Disclaimer: Ah, hell. If you haven't memorised it by now, it doesn't matter. Suffice it to say, I don't own any of them except Marya. Leave her be.
A couple notes: I think I misnamed Buffy's father, previously. As I realised (thank you, Lynx!) his name is Hank. Gee, there are a lot them. Second, yeah, yeah, magick is WRONG. Bite me. Finally, after this chapter, it REALLY gets wierd...
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga
Chapter Ten: Faded Silver Blue
by Suzy DeZorga
New York is a northern city, prone to tall buildings that funnel wind like well-designed wind-tunnels. Which meant that it was really cold when we exited the conveyances. I was really glad I'd chosen my velvet-lined pants.
It occurred to me as Artie and Leech left the Midnight Runner, that I really ought to have someone watch the two of them. Especially Leech. That lovely talent of his could easily get us all killed if he was about at the wrong moment.
I glanced around and caught Ray's arm. "Back in five."
"What?"
"Leech!" I didn't answer the girl as I caught the kid's arm. "Leech, you and Artie and I are taking a short trip where you're going to meet a really nifty guy. And he'll watch you."
Artie looked up at me and a bubble appeared, with toys in it.
"Leech and Artie want to know if toys will be there?" Leech told me gravely, as we three slipped around the side of the Runner. We were quickly out of sight of everyone.
"There will." I grinned and reached up to activate the tiny microchip receiver in my temple. "Computer, body-slide three people to Avengers' Mansion."
"Confirmed," the tinny voice of my shipboard computer replied. The Central Park area winked out from around us, replaced immediately by the front steps of Avenger's Mansion.
It didn't look all that different from when I'd been there last. The windows were still shiny and clean, the door still closed with the little brass knocker in the shape of a stylised A. I knocked with it.
The door swung open to reveal Jarvis, standing calmly, prepared to tell me politely to piss off. "Good morning, I'm afraid--Miss Marya!"
Jarvis was the only man I would ever allow to call me miss. "Hiya, Jarvis." I stepped up and hugged him. "Been a while. Sorry I haven't visited." I gestured at the boys. "These are two friends of mine, Leech and Artie. Artie unfortunately can't talk, but Leech does enough for both."
"Well, Happy Christmas." He stepped back from me and smiled. "You look just as you did when you left--although a bit more tired. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"
I laughed and backed up to the door, shoving Leech and Artie in front of me. "We'll have to talk later. Must dash and, um--"
"Jarvis, who's at the door?" A tousled blond headed man wandered into the foyer and blinked at us blearily.
"Steve." I nodded to Captain America, then Jarvis. "Jarvis, please watch these two, I've something to do, talk to you later. Nice seeing you 'gain, Steve." And I was out the door, running before either could get a word in edgewise.
Later, I knew I'd feel bad about dumping the kids on Jarvis like that, but I was not waiting around to 'chat' with Steve. Not if they paid me a million dollars. We had not parted on the best of terms. In fact, Steve Rogers was my reason for leaving the Avengers three years ago.
I stopped at the end of the block. "Computer, body-slide one to Central Park location previously left."
"Confirmed." The block dissolved just as I spotted a young man who looked vaguely familiar trudging towards me. Oops. Hope he hadn't noticed me. Central Park recoalesced around me. On the other side of the Runner, I could hear people arguing. Probably over who got to carry the flashlights.
"Hey, guys?" I popped back around the Runner. "I think we ought to try to..." I paused and looked at them. They'd all agreed to wear street clothes. Thank the gods. Even with the street clothes it wasn't difficult to recognise a group of people who meant business.
"Relax, maybe? I'm sure the police are not going to be suspicious of a large group of freaks," Maddie said caustically.
"That was going to be one suggestion. My other was that we divide into teams." I grinned. "One telepath to a team."
They all blinked at me, then Kurt Wagner coughed and smiled at me, "The lady has an idea." Currently, he looked like a black-haired pale version of his normal blue furry self.
"I suggest we stay as our normal teams," Storm said calmly. "Betsy can be our telepath."
"How many trackers do we have?" I looked around. "Logan, I know. Who else?"
"Rahne and Caliban," Nate replied.
"And Kyle," Forge added. He had gathered his team of Wildchild and Raven. Lorna was still recovering in the Mansion's medlab. "We could use a telepath, though."
He was looking at me, but it was Maddie who answered him. "I can handle that." She stepped towards him, the blond man next to her following.
I blinked. When the hell had Alex Summers been released? Must have been some point during my exhausted sleep. Forge was giving the man an uncertain look. Considering the fact that our boy Alex had been the cause of Lorna's condition, there was reason enough for Forge to be uncertain of him. It suddenly hit me that all of the teams *had* their own telepaths. Which meant, in a way, that I could sort of maverick myself around.
We'd left Emma in charge, back at the Mansion. She had Bishop for company, as well as Grey, Scott, Xavier and her two kids. And Lorna, who was recuperating under Moira's watchful eyes.
Nearly everyone had turned out to help me find Buffy. I was impressed and began to wonder if I should revise my opinion of most humans. Nah.
I stared at the large group and sighed. There was no way we were going to look inconspicuous. At all. So, plan B. "Hey, everyone. Stay in your teams and follow me. Be on the lookout for...anything odd."
Logan caught my arm as I started walking towards the edge of the park. "You think this is the reason the vampires're around?"
"Yup." I strode off with him keeping stride. The others spread out behind us, chattering amongst themselves. That was good. Maybe we looked like just an innocent group of conventioneers. Looking back at Nate and Dom, though, I knew it was impossible. Too many of us looked on edge, ready for anything.
"Think you can get everyone to sort of...hang back while I talk to the doorman and Mr. Summers?"
"Yer gonna talk to her dad?"
"Seems only fair." I shrugged. "He doesn't know, but he might...I don't know, I feel the need to reassure him."
"And to find out if he's able to handle that his daughter is the Slayer?"
I snorted. "Her mum was. Why not her da?"
"No comment."
"Yeah. Ah, here we are." I stopped half a block from the hotel and turned to Storm, the nearest team leader. "Storm, can you keep everyone sort of...back here, hanging around?"
"Certainly, Marya." The Weather Goddess had a ghost of a smile on her face, "After all, we wouldn't want to be noticed, now would we?"
I coughed. "No. That would be...difficult to cover up--especially since I'm given to understand some of you are wanted."
"Indeed." She nodded. "We will wait."
Which meant I'd been given my marching orders. Go interrogate the bellhop and hotel staff. I grinned, "Yes'm."
---
It wasn't exactly a lobby, more a vestibule. The concierge desk was across from a large bank of glass-in elevators.
The desk clerk looked up at me haughtily. "Yes?"
I guess they didn't get too many leather-clad women with long multi-coloured hair and black boots with a three-inch heel. Then again, maybe they did. Of course, it might've been the shirt, too. "My body is a temple. Get on your knees and worship" is sort of a strong statement to men. It chalenges their masculinity. On the other hand, the desk clerk was female. "Hi, I'm here to meet Hank Summers. Could you call up to his room and let him know I'm here?"
"And you are?" The clerk--Marian was the name on her tag--didn't even so much as type in Summers' name into her desk computer as she looked superciliously at me.
"Marya DeZorga." I smiled sweetly. "And you can either call and tell him that, or I talk to your manager."
She looked at me, "Whatever." She was brunette and brown-eyed. Her figure was fairly average and I was taller than her.
My smile was sweet. "Your manager. Or call. Your choice."
Defeat slumped her shoulders slightly, and she typed the name into the computer. A beep and then she was dialing the phone on her right. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr Summers, this is the front desk. You have a visitor, a--"
"Marya DeZorga," I supplied again, calmly.
"Marya DeZorga. Yes, that's what she said. All right, I'll--" She blinked and looked at me. "He hung up."
"And, is he coming down here?"
"No, he said to send you up." She sighed, "Room 2048."
"Thank you." I smiled politely. "Hon, a note of advice. Don't judge a book by its cover." I scarpered for the elevator bay before she could reply. The elevators were seperated. The ones to the right of the semi-circle covered the first half of the building. The ones to the left, were where I was headed.
The elevators were those gold-doored affairs that had patterned carpeting and a glass window that let you watch as you went up, up, up. Gold plated the handrails and control panel, too. It was nice, in a puking red and pink everywhere sort of way.
The button for the twentieth floor was in the middle of about fifty others. By the time I found it, we were at the twentieth floor. The doors opened on a plushly carpeted round room. the elevators repeating their earlier pattern of a semi-circle, although the doors for the 'vators opposite me were missing. In their place was glass.
As I stepped onto the main hallway, there was a sudden opening of my perceptions. I blinked. Apparently, the hotel was one of those open-air affairs on the inside. Plants adorned the tiny railing, and below me I could see the paneled flooring of the lobby level.
Blue, green and yellow clashed and swirled psychadelically under my feet as I walked to the left, following the signs that indicated the room I needed was that way. A few dark brown woody-looking accents set everything off...perfectly.
2048 was midway down, I paused and then knocked.
"Just a moment!" a voice called from inside. He sounded nearly the same as he had on the phone, if not a little more agitated. I wasn't surprised. His daughter had been missing for nearly eight hours. And he had no idea how much danger she could be in. In my opinion, rape and robbery were the least of the Slayer's worries.
The door swung inward to reveal a tall man in his forties. Blond-brown hair covered his head, his blue eyes were ringed with dark circles--worry, was my guess. "Ms DeZorga? You're..."
"Not what you were expecting," I guessed calmly.
"No." He shook his head, "For some reason, I expected something--more...British."
I blinked. "I could be, if'n ye loike," I replied, in my best bad Brit/Scotch/Welsh mumble.
He blinked at me, his eyes registering something other than worry. Confusion. I liked that in a man. "Really, sir. I've lived all over the world. Not many accents I can't pull off." And was *that* ever useful when going undercover. I was also a language wiz, but that was beside the point. I winked. "I don't do tweed."
"Ah. Well, come in, I expect you want all the details again?" He stepped back and ushered me into a room that looked much like the hall--grandiose and eye-blinding. No wonder Buffy had tried to spend most of her nights here patrolling. "She left about midnight last night, according to the doorman. I didn't even know she'd gone."
He shook his head and paced agitatedly. "He said she headed toward downtown."
"Downtown?" I shrugged. "Been there. Seen worse places in L.A. Anything else--had you argued or anything?"
"No!" he answered sharply, turning away to look out the window. The view wasn't all that interesting, seeing as how it looked onto the brick wall of the building next to this. "No..."
"What did you disagree about?"
"Nothing, really, it was so stupid." He sighed. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."
"Because it might help me find your daughter."
"If she doesn't just come waltzing back in the next hour," he muttered.
"She won't," I said softly. "I wish she would. Then I wouldn't be frightened for her like this." And I was. If my suppositions were correct, a large band of vampires was in town to open the New York Hellmouth and Limbo, combining the two in a horrible conflagration that would destroy the world.
"You're frightened?" Mr Summers began pacing again. "My daughter is out there, remembering that the last thing I told her was that I was damned amazed her mother was able to put up with her! And you're frightened for her?"
He seemed to wilt, suddenly. "I feel like a fraud as a parent, Ms DeZorga."
I shook my head. "You're not. You're just a human being, you're allowed to feel hate, anger, remorse..." I felt uncomfortable, suddenly. "Sir, if you've no more information, I've got to get going."
"Thank you." He leaned by the window again. "There's nothing, really. The doorman's name is Bruce. He should be on duty still."
"Good--oh, Mr Summers, if I could have something of Buffy's--something she'd touched--maybe a shirt? We've got some bloodhounds." I smiled. "I've got some friends, one of whom is psychic; she might be able to follow Buffy's mind imprint."
Actually, with Buffy still unconscious, not even *I* could find her telepathically. Well, I could, but I really didn't feel like taking the risks that would create. After all, a rogue telepath/empath/kinetic loose on New York city with no conscience? We're talking the Dark Phoenix I'd heard about from Meggan Askani. But about twenty times worse.
Although, the trackers might be able to find her. It was frustrating, really. Mr Summers had nodded and left the room. He came back carrying one of Buffy's shirts. "Will this work?"
"Yes. Thank you." I turned to go, then stopped and looked at him. "Mr Summers. We will find her. Never doubt that." If I had to let myself go, we would find her before they succeeded. I just hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"I hope so."
"Do make sure to call that contact of mine--or me--if you hear anything."
"I will."
---
Bruce was just getting off-duty when I approached him. "Good morning."
He blinked at me, then grinned, "Hey, I remember you. You was with the blonde chippie the other night--that kid that went missing."
"Yes. Buffy Summers. A good friend of mine."
"Good friend?" He snorted at me. "You was the one helpin' her to run away."
Great. A man who thought he knew everything. "Look, Brucie, I'm tired, my friend is in more than mortal danger and I need to know--" I stopped and smiled sweetly. "Which direction did she go in last night, and did anyone follow her?"
I think the smile must have cowed him--or Marian had told him I was a hardnose. Either way, he quickly told me what he'd told Mr S. And he also told me that Buffy had been shadowed. "I'm not to sure who it was--they were all in black--leathery trench coat. Or..." He looked embarrassed, "This may sound weird..."
"Nothing will sound weird. Go on."
"They looked like folded leathery wings--black. I don't know if it was male or female, but I didn't like the look of it--nearly called after the girl, but..."
Oh, if only he had. My eyes closed for a moment before he saw the scorn and smouldering rage there. "Thank you," I replied calmly, opening my eyes and nodding. "I'll see you later. Must go now."
I turned and left the building, Buffy's white shirt clutched in my white-knuckled grip. Control. I fought for it, a towering rage spreading through me. He had...let her be followed. By what was probably a demon. I decided it would be a REAL good idea to get out of there and follow the trail Buffy had left.
Like, NOW.
#Calling all telepaths...Telepath role-call...Except there's no annoying Mouseketeer song.# I hoped my mind-voice wasn't seething.
#Yo.# Rachel.
#Yes?# Betsy.
Emma was next, sounding bored. #Yes?#
#You rang?# Nate and Maddie tieing for fourth place.
A polite voice of disdain was Monet's #Yes?#
#We've got a sort of lead. The doorman saw her go towards Fifth Avenue. Not a nice neighborhood--no surprise the vamps are hiding there. She was followed. Can any of you run a trace on--# I stumbled on something and tumbled forward to be caught in a pair of dark red arms. They were mostly wrapped in a black leather strips. Much like Jono's chest and head. Was there some new fad I didn't know about?
"Hello." It occured to me as the field buckled slightly that it was a very good thing that my banked rage had triggered the automatic telekinetic shell currently wrapped around my body. Considering the strips of leather were slightly shredded where they touched the girl's skin, I had to wonder how mine would have fared.
She blinked at me. One of Emma's kids, who I hadn't been introduced to, yet. "{Hallo,}" she replied.
Somewhat antiquated Yugoslavian, there. I blinked and carefully put together a sentence, trying to remember what I knew of it. "{I'm Marya. And you?}"
Before she could answer, Emma cut in sharply. #What happened?#
I straightened and smiled at the young girl while Nate replied for me. #She stumbled. That young girl of yours who speaks--it sounded vaguely Yugoslavian, Susanna.#
#It is. Old dialect, though. Poor child. Emma, who is she and what's with her skin? I feel almost bruised, under the TK shield.#
"{Yvette.}"
"{Well met, Yvette.}"
Emma sent wordless surprise, then, #Cable, what is she babbling about?#
#Ms DeZorga was caught by Penance, Ms Frost,# Monet replied, boredly.
More surprise, and some shock came through, #Her skin is diamond-hard, you should have been sliced to ribbons.#
#Well, that explains the bruised feeling,# I smiled at Yvette. #Now, where were we?#
#Tracing,# Maddie supplied.
#Ah, yes. Tracing. I was going to ask if any of you could run a trace, using the residual of a psychic imprint--sort of like a blood hound.#
Silence met my question. I chuckled. #You see, I'd have no need to, but...Buffy's unconscious, currently. I'd imagine they're keeping her drugged--less danger of losing your sacrifice that way.#
#We can't. What about using our trackers to follow her scent?# Nate nodded at the shirt I was still carrying. #That should work.#
"Yeah," I said aloud, letting the thought echo through the circle. "It ought to. Rahne, Caliban, Kyle and Logan, I've got a shirt of Buffy's, d'you think you can use it?"
"Yeah," Logan snorted. "Stupid question. Next?"
---
I made an executive decision as we all stood in the middle of Time's Square. "Right. I think you're all wonderful to help, but..."
"There's too many of us." Dom nodded, "I think I'll take the kids ice skating. And anyone else who wants to come."
Which meant she'd listen with Nate for my scream for help. Good. I nodded, "In fact... Logan, Rahne, Kitty, Pete, Kurt and--"
"Me." Amanda Seffton interrupted calmly, "And I think we should take Rachel, too."
I blinked, then nodded, "Right. The rest of you... disperse, act like tourists, and, well... don't look like a large group of people on a mission. There are already too many religious fanatics around here as it is."
And so we dispersed, well, we did once we got to Sixth Avenue. Dom and her group went north from there, the rest of us continued towards Fifth. Once there, the scent led south.
There was also an extra scent, one of fear.
Rahne was the one who identified the demon as smelling like cinnamon and almonds. "Aye dunnae why," she frowned.
"Not all demons smell like brimstone and sulfur," I muttered absently. Something about the combination of almonds and cinnamon was niggling at the back of my brain. But when I tried to chase it, it slipped away and buried itself.
As we turned down yet another side street, I stared at the buildings, spotting one that looked... familiar. It was a normal twenty storey modernish apartment building. Yet not.
"There's somethin' wrong." Rahne slipped back to me as Pete and Kitty consulted their map of New York. The plan was to look as touristy as possible--which wasn't difficult considering only I knew exactly where we were.
"What?" The building was...drawing me, almost. There was something there that I needed to see, needed to know. I'd actually taken three steps before Rahne grabbed my arm.
"Stop."
#Susanna?# Nate's voice overlapped Rahne's and shattered the compulsion that had caught me.
"Shit." Something very powerful had just nearly caught me in its grasp. That was bad. I shouldn't be that easily affected. It had been a spell of Summoning, I decided, analysing my impression quickly. Reaching out and touching it would be the height of stupidity. It was attuned specifically to Slayers, I bet, with a mutter. Well, I knew how they'd caught her. I also wagered that the spell itself would turn anyone attracted by it into a zombie. Semi, anyway.
Which meant that Buffy might be conscious and bespelled. It suddenly had become even more imperative that we find her. I'd thought they'd keep her unconscious until the ceremony. Looked like it was a more elaborate thing than I'd thought. Second question. Why was the Summoning still up?
#Heads up, oh circle. The cat's out of the bag. They know we're looking for Buffy. That compulsion spell was set for me.# Paranoid? Me? I paused, then continued grimly. #Anyone who's had encounters with magick before, discuss it with your group. And watch your backs, people.# Okay, so maybe it was overkill. Maybe they didn't know people were looking for Buffy. And maybe a mugger wouldn't take all my cash.
"Marya?" Kitty Pryde looked at me in concern. "What's going on?"
"A compulsion. Set to pull me--or someone known to Buffy--into the brownstone up there." I nodded at the apartment building Rahne had pointed out.
"Yes." Amanda Sefton came up to stand behind me and raised a hand, her palm pointing towards the building. "I can feel the spell, it's very strong, and keyed to--"
I reacted without thinking, throwing up the strongest shields I could, magickal and mental. The blast slammed into them and my knees buckled. I sensed someone catching me, holding me up, then swore and strengthened the shields as the next blast came whipping our way.
Colour flared out into the visible spectrums this time, due to the energy release as the blast shattered against the shields. I suddenly sensed someone else adding layers of shields. Ray...and the Phoenix she'd inherited.
#Think this'll help?#
#Yeah. Thanks.# I dropped my own mental shields, but kept the magickal ones, and straightened. I could breathe again as the next blast was destroyed. We needed to get away from this area, under cover of some sort. Away. Seemed like a really good idea.
"What the hell happened?" Amanda looked pale, her face drained of colour by the energy that had slammed into her before my shields had risen.
"You triggered a booby trap," I replied tersely. "Kurt, we need to get away from here. Now."
The blue-furred man nodded and caught Amanda's arm. "Come with me, liebchen."
#Ray, can you hold the shields a second more, then let me through them?#
#Yeah. Why?#
#I need you to keep the others covered, with me out of them, the magickal target will change. You should all be fine, just get the hell out of this street.#
#Why?#
#I'm going in. That's why.#
#ALONE?#
#No, I'm taking Barney the Dinosaur with me,# I snapped, irritated that this was taking time. Another blast slammed into my shields and one of them buckled. #Yes, alone. I don't need to worry about anyone but ME in there. Now, get ready.#
The next blast shattered another outer shield, then Ray dropped hers and I hopped out, leaving Amanda hooked into mine until they got under cover. Hopefully, she'd enough power to keep them up. Now, for the difficult part.
I dropped every shield I could without letting the minds on the planet around me overwhelm. For just an instant, my power flared like a supernova, calling to anything that ate energy. And then I reinstated them and built a shadow. The shadow I sent down the street, away from Excalibur and the building.
#We're clear. Gods, that was awesome. Reminds me of... Never mind. Talk to ya later.# And Ray was gone--the link was still there but Rachel Summers had withdrawn to guard her people and keep them safe. Which was good, because I couldn't do it.
"Well," I muttered, "time to be sneaky."
The front door of the building was one of those high-security doors that you have to get buzzed in to enter. It was also standing open. Gee.
A trap is a trap, though, and, ergo must be sprung. I calmly stepped into the foyer and waited. The door slammed behind me. What a surprise.
The first attacker seemed startled when I caught him by the arm and flipped him into the second. Oops, apparently, I'd overstepped the helpless heroine bounds. Oh well. "Sorry, gentlemen--Oof." I ducked the next blow and snapkicked the fifth attacker before he even had a chance to join in.
Which left the one hanging on my arm and the one about to brain me with a blunt object.
---
When I woke up, I was NOT a happy camper. There'd been a sixth assailant and I hadn't even felt the bastard. My second thought was that I was REALLY tired of the heroine always being chained up. "Why me?"
And that's when my hearing kicked in.
"Hades, Hecate, I call on you. Bless this circle and make way for the Gateway. Hermes, I call you. Bless this endeavour."
The first bit was basically the priest requesting several Gods' help. The second, closing the circle. An almost audible snap went through the air and I shivered at the magick that poured down my skin. I'd been wrong about when they were planning to conduct the ceremony. It wasn't at midnight. Apparently, midday would be nifty for our would-be world ruler.
A sound to my right dragged my eyes open, and I blinked in the light. The priest was apparently agreeable to candles but preferred lots of light. Three overhead lamps shone brightly down on me. And Buffy. The Slayer stood next to the slab of concrete I was chained to. #Susanna.#
#Shut up Nate, my head hurts.#
Amusement coloured his reply. #You've been out for an hour. Where are you?#
#Ray?#
#Yo.#
#Get everyone together, and prepare to storm the building I sent you away from.# I looked at Buffy again and winced softly. #Keep Amanda back, though. And yourself.#
There was a rustling, and the priest hoved into view. Leathery black wings soared above his head, spread to either side as he intoned the words of the spell. I'd been wrong again. He needed the blood of a Slayer, but he needed her blood to be of guilt. I closed my eyes and cursed softly. I'd walked right into the trap. Of course, any stupid person would have done, but a friend was even better.
And the need for blood wasn't to open the gateways. I could feel them, hovering there, waiting. They would be easily opened, the blood was to seal them open and merge them together, to give mastery over both to our killer. The priest.
Except for the wings he looked pretty normal, for a vampiric demon. Black curly hair, blue eyes that shone with evil, lips that were thin and permanently in a sneer. I snorted. Great. A stereotypical evil bad guy. I was underwhelmed.
The chant reached a high-note and the gate to Limbo sprang open.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" hissed a voice. Demonic, by the sound of it. "Reynard. I thought you'd died."
The priest looked towards the gateway--one of the few parts of the room I couldn't see--and smiled. "Hallo, N'astirh, old bean."
End Chapter Ten
=====
'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'
__________________________________________________
© 2000 Suzy DeZorga
A couple notes: I think I misnamed Buffy's father, previously. As I realised (thank you, Lynx!) his name is Hank. Gee, there are a lot them. Second, yeah, yeah, magick is WRONG. Bite me. Finally, after this chapter, it REALLY gets wierd...
The Rise and Fall of the House of DeZorga
Chapter Ten: Faded Silver Blue
by Suzy DeZorga
New York is a northern city, prone to tall buildings that funnel wind like well-designed wind-tunnels. Which meant that it was really cold when we exited the conveyances. I was really glad I'd chosen my velvet-lined pants.
It occurred to me as Artie and Leech left the Midnight Runner, that I really ought to have someone watch the two of them. Especially Leech. That lovely talent of his could easily get us all killed if he was about at the wrong moment.
I glanced around and caught Ray's arm. "Back in five."
"What?"
"Leech!" I didn't answer the girl as I caught the kid's arm. "Leech, you and Artie and I are taking a short trip where you're going to meet a really nifty guy. And he'll watch you."
Artie looked up at me and a bubble appeared, with toys in it.
"Leech and Artie want to know if toys will be there?" Leech told me gravely, as we three slipped around the side of the Runner. We were quickly out of sight of everyone.
"There will." I grinned and reached up to activate the tiny microchip receiver in my temple. "Computer, body-slide three people to Avengers' Mansion."
"Confirmed," the tinny voice of my shipboard computer replied. The Central Park area winked out from around us, replaced immediately by the front steps of Avenger's Mansion.
It didn't look all that different from when I'd been there last. The windows were still shiny and clean, the door still closed with the little brass knocker in the shape of a stylised A. I knocked with it.
The door swung open to reveal Jarvis, standing calmly, prepared to tell me politely to piss off. "Good morning, I'm afraid--Miss Marya!"
Jarvis was the only man I would ever allow to call me miss. "Hiya, Jarvis." I stepped up and hugged him. "Been a while. Sorry I haven't visited." I gestured at the boys. "These are two friends of mine, Leech and Artie. Artie unfortunately can't talk, but Leech does enough for both."
"Well, Happy Christmas." He stepped back from me and smiled. "You look just as you did when you left--although a bit more tired. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"
I laughed and backed up to the door, shoving Leech and Artie in front of me. "We'll have to talk later. Must dash and, um--"
"Jarvis, who's at the door?" A tousled blond headed man wandered into the foyer and blinked at us blearily.
"Steve." I nodded to Captain America, then Jarvis. "Jarvis, please watch these two, I've something to do, talk to you later. Nice seeing you 'gain, Steve." And I was out the door, running before either could get a word in edgewise.
Later, I knew I'd feel bad about dumping the kids on Jarvis like that, but I was not waiting around to 'chat' with Steve. Not if they paid me a million dollars. We had not parted on the best of terms. In fact, Steve Rogers was my reason for leaving the Avengers three years ago.
I stopped at the end of the block. "Computer, body-slide one to Central Park location previously left."
"Confirmed." The block dissolved just as I spotted a young man who looked vaguely familiar trudging towards me. Oops. Hope he hadn't noticed me. Central Park recoalesced around me. On the other side of the Runner, I could hear people arguing. Probably over who got to carry the flashlights.
"Hey, guys?" I popped back around the Runner. "I think we ought to try to..." I paused and looked at them. They'd all agreed to wear street clothes. Thank the gods. Even with the street clothes it wasn't difficult to recognise a group of people who meant business.
"Relax, maybe? I'm sure the police are not going to be suspicious of a large group of freaks," Maddie said caustically.
"That was going to be one suggestion. My other was that we divide into teams." I grinned. "One telepath to a team."
They all blinked at me, then Kurt Wagner coughed and smiled at me, "The lady has an idea." Currently, he looked like a black-haired pale version of his normal blue furry self.
"I suggest we stay as our normal teams," Storm said calmly. "Betsy can be our telepath."
"How many trackers do we have?" I looked around. "Logan, I know. Who else?"
"Rahne and Caliban," Nate replied.
"And Kyle," Forge added. He had gathered his team of Wildchild and Raven. Lorna was still recovering in the Mansion's medlab. "We could use a telepath, though."
He was looking at me, but it was Maddie who answered him. "I can handle that." She stepped towards him, the blond man next to her following.
I blinked. When the hell had Alex Summers been released? Must have been some point during my exhausted sleep. Forge was giving the man an uncertain look. Considering the fact that our boy Alex had been the cause of Lorna's condition, there was reason enough for Forge to be uncertain of him. It suddenly hit me that all of the teams *had* their own telepaths. Which meant, in a way, that I could sort of maverick myself around.
We'd left Emma in charge, back at the Mansion. She had Bishop for company, as well as Grey, Scott, Xavier and her two kids. And Lorna, who was recuperating under Moira's watchful eyes.
Nearly everyone had turned out to help me find Buffy. I was impressed and began to wonder if I should revise my opinion of most humans. Nah.
I stared at the large group and sighed. There was no way we were going to look inconspicuous. At all. So, plan B. "Hey, everyone. Stay in your teams and follow me. Be on the lookout for...anything odd."
Logan caught my arm as I started walking towards the edge of the park. "You think this is the reason the vampires're around?"
"Yup." I strode off with him keeping stride. The others spread out behind us, chattering amongst themselves. That was good. Maybe we looked like just an innocent group of conventioneers. Looking back at Nate and Dom, though, I knew it was impossible. Too many of us looked on edge, ready for anything.
"Think you can get everyone to sort of...hang back while I talk to the doorman and Mr. Summers?"
"Yer gonna talk to her dad?"
"Seems only fair." I shrugged. "He doesn't know, but he might...I don't know, I feel the need to reassure him."
"And to find out if he's able to handle that his daughter is the Slayer?"
I snorted. "Her mum was. Why not her da?"
"No comment."
"Yeah. Ah, here we are." I stopped half a block from the hotel and turned to Storm, the nearest team leader. "Storm, can you keep everyone sort of...back here, hanging around?"
"Certainly, Marya." The Weather Goddess had a ghost of a smile on her face, "After all, we wouldn't want to be noticed, now would we?"
I coughed. "No. That would be...difficult to cover up--especially since I'm given to understand some of you are wanted."
"Indeed." She nodded. "We will wait."
Which meant I'd been given my marching orders. Go interrogate the bellhop and hotel staff. I grinned, "Yes'm."
---
It wasn't exactly a lobby, more a vestibule. The concierge desk was across from a large bank of glass-in elevators.
The desk clerk looked up at me haughtily. "Yes?"
I guess they didn't get too many leather-clad women with long multi-coloured hair and black boots with a three-inch heel. Then again, maybe they did. Of course, it might've been the shirt, too. "My body is a temple. Get on your knees and worship" is sort of a strong statement to men. It chalenges their masculinity. On the other hand, the desk clerk was female. "Hi, I'm here to meet Hank Summers. Could you call up to his room and let him know I'm here?"
"And you are?" The clerk--Marian was the name on her tag--didn't even so much as type in Summers' name into her desk computer as she looked superciliously at me.
"Marya DeZorga." I smiled sweetly. "And you can either call and tell him that, or I talk to your manager."
She looked at me, "Whatever." She was brunette and brown-eyed. Her figure was fairly average and I was taller than her.
My smile was sweet. "Your manager. Or call. Your choice."
Defeat slumped her shoulders slightly, and she typed the name into the computer. A beep and then she was dialing the phone on her right. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr Summers, this is the front desk. You have a visitor, a--"
"Marya DeZorga," I supplied again, calmly.
"Marya DeZorga. Yes, that's what she said. All right, I'll--" She blinked and looked at me. "He hung up."
"And, is he coming down here?"
"No, he said to send you up." She sighed, "Room 2048."
"Thank you." I smiled politely. "Hon, a note of advice. Don't judge a book by its cover." I scarpered for the elevator bay before she could reply. The elevators were seperated. The ones to the right of the semi-circle covered the first half of the building. The ones to the left, were where I was headed.
The elevators were those gold-doored affairs that had patterned carpeting and a glass window that let you watch as you went up, up, up. Gold plated the handrails and control panel, too. It was nice, in a puking red and pink everywhere sort of way.
The button for the twentieth floor was in the middle of about fifty others. By the time I found it, we were at the twentieth floor. The doors opened on a plushly carpeted round room. the elevators repeating their earlier pattern of a semi-circle, although the doors for the 'vators opposite me were missing. In their place was glass.
As I stepped onto the main hallway, there was a sudden opening of my perceptions. I blinked. Apparently, the hotel was one of those open-air affairs on the inside. Plants adorned the tiny railing, and below me I could see the paneled flooring of the lobby level.
Blue, green and yellow clashed and swirled psychadelically under my feet as I walked to the left, following the signs that indicated the room I needed was that way. A few dark brown woody-looking accents set everything off...perfectly.
2048 was midway down, I paused and then knocked.
"Just a moment!" a voice called from inside. He sounded nearly the same as he had on the phone, if not a little more agitated. I wasn't surprised. His daughter had been missing for nearly eight hours. And he had no idea how much danger she could be in. In my opinion, rape and robbery were the least of the Slayer's worries.
The door swung inward to reveal a tall man in his forties. Blond-brown hair covered his head, his blue eyes were ringed with dark circles--worry, was my guess. "Ms DeZorga? You're..."
"Not what you were expecting," I guessed calmly.
"No." He shook his head, "For some reason, I expected something--more...British."
I blinked. "I could be, if'n ye loike," I replied, in my best bad Brit/Scotch/Welsh mumble.
He blinked at me, his eyes registering something other than worry. Confusion. I liked that in a man. "Really, sir. I've lived all over the world. Not many accents I can't pull off." And was *that* ever useful when going undercover. I was also a language wiz, but that was beside the point. I winked. "I don't do tweed."
"Ah. Well, come in, I expect you want all the details again?" He stepped back and ushered me into a room that looked much like the hall--grandiose and eye-blinding. No wonder Buffy had tried to spend most of her nights here patrolling. "She left about midnight last night, according to the doorman. I didn't even know she'd gone."
He shook his head and paced agitatedly. "He said she headed toward downtown."
"Downtown?" I shrugged. "Been there. Seen worse places in L.A. Anything else--had you argued or anything?"
"No!" he answered sharply, turning away to look out the window. The view wasn't all that interesting, seeing as how it looked onto the brick wall of the building next to this. "No..."
"What did you disagree about?"
"Nothing, really, it was so stupid." He sighed. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."
"Because it might help me find your daughter."
"If she doesn't just come waltzing back in the next hour," he muttered.
"She won't," I said softly. "I wish she would. Then I wouldn't be frightened for her like this." And I was. If my suppositions were correct, a large band of vampires was in town to open the New York Hellmouth and Limbo, combining the two in a horrible conflagration that would destroy the world.
"You're frightened?" Mr Summers began pacing again. "My daughter is out there, remembering that the last thing I told her was that I was damned amazed her mother was able to put up with her! And you're frightened for her?"
He seemed to wilt, suddenly. "I feel like a fraud as a parent, Ms DeZorga."
I shook my head. "You're not. You're just a human being, you're allowed to feel hate, anger, remorse..." I felt uncomfortable, suddenly. "Sir, if you've no more information, I've got to get going."
"Thank you." He leaned by the window again. "There's nothing, really. The doorman's name is Bruce. He should be on duty still."
"Good--oh, Mr Summers, if I could have something of Buffy's--something she'd touched--maybe a shirt? We've got some bloodhounds." I smiled. "I've got some friends, one of whom is psychic; she might be able to follow Buffy's mind imprint."
Actually, with Buffy still unconscious, not even *I* could find her telepathically. Well, I could, but I really didn't feel like taking the risks that would create. After all, a rogue telepath/empath/kinetic loose on New York city with no conscience? We're talking the Dark Phoenix I'd heard about from Meggan Askani. But about twenty times worse.
Although, the trackers might be able to find her. It was frustrating, really. Mr Summers had nodded and left the room. He came back carrying one of Buffy's shirts. "Will this work?"
"Yes. Thank you." I turned to go, then stopped and looked at him. "Mr Summers. We will find her. Never doubt that." If I had to let myself go, we would find her before they succeeded. I just hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"I hope so."
"Do make sure to call that contact of mine--or me--if you hear anything."
"I will."
---
Bruce was just getting off-duty when I approached him. "Good morning."
He blinked at me, then grinned, "Hey, I remember you. You was with the blonde chippie the other night--that kid that went missing."
"Yes. Buffy Summers. A good friend of mine."
"Good friend?" He snorted at me. "You was the one helpin' her to run away."
Great. A man who thought he knew everything. "Look, Brucie, I'm tired, my friend is in more than mortal danger and I need to know--" I stopped and smiled sweetly. "Which direction did she go in last night, and did anyone follow her?"
I think the smile must have cowed him--or Marian had told him I was a hardnose. Either way, he quickly told me what he'd told Mr S. And he also told me that Buffy had been shadowed. "I'm not to sure who it was--they were all in black--leathery trench coat. Or..." He looked embarrassed, "This may sound weird..."
"Nothing will sound weird. Go on."
"They looked like folded leathery wings--black. I don't know if it was male or female, but I didn't like the look of it--nearly called after the girl, but..."
Oh, if only he had. My eyes closed for a moment before he saw the scorn and smouldering rage there. "Thank you," I replied calmly, opening my eyes and nodding. "I'll see you later. Must go now."
I turned and left the building, Buffy's white shirt clutched in my white-knuckled grip. Control. I fought for it, a towering rage spreading through me. He had...let her be followed. By what was probably a demon. I decided it would be a REAL good idea to get out of there and follow the trail Buffy had left.
Like, NOW.
#Calling all telepaths...Telepath role-call...Except there's no annoying Mouseketeer song.# I hoped my mind-voice wasn't seething.
#Yo.# Rachel.
#Yes?# Betsy.
Emma was next, sounding bored. #Yes?#
#You rang?# Nate and Maddie tieing for fourth place.
A polite voice of disdain was Monet's #Yes?#
#We've got a sort of lead. The doorman saw her go towards Fifth Avenue. Not a nice neighborhood--no surprise the vamps are hiding there. She was followed. Can any of you run a trace on--# I stumbled on something and tumbled forward to be caught in a pair of dark red arms. They were mostly wrapped in a black leather strips. Much like Jono's chest and head. Was there some new fad I didn't know about?
"Hello." It occured to me as the field buckled slightly that it was a very good thing that my banked rage had triggered the automatic telekinetic shell currently wrapped around my body. Considering the strips of leather were slightly shredded where they touched the girl's skin, I had to wonder how mine would have fared.
She blinked at me. One of Emma's kids, who I hadn't been introduced to, yet. "{Hallo,}" she replied.
Somewhat antiquated Yugoslavian, there. I blinked and carefully put together a sentence, trying to remember what I knew of it. "{I'm Marya. And you?}"
Before she could answer, Emma cut in sharply. #What happened?#
I straightened and smiled at the young girl while Nate replied for me. #She stumbled. That young girl of yours who speaks--it sounded vaguely Yugoslavian, Susanna.#
#It is. Old dialect, though. Poor child. Emma, who is she and what's with her skin? I feel almost bruised, under the TK shield.#
"{Yvette.}"
"{Well met, Yvette.}"
Emma sent wordless surprise, then, #Cable, what is she babbling about?#
#Ms DeZorga was caught by Penance, Ms Frost,# Monet replied, boredly.
More surprise, and some shock came through, #Her skin is diamond-hard, you should have been sliced to ribbons.#
#Well, that explains the bruised feeling,# I smiled at Yvette. #Now, where were we?#
#Tracing,# Maddie supplied.
#Ah, yes. Tracing. I was going to ask if any of you could run a trace, using the residual of a psychic imprint--sort of like a blood hound.#
Silence met my question. I chuckled. #You see, I'd have no need to, but...Buffy's unconscious, currently. I'd imagine they're keeping her drugged--less danger of losing your sacrifice that way.#
#We can't. What about using our trackers to follow her scent?# Nate nodded at the shirt I was still carrying. #That should work.#
"Yeah," I said aloud, letting the thought echo through the circle. "It ought to. Rahne, Caliban, Kyle and Logan, I've got a shirt of Buffy's, d'you think you can use it?"
"Yeah," Logan snorted. "Stupid question. Next?"
---
I made an executive decision as we all stood in the middle of Time's Square. "Right. I think you're all wonderful to help, but..."
"There's too many of us." Dom nodded, "I think I'll take the kids ice skating. And anyone else who wants to come."
Which meant she'd listen with Nate for my scream for help. Good. I nodded, "In fact... Logan, Rahne, Kitty, Pete, Kurt and--"
"Me." Amanda Seffton interrupted calmly, "And I think we should take Rachel, too."
I blinked, then nodded, "Right. The rest of you... disperse, act like tourists, and, well... don't look like a large group of people on a mission. There are already too many religious fanatics around here as it is."
And so we dispersed, well, we did once we got to Sixth Avenue. Dom and her group went north from there, the rest of us continued towards Fifth. Once there, the scent led south.
There was also an extra scent, one of fear.
Rahne was the one who identified the demon as smelling like cinnamon and almonds. "Aye dunnae why," she frowned.
"Not all demons smell like brimstone and sulfur," I muttered absently. Something about the combination of almonds and cinnamon was niggling at the back of my brain. But when I tried to chase it, it slipped away and buried itself.
As we turned down yet another side street, I stared at the buildings, spotting one that looked... familiar. It was a normal twenty storey modernish apartment building. Yet not.
"There's somethin' wrong." Rahne slipped back to me as Pete and Kitty consulted their map of New York. The plan was to look as touristy as possible--which wasn't difficult considering only I knew exactly where we were.
"What?" The building was...drawing me, almost. There was something there that I needed to see, needed to know. I'd actually taken three steps before Rahne grabbed my arm.
"Stop."
#Susanna?# Nate's voice overlapped Rahne's and shattered the compulsion that had caught me.
"Shit." Something very powerful had just nearly caught me in its grasp. That was bad. I shouldn't be that easily affected. It had been a spell of Summoning, I decided, analysing my impression quickly. Reaching out and touching it would be the height of stupidity. It was attuned specifically to Slayers, I bet, with a mutter. Well, I knew how they'd caught her. I also wagered that the spell itself would turn anyone attracted by it into a zombie. Semi, anyway.
Which meant that Buffy might be conscious and bespelled. It suddenly had become even more imperative that we find her. I'd thought they'd keep her unconscious until the ceremony. Looked like it was a more elaborate thing than I'd thought. Second question. Why was the Summoning still up?
#Heads up, oh circle. The cat's out of the bag. They know we're looking for Buffy. That compulsion spell was set for me.# Paranoid? Me? I paused, then continued grimly. #Anyone who's had encounters with magick before, discuss it with your group. And watch your backs, people.# Okay, so maybe it was overkill. Maybe they didn't know people were looking for Buffy. And maybe a mugger wouldn't take all my cash.
"Marya?" Kitty Pryde looked at me in concern. "What's going on?"
"A compulsion. Set to pull me--or someone known to Buffy--into the brownstone up there." I nodded at the apartment building Rahne had pointed out.
"Yes." Amanda Sefton came up to stand behind me and raised a hand, her palm pointing towards the building. "I can feel the spell, it's very strong, and keyed to--"
I reacted without thinking, throwing up the strongest shields I could, magickal and mental. The blast slammed into them and my knees buckled. I sensed someone catching me, holding me up, then swore and strengthened the shields as the next blast came whipping our way.
Colour flared out into the visible spectrums this time, due to the energy release as the blast shattered against the shields. I suddenly sensed someone else adding layers of shields. Ray...and the Phoenix she'd inherited.
#Think this'll help?#
#Yeah. Thanks.# I dropped my own mental shields, but kept the magickal ones, and straightened. I could breathe again as the next blast was destroyed. We needed to get away from this area, under cover of some sort. Away. Seemed like a really good idea.
"What the hell happened?" Amanda looked pale, her face drained of colour by the energy that had slammed into her before my shields had risen.
"You triggered a booby trap," I replied tersely. "Kurt, we need to get away from here. Now."
The blue-furred man nodded and caught Amanda's arm. "Come with me, liebchen."
#Ray, can you hold the shields a second more, then let me through them?#
#Yeah. Why?#
#I need you to keep the others covered, with me out of them, the magickal target will change. You should all be fine, just get the hell out of this street.#
#Why?#
#I'm going in. That's why.#
#ALONE?#
#No, I'm taking Barney the Dinosaur with me,# I snapped, irritated that this was taking time. Another blast slammed into my shields and one of them buckled. #Yes, alone. I don't need to worry about anyone but ME in there. Now, get ready.#
The next blast shattered another outer shield, then Ray dropped hers and I hopped out, leaving Amanda hooked into mine until they got under cover. Hopefully, she'd enough power to keep them up. Now, for the difficult part.
I dropped every shield I could without letting the minds on the planet around me overwhelm. For just an instant, my power flared like a supernova, calling to anything that ate energy. And then I reinstated them and built a shadow. The shadow I sent down the street, away from Excalibur and the building.
#We're clear. Gods, that was awesome. Reminds me of... Never mind. Talk to ya later.# And Ray was gone--the link was still there but Rachel Summers had withdrawn to guard her people and keep them safe. Which was good, because I couldn't do it.
"Well," I muttered, "time to be sneaky."
The front door of the building was one of those high-security doors that you have to get buzzed in to enter. It was also standing open. Gee.
A trap is a trap, though, and, ergo must be sprung. I calmly stepped into the foyer and waited. The door slammed behind me. What a surprise.
The first attacker seemed startled when I caught him by the arm and flipped him into the second. Oops, apparently, I'd overstepped the helpless heroine bounds. Oh well. "Sorry, gentlemen--Oof." I ducked the next blow and snapkicked the fifth attacker before he even had a chance to join in.
Which left the one hanging on my arm and the one about to brain me with a blunt object.
---
When I woke up, I was NOT a happy camper. There'd been a sixth assailant and I hadn't even felt the bastard. My second thought was that I was REALLY tired of the heroine always being chained up. "Why me?"
And that's when my hearing kicked in.
"Hades, Hecate, I call on you. Bless this circle and make way for the Gateway. Hermes, I call you. Bless this endeavour."
The first bit was basically the priest requesting several Gods' help. The second, closing the circle. An almost audible snap went through the air and I shivered at the magick that poured down my skin. I'd been wrong about when they were planning to conduct the ceremony. It wasn't at midnight. Apparently, midday would be nifty for our would-be world ruler.
A sound to my right dragged my eyes open, and I blinked in the light. The priest was apparently agreeable to candles but preferred lots of light. Three overhead lamps shone brightly down on me. And Buffy. The Slayer stood next to the slab of concrete I was chained to. #Susanna.#
#Shut up Nate, my head hurts.#
Amusement coloured his reply. #You've been out for an hour. Where are you?#
#Ray?#
#Yo.#
#Get everyone together, and prepare to storm the building I sent you away from.# I looked at Buffy again and winced softly. #Keep Amanda back, though. And yourself.#
There was a rustling, and the priest hoved into view. Leathery black wings soared above his head, spread to either side as he intoned the words of the spell. I'd been wrong again. He needed the blood of a Slayer, but he needed her blood to be of guilt. I closed my eyes and cursed softly. I'd walked right into the trap. Of course, any stupid person would have done, but a friend was even better.
And the need for blood wasn't to open the gateways. I could feel them, hovering there, waiting. They would be easily opened, the blood was to seal them open and merge them together, to give mastery over both to our killer. The priest.
Except for the wings he looked pretty normal, for a vampiric demon. Black curly hair, blue eyes that shone with evil, lips that were thin and permanently in a sneer. I snorted. Great. A stereotypical evil bad guy. I was underwhelmed.
The chant reached a high-note and the gate to Limbo sprang open.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" hissed a voice. Demonic, by the sound of it. "Reynard. I thought you'd died."
The priest looked towards the gateway--one of the few parts of the room I couldn't see--and smiled. "Hallo, N'astirh, old bean."
End Chapter Ten
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'I stood at the kitchen sink, my radio playing songs like "Tainted Love" and "Love is Strange"...'
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© 2000 Suzy DeZorga