Chapter 10: Mumbo Jumbo
Tuesday: 7:00 p.m.
Buffy was weary; she had barely gotten enough sleep the night before. After finding one body, now it was the second day and the second body and she wasn't any closer to finding the killer. She knew the fight she had had with Julian was taking a toll on her, both physically and emotionally, but she wasn't ready to acknowledge her culpability in the fight.
The fight had opened her eyes and made her realize that something was wrong. No matter what she had done, she felt as if she was living in a world of fog. Even the simplest decisions were escaping her. But it wasn't just her, everyone at A.D.A.P. seemed to be affected. It had been six whole weeks since the vampire killings. They should have apprehended a suspect or the killer already, but no such luck. Each time, Buffy believed that she was close, she seemed farther and farther away. There was Connor's unreasonable jealousy and his habit of questioning orders and Jocelyn, trying to exert an authority over Buffy. The only one that seemed to not be affected was Burke. And Burke was never sane in the first place, living as he did in his own little world – which was called techno-geek.
When Buffy had recruited Burke, it was with the understanding that Burke would not do magic at A.D.A.P., not because they wouldn't understand but because magic was such an elemental gift. It was in him and around him. The other members barely understood that werewolves and vampires existed, but to have to explain magic too? It would be like a layperson trying to understand why the sky was blue. It would be hard.
At seven o' clock, Buffy found herself at Burke Levy's home. At age twenty- two, Burke lived with his parents in the converted basement of a huge brownstone apartment. Burke was a second-generation witch. His parents were powerful, practicing witches. Buffy knocked on the front door and entered the building. Buffy explained why she needed help, and it didn't take a lot of time before they found that she was under a spell – a spell so subtle that if she was a different person, she wouldn't have noticed. She was under a spell of confusion. It was determined that if Buffy was spelled, maybe the other members of A.D.A.P. were spelled too. The Levys, who would do anything for Buffy after she had saved John's life, gathered their supplies and followed her to her car.
Twenty years ago, Buffy had saved John Levy's life, and he would always be grateful. Youthful in magic, a spell he was working on went awry causing a demon to be brought forth. Recognizing what it was, Buffy quickly dispatched it, earning a lifetime of friendship. So what if she never ages, she was their friend and indeed, she was special.
It was now 8:00 p.m., the sun was no longer shining. A hint of a breeze flowed through the surrounding trees sending a small chill through Deirdre Levy. She huddled in her jacket as the heat of August turned slowly to the chill of September. She stopped suddenly, her hand to her heart.
"Are you okay?" asked John, noting that she had stopped.
She frowned. It was as if a hand had ran icy fingers down her spine. "I'm fine," she said, shaking it off. If Deirdre was prophetic, she would have known to say something but she was not, so she chalked that moment up to the chill of the waning sun.
It was eight o'clock at night and the Levys were surprised as they entered through the back of A.D.A.P. to find the office full. Buffy then explained that because of the recent murders and pressure to solve it, everyone was working overtime, including the lowly clerks whose job it was to fetch and carry paperwork and coffee. They would take turns taking naps. But there were a lucky few that would go home, get a few hours of sleep, and then start the cycle over again.
"Mom! Dad!" Burke said, pushing his glasses up on his face in surprise as he watched his parents walk into the room. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, son," said Deirdre Levy walking over to give her son a kiss on the cheek. "We thought it was time to see where you work."
"At 8:00 at night?" he said skeptically.
Deirdre shrugged.
"Mom? Dad? What's going on?" Burke asked wrinkling his nose in bafflement.
"Can't a mother visit her only son because she felt like it?" she asked, ruffling Burke's curly hair.
"Mooom," he wailed, ducking his head in embarrassment. "I'm at work," he muttered with a blush, while cautiously looking around. His blush deepened after getting surreptitious grins from his coworkers.
"Hush," she admonished, smiling at his red face.
"Dee-Dee, leave the boy alone," John Levy said giving the younger man a sympathetic smile. Even if Dee insisted on treating Burke like a child, he was a man, even if he lived at home.
Hearing the commotion, Connor walked out of his office. He frowned after a quick glance at the clock. "Ma'am, as you can see we are very busy," he said, walking over to a coffee machine. "You can visit your boy another time," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm as he looked around the office at the people milling about.
Soon there was a mad scramble as the men and women rushed to look busy.
John Levy's eyebrow arched.
"When we are not quite so busy," Connor continued as he sipped his cup of coffee. He walked forward and motioned the couple towards the front door.
"I invited them," Buffy said quietly behind him.
"You!" Connor said spinning around. He looked at Buffy with disgust. All of a sudden, it seemed as if a wave of hate just washed over him, and in that moment if Connor had been wearing his weapon, he would have shot Buffy. He frowned. "What's going on here?" he wondered blinking.
Buffy eyed him thoughtfully. She looked at John and gave him a quiet nod.
"Who are you?" said Deirdre, with the lift of one of her eyebrows.
"Mom, this is Connor…" said Burke hurriedly.
"I didn't ask you," she said to her son mildly. She continued to gaze at Connor.
Burke blushed and with a stammering apology, he walked over to the water cooler.
Dee-Dee sighed and gave her son a frowning gaze. She would apologize to him later, she thought.
"If you must know, I'm Connor Adams, the director," he said stretching out his hand towards John, who was standing nearest to him. With a slight hesitation, John Levy eyed Connor's outstretched hand for a minute. He must have come to some inner conclusion for he gave his hand in return. As they clasped hands, Connor froze as an arc of electricity ran through his body, making both his and John's eyes turn inward showing the sclera, the 'white' of their eyes.
"John!" Deirdre shouted as she felt magic arching through the room. John didn't tell her how they were going to confront Connor, so the feeling of heavy magic in the air had frozen her for a second. She then rushed over to Connor and John, her eyes wide in fright. "What is it?" she cried.
Water splashed onto the tile floor as Burke rushed to his father. "Dad?" Burke questioned, in bewilderment. His eyes widened as he felt the heaviness in the air and smelt something like burnt skin.
Mouths literally dropped open as electricity continued to flow from Connor's hand to John's and as both of them started to glow. One person even fainted, not understanding what she was seeing.
"What the…" Connor demanded, eyes popping open in fright.
In the midst of the stunned silence, Jocelyn and Dudley both walked into the room.
"What's going on here?" Jocelyn yelled, shivering as she too felt the magic in the air.
With out conscious thought, Buffy and Deirdre quickly grabbed both men, trying to unclasp their hands.
Suddenly with a big whoosh of air, John and Connor's hands were free.
Connor stood in the middle of the room shaking, his face drawn and pinched, and his hand fisted at his side. He swallowed the lump that was lodged in his throat. "I don't know what's going on here, but I don't want any mumbo jumbo in this room."
"Mumbo jumbo?" Burke squeaked incensed on his parents' behalf. "That wasn't mumbo jumbo. It was magic."
"Magic?" Connor said eyeing Burke in disbelief. "Yeah right," he scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Like magic exists."
"Magic does exist," Burke retorted, his eyes narrowed in anger.
"Burke? Hush!" said his mother. "He's an unbeliever; you cannot force someone to believe."
"But…" he protested, looking at her doubtfully.
"No buts," she said firmly, taking note of Connor's trembling form.
"How do you know that magic doesn't exist?" asked John, wincing when his hand brushed against his leg. He was watching Connor intently, who was holding his own hand gingerly.
Connor frowned, nervously looking around the room. "It just doesn't," he said, his mouth tightened into a stubborn line.
"What about Paavo?" John asked, speaking of the vampire who had just walked into the room with Charity beside him.
"What about him?" Connor sneered. "He's not magic; he's just a stinking vampire," he said, his lips curling with disgust.
Paavo's eyes narrowed, and he growled.
The sound echoed through the quiet room and the woman who had fainted before came out of her swoon just in time to faint again.
"He's not a stinking vampire!" Charity cried, rushing forward, only to be held back by Paavo. "He's Kindred," she snapped.
Paavo eyed her thoughtfully for a moment. He must have come to some inner conclusion, because his eyes continued to travel over her face then searched her eyes.
At last, Charity thought, as her gaze boldly met his. A delicious shudder heated her body. Ever since she had met him, she had dreamt of being within his embrace.
John put up his hands in a stop gesture, and for the first time, everyone noticed his reddened palm.
"Dad! Your hands," said Burke startled.
John grimaced, and without looking at his palm, he sighed and said, "Don't worry son, it will heal."
Burke eyed his father worriedly. He could only imagine the incredible pain he must be feeling, but he gave him a small smile and an understanding nod.
"How about Victor?" John asked Connor. "He's a werewolf, don't you consider him magic?" he asked gently.
Connor gave John a dry stare.
"I guess not," he said. "Mmm," he murmured, looking around the room as if searching for something. "Then if magic doesn't exist," he said walking up to the other man, "why then you are under a spell?"
"What?" said Connor, his mouth dropping open in shock.
"What?!" cried Jocelyn, her eyes flashing to Connor in surprise.
"From the minute I entered this building, I could sense a magical barrier around the building and the people."
Buffy drew herself up in astonishment. She didn't know that. She thought only the key people were spelled. But the building?
"And when three people walked into this room, I felt a spell of compulsion on them," John continued.
"Three?" asked Burke alarmed. "Who is it?" To be able to spell a building, plus the people in it, a witch or sorcerer must be truly talented and had been practicing magic for years. Although Burke had lived in a magic community, he didn't know anyone that strong. Plus to hear that the building that he worked in was spelled, doesn't say a lot for him as witch.
John's gaze wandered around the room, touching on each person. His eyes rested on Connor whose expression was that of complete unconcern. "You," he said pointing to him. "The gentleman in the corner," he said, pointing out Dudley. "And the lovely lady next to him."
"We are not under any magic spell," Connor denied strongly. "We would know," he said.
The others nodded in unison.
"How do you know?" John asked. "If you are not under a spell, what happened to your hand and mine?"
"It's static," he said defensively, his face alit with bitter triumph. "Static electricity in the air."
John shook his head in disbelief. This man was definitely stubborn. "If you aren't under a spell, do you mind if I try to cleanse you?" he asked conversationally.
"Yes, I do mind," Connor retorted indignantly. "We are not under a spell because magic doesn't exist."
"Okay," John said coming to an internal decision. He nodded at both Buffy and Deirdre. The women had been placing protective crystals in strategic locations creating a triangle. With a few incantations, the crystals formed an invisible barrier, barring anyone from leaving the room.
"What the…" Connor cried again, as he felt an invisible net catch him. He couldn't move and soon he couldn't talk.
The women had placed the crystals in such a way that it also had captured both Dudley and Jocelyn in its net.
For the next half hour, the members of A.D.A.P. thrashed and convulsed as their bodies locked into fetal positions against the powerful magic. Soon raised voices were heard, as pain struck their bodies, making them cry out in agony. Connor screamed as the white magic cleansed their souls of the black poison. When the cleansing was finished, they were incoherent and as weak as babes.
"That's the best we could do," said John solemnly, sweat running down his face to drench his shirt.
"Thank you," Buffy said. Her thanks were heartfelt. No one deserved to have someone use him or her as puppets, she thought as she silently watched her team, who lay on the floor. "Are they going to be okay?"
"Yes, but they are still vulnerable to another attack," John said on a sigh. "Their aura is clean, but it's wide open; it needs to be closed."
Buffy frowned and worried her bottom lip. "I have a place where they can go."
"Good, they are going to need it," John said.
She turned worried eyes to him. "Do you think the person who put the spell on them will know that's it's off?"
He thought about it for a second, then shook his head. "Not right away, no."
"John?" Buffy called. "Another question before you leave. Can you trace back the magic signature to follow the practitioner?"
"I think so," he said wearily. "But I need to rest first. This took a lot out of me."
She eyed him for a moment. "Are you okay?"
He nodded.
"Let me know what you come up with," she said, her voice following him as he and Deirdre walked out the door.
He gave her a lackluster wave of his hand.
Buffy watched them for a minute, then turned to the former members of the team. She motioned to a couple of people to move them off of the floor. She needed to get them to a secure location. If and when the person found out that the group was no longer under the spell, everything would hit the fan. She sighed; they probably won't like it when she tells them that they would be unable to come back to work. Not as they were; it's going to take months of magic therapy before they would be healed. She could feel a headache coming on. She remembered when they had first started the job, each of them had been optimistic; now she had to call the President and tell him that half of his group was gone due to magical influences.