"Oh, silly me," said Emily, with a grotesquely girlish giggle. "I don't do that yet." She set down the surgical knife and picked up a marker. Inside herself Buffy stopped screaming and looked through her own eyes. She was helpless to do any more than flick her eyes from left to right, scanning the room. Aside from the ghastly doll collection, there were four bodies in the room, all dressed similarly to the upstairs guards. They had the dried-out look of corpses completely drained of blood. There were no signs of any struggle.
'Hold still fellas,' she thought at the bodies, sickness rising in her. 'This won't hurt a bit.' Yeah, right.
Buffy tried to move, a finger, a toe, anything, but it was like a huge weight had settled on her brain. But weights can be moved, she thought. She willed herself not to panic, not to waste her will in futile struggling. She saw herself beside the weight, a huge block in her mind. She squatted beside the block and dug her fingers under it. Taking a deep mental breath, she lifted up. Outside, her little finger moved slightly. Buffy felt something touching her face a regular intervals. She saw Emily near her face, apparently using the marker to draw a dotted circle on her skin at the hairline. Trying not to panic, Buffy redoubled her efforts to move the block. As it moved, she felt her hands and toes clench.
Emily hummed a tuneless song as she finished drawing the circle. Now she could cut and stay in the lines. Staying in the lines was very important. Now for the fun part.
Emily began brushing her new dolly's hair. This one's hair was soft and a pretty multi-blonde color.
Emily felt herself drifting away in the feel and smell of the hair and shook herself back to reality. She'd find a way to save the hair. Usually she just shaved it off because it got in the way of harvesting the face. She imagined herself wearing the pretty blonde hair as a wig, feeling it brushing her face. She smiled at the image.
Buffy could feel the brush and hands in her hair. She fought down a desire to flinch away, aware that any movement she made would be her last if the vampire-girl noticed and strengthened the block.
Emily picked up and opened a jar of cream. She held it in front of Buffy's eyes. "My dolly faces used to get hard and broke a lot. This lets then stay soft and smooth a lot longer. Isn't that nice, dolly?" Emily dabbed some cream into her hands.
Oh God. If she touches me I'll scream. Please don't let me scream. she prayed silently.
Emily began smoothing the cream onto the dolly's face, enjoying the warmth and feel of it under her hands. When she finally put the dolly's face on its stand, it would still be soft and supple, but it would lack that warm feeling. Emily wished there was a way to preserve that warmth. It felt so good.
Time seemed to freeze for Buffy as she felt those cold, dead hands crawling like evil cockroaches over her face. The hands didn't just smooth in the cream. Instead they seemed to linger in some obscenely intimate manner on her lips and cheeks and neck. They especially paused to feel the pulse in her neck. Buffy felt a shudder building inside her and pushed desperately at the weight, trying to channel her fear into energy to free herself. Finally, mercifully, the crawling hands went away. Buffy could feel her the muscles in her arms and legs again.
Emily's face grew close to Buffy's again. The vampiress seemed to be closely examining Buffy's flesh for imperfection. "Oh, goody!" the childlike voice cried. "No pimples. Pimples are yukky!"
Joyness, thought Buffy, feeling a wave of hysterical laughter threaten to bubble up in her throat. That'd make a great letter to Clearacil. "Four out of five psychotic vampires recommend your product for the faces they cut off." I can just see people flooding into the stores for that kind of product endorsement.
Emily opened the dolly's mouth to check for cold sores. She wanted the dolly's skin to be perfect, inside and out. No sores, but she smelled something faintly. Blood. Someone else's blood. "Oh no, you're not one of Daddy's dollies, are you?! I'm not s'posed to play with them," Inside her mind, Buffy sighed in relief, maybe she'd get out of this easier than usual.
'So much for "Never look a gift Slayer in the mouth"' Buffy thought. Emily drew even closer to her face. Then Buffy felt a tongue slide into her mouth and along her teeth. Buffy put all her will into clamping down on her gag reflex as the tongue continued its probe her teeth and lips. After a seeming eternity, the invader withdrew and Buffy felt her mouth being closed.
Emily frowned in concentration and daintily smacked her lips, tasting the faint blood residue from the dolly's mouth. She grinned in pleasure and relief. "Oh goody! You're not Daddy's dolly. You were some baby's dolly. Finders keepers, losers weepers! Now you're mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine!" Emily said in a singsong voice.
Inside her mind the block was almost gone. Just a little longer and psycho-babe was going to get a stake dinner. Assuming I can get a stake of course, she thought.
Emily sat back, satisfied. She stroked her dolly's cheek and chin one last time and picked up a surgical knife. "Here we go, dolly," she said eagerly, moving in with the blade.
"You go first!" said Buffy as she slammed both feet into Emily's stomach and knocked the taller girl back a few steps. Then she leveraged herself up and over the chair, putting it between them.
"You sit down right now, dolly. I'm just starting!" Emily ordered, sounding like a bossy eight year-old. Even avoiding Emily's eyes, Buffy could feel the compulsive power in her voice. Involuntarily she took a step forward, before pulling back.
"Sorry. Gotta cancel the facial, I just remembered I've got a manicure across town," the Slayer quipped, as she edged around the chair, looking for a weapon. Buffy saw a large hunting knife on the table and grabbed it. As she got the knife Buffy saw the nails of Emily's hands lengthen into six-inch claws. "Speaking of needing a manicure..." Buffy began as they continued circling the chair.
With hideous strength and a growl of frustration, Emily grabbed the chair one-handed, ripped it from its steel and concrete setting and sent it flying across the room to smash into a wall, digging a deep impression into the brick's surface.
Buffy stepped back. With a blur of speed, Emily charged her. Buffy barely sidestepped the girl, who swiftly turned around and charged again. Rolling into a crouch, Buffy studied her enemy. Emily was supernaturally fast and strong, but she didn't seem to have much experience in fighting. Considering the whammy she can put on people, she probably doesn't have to fight, Buffy thought grimly.
"Not to be rude much," said Buffy, circling, bringing the knife on guard. "But I think you've got somebody stuck in your teeth."
The other girl frowned slightly and probed her teeth with her tongue. Then she realized she being mocked and charged in fury again. "That's right. Here girl." said Buffy, lining up the knife. As the vampire girl reached her, Buffy sidestepped and lined the blade up at a perfect angle for a decapitation. Emily's neck struck the blade full on.
It was like hitting a stone wall for Buffy. The knife was ripped from her hand by the vampire's momentum. When Emily turned back, there wasn't any blood on her neck. It didn't even look scratched.
Emily snatched up the knife. "Oh, give me a break!" complained Buffy, as Emily crushed the blade, wadding it into a metal ball which she tossed aside.
Emily seemed to have calmed down again. "That was fun, dolly. But now I have to get back to work, so go sit by the table." Emily smiled as the dolly obediently walked to the table. She'd had a little trouble but now it was over. As Buffy reached the table she lunged and grabbed a surgical knife.
Emily sighed in annoyance. "Oh, put that down, dolly. That can't hurt me. Nothing can."
"My name is Buffy, you sick, evil bitch!" hissed Buffy through gritted teeth. "And the knife's not for you. It's for me." So saying Buffy touched the blade of the knife to her cheek.
Emily's eyes widened in horror. "No!" she cried in despair. "You'll ruin my new princess doll!"
"I don't know," said Buffy in a ragged voice. "I hear scars are really fashionable these days. We'll find out if you come any closer."
"But why don't you want to be my dolly? If you're a dolly you can live with me forever!" said Emily.
"Oh, that's definitely an incentive," snorted Buffy. "Hate to break it to you, but getting your face cut off is sorta fatal if you know what I mean."
"Oh, is that all?" said Emily, in a kind of relief. "It's not fatal." Emily clapped her hands. "See?"
A couple of doors opened and three figures stepped out, one for each face on the mantle. The two men and the woman wore street clothes and moved with a shambling furtiveness. The skin of their faces and skull was gone. Their facial muscles and eyeballs were naked to the air, moving in the red wetness. Despite that, no blood dripped from them. They stood in the room, awaiting instructions, their eyeballs swiveling to watch the drama unfold.
Buffy felt her gorge rise and a scream swelling in her throat. "Daddy doesn't like me to kill for my dollies," explained Emily. "He doesn't know I'm making dollies again. But I'm not killing them, so it's okay."
Oh Lord. I'm not seeing this. Please tell me I'm not seeing this, she thought. The knife trembled in Buffy's hand and another door opened. Deveraux and Elvis stepped into the room.
"Sweet Jesus!" cried Elvis in horror and disgust as he look around the room.
"Hi, fellas," said Buffy in a high, thin voice full of barely controlled panic. "I could use a little help here!"
Deveraux said nothing. He coolly watched the situation and then touched a button on his boombox. The eerie, lilting tones of Led Zepplin's "Battle of Evermore" floated into the room.
Lyrics: The Queen of Light took her bow, and then she turned to go.
Emily frowned at Elvis. "Aw, Daddy! I stayed up all day making dollies to surprise you. And now there's no surprise!"
Even paler than before, Elvis spoke "I'm sorry honey, but you need to go beddie-bye now. The King wants his Princess to go sleepy-time."
Lyrics: The Prince of Peace embraced the gloom, and walked the night alone.
Emily grew agitated at his voice and frowned in stubborn anger. "No!" she said. "I don' wanna go beddie-bye, I wanna make my new dolly! And you're not a king 'cause of those stupid people listening to you sing. You're just a king 'cause I'm a Princess and I made you like me so you could be my daddy! Now, go 'way!"
Buffy felt the flicker of terrible will pass her by. His mind overwhelmed by the force of Emily's command, Elvis walked stiffly out the door.
Lyrics: Oh, dance in the dark of night, sing to the morning light.
"We meant no disrespect, lovely Princess," said Deveraux in a fawning voice. "We only wanted you to be rested when you received your gift tomorrow."
"I get a present?" she asked then Deveraux averted his eyes as she commanded "Show me!"
Lyrics: The Dark lord rides in force tonight, and time will tell us all.
By a long chain, Deveraux pulled a large cross from his overcoat pocket. The cross was silver and covered in rubies, sapphires and emeralds, creating a rainbow effect as it caught the light.
Buffy looked at Deveraux in concern. She remembered Melissa telling that crosses didn't work on vampires here. Was that something else she'd lied about? The Slayer tensed, ready to back Deveraux' play, whatever it was. Deveraux shook his head slightly at Buffy, telling her to wait.
Lyrics: Oh, throw down your plow and hoe, rest not to lock your homes.
Emily just stared wide-eyed at the cross as it turned in the air. "See how it catches the light, like a rainbow," Deveraux said in a soft, low voice. "See the rubies reflecting on and off, dark and light, like eyes blinking before sleep."
Lyrics: Side by side, we await the might, of the darkest of them all.
Emily's eyes seemed half-closed when she opened them again. She shook her head slowly, trying to stay awake. Buffy could feel energy building in the room. Emily's energy. If she shook herself awake, Buffy knew that she and Deveraux would die, or join the ranks of Emily's "Dollies". She felt ill at the thought.
Lyrics: I hear the horses' thunder, down in the valley below.
"Feel the light warm you. It is a rainbow after a gentle, spring rain that washes all your cares and fears away," Deveraux's voice was dropping lower in tone, becoming softer and gentler with each word.
Lyrics: I'm waiting for the angels of Avalon, waiting for the eastern glow.
The colors of the cross seemed to change, merging to become the pale yellow of sunlight. Buffy held her breath has Deveraux spoke again. "See the sunlight peeking through the clouds. It warms your skin and you close your eyes and just...sleep," Deveraux' last word seemed to fill the room. Buffy felt a backwash of fatigue begin to steal over her. She shook her head and snapped out of it. Emily stood in the center of the room like a store mannequin, eyes closed, utterly still and silent.
"What did you do to her?" whispered Buffy.
Deveraux spoke in a normal tone of voice. "I triggered her daylight sleep cycle, that should buy us a good nineteen hours or so, possibly longer,"
He looked at Buffy's aghast expression at the loudness of his tone. "Oh don't worry, very little could awaken her before sunset tomorrow. Now come on, we'll need to put her in her resting place. With luck, when she does awaken she'll have forgotten all that happened today."
"Couldn't we just...you know?" asked Buffy as she drew her finger across her throat.
"Hardly," said Deveraux. "This being is ancient. Most likely nothing short of a rocket launcher would even scratch her. And she will awaken if she's attacked. Besides, Presley's blood-bound to her, and she's his sire. If we attacked her, he'd be forced to defend her with his life and the lives of all his machine-gun carrying guards. We'd be dead before you grabbed a stake."
They carried the body past the faceless people, who'd fallen like stringless puppets when Emily went unconscious. Inside a room was a steel, velvet lined coffin with pink pillows and quilts in it. Raggedy-Ann wallpaper decorated the walls. Beside the coffin, three sleeping mats with blood-soaked pillows on them lay on the floor. "Let's just put her in and go," said Buffy. "This whole place is creeping me out."
"I second the motion," said Deveraux as he and Buffy put Emily into the coffin and Deveraux wiped a cold sweat from the brow. Buffy felt her heart leap into her throat as Emily suddenly turned onto her side.
Deveraux held up a hand. "Just a reflex. She not waking." He closed the lid and they walked out of the coffin room.
As they walked, Deveraux asked. "How in the bloody hell did you get into this situation?" Sheepishly, Buffy explained.
Deveraux shrugged and said "I suppose that's understandable, but next time just wear some Depends."
