Chapter 13
Aurora shivered, her skin prickling with goose flesh as the cold leeched into her near-naked body. She groaned and tried to shake off the after-effects of the drug her Watcher had forced into her.
A single tear slowly rolled free from her dark lashes.
"Why the tears, my dear?" Darla asked, sounding pleased at seeing the young girl's despair. "Scared of dying? Or just beyond hope?"
Aurora bit back a remark, knowing it's exactly what the vampire wanted. She wouldn't give this bitch the satisfaction of showing her that she, Aurora, daughter of the greatest Warriors in service to the Powers, was scared. She took a deep, steadying breath and said, "If you're going to kill me, I suggest you get on with it."
"In such a hurry to die. It's a pity actually. It would have been interesting to see if you had your father's talent for pain."
"Why don't you unlock these chains, and I'll show you my talent for pain," Aurora challenged, hate for the blonde vampire making her voice hard and cruel.
Darla growled, her vampire countenance shifting into place. Her clawed hand flew out at the helpless girl, but stopped bare inches from Aurora's throat. "Sorry, Slayer. You won't get off so easily. You will still be alive long enough to see Hell swallow your world."
"Grandmummy? It's time," Drusilla lilted from the shadows. She glided to the stone altar, the velvet of her dress flowing gracefully around her preternaturally beautiful legs. "He screams. He screams for blood."
"It's blood he wants. It's blood he shall have." Darla clapped her hands sharply, bringing her minions to attention before her. "The Night of Argonius is upon us! Our time is finally at hand! Let us ready the sacrifice and welcome chaos!"
With loud hoots and hollers from the vampire foot soldiers, the altar was lifted and carried to stand at the feet of Acathla. Small pinpricks of light sprung up throughout the chamber as hundreds of candles were lit, making the shadows dance ominously.
Darla grabbed one of the minions by the hair and demanded, "Where's Deh'ras?"
"I…. I don't know, Mistress," the terrified minion stammered.
"Find him," Darla ordered, pushing the shaking vampire away from her. The minion stumbled over herself to get away from her creator and do as she was told.
"The demon won't come to our party," Dru offered matter-of-factly.
Darla eyed her askance, "Why is that, Dru?"
Dru cocked her head, listening intently to something only audible to her and smiled enigmatically, "He lost the game. My boy was always good at games."
"Riley killed him?" Darla said, amazed. She felt ridiculous even saying the words. The demon farmboy (who was also missing, she noted) thought himself a bigger bad than he truly was, in Darla's humble opinion.
Dru's tinkling giggle dispelled Darla's thoughts. "Not Riley," Dru smiled, spinning around and around, letting her dress bell out around her legs. "My beautiful, vicious Spike. Do you think he'll come back to me? It's been so long…"
A worried frown creased Darla's brow. Even with the Slayer and her traitorous Angel out of the way, their plans can still go awry if that bleach blonde grandchilde of hers decided to interfere.
"Let's get this started," Darla said, her voice slightly higher than normal.
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The Slayer's eyes locked on her demon husband. A low guttural growl emanated from deep within her heaving chest and she leapt at the vampire, knocking him to the ground, straddling his waist. Furiously, she devoured his mouth, drawing blood and bringing forth a growl from his own chest in return.
The kiss ended and the grinning, bloodied couple turned their eyes on the whimpering vampire rocking himself back and forth on the floor. "Spike," they said in unison.
The vampire lifted his tearstained eyes to his Sire (his Childe, his mind reminded) and the Slayer. The fury flooded through his being, forcing the demon within him to the fore. He attacked, his hands clawing at Angel's face, knocking Buffy away from the object of his hate.
Angel flew to his feet, taking the insane demon beast with him. "I would be very careful if I were you, boy," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. His powerful hands were holding off the blonde vampire's attacks easily.
"You get no more chances, Angelus!" Spike spat at the tall, broad-shouldered vampire. "This time you die, and you're going to stay dead!"
Then Spike was flying through the air, crashing painfully into the wall. "You stay the hell away from my husband!" Buffy screamed, her small fists balled and ready to tear him limb from limb.
A scream echoing through the tunnels stopped the crazed blonde vampire from attacking the battle-ready couple.
"Aurora!" he cried, the battle raging in him between saving his love and destroying the primal force blocking his way clearly showing on his finely cut features.
Spike tensed, ready to spring, when Angel started to move towards him. The dark-haired 200-pound vampire allowed his human features to return, and he held up his hands in a defensive non-threatening manner. This did not help to calm Spike much. He knew better than to trust this particularly vicious and treacherous vampire.
"Spike," Angel spoke quietly, trying to bring his Childe under control. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but my baby girl is in trouble. We need you."
Spike eyed his approaching opponent suspiciously. Angelus always had the talent to charm anyone with a gentle voice. "I won't let you get near Aurora, you soulless bastard!" he hissed. "Not you or your demon whore!"
The penny dropped. "Spike, no," Angel said. "I'm still me, Angel. Angelus is dead. Forever."
A frustrated roar erupted from the Slayer, whom the two vampires forgot about. "God! Enough! I'm going to find my daughter before it's too late. You two old women stay here and talk all night!"
"Buffy, no!" Angel shouted after the disappearing form of his wife. "If anything happens to her… to either of them, because of your idiocy," the dark-haired vampire growled, his eyes flashing golden fire at Spike. "You will wish Angelus was still alive. He would have had more mercy on you."
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Aurora screamed when the red-hot metal brand touched her exposed abdomen. Her flesh sizzled, the smell of her own skin cooking making her gag.
The ritual of Argonius was anything but easy, and Aurora would be lucky to make it until the actual sacrifice, but Darla was enjoying the Slayer's screams of terror and pain too much to care.
The girl, now marked with the Blessing of Argonius, would have to endure having the ritualistic words needed to call forth Acathla carved into her body by the same knife that will, in the end, remove her still-beating heart from her chest.
"Lie still, dear," Darla was cooing, licking her lips at the pungent aroma of fear and blood. "If you keep hitching your breath in like that, my writing will be all crooked."
Aurora followed the devilishly sharp point of the dagger, tears streaming from her near-black eyes. She tried to struggle, to get away from the torture to be visited upon her unblemished skin, but to no avail. Her restraints were unbreakable and unyielding. She had nowhere to go and no one to help her. She, the Slayer, was helpless.
Another scream pushed past Aurora's lips as Darla pushed the blade into Aurora's breast and started to form letters bathed in her blood.