. She closed her eyes in the darkness of the back room of the Nail Biter, trying to get back to that paradise of the final breath. Logan quietly let himself out.
--
Day 1
Pierce took a deep breath and gently touched the Slayer's shoulder. He was confined to the Nail Biter until sundown anyway, he might as well take some responsibility. Ever with his sadistic side, he winced as the Slayer awoke again to realize the agony of simple consciousness.
Her eyes opened and she let out a low groan. Her hands made fists as her eyes found the face of the vampire. "What?" she ground out. The fewer words the better.
Pierce slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, his silver bracelet falling free from his sleeve. With a sudden rush of panic, he snatched his hand back and staggered away from the bound Slayer. The vision the vampire in the park had shown him came back to him – the Slayer waking from a table... a table identical to this and staking him without a thought.
Just as quickly as the vision overtook him, it was gone. He sheepishly tucked the bracelet back into the sleeve of his jacket and approached her again. He knew she couldn't see very far on either side of her, what with the silver pins purifying her bloodstream of the virus...
"What?" she prompted, worry creeping into her voice.
Pierce shook his head. "Nothing... Look, I just wanted to say: I'm sorry."
She raised an eyebrow the only amount of acknowledgment she was willing to give.
"I'm sorry for infecting you. I didn't know what I was doing..." he made a little ironic chuckle. "I I don't even know when I was infected. But I want you to know that I'm not a threat." He moved a little closer, swallowing hard. "I I know you don't really like me..." She rolled her eyes but said nothing. "When Addison came to me– wanted me to look after you for him," he shrugged, realizing how lame that sounded, "I agreed..." he winced, shaking his wrist, "not for this," the bracelet jingled and glinted in the dim light from the window. "I wanted you to respect me... I wanted to be someone again." He looked at her quickly, as if fearing she would laugh in his face. As it was, the vampire couldn't read her expression. She seemed to be sizing him up, as if trying to see if he were telling the truth. He raised his chin slightly under her scrutiny, as a suspect maintaining his innocence.
The vampire took a deep breath. "Just this once," he said with some small amount of resentment, "I'm going to talk about my past." He settled himself into a nostalgic place of comfort, finally ridding that part of him he had always worried they'd discover about him.
"I was sired about seventy years ago," he began, swallowing at the memory of the times then. "You don't need to know anything about my life before then: just that I wasn't anybody special. A social reject. Then my life changed... ended, really. In a forest outside my ranch." He glanced down from his reverie to see her watching him. Her expression was difficult to determine, but to think she had any sympathy for him was an assumption Pierce was not willing to make.
"My sire was the only model for behavior I had to work with." He gave a small laugh. "I found out later he was actually totally insane. At the time I had believed him when he said he was a king in exile from some distant dynastic Persian land. I followed his every move and did everything he told me," Pierce squinted at the Slayer, "I mean everything."
"I became his son, or so he said, and he started calling me Prince." Pierce licked his lips. He was sickened now to think of his innocence in those days. Leopold, his sire, had raised him as if to be a vampire was synonymous with being royalty. "When years later I finally met another vampire, I was totally thrown off. They didn't respect," he scoffed, "they didn't treat me the way my sire had taught me to expect to be treated..."
Pierce swallowed hard, considering whether or not to continue with his story at all. Niki's gaze was utterly locked on this vampire with a story. She had never considered that a vampire might feel about his unlife the way she did about her life. That it had been one mistake one regret after another.
"When they finally respected me," Pierce said with a hard look in his eyes, "they were already calling me Pierce, because..." he ground his teeth together, his brow furrowing, "because everyone knew that I staked any vampire who crossed me."
Niki blinked. Though it was difficult to summon up much in the way of pathos for this vampire who had killed likely hundreds, and significantly more difficult to speak, she opened her mouth and drew the pain across her throat. "What was your name?" She swallowed. "Before."
Pierce looked down at her for a long moment. These were things he had never intended to tell anyone. Things he had never intended to even remember again. Now they were carried outside his own memories: as immortal as himself. "My name," he said slowly, "was Samuel. I was twenty two."
Finally she swallowed and gave the barest nod, pursing her lips and drawing a cleansing breath. Realizing this caused a stabbing pain through her gut, she coughed and let it out with a groan Tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. She hated this. Swallowing painfully she couldn't help but think what a crappy Slayer she had turned out to be. Addison had left, putting –admittedly unwanted– trust in her: letting her work without a net. What had she accomplished? She'd failed to prevent the Nosphorus from infiltrating the city. She'd almost got Logan killed when Birk had infiltrated them, fooling her completely. She'd got herself KO'd with a stupid Aztec trinket. She'd nearly killed Logan again when she'd thought he was infected... She scolded herself in her mind: All her delusions about Logan's behavior: all the signs pointing to him as the Plague sufferer... they were all so clearly indicating the exact same thing about herself and Pierce. Then she'd gone postal thinking that medallion Birk's partner had given her was some kind of magic... Then she'd been so dense that she couldn't see what Stuff was doing to her. Somehow, Logan had pulled her through all these times: had forgiven her each time.
At that exact moment, a tear managed to break free from the corner of her eye and roll down to the tip of her ear. She blinked. How the hell had she been willing to let him go? Her eyes flicked to the vampire standing next to her: asking for her forgiveness. For her acceptance. All he'd ever wanted from her was what she couldn't even give herself. She blinked again. All she could see through the tear that was working its way across her vision was the dark shirt and the silver KISS emblazoned across it.
She opened her hand and she felt his fingers interlace with her own. Though her hand was bound at the wrist, she managed to close her hand around his. She squeezed.
The tear leapt free and her vision cleared, all thoughts of forgiveness gone. The thing in the KISS shirt squeezed back, hearing the cracking his force created.
"Hello, doll," the Nosphorus grinned. It had been waiting, all these weeks... Soon all would be ready.
--
Logan looked down at his drink, considering their entire situation. As Diego took his glass, refilling it, Logan glanced up to the mirror, seeing in its reflection the door to the back room.
Beyond that door, he imagined, was Niki, deciding whether or not to forgive Pierce: whether or not to trust him.
"You know I wouldn't be doing this," the big bar owner said gruffly, "if I didn't know for a fact that we're going to need that little girl scout sooner or later." He spun the cap back onto the crystal bottle. "You three have done nothing but damage my bar and its staff for the last eight months." Diego let out a harsh chuckle. "I'm actually having to look for new employees since word got around what happened to old Tom. Look!" he scoffed. "Demons used to be lined up around the block to work here. Now look at me!" Diego scrubbed the bar sullenly.
Logan, who was listening to none of this, was staring at the reflection in the mirror. Something was nagging at him: a feeling. He'd missed something. His eyes shifted to the side for an instant, then grew wide as the thought crystallized: Nosphorus.
Logan jumped from his stool: He'd left the book of the Nosphorus in the warehouse months ago when everyone had been after him. That book would be very useful now that the threat was beginning to reemerge. He slapped some money, including a hefty tip, on the bar and dashed out of the bar.
Niki and Pierce would just have to get along without him for a while.
Three Days, Three Nights - Act 2
Night 2
"Be silent," the Nosphorus commanded, fully aware of his power over the incapacitated Slayer. "Roll over," he said with a sadistic grin.
Her jaw set —unable to make a noise— Niki's face contorted in exquisite agony as the virus' hold on her brain forced her to attempt the impossible act. With her wrists, ankles and forehead leather-bound to the table, she was only able to twist her abdomen to one side, twisting the silver spike through her gut and back, where it penetrated.
She stifled cries of pain, biting her lip until she drew blood so as not to make a sound. There was nothing more nauseating than the feeling of a foreign object pushing aside one's internal organs - pressing just to one side of the spinal cord.
Even as consciousness threatened to leave her, she couldn't force herself to abort the move, her master watching with a hideous grin. The blood draining into the bucket beneath the table increased from a steady drip, drip to a continual patter and finally a drizzle.
Dizziness overcame the struggling Slayer and her eyes fluttered as she finally felt herself approaching the paradise of unconsciousness.
"Stop," the Nosphorus ordered, seeing her condition. She sagged back on the table, her bleeding slowing as it soaked a broad red circle into her white shirt. The gauze which had been packed around the silver spike was now hanging off her side, soaked with fresh blood. "Wake up," he said and her eyes shot open.
The Nosphorus leaned in close to her ear, the lovely scent of her exhaustion and pain greeting his nostrils. "I could tell your heart to stop beating," he whispered with pleasure. "I could tell your lungs to stop breathing. I could tell you to burn alive: and you would obey me."
Niki's lips trembled, even though her eyes were open, she was barely conscious. The virus was controlling the chemicals her brain was releasing, keeping her awake like a drug might. With a deep breath, she opened her mouth and let her eyes track across her vision to the face of vampiric Pierce.
The Nosphorus cocked his head with curiosity. "Speak," he allowed.
"You won't kill me," she said hoarsely, tasting blood coating her throat. One of the pins in her neck must have pierced a blood vessel. Nothing critical, or she'd be dead by now.
"Won't I?" the Nosphorus asked with amusement.
The corners of the Slayer's mouth lifted with a supreme effort for her to smile. "I know," she croaked, "why you're scary again..."
The Nosphorus straightened, considering this. His eyes searched the memory of the vampire he inhabited. The vampire had been cursed: prevented from transforming to his natural vampiric state. That had changed.
"What do you mean?" the Nosphorus frowned, resting his hands on the edge of the table.
Niki moved her glance back to the ceiling. With the barest smile still on her lips, she said nothing.
"Answer!" her master commanded, leaning over and glaring down into the Slayer's face.
Slowly, Niki opened her mouth. With infinite pleasure, she spat in his face, her bloodied saliva hitting him under the left eye. The Nosphorus snarled and raised a hand to strike her, but stopped. He calmed himself and wiped the blood from his face. He knew his control was slipping: she was being purged of the infection with every drop of blood she lost.
"Once you are off this table," he said with a deep breath, "I will enjoy infecting you again... and again... and again..."
--
Day 2
Addison slowly set his suitcase on the curb as the cab drove away. With a deep breath he took in the air of New York City yet again. Logan promptly picked it up and marched to the door of the apartment.
"Where have you guys been?" the lawyer asked with a hint of irritation. "No one's heard from the Council for months!"
Addison raised an eyebrow, as if this were the most inappropriate question one could ask. "We have a great number of matters to deal with. We can't afford the time to send you daily reports."
Logan sighed and shook his head. "Whatever – look, thanks for the heads up on the Nosphorus situation. It gave us time to prepare."
Addison looked sharply at the man, at first completely unaware of what he was talking about. Slowly, however, the information filtered into his mind. "Oh yes, of course." His frown ever-present, he cocked his head in curiosity. "Just how are you preparing for this... situation?"
Logan considered telling the Watcher that Niki and Pierce were infected with the Nosphoric plague, then thought better of it. "Just getting weapons together," the man shrugged it off. "What I'm more interested in," he went on as they stepped out of the elevator on the ninth floor, "is the one who started this whole thing."
Addison nodded. "Ah yes, this 'Creep'. Utter balderdash. Complete fairytale. Nothing more." The old man waved it off and marched into Niki's apartment, indicating to Logan where to drop his things. "I'm disappointed that you've distracted yourself with such a notion."
Logan raised his eyebrows. "Sure," he said uneasily. "Forget I said anything."
"What we should be worried about," the old Watcher argued, sitting down heavily at the kitchen table, "is the rampant paranoia surrounding this minor issue of the Plague—"
"Minor?" Logan whirled on the old man, his expression shocked. "One Nosphorus nearly instigated a full-scale war on the streets! There's no telling how much damage someone could do with the power to create as many Nosphorus as he wanted!"
Addison raised a bushy white eyebrow. "Well, then it's fortunate that the book containing the spell to do that is not in enemy hands, isn't it?"
Logan winced internally. "Yes. I suppose it is."
Addison nodded outwardly. Stupid human, he thought. He will be one of the first to die. "So I should think," the old Watcher said stiffly, "that irrational panic is the prime concern in this case. Wouldn't you agree?"
Logan glanced down at the floor. Things were, unfortunately, much worse than the old man suspected. Logan would have to tell him eventually. But for now... "Yeah," he said resentfully. "You're absolutely right."
--
Niki lay on the gently rolling hillside, her mother squeezing her shoulders with a broad smile on her face, her father with a casual hand on her knee.
The sun was setting: of course. Always in the act of disappearing, always staining the sky new and dazzling colors of red and pink, each more stunning than the last. The quiet wind was gently fingering her hair as the sound of distant lazy music drifted past.
With a little grin, she saw the man coming over the next hill - dressed in his long leather jacket, a broad grin of recognition on his face. She felt her skin tingle at the perfection of the moment. The unending moment.
In the space in time of a blink, the perfection was gone. With a blood-chilling blast of cold air, the sun finally sank below the horizon and darkness fell across the land. Niki's eyes widened in panic as a figure in a black suit, carrying a black briefcase approached her leather-clad lover from behind. Before she could utter a sound, the flash of a knife caught the last dead rays of the sun as it slashed across the man's throat, dropping him to his knees.
Unable to move, Niki lay on the suddenly cold hard ground as the cold wind picked up and the grass became straw, coarse and brittle. With shivers running through her, she awaited the form in the dark suit, nothing but his legs seeming to move as he crossed the barren distance between himself and her family.
With a heart-stopping suddenness, grass all around them burst into flames, an infernal circle rising higher and higher, closing around the suited figure as he approached. Niki heard her mother scream.
In a flash, the figure was upon them, driving his knife into her father's forehead, taking her mother by the hair and throwing her into the flames.
Niki couldn't make a sound as the Creep looked down at her with a calm and calculated face.
"Wake up Knicks," he hissed, his mouth open but his lips motionless.
Niki awoke with a hoarse scream on the table, the Nosphorus gone now that the sun was setting. With her breathing ragged and painful, she sobbed into the darkness of the room. The hopeless darkness was silent in return.
Three Days, Three Nights - Act 3
Night 3
Niki shuddered into consciousness at Logan's touch. Her lips were parched and there was dried blood in a line from the corner of her lips across her cheek. Before she could speak, Logan drew a cool wet cloth across her mouth, squeezing the cold water into her mouth. Momentarily, her troubles were forgotten and she drank, sucking hard on the cloth. Logan proceeded to wipe her face clean and finally patted her sweat covered forehead with a frown.
"Logan," she croaked, her eyes closed.
"Shh," he said gently, rearranging the gauze around her stomach wound.
"Dammit, Logan," Niki growled, her eyes glaring through the darkness at the man who stood over her. "Would you just listen to me?"
With a look of concern, he drew closer so she wouldn't have to speak so loudly. "What is it?
"Pierce," she said with a raw voice, "isn't Pierce any more. He's a Nosphorus— fully and totally." Logan kept his gaze concerned and troubled. Not an eyelash batted. To the full extent she could, Niki turned her head in amazement. "You don't believe me."
Logan shrugged. "It's not that I don't believe you," he said apologetically. "You're in a great deal of pain, you're having delusions – hallucinations."
"Dammit Logan!" the Slayer shouted, her throat bleeding freshly. "I'm not hallucinating! He came in here, he vamped out, he said he'd been waiting for this. You have to kill him."
Logan sighed, drawing in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. He knew she was right. He had never intended to allow Pierce to survive this ordeal, but he had hoped to first glean all usefulness from him in the upcoming encounter with the Nosphorus. Now, however, it would seem the General was back. The army was being called up.
"Do you want me to let you out?" he asked seriously. It was the only way he could think of to test her. If she was hallucinating in order to find a means of escape, she wouldn't hesitate at this chance.
"No," she said with a clenched jaw. "I trust you. Besides, he can't kill me."
Logan felt in his pocket for a new hypodermic syringe and the tiny glass bottle of penicillin. "Why not?"
Niki couldn't help but smile. "Because of how he can vamp out: The curse was lifted until he gets vengeance on me... until he kills me. As soon as he does, it's back to being the Little Vampire That Couldn't."
"Vengeance?" Logan asked skeptically. "On you?"
Niki made a little laugh then winced as the action raked her throat. "On your behalf, actually," she explained. She winced again as the hypodermic pricked her arm. "The demon who temporarily lifted the curse thinks I broke your heart." She had amusement in her eyes but when they met his, they encountered something she didn't expect.
Logan glanced down at the floor and swallowed. "Imagine that," he said with a hollow chuckle. After a moment he glanced up and began to unbuckle her wrists and ankles.
"W- what are you doing?" she asked with worry. "We can't fight what's coming if I'm not cured."
"I know," Logan said, laying the leather bonds back across her outstretched arms and legs to make it appear as if she was still bound. "But I can't fight what's coming on my own if you're dead. This is just a little... insurance."
"Is Addison here yet?" she asked, the despair of the darkened room momentarily abating. Perhaps things were back in control. Thank God for Logan Kilpatrick.
"Yeah, he's cooling his heels in your apartment." Logan's eyes shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "He... uh, he doesn't know about you and Pierce."
Niki smirked. "Hmm, won't he be shocked?"
Logan licked his lips. "There's one more thing." To the Slayer's raised eyebrow, he absently scratched an eyebrow with his pinkie. "You remember when you were all after me... to get me on this baby–" he knocked on the wooden table, "and I went postal and killed Hobbs?"
Niki nodded as slightly as she could. "That's one each now, I think."
Logan winced. "Yeah, um, that book I stole... I kinda lost it."
Niki's brow furrowed. "What book?" After a moment of silence, her expression registered her sudden realization. "That book?" Logan winced. "The book which tells exactly how to make a Nosphorus from nothing but a vampire?"
Logan took a deep breath. "Yeah, that book— well, I should be out looking for Pierce, shouldn't I?" He took a step when Niki's hand lifted from the leather strap and grabbed the hem of his black sweater.
"It could just be the Plague talking, but I think you should make an effort to find that book... before Addison finds out and eats you alive. Don't you think?" The Slayer could almost forget the stabbing pain through her gut as she glared at the man heading quickly for the door.
--
Day 3
In the artificially lit underground parking lot, Addison walked casually until he came to one of the concrete pillars holding up the ceiling. Stopping, he turned and crossed his arms.
After a moment, Pierce —or what looked like Pierce— stepped out from behind the pillar. "How was your flight?" he asked calmly, his hands deep in the pockets of his dark jacket. "Jet lag?"
Addison smiled, baring his teeth. "Indeed."
"What is the situation in Europe?" the Nosphorus asked, his tone cold and calculated. Like a good slave, the old man had done what he had been commanded to do.
"They are ours," Addison reported with pleasure. "The entire Council."
"The entire Council?" the Nosphorus prompted, his head tilting to one side. "Then where did message warning of our coming originate?"
Addison swallowed. "One Council member did escape," he admitted, nausea churning in his stomach for having failed, even so slightly, to obey his master's wishes. "We have been unable to track him."
The Nosphorus snarled. "We shall deal with him in due time. He is likely still in England." With his calm and calculating tone returning, the Nosphorus made a small bow. "You have done well. Soon we will assemble the army for the great one. He shall bring about the New Reign. And all shall be righted once more."
Addison nodded. "What are your wishes?"
The Nosphorus thought about this. "We need to kill the Slayer before our power is taken from her. We cannot afford her interfering as she did before."
Addison frowned. "Have you not killed her yet?"
"Silence!" the vampiric master raged, striking the old man across the cheek. With a whimper, Addison went down on his knees, his eyes averted. He made no sound. "Listen," the Nosphorus explained gently, after he had a moment to calm himself, "listen and obey." Addison nodded. "You must kill the Slayer: I cannot, or I will lose my ability to kill."
Addison lifted his head, looking like he had something to say. The Nosphorus sighed. "Speak."
"Begging your pardon," the old man said apologetically, "but I surely cannot kill the Slayer. And you yourself are of no consequence. Once the Slayer is dead, the great one will not miss a single Nosphorus."
The thing in Pierce's body nodded. There was no insult there. He was entirely correct. All was to serve the greater good of ridding the planet of all impure and mongrel creatures. Only the pure would remain. Then the Old Ones would return. "You are correct," the Nosphorus admitted. "We are of no consequence." He thought for a moment. "I shall kill the Slayer, then you shall kill her male. Then the great one will be unchallenged." He motioned for Addison to rise. "Listen and obey."
--
The vampire in the black suit slowly turned the page of the book. The Nosphorus surrounding him were growing restless. But they would obey him. There were at least as many vampires tied and unconscious in the other room. Soon they would all be Nosphorus.
To each of the Nosphorus filling this room, there were ten infected humans, going about their lives, unaware they were soldiers in an army poised to rid the world of the plague called humanity. There was just one last thing to attend to...
"Victoria," the vampire in the black suit said politely, turning his attention to the girl sitting happily on the suitcase in the freight storage warehouse.
Her expression read something in his tone and her face became somber. "Is Diego dead?" she asked worriedly. Always her affection for the current bartender kept her attuned to reality. If it weren't for their visits, the dreams she had might drive her truly insane.
The vampire smiled. "No, of course not. You know that could never happen, don't you?" She nodded, scolding herself for thinking it. "Do you remember why?" he asked with an appropriately patronizing tone.
She nodded again. "Because he has pure blood."
The vampire nodded with a grin. "That's right. And what happens to those with impure blood?"
Victoria seemed to be searching through the gauze across her face for the answers. "They're... purged?" She attempted.
"That's right," the vampire smiled. "You've seen that, haven't you?"
Victoria nodded vigorously. "Uh huh, I saw it last night." She knew what answering affirmatively would get her.
The vampire smiled even more. "That's very good. Would you like some more candy?" She giggled and took the package of m&m's that he placed in her hand. He momentarily glanced up at one of the hideous rat-faced Nosphorus fresh from infection as the thing walked by. He reached for his black briefcase which lay open on the chest of the dead security guard from the institution where the girl had been living. "Now, Victoria," he said with a hint of sternness in his voice to make her pay attention. He removed the small vial of white powder from an interior pocket. "I have one more question for you."
--
Pierce looked down at the Slayer laying on the table. Even though she was unconscious, the virus in her brain would be able to hear his commands. That part of her brain never slept. It needed to acknowledge only one more command.
Addison stood behind him near the doorway. The Nosphorus leaned over the table and took a deep breath. He would enjoy this. "Die."
Three Days, Three Nights - Act 4
Logan jerked the crate with his toe. It had to be here somewhere. He shook his head. What a mess this was. If the Creep had the book, then somewhere there was an army of nearly invincible vampires with the power to infect anyone they bit — and likely a tenfold army of nearly as powerful infected humans ready to tear every human being in New York City limb from limb.
Logan squinted in the dim light. He rounded the stack of plastic-wrapped cardboard boxes and found the metal chair to which he had tied a vampire months ago and infected him with the Nosphoric Plague in order to prove he himself was not infected. Logan found the exact place where the book had been resting. And was no longer so. He sighed and began to search around the boxes. With a frown, he looked up at the hanging light fixture. The single light bulb was dark. Tentatively, Logan reached up and give it a twist. The glass object flickered to life, casting harsh shadows across his face. Logan's eyes stared off into the distance. An idea was forming in his mind. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on...
He dashed out of the warehouse, knocking the metal chair over in the process with a clang. There was one more warehouse that needed checking.
--
He would enjoy this: "Die."
A flicker of a snarl flashed across the Slayer's lips. Faster than the Nosphorus' mind could register, even with the enhanced chemical cocktail driven by the virus living there, Niki pulled her arm from the unfastened restraint, clutched the edge of the wooden table and tore.
Pierce had just enough time to resurface from inside his overridden mind —his features returning to those of a human— to see the jagged wedge of wood find its way through the last S of KISS. He blinked and time seemed to slow - as it always did in moments of perfect vengeance. As he had always imagined, the pain flashed outward from his vampire heart and consumed him with nothing so much as a cold indifference. Not even a word escaped his lips before he collapsed to dust on the floor.
The silver bracelet landed on the floor with a sound like a tiny bell.
--
Logan walked into the second warehouse of interest. Here, he had also held a vampire tied to a chair. Pierce. He had tested the Prince's memory to check for evidence of the Plague. Here is where the vampire had ordered Niki to quit the drug which had owned her.
Glancing up, Logan saw the light bulb twisted out of the circuit. With a sneer of victory, he gave the bulb a hard turn and it popped back on, flooding the room with light. The man's eyes widened as the harsh shadows stretched away from him, the wall before him jumping to life.
A dead pimp lay in a corner, pale and ghostly, preserved in the sub-zero temperatures of the New York City nights. Scrawled in blood —presumably that of the pimp— across the wall before Logan were two words.
FORGIVE ME
Logan, his heart skipping a beat, turned and dashed back the way he had come as fast as his legs would carry him.
--
Addison watched as his master fell as ash to the floor, the old man's eyes widening. He opened his mouth a let out a shout of fury, his eyes fading to white, the plague taking over completely. He charged.
Niki quickly reached up and unfastened the strap over her forehead. Before her former Watcher had taken a step, she pinched the tips of the silver pins protruding from her throat and pulled. With a groan of vicious pain, she tore the pins from her body and leapt from the table, the silver spike gliding easily out her back where it had entered.
She landed on her feet but felt immediately lightheaded. Three days of blood-loss took its toll and she barely managed to block the random and savage blows the old man threw at her.
Her eyes were mostly closed, forcing her to rely completely on the instincts honed from hours of blindfold practice. She ducked low, her motions sluggish and weary, but intentional and effective. Each of Addison's blows were deflected, each of his lunges avoided. But his stamina was virus driven and unlimited. Hers was wearing down.
She had delivered a kick of her own to the side of the old man's head, which only seemed to fuel his anger, but was now on the defensive, barely able to summon enough energy to hold her ground.
--
Logan stood at the open door of his brand new Pontiac Acadian. This was ridiculous. The Nail Biter was ten minutes away running every single light. He closed his eyes. There was a first time for everything. Quickly opening them again, he reached into his glove box and grabbed the two things he'd need. Holding one in each hand, he closed his eyes again and concentrated.
Suddenly and almost unexpectedly, the amateur conjurer vanished in a twist of light.
--
Niki slumped against the table, her mouth filled with blood. One hand on the hole which worked its way through her abdomen without piercing any major organ and the other blocking the furious slashes of the old man who was desperately trying to tear her to pieces. Consciousness —what was left of it— was slipping away.
With a twist of light, her eyes opened and Logan was standing just inside the door. Addison turned on him, the old man's eyes white and his mouth open to a snarl. With a shriek, he met the directed beam of Logan's flashlight, closing his eyes and slamming shoulder to chest into the man.
The two tumbled to the floor and the flashlight spun away into the darkness. It didn't occur to Logan just then, but that flashlight had seen his very first battle with a Nosphorus several months ago and hadn't had its batteries replaced since then, which is likely why it flickered and died in the back room of the Nail Biter at that very moment.
Niki considered this as she sank to the floor, the inert device being the last thing she saw before she hit a pile of dust on the floor, unconscious.
Logan grabbed the rabid Addison by the collar and lashed out with the other thing he had chanced to bring. The curved Aztec blade sliced through the old man's shirt and skin, drawing perhaps a great deal more blood than was necessary. But Logan didn't care.
The old man collapsed into his arms instantly, a look of utter bliss on his perfectly human face. Letting him sink to the floor, Logan stood, his blade at the ready, searching the darkness for the Nosphorus he knew to be there. But he was alone now. His eyes shifting suspiciously, he crept over to the Slayer on the floor and lifted her into his arms.
Just then a smell caught his senses. He lifted his fingers from her bloodied white shirt to his nose. The ashes slid between his fingers. Still warm...
Logan Kilpatrick closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. When he opened them, he was looking down into the face of Niki Valtaine. He let his breath out and brought her face up to his own. His considered placing one of his usual gentle kisses on her forehead or eyelid, but with a sudden burst of anguish planted his lips firmly on hers and kissed her as hard as he ever had. She slowly stirred and responded.
Soon he let her down from his arms and they broke the kiss. Without a word, they both lifted Addison onto the table and adjusted the silver spike and pins. Niki took no pleasure as she tightened the straps around his wrists and ankles, taking care to brush his white hair back from his forehead as she wrapped the strap across him there.
When a tear rolled down her cheek as she slid the pins through her adopted father's throat, Logan's hand found hers. She locked eyes with him and swallowed hard. Bending down, she found the silver bracelet Addison had given Pearce. She slid it onto her wrist and it hung loosely, threatening to fall off.
Logan's hand slid around her waist and he pulled her to the door. What was done was done. That, however, was no answer to the tears.
--
Night 1
Logan and Niki raised their beers under the center light of the Nail Biter's bar. Three days, they knew, and Addison would be cured. Then the battle would begin. Perhaps the final battle.
"Can I propose a toast?" the newest barkeep asked, tipping his fedora higher on his brow. Niki and Logan shrugged in unison. Whistler nodded. "To royalty."
Niki closed her eyes for a long moment, then raised her bottle to touch Logan's, her bracelet catching the light. "To royalty."