An American Vampire in London, Chapter 2
Both vampires woke to see themselves in some kind of hall. Angel turned to his right and saw an altar in front of a huge statue which was of a man whose arms were crossed over one another in an 'x' shape. Angel thought he'd recognised it, but where from, he couldn't tell. The altar looked to be like a sacrificial one, so they had to be in a temple of some sort. What religion it was, he didn't know either. Other than the statue and the altar, the room was bare.
A beam of light flashed above their heads and both ducked to avoid it. Spike looked up to see a hole in the roof. Angel got up from where he'd fallen and began to inspect their surroundings, although there wasn't much to see, pointedly ignoring Spike, who was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, watching his sire, mildly amused.
No one spoke until Spike said, 'It's a temple you know.' Angel didn't reply.
He continued. 'Egyptian by the look of things.'
Still Angel said nothing.
'You can't ignore me forever, you know.'
'I can try.'
'Listen,' he got up, ' We've got to be here for a reason. Mind you, it'd better be a damn good reason 'cos no way would I want to spend a Saturday night with a dipsy like you when I could be seriously necking someone. But not in the kissy-wissy way.'
'Well, the feelings mutual, even more so on my part.'
'No mate. You see, I hate you more. I have more reason to, anyway.'
'No Spike. You're everything I detest in a vampire.'
'Me?! You seem to forget that you're a vampire too. Who night have a nancy-pancy souls now, but a few centuries ago was a lean, mean vamping machine. if you wanna preach, I suggest you use yourself as an example. Got a soul? Who gives an arse about it? All you do is whinge on about how you can't do 'it' because of the 'true happiness clause' and when you do, you go on about how you should have done it in the first place. Ain't you heard of the withdrawal technique, mate? Spike was in his stride now. 'You my friend are an arse-licking, slayer-shagging poof who prefers to prey on pretty schoolgirls.'
'You...'
'What's wrong Angel? Want to relieve some of that sexual tension that's been building up 'cos you ain't been able to find a cute 16 year old slayer-like prostitute? You see, English girls aren't as dumb as all those blonde bimbos that happen to congregate in the good ol' US of A.'
Angel shrugged. 'I don't know. Dru was definitely English, and as I remember she was all over me. I knew her inside and out. You know Spike; if you were having problems entertaining Dru then you should have come to me. I knew how to solve ALL Dru's problems. And she seemed to like it. A lot. I heard she left you for a chaos demon. Ugly things aren't they? All slimy and…'
Spike threw himself at his sire and furiously began to attack him. They fell to the floor with Spike straddling Angel, strangling him for all his worth. Angel, meanwhile, was clawing his childe to no avail. He changed his tactics and punched Spike clean on the jaw. Spike fell and Angel grabbed him and threw him towards the statue. Spike, who had hit his head on the altar table, clamoured up and grabbed the pottery cup, obviously some kind of offering, which had appeared on the table and hurled it at his sire. Angel ducked and the cup hit the wall, the sound echoing around the hall.
Spike was about to throw another offering, this time a plate, but was stopped by the sound of chanting coming from outside the room. He put the plate down reluctantly, wanting to see it smash to smithereens on his sire's head. Not now, he thought, But you wait. Then I'll mess your oil slick hair. Angel, too, had heard the noise and walked towards the door which he'd tried earlier but hadn't budged, and moved to one side as it opened without ease and a woman walked into the hall with a group following her.
The lone woman at the front of the procession, for this was what Angel had figured it out to be, was obviously the head priestess of the temple. She was dressed in a long white dress cut in a very simple way. She wore gold bracelets on her feet and wrists. But it was the mask that covered her face, which commanded the most attention. It was one that was worn over the head and was of a dog but on closer inspection, a jackal. Jackals…Angel thought, Anubis! Anubis. The Egyptian jackal-god of mummification, he assisted in the rites by which a dead man was admitted to the underworld.
The priestess held a black and white hide thing, which from what Angel could smell, was, splattered with blood and hanging from a staff. This was a symbol of Anubis, this Angel was sure of. When he'd been in Europe with Dru and Spike, he'd taken up mythology to get away from Dru's incessant mewling about the 'stars and the moon'. It had been an interesting subject. Even today, he was still trying to keep with the topic. Fascinated, he watched on.
Behind her were 4 more women who were carrying a big sarcophagus and set it up near the alter. Their job, done they stood 2 on each side of the statue.
The followers wore similar dresses to the priestess but were shorter and were of a lesser quality. They had short black hair, cut in an Egyptian style and were chanting in low voices. But the quietness was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that was coming from the other side of the door,
which Spike had been edging towards. He froze.
Both vampires woke to see themselves in some kind of hall. Angel turned to his right and saw an altar in front of a huge statue which was of a man whose arms were crossed over one another in an 'x' shape. Angel thought he'd recognised it, but where from, he couldn't tell. The altar looked to be like a sacrificial one, so they had to be in a temple of some sort. What religion it was, he didn't know either. Other than the statue and the altar, the room was bare.
A beam of light flashed above their heads and both ducked to avoid it. Spike looked up to see a hole in the roof. Angel got up from where he'd fallen and began to inspect their surroundings, although there wasn't much to see, pointedly ignoring Spike, who was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, watching his sire, mildly amused.
No one spoke until Spike said, 'It's a temple you know.' Angel didn't reply.
He continued. 'Egyptian by the look of things.'
Still Angel said nothing.
'You can't ignore me forever, you know.'
'I can try.'
'Listen,' he got up, ' We've got to be here for a reason. Mind you, it'd better be a damn good reason 'cos no way would I want to spend a Saturday night with a dipsy like you when I could be seriously necking someone. But not in the kissy-wissy way.'
'Well, the feelings mutual, even more so on my part.'
'No mate. You see, I hate you more. I have more reason to, anyway.'
'No Spike. You're everything I detest in a vampire.'
'Me?! You seem to forget that you're a vampire too. Who night have a nancy-pancy souls now, but a few centuries ago was a lean, mean vamping machine. if you wanna preach, I suggest you use yourself as an example. Got a soul? Who gives an arse about it? All you do is whinge on about how you can't do 'it' because of the 'true happiness clause' and when you do, you go on about how you should have done it in the first place. Ain't you heard of the withdrawal technique, mate? Spike was in his stride now. 'You my friend are an arse-licking, slayer-shagging poof who prefers to prey on pretty schoolgirls.'
'You...'
'What's wrong Angel? Want to relieve some of that sexual tension that's been building up 'cos you ain't been able to find a cute 16 year old slayer-like prostitute? You see, English girls aren't as dumb as all those blonde bimbos that happen to congregate in the good ol' US of A.'
Angel shrugged. 'I don't know. Dru was definitely English, and as I remember she was all over me. I knew her inside and out. You know Spike; if you were having problems entertaining Dru then you should have come to me. I knew how to solve ALL Dru's problems. And she seemed to like it. A lot. I heard she left you for a chaos demon. Ugly things aren't they? All slimy and…'
Spike threw himself at his sire and furiously began to attack him. They fell to the floor with Spike straddling Angel, strangling him for all his worth. Angel, meanwhile, was clawing his childe to no avail. He changed his tactics and punched Spike clean on the jaw. Spike fell and Angel grabbed him and threw him towards the statue. Spike, who had hit his head on the altar table, clamoured up and grabbed the pottery cup, obviously some kind of offering, which had appeared on the table and hurled it at his sire. Angel ducked and the cup hit the wall, the sound echoing around the hall.
Spike was about to throw another offering, this time a plate, but was stopped by the sound of chanting coming from outside the room. He put the plate down reluctantly, wanting to see it smash to smithereens on his sire's head. Not now, he thought, But you wait. Then I'll mess your oil slick hair. Angel, too, had heard the noise and walked towards the door which he'd tried earlier but hadn't budged, and moved to one side as it opened without ease and a woman walked into the hall with a group following her.
The lone woman at the front of the procession, for this was what Angel had figured it out to be, was obviously the head priestess of the temple. She was dressed in a long white dress cut in a very simple way. She wore gold bracelets on her feet and wrists. But it was the mask that covered her face, which commanded the most attention. It was one that was worn over the head and was of a dog but on closer inspection, a jackal. Jackals…Angel thought, Anubis! Anubis. The Egyptian jackal-god of mummification, he assisted in the rites by which a dead man was admitted to the underworld.
The priestess held a black and white hide thing, which from what Angel could smell, was, splattered with blood and hanging from a staff. This was a symbol of Anubis, this Angel was sure of. When he'd been in Europe with Dru and Spike, he'd taken up mythology to get away from Dru's incessant mewling about the 'stars and the moon'. It had been an interesting subject. Even today, he was still trying to keep with the topic. Fascinated, he watched on.
Behind her were 4 more women who were carrying a big sarcophagus and set it up near the alter. Their job, done they stood 2 on each side of the statue.
The followers wore similar dresses to the priestess but were shorter and were of a lesser quality. They had short black hair, cut in an Egyptian style and were chanting in low voices. But the quietness was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that was coming from the other side of the door,
which Spike had been edging towards. He froze.