Sidney Benson couldn't get a hold of Eddie, and he was worried. He had tried both Giles flat and the boy's cell phone, both to no avail. He could just be asleep, the former Watcher thought as he hung up the phone. Probably tired from going out with Buffy and her friends, and hunting. Even with that logical explanation ringing in his head, he couldn't shake the fear that something had happened to him. "Perhaps I should call Buffy's home, and ask how it went tonight," he murmured to himself.

A quick look at a slumbering Giles convinced Sidney not to. He'd have to wake the Watcher to get Buffy's phone number, since he didn't like the idea of going through his friends' desk in search of it. Draining the last of his tea, Sidney sighed and quietly walked back to his place at the table.

Sitting down, the Reanimator glanced at the book in front of him and sighed again. Sidney hadn't been surprised when their research hadn't turned up anything of value. Oh, Giles had learned a lot, which wasn't difficult since he had known very little about zombies in general, and voodoo in particular. Sidney on the other hand, knew everything there was to know about both topics, and had kept reading in the hope of finding out something new. "No such luck," the British man said in disgust, pushing the book away.

Despite the tediousness of the research, Sidney had been greatly impressed by the amount of books and scrolls Giles had about vampires and, what Sidney liked to call, 'generic' demons. Sidney had always been fascinated by regional and ethnic magicks. And the demons, spirits and myths that went with them. He had studied voodoo, ancient and Neo- Druidism, Taoism, Buddhism, and many more beliefs, philosophies and magicks from across the world. One colleague had said flippantly "Sidney has forgotten more about ethnic magicks then the rest of the word knows." While technically not true, Sidney had devoted most of his life in the pursuit of his knowledge. He'd used it to survive his whole life, doing consulting work, teaching, writing.basically using it anyway he could to make a living.

It had taken meeting Eddie to make Sidney realize that his knowledge could be used for more then writing papers on Stonehenge and speeches on Neo-Paganism. With Eddie, Sidney was both teacher and student. Teaching Eddie about his growing powers and how to use them for the better good, and learning that his knowledge had practical purposes and overcoming the fear of letting his own powers overtake him. With his young friend, Sidney had not only increased his knowledge on the occult, but had actually helped governments, police, and ordinary people.

And made a lot of money doing it!

In actuality, Sidney was slightly embarrassed at the amount of money he and Eddie had earned through their adventures. He had grown up in a lower middle-class home, and becoming a millionaire had thrown him into quite a spin when Eddie had informed him of their combined worth.

Looking at the way they lived, one couldn't suspect at how much money the two of them had made with their unique talents. The house in Houston was comfortable, but it wasn't the lap of luxury either. The apartment in London was large enough for them to keep their things and stay comfortable when in the city. The car, while expensive, was a necessity. When looking at their budget, Sidney noticed that most of their outgoing capital went for weapons, books, and bribes. The average person couldn't even hazard a guess at how much it costs move an automobile full of highly illegal weapons, across Europe. Sidney knew, and the amount still raised his eyebrows, even after all these years.

Glancing at his watch, the former Watcher was surprised to find it almost 5am. He briefly considered trying to reach Eddie again, but the time and a rather large yawn convinced him to wait until a more reasonable hour. "He's probably asleep anyway," Sidney said to himself again.

As he let himself drift off to sleep, he knew he was trying to convince himself more then anything else.



.___.___.



"I don't care what time it is, I'm coming over!" Driving down the interstate, Eddie kept his eyes on the road as he talked into his cell phone. "Come on Richie! I'm doing you a favor! It would have been easier for me to just to drive up to LA and wake your ass up. Instead, I'm giving you some notice so you can take a shower, put some coffee on, and kick whatever skanky bitch you have in your bed out."

Changing lanes, Eddie pushed the cigarette lighter in as he listened to his friend bitch at him. "It's 4 in the fucking morning, man!" Richard 'Richie' Wagnall whined into Eddie's ear. "I've been asleep of half a hour! Cut me a break!"

Lighting his cigarette, the male Slayer took a drag and exhaled loudly into the phone. "Yeah, well that's more then I've had, so don't come looking to cry on my shoulder." Glancing at his watch and then at the speedometer, Eddie did some quick math in his head. "I should be at your place in about 2 hours. If you're not up, I'm going to first kick the door in, and then kick your ass in. Got it?"

"What do you want from me?" Richie's voice sighed into the phone, all the fight gone. "I need to set any of my gear up?"

Glancing at the glove compartment that held the reason for his spur of the moment trip to Los Angeles, the Necromancer thought for a moment before answering. "Yeah, get your lab up and running. I'm going to need you to break something down for me. And see if you can get a hold of the Frog. I'm going to need to get something over the pond to Jackie, and fast."

The sounds of pen on paper told Eddie that Richie was writing down the instructions, not trusting his sleep deprived brain to remember it all. "This is going to cost you and Sid some serious grease," the chemist said quietly. "Maybe.a couple of quarters. And you know I don't speak for Jackie."

Fifty thousand dollars, Eddie thought, decoding what Richie was saying. Fifty Gs for a chem breakdown and a Concord trip to Hong Kong. "No problem. Just make sure you get a hold of the Frog. I'm going to want him swimming before I leave."

The prospect of making money took the last of the sleep out of Richie's voice. "Cool. I'll talk to him before heading downstairs." In a quieter tone, the chemist's voice became more cautious. "You're in a major rush. Something big?"

"Big enough," Eddie replied, avoiding a direct answer over the phone. "I'll fill you in when I get to your place. See you in a few." Disconnecting, the male Slayer tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

Watching as the dark and flat landscape flew by him, Eddie thought about the night's events. He felt very dissatisfied with the way the evening had gone. His entire body felt like one big sore muscle. His hand, while already starting to heal, still bothered him, even after he had changed the bandaging twice. The battle with the zombies, and the fragmented memories he had pulled out of them, didn't give him much to go on. His only lead was the sliver box and the blue vials that it contained. For them to be of any help to him, Eddie first had to find out what exactly they were, and who made them. Hence the trip to LA.

"Should have tried to get a hold of Sid again," he muttered to himself. He had tried to call the Library after he had stopped by Giles apartment for a change of clothes, but had gotten only a busy signal. "Probably trying to call me," Eddie smiled in the darkness of the car.

While he and Buffy had been fighting the zombies, Sidney had left a message on his phone, asking him to bring a few of the books they had brought with them, to the library. Those books now sat in a duffel bag in the back seat of the Range Rover. Probably should have dropped them of first, Eddie thought guiltily. Damn, probably told him where I was going while I was at it. Sidney's protectiveness of him sometimes bugged Eddie. He was used to taking care of himself, and when it came down to it, others as well. Having someone worry about him still brought a weird feeling for him.

Lighting another cigarette, Eddie watched as light drizzle started to fall, he couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Driving to LA with a car full of guns and drugs. Making a drop off to a courier and a chemist. Cash payments for everything. All I need is a high speed chase with the cops and I'm ready for primetime."

Turing on the radio, the Necromancer searched the dial for something other then pop music and talk shows. Finally giving up, he switched to the CD player and waited as the Rolling Stones got ready to join him for the drive. When Paint it Black came on, Eddie laughed out loud.

Rolling down the window, he smiled as he felt the cold drizzle spray against his face. Howling along with the music, Eddie floored the gas and watched the speedometer jump forward. "Maybe I'll get that police chase after all."

Behind him, the first rays of dawn were racing him to Los Angeles.





.___.___.



Maria walked into the cavern, carrying the unconscious boy over he shoulder. The sun had been starting its slow ascent into the sky by the time she had coaxed the damaged truck into the entrance of their base of operations. Swearing with every step she took, Maria looked around for the voodoo master that was supposed to be running this show. "Cristo!" she shouted, her voice bouncing off the walls of the cave. "Cristo, where the hell are you?"

Charles Dumas Cristo, dressed in a dark robe, stepped out of the shadows. He smiled at the mercenary, his painted face making the smile look down right ghoulish. "You bellowed, my dear?" Walking toward Maria, the magician seemed to almost hover. "I see you have brought me a present."

Dropping the catatonic boy at the man's feet, Maria wiped her brow and glared at him. "He better be worth it! You have no idea the shit I had to go through to get this kid." Walking to her footlocker, the rigger kicked it open. "Not only did I run into a vampire, but the Slayer and some crazy kid with a gun who just wouldn't die!"

Kneeling over the boy, Cristo inspected his condition. "I gather that a fight insued?" Peering into the young man's eyes, the voodoo master smiled slightly. "Considering your current disposition, I'd surmise that it didn't go well?"

"Damn straight it didn't!" Taking off her vest, Maria threw it into the locker. "You stupid zombies got toasted, the truck it a wreck, and I lost my favorite knife in some guy's hand!" Lighting a cigarette, Maria looked at her right for arm and scowled. "And your damn gris-gris freaked out on me too! Almost squeezed the life out of my arm." Taking the bracelet of bones and teeth off, she tossed it into the locker as well.

Looking up quickly, Cristo frowned at Maria. "What do you mean, 'freaked out'? What happened exactly?" Going to the locker, the painted man picked up the gris-gris and examined it.

Taking a drag of her smoke, Maria leaned against a wall and stared at Cristo. "Freaked out! I was sitting in the truck, waiting for the zombies to finish off the vampire, when it starts wiggling and squeezing my arm." Exhaling a cloud of smoke, the mercenary tilted her head back and sighed. "Then everything went straight to hell! The Slayer and the guy show up, and start working with the vampire on the zombies! By the time I get there, all the zombies are down and the three of them are just standing there."

Looking closely at the gris-gris, the magician frowned again. "Tell me about this boy." Listening to Maria's account of the stranger, Cristo closed his eyes, squeezing the gris-gris in his hand. He listened intently as Maria recounted the night's events.

"So I stabbed him in the hand and he fell out of the cab," Maria finished, tossing her cigarette away. "The kid has more lives then a cat! I shot at him, ran him over, and then tossed him out of the truck with a knife in his hand! And he still had enough left to get back up!"

"Interesting," the voodoo master murmured to himself. The boy has magic in him, he thought to himself. Enough to effect my gris-gris. "Next time you.run into this boy, I want you to bring me something of his."

Raising an eyebrow, Maria pushed away from the wall. "Like what? A head shot and an autograph?"

Laughing softly, Cristo returned the gris-gris to the footlocker. "Nothing so commercial." Turning his back on his companion, magician spoke over his shoulder as he walked to the still comatose boy. "Almost anything of his will do. A weapon, a piece of jewelry.even the shirt off his back. As long as it belongs to him."

Maria looked like she was going to ask him why he wanted something of the boy's, but then shrugged. "I'll see what I can do." Putting her hands on her lower back, the mercenary stretched out, watching as Cristo picked up the boy gently and carried him toward the alter at the far end of the cavern. "What you want the kid for? Sacrifice?"

Cristo ignored her. Laying the boy down on the altar, he proceeded to cut the boy's clothes off with a knife he had produced from inside of his robes. It was a large knife, and rather plain looking. More a dagger then anything else. The blade was slightly longer then his hand, the blade gleaming in the torchlight of the cavern. The handle was made of wood, the color having faded to a dull brown over what was probably a number of years.

Once the boy was completely stripped of his clothing, the voodoo master laid the knife down on the alter, and started to paint the boy's face and chest with a foul smelling red paint. From her vantagepoint, Maria could hear Cristo speaking softly in a language she didn't know. Moving closer to the altar, she could also see a large wooden box at the man's feet. "What are you doing?" she asked, her nose scrunching up slightly from the smell of the paint.

Cristo's response was more chanting, his voice getting louder as he painted a circle over the boy's heart. His fingers, surpassingly nimble, drew a small figure in the center of the circle. Still chanting, in what Maria decided was an odd mix of Spanish, Latin.and something she couldn't identify, the magician opened the wooden box at his feet, removing a large bottle. The watching mercenary couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped her as she looked at the bottle.

Long, skeletal hands were attached to the bottle, as if the owner of the hands hadn't wanted to let go of the bottle, even in death. The fingers ran vertically up the sides of the glass, while the edges of the palm bent downward underneath the bottle. The hands were thin and seemingly bleached white. The skin seemed parched and in places, had flaked away to reveal greenish bone. The bottle itself wasn't with out comment either. About the size of a wine bottle, it was crystal clear and without flaw. An old wooden cork topped it, sealing its contents in. Yet for all this, it was what was inside the bottle that had caused Maria's gasp. Inside, a liquid seemed to glow white with almost desperate intensity. It sloshed around slightly as Cristo moved the bottle out of the box, causing the white glow to aggravate. The light from the bottle made the torchlight of the cave seem like nothing more then a lit match in a dark room, its glow was so bright.

Placing the bottle on the altar, Cristo increased the tempo of his chanting. Picking up the knife again, he slowly raised it above his head, gripping it with two hands. Maria could only watch in morbid fascination as he brought the blade straight down, sending it deep into the boy's heart. The boy, motionless throughout the entire ritual, now jumped as if he were being electrocuted. His body arched upwards, his eyes seeming to search wildly for something. Both Cristo and Maria watched without expression as the boy slowly calmed, his body relaxing and his eyes becoming unfocused once more.

After a moment, Cristo slowly pulled the knife out of the boy's chest, drawing the blade out as if it were the sword in the stone. The blade came out clean, no blood staining the metal. What was surprising was that no blood came from the wound either. In fact, it appeared to Maria that the boy was still breathing, albeit shallowly. "What the Hell?"

Silencing the woman with a look, Cristo picked up the bottle gingerly, gently pulling out the cork with a quiet pop. The hands that were a part of the bottle seemed to tighten, their grip becoming stronger as if holding on to it. Tipping it over, the voodoo master placed the mouth of the bottle directly over the wound in the boy's chest. None of the glowing white liquid came out, seeming frozen now that the cork had been removed.

Maria watched in awe as the fingers on the bottle started caress the sides of the container, as if they were attempting to coax something inside. The glow of the bottle grew with each stroke of the fingers, becoming almost blinding in its strength. Wincing at the glare, the rigger looked to Cristo's face for some clue as to what was going on. What she saw there made her wish she hadn't looked at him at all.

Charles Cristo looked like death itself. The combination of the face paint and the shadows that the glowing light caused to dance across it, gave the voodoo master's face a terrifying sharpness. His smile was one of approval and cruelty. One could imagine that same smile on the face of Adolf Hitler as he read the latest numbers of deaths at Aushwitz.

That smile quite simply scared Maria, and she was so unaccustomed to being scared of anything that she actually took a step back from the alter. She took another step back when what appeared to be the same liquid in the bottle, slowly climbed out of the stab wound on the boy's chest and ascend into the air and into the bottle. There wasn't a lot of it. Perhaps a couple of ounces, but it what it lacked for in quantity, it more then made up for in quality. The light this liquid gave off as it slid into the bottle was enough to make both Cristo and Maria turn their eyes away for a moment.

When it was clear that no more the liquid was going to come from the boy, the fingers on the bottle stopped their movement and went back to their original position. The boy was now no longer breathing, shallowly or otherwise. "Woah," Maria said softly as she watched Cristo replace the cork in the bottle and return it to its box. "What the fuck was that?"

"That was, an ongoing project of mine." The voodoo master said with a stern look at Maria. "When it is complete, we will have nothing left to fear in this, or any other city in the world. Not Slayers, vampires, or boys who will not die.nothing." Leaning downward, Cristo whispered something into the, now dead, boy's ear. After a minute, the new zombie sat upward slowly and looked at its master. "Go, find the others and stay with them," Cristo told the zombie gently, like a father to his son.

Maria watched as the zombie pulled itself off the altar and walked toward the smaller cave where the other zombies were kept. When Cristo brushed past her, moving in the direction of his quarters, the rigger snapped out of her state of shock. "Yeah, well until you get your mojo working or whatever, we still have a drug depot to prepare and a Slayer her friends to deal with," she said harshly, more because she was embarrassed to be struck practically speechless then for any other reason. "The clock is ticking, Charles."

"I am aware of this," the robed figure said as he departed toward the shadows, the large wooden box held it his hands. "All will be completed according to my schedule." As Cristo moved away, he turned his head over his shoulder and smiled. "We have the advantage my dear. We have me."

Maria simply glared at Cristo's back. Then she looked back at the altar and then at the cave that held the zombies. Grinding her teeth, the mercenary went to inspect the truck and find out how long it was going to take to fix it. "We have the advantage," she said in a nasally voice as she walked to the truck. "We have me! What an asshole."