There was no ice cream. Instead, Faith stumbled after the Mayor as he returned to his office. Cold, clammy sweat soaked her clothes, and her earlier headache had returned with a vengeance. At least the pain made it difficult to think too hard about the ritual she'd witnessed. Or the fact the Mayor had somehow survived being chopped in half.
Faith would never forget that. Or the smile he'd worn as his body knitted itself back together.
Fuck. Oh, fuck. Faith gripped the back of a chair and swallowed the contents of her stomach a second time. She couldn't throw up. Not here. Not now. She could feel the Mayor watching her. Taking shallow breaths – and keeping one hand on the chair just in case – Faith moved around and sat down. "What's next, Boss?" Strain was clear in the high, tight sound of her voice.
Ensconced behind his desk, the Mayor steepled his fingers over his chest and regarded Faith intently. "There's a very important shipment arriving tomorrow night by courier. I mentioned it before," the Mayor said.
He had. "I remember." The Mayor had told Trick about it, too. "Some box, right?" Something he needed now that he'd done his ritual.
"The Box of Gavrok," he answered. "I need you to meet the courier at Hanger Three at the airport tomorrow night at seven." He hadn't stopped watching her, and Faith's skin prickled with dread. "This is more than just a job for you, Faith."
The dread coalesced into a flaming ball of misery in Faith's chest. The Mayor was up to something. She sat very still in her chair and tried to keep her expression blank.
"You haven't been what I expected," he told her. "All the reports I got said you were troubled. A kid with no real talent except with a stake." The Mayor continued to talk, but Faith didn't hear him.
He'd known about her. He'd read reports. Council reports? Had everything the Mayor said to her been a lie? The pain in Faith's head ballooned and then disappeared. She felt nothing. It was as if he'd carved her heart out, leaving only a gaping hole behind.
That's why she didn't react when the Mayor said, "I never expected you to actually do anything for me. But you've surprised me. You've done more to help with the Ascension than all of Trick's vampires combined."
There was no rush of pleasure and pride at his praise. Faith wondered at that for a brief second before immersing herself in the cold rush of nothingness in her veins again.
"But I have to be sure. This is too important to risk on you rediscovering your morality." Faith's silence must have finally caught his attention. He sat forward in his chair. "I have something special in mind for this pick up, Faith."
It was easy now for Faith to meet his eyes. There was nothing there for him to see. "Yeah?"
The Mayor's eyes narrowed at her tone. "Yes."
"Tell me what ya' need, Boss." Faith knew he called all the shots. She sure as Hell couldn't go back to the Council now. And leaving Sunnydale was out of the question. She knew his secret. Faith would have two sets of hunters on her heels if she left: Buffy and Trick's friends.
There was a glacial silence, probably meant to cow Faith into submission. Yesterday, she would have dropped her head and apologized. This time she simply sat and met his stare. What did she have to lose by courting the Mayor's disapproval? "Very well." He was seriously pissed off at her attitude, voice and posture stiff. He stood and walked to the small mini-bar area at the back of his office.
Faith made sure to turn and watch his progress. She would never turn her back on the Mayor again.
"I'm sure you understand the need for secrecy," the Mayor said as he moved a few bottles of liquor. Pressing on the back of the shelving unit, he appeared to search for something. A second later, Faith heard a click and the entire wall unit slid to one side.
"What the fuck?" Faith couldn't hold back her response. There was a small vault behind the bar. Weapons hung from the revealed wall space and she saw the books she'd stolen from Skyler lined up on one of the shelves.
Her word choice earned a piercing glare and a frown. Apparently, the Mayor's dislike of foul language hadn't been an act.
Too bad. Faith no longer cared. "And here I thought you just liked to booze it up, Boss. Didn't know you had a stash in the wall."
Gesturing her over, the Mayor peered at the weapons. "Just a few of my favorite weapons. You can't ever be too careful you know. What if a horde of Slayers stormed City Hall?" There was humor in his voice.
Faith recognized it. Recognized it and almost responded. Her lips did twitch for an instant before the crushing cloud of nothingness settled around her again.
"I want you to pick something, Faith, to take to the pickup tomorrow evening." The Mayor pulled a short sword from its spot on the wall. The blade appeared watered, wavy markings rippling along the blade. "What about this? The finest Damascus steel…"
She took the sword from him. He had good taste. The sword was light and well-balanced. Razor-sharp, too. Faith sucked at the blood welling from the small cut on her thumb when she tested the blade.
"This courier. The one with my Box." Faith picked up on the possessive. She should have noticed it before, with the books, too. "I can't risk him boasting to his friends about what he delivered to the Mayor of Sunnydale."
That would definitely put a crimp in the Mayor's Ascension. "You got a plan?" Faith didn't really need to ask. A need for secrecy plus weapons could mean only one thing. The demon bringing the box wasn't making his return flight.
Math had always been Faith's best subject. "Kill the courier," the Mayor stated.
"Won't be a problem." Killing a demon would never be an issue. A little of Faith's numbness wore off. Maybe she'd gotten it wrong. Maybe the Mayor wasn't a really bad guy after all. Faith moved closer to the hidden vault and put the sword back.
"Really?" The Mayor chuckled. "I don't think you understand the assignment."
Faith didn't pay much attention to him. She perused the weapons instead. The Mayor had a thing for knives. There had to be a dozen hanging in a row and organized by length. Her hand hovered over a rondel dagger. She'd never seen anything like it. The blade was four-edged. "I got it," she finally said. "You want me to kill the demon with the box."
"I want you to kill the human with the box," the Mayor stated.
Human. Faith's hand dropped to her side.
"Ah, I see you really do understand now. This is a test, Faith. Are you loyal to me? Will you do, as you were happy to tell me, anything I ask?" His voice hardened. "Or are you a liability?"
"You gotta ask?" Faith had enough emotion left to feel fear. Why? Her life was over. One way or the other, there was no way out of this alive. Either the Mayor would decide he didn't trust her or need her, or Buffy would find her and turn her over to the Council.
The dagger stayed in place on the wall. "How're you gonna know if I kill the guy?" Faith probed in case she had missed an escape route.
"I'll know." How could Faith have ever thought his eyes were kind? They were hard and cold.
"Whatever." Faith faced reality. The Mayor held all the cards. She was going to have to kill the guy at the airport. She'd thought her hopes were already shattered until the very last sliver of hope withered and died. With wooden movements, Faith snagged a compound bow and a couple of arrows. "This'll do." And she might be far enough away to avoid seeing the life drain from the courier's eyes when the arrow hit. "Any other tests I gotta pass?" If he'd read her file like he claimed, the Mayor had to know she always failed.
Closing the vault, the Mayor shook his head. "Not tonight. Go home," he ordered. "And don't bother coming in tomorrow. There's no need to continue pretending I need you to beef up my security team."
Of course. Pretend. It had all been a lie. "See ya' tomorrow. I'll be the one carryin' the box." Faith slung the bow diagonally her back and headed for the door with plodding steps. She couldn't go to the apartment. The Mayor's apartment, not hers. Faith would never think of it as hers again. And she wasn't heading to the DMP, either. Her stomach was already in an uproar. With no place to go, Faith started walking. Eventually she reached downtown.
That's when Faith felt it. A tickle in her senses. She spun slowly but didn't see anything. The blip on her radar remained as the bright lights of downtown faded to intermittent street lights and residential houses. Faith had a vampire on her tail, most likely the Mayor's insurance policy. A way to ensure Faith didn't run to the Scoobies or leave town without completing his test.
The arrows clutched in her hand were smooth. They'd fit the bowstring perfectly. Once shot and the Mayor's flunky would be dust in the wind.
Instead of taking out the vampire, Faith kept walking. If this vamp didn't report in, there would be more. She crossed the tracks and entered the warehouse district. The place where her nightmare in Sunnydale had started. A nightmare that was still playing. Before long, Faith spotted Willy's bar ahead.
It wasn't the location she'd choose on a good day. Today, though, was far from good. She pushed open the metal door with far less verve than the last time. It actually stayed on its hinges. The reaction of the patrons was the same, though. They ran. It cleared a path to the bar, and Faith took it. "Bottle of Jack and a glass," she told Willy, slumping onto a bar stool.
"I'm not letting you tear up my bar again. You want information, you can pay like everyone else." Willy's fangs gleamed.
"Did I ask you to spill your guts?" Faith snapped. "Just give me a fucking drink and leave me alone." Faith tossed the arrows onto the bar top and picked up the glass Willy set in front of her. It was dirty, but it didn't matter. She filled it with whiskey and tossed it back. Without the Coke to mask the burn, Faith nearly choked.
The buzz was immediate. Good. A buzz was good. To start with. Faith needed more, though. She needed total oblivion. A way to forget today and ignore tomorrow. She went through half the bottle before the memory of the Mayor and his ritual faded beneath the alcoholic haze. Unfortunately, the booze couldn't deaden her senses. They continued to scream and pump adrenaline through her veins until Faith shook like a junkie suffering withdrawals as Willy's usual customers returned to their tables.
Faith wasn't a threat at the moment, right? She filled her glass again, spilling only a few drops on the bar from poor aim. Turning so she could see the barroom, she toasted the demons eyeing her defenseless back before drinking. If one of the evil little fuckers got brave enough to try…
A kernel of an idea wormed its way into Faith's mind.
She was drunk. On her way to completely trashed. If she got into a fight now, there was a good chance she wouldn't win. Another drink burned Faith's throat. Would that be a bad thing? Faith hadn't wanted to play by the Council's rules, but that didn't mean she wanted to throw her fate in with whatever crap the Mayor had planned. She couldn't run away. She couldn't stay.
With each glass of whiskey, Faith accepted the truth: it would be easier to let one of these vampires or demons have a free shot.
Her crappy day wasn't over. Not one of Willy's patrons appeared willing to attack. Faith emptied the bottle and part of another. The room rocked and swayed when she finally stood up. Taking two shuffling steps toward the exit, Faith remembered her arrows. She lurched back and grabbed them. Couldn't kill the courier without them.
She laughed out loud, ignoring the stares from the other drinkers. If she managed to stay drunk, she wouldn't be able to kill the courier with the arrows. She might just accidentally shoot herself. No, Faith thought. That wouldn't work. Her aim wasn't the best even when she was stone cold sober. She'd probably miss anything important and shoot herself in the foot.
The solution to all her problems came as she stumbled past the Sun Cinema. It was so simple. Why hadn't she thought of it before? Faith changed course. She didn't want to go to the apartment anymore. She needed another drink. One with a specific bartender.
It was more crowded than it had been for her last visit. The play area was packed, and the crack of whips merged with the constant moans and cries of the submissives. Faith waved off a pair of Dominants who converged on her. "Jack and Coke," she told the bartender, daring him to refuse her again. "Or you still worried about that Brit?"
"You gonna run out of here like a new sub at her first scene again?" he taunted. But he did put her drink on the bar.
Faith flinched at the reminder. "Not lookin' for another mother." Her head still buzzed from her binge at Willy's. Faith reached for the new drink and downed it anyway. She waved the glass, requesting another drink. Faith didn't want to be sober until she had to meet the courier.
"You're already drunk. This is the last one you get." A lecture and the amount of liquid in the glass was less. The bartender crossed his arms. "You got a problem, kid. I'm not mommy material, and I don't want to be. And I'm not going to jail because you walk out of here and kill somebody in a drunken rage."
Kill somebody. The bartender must be psychic. Faith finished the drink and held out the glass.
"Last one." The bartender stood firm.
That was fine. Faith could go back to Willy's if she really needed more booze. But she reached out and grabbed the bartender by the collar, pulling his face in close. If anyone was watching, they'd think she was about to threaten the bartender. "Need ya' to do something for me."
"Kid…" Faith was really tired of that nickname. "Unless you want me to call the police..."
"Call the Brit. I know ya' got his number. He left it when he was chasin' me the last time," Faith said in a tight whisper. "Call him. Right now." He stiffened, and Faith maintained a death grip on his shirt. "You call and you tell whoever answers the phone to be at the airport tomorrow night at seven."
With a shove, Faith let him go. "Do it now. Don't let 'em know who you are or that you got the info from me. Call, say what I told ya', and hang up." Without waiting to see if he would do as she asked, Faith tossed all the money in her wallet onto the bar and turned away.
The bartender was right. She was very drunk. No one would serve her now except Willy. Faith didn't want to go back there, though. The atmosphere here was better. Friendlier. "Hey, stud," she told a muscled Dominant who had a submissive on his lap. No collar. Faith smirked. No competition. "You looking for a date tonight?"
"What about the Council?" Tara guessed it was a measure of Buffy's exhaustion that she willingly asked Wesley for help. "Did they find anything? Do they have any sources in the demon world? We need to know what was in those Books!"
They'd all been repeating that for hours. Tara was glad to have had a respite during her Magic 101 class. The same questions and the same lack of answers filled the Library with gloom. She slumped tiredly against the couch and watched Buffy pace.
"Well?" Buffy demanded. "What has the Council been doing to help, Wes? We've gone through every book in this Library twice. Will's the only one who's found anything. What do you and the Council have?"
With an offended sniff, Wesley answered, "The Council have their best experts combing the archives for any information on the Ascension."
Closing her eyes, Tara let the constant buzz in her head drowned out the conversation. The buzz had been there all afternoon. She couldn't feel Faith anymore. Couldn't even see the link in her mind. Tara back panic and tears with difficulty. Where was Faith? Had something happened to her?
"Let's do be reasonable." Wesley's nasal whine bore into Tara's brain like a scalpel. "We have not given the researchers enough time to find anything of use. We must remain calm and keep our emotions under control."
"Perhaps in this case, Wesley is correct." Tara opened her eyes in surprise at Giles' comment. "We have accomplished exactly nothing this evening. And I do not believe we would recognize…" He broke off as his phone rang. "Ah! Perhaps this is the Council now. Researchers often keep odd hours." Picking up the handset, he cleared his throat. "Sunnydale Slayer House. Rupert Giles speaking."
No one in the room moved. They all watched Giles frown. "What? Excuse me. Could you…" He hung up and sat staring at the phone.
"Rupert?" Joyce was the first to prod him into action. "Who was it?"
"I don't know." He glanced up and shook his head. "It was an odd sort of conversation. When I answered, the caller simply told me that I should go to the airport tomorrow at seven. Before I could say anything, he disconnected."
"A wrong number?" Buffy asked with a yawn. "I mean, I would have asked you if your refrigerator was running before hanging up, but maybe this guy was new at the whole prank call thing."
Her comment drew a giggle from Willow. The rest of the group seemed too tired to laugh. Or, in the new Slayer's case, too uptight. "Why do you make jokes? I thought we were tryin' to find answers. You should be workin' harder than dis." The accent was different, yet Tara thought Kendra's attitude was pure Wesley. No wonder he'd gone all the way to wherever to pick her up. She was the epitome of what the Council obviously wanted in a Slayer.
"Oh, I only work on every other Tuesday. And today's Wednesday. Or…" Buffy peered at her bare wrist as if there was a watch there. "It's Thursday now. Check back with me then." This time, the core Scoobies smiled at her joking. "But you do have a point. We are trying to find answers. Maybe this is one. Anybody know what's happening at the airport tomorrow? Is the Mayor holding a press conference to announce he's turning into a demon?"
"Doamnᾰ?" Willow's hands were poised over her backpack. "Flight schedules aren't a secret. I won't have to hack into anything."
"Go ahead, dragᾰ." Janna stroked a finger along the edge of Willow's collar. "Just please refrain from leaving any messages about the state of airport security. I do not think this is the time for a lecture on taking precautions against hackers." There was a hint of sternness in the words, and Tara wondered if Willow had actually done that before.
The flush staining Willow's cheeks indicated yes. She didn't respond, however. Instead, she dragged her computer out and began typing.
"While Willow checks flight schedules, let's review what we know." Giles stood and moved to a cork board that had been attached to one of the book cases. "The Mayor," he pointed to a newspaper photo on the board, "is attempting to Ascend. According to Willow's internet, this means he will eventually become a demon."
"How does he get there, though?" Joyce moved around the room, cleaning up empty glasses and plates of crumbs. "Janna? Is there a spell for something like that?"
"Not a single spell," Janna answered. "I can't even imagine the kind of power he would need to transform. I reached out to some local covens," Tara idly wondered if that meant Melody. "There are dozens of spells that will temporarily change an object. Small objects, like a book or a ring. But a person?"
Something tugged at Tara. Some memory. Standing up, she went to the board and peered at the grainy black and white photo of the Mayor. "Mr. Giles, I've seen that picture before."
"Well, I daresay it has been in the papers. A stock photo…"
"No. I saw it today at City Hall." She didn't see the way his eyes widened at her announcement. Tara was too busy staring at the photo. "It was an old photo from the 1800s. Richard Wilkins I, the founder of Sunnydale."
Giles patted her shoulder. "Family resemblance can sometimes be uncanny."
It could be, but Tara was certain it was more than that. The eyes. The set of the chin. That smirk. She'd seen that same expression when Faith had chosen the Mayor over her. "It's the same man, Mr. Giles."
"That isn't possible." Giles didn't appear convinced of that, though. He, too, examined the photo more closely.
"Well, while you're figuring that out, it looks like your caller might not have been pranking you, Giles," Willow announced. "There are no commercial flights scheduled after five tomorrow. But there is a private flight landing at Hanger Three at seven."
"Kendra and I will check it out." Buffy leaned over and kissed Xander's cheek. "We can't take too long, though. Xan and I have a date to check out collars. He's letting me make an honest sub out of him."