On the nineteenth of January, Mera opened her door and found Rupert standing there holding her book.
He smiled apologetically at her. "So very sorry I took so long."
Mera smiled and took the book from him. "Perfectly all right, I wasn't worried. Would you like to come in? It's probably a pit compared to your place, but it's clean."
"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come up to my house. Have some tea and a chat, you know."
"What? Have a nose around Little Eden? Of course!" Mera grabbed her coat. "Been itching to see the inside of that place ever since I got here. Lead on."
*
Rupert had lit a large fire in his lounge and Mera sat down beside it, looking around the room appreciatively, taking note of the classic inglenook fireplace and the black ceiling beams. The room wasn't over-furnished and gave an impression of cosy spaciousness. Very tasteful. She nodded approvingly at the prints on the walls.
Rupert came in with a tray. "If you take your shoes off be careful where you walk - there's pine needles in the carpet."
"This is a beautiful house," said Mera. "Nice to see you haven't overdone it. People can get a bit ostentatious with places like these."
"Thank you." Rupert poured the tea and offered her some sandwiches. "I'm glad you agreed to come. I haven't got to know people here yet, and I had a hankering for conversation."
Mera grinned. "And to show off your house and talk about that book."
He chuckled. "You're very astute. Have you always lived in this area? You've a slight accent I don't recognise."
"I've always lived in the south-east, but I've travelled a lot. Are you local?"
"London, originally. I've just come back from several years in the United States, and quite frankly I'm surprised I don't sound like a Californian."
"Where do you work?"
"Near Brockworth," he said unguardedly.
"That little place?" Mera frowned. "But the only thing around there is the Council. Are you a Watcher?"
Rupert froze with his cup in front of his lips. "What?"
"Sorry. Doesn't matter. This is a nice - "
"No, you said Watcher." Rupert stared at her in surprise. "How...you know about the Council?"
"Oh, so you are a Watcher!" Mera's eyes lit up. "How fascinating!"
"How - "
"I've been around, like I told you. You'd be surprised what you pick up over the years. Well, it wouldn't surprise you, of course." She bit into a sandwich.
"But - "
"Please, Mr. Giles. An organisation like that can't exist for centuries without someone finding out about it. I've studied the supernatural for years. The Council of Watchers isn't common knowledge, but there are people who know."
"Good lord!" Rupert sat back. "So you know about - ah -"
"Watchers and vampires and Slayers and demons, oh my incredible gosh-golly. Yes. The supernatural is fascinating. I dabble a lot. You might say it's a hobby."
Rupert was astonished at what he was hearing. "Dabble! Have you any idea how dangerous it can be?"
"Yes," she said calmly. "That's why I'm still alive." She picked up another sandwich. "These are very tasty."
"So when you said you'd tried those spells on vampires - "
"I was not being a looney." She grinned knowingly at him. "There are ways of trapping vamps, you should know that."
"Yes I know, but - that book's all about control. Why would you want to control one?"
"I don't. I wanted to know if they could overcome their affliction."
"Affliction? You think it's some kind of disease? Some kind of handicap?"
"Well...yes, in a way." Mera frowned. "You do know they live like that with their original personalities intact? Terrible thing, really."
"But they kill - "
"No, no, no. That's the demon, isn't it? Underneath it all, their real selves are still there - very well hidden. I wanted to know if it was possible to, er, control the demon and let the person loose."
Despite his offended sensibilities, Rupert found himself thinking about Spike. "So," he said slowly. "You think if the demon could be controlled, the person would take charge?"
"Why not?"
Rupert thought in silence while Mera started on a slice of cake, then he put down his cup and sat forward. "Let me tell you about a vampire I know."
*
Over the next two weeks Rupert continued to tackle his ever-growing report and discussed it every day with Quentin and Michael at Headquarters. He telephoned Olivia frequently and tried to arrange a time when they could meet again. He had recovered from the shock of her disclosure and found himself angry at the way the fates were treating the woman he loved and his old friend Michael. He felt a sense of frustrated helplessness which made him short-tempered and somewhat volatile and his e-mails to the Scooby Gang became infrequent simply because he had nothing good to say to them. He didn't tell them about Olivia. He could barely think about it.
His only relief came in the form of frequent conversations with Mera. Her frank nature and occasionally blunt manner of speech attracted him and he found her easy to talk to. Very soon he told her about Olivia and her almost matter-of-fact sympathy was a relief to him. She was always cheerfully willing to natter.
On the fourth of February Rupert visited Mera yet again and spent a lively afternoon in her kitchen, always her kitchen, diverting himself with a discussion on the use and necessity of spell ingredients.
"It does seem to be mainly about concentration," said Rupert. "I know that most ingredients are crucial, but perhaps there are some that are purely for the practitioner to focus on - to help the concentration."
Mera disagreed. "No, that's not it. I admit that it seems not all the ingredients are crucial but let's face it - these concoctions work. And I know that there are recipes that require the removal of only one item for the spells to become something entirely different. One item, mind you, that you or I could easily think wasn't important. I agree it would be fascinating to experiment but god, it would be dangerous."
"Yes, I suppose so. Can't help thinking about it, though."
"Thinking's fine. Not knowing when to refrain from acting on those thoughts isn't fine. Which really is something the human race as a whole could do with learning."
Rupert looked thoughtful. "There's one spell for tracing someone's line back through thousands of years - the spell calls for Dragon's Tooth.. You only get a few years history. That one never works."
"Well, it won't. Everyone uses alligator teeth or komodo dragon, or bloody iguanas - when they should really be stealing dinosaur remains from the museums."
"What?" Rupert blinked at her.
"Well, what are you going to use to connect you to the distant past? Something that lived and died only recently? It doesn't have to be dinosaurs, but it must be something that was alive a long time ago. How else would it take you back there?" She shrugged. "There's a lot that's been forgotten"
"I still can't fathom how you know all this 'forgotten' stuff."
"I've had a long time to study." Mera stood up. "Come upstairs. I want to show you my collection."
*
Mera's second bedroom was a mini museum and Rupert was staggered at some of the things she had in there.
He picked up a book in wonder. "And here's another mythical book," he said. "I thought this was - ah - like Lovecraft's 'Necronomicon'. Fiction."
Mera nodded at it. "Well, there it is."
"Yes indeed. Good god, where did you get all of this?"
There were some truly outlandish pieces of magical paraphernalia and some items that looked too old for comfort. With a grimace he picked up a moonstone swastika set in gold and looked at the designs on the back. His eyebrows shot up.
"Is this Celtic? The old Irish gold?"
Mera nodded. "I had it specially made. It's about eighteen hundred years old."
Rupert studied the priceless museum piece. "This symbol's suprisingly common in Britain - gravestones, rock carvings - "
"Fylfots. Yes, I know. I've carved a few myself."
"Such a shame their true meaning is lost." Rupert held it up to the light and shook his head. "You couldn't give this away now. Not to someone you'd want to call a friend, anyway."
Mera stood behind him, waiting. "Yes. One of the oldest good luck charms now thoroughly poisoned even though they used the reversed form. Still, perhaps in time - "
"Ha. A couple of thousand years, yes." Rupert looked around again. "I'd swear everything in this room is priceless! How did you do it? I know someone who would give both her legs to get her hands on this collection."
"I expect you do. This isn't all of it, though. My home in Sussex has a cellar full of stuff."
"Oh, I thought you lived here. You're - what, holidaying?"
"No, I'm here to meet someone."
Rupert looked closely at a carved stone. "Well, you met me," he said absently.
"Yes," agreed Mera, staring at the back of his head. "I did."
Suddenly Rupert became very alert. "What did you say?" He picked up the swastika again and turned to her. "Eighteen hundred - you had this made?"
Mera sighed. "At last. Let's go downstairs."
*
"I'm much, much older than I look," Mera said with a laugh. "How many women would love to say that?"
They were sitting at the table in Mera's bright kitchen, Rupert cautiously drinking coffee and remembering the first time he had met her. He realised now that she'd planned this from the start, all of it. Christmas Eve in the pub - she'd brought with her just exactly the right book to attract his attention and he remembered her willingness to let him borrow the priceless thing - him, a complete stranger. The swastika also: a volatile symbol that only a blind person would ignore. He felt annoyed and somewhat betrayed at being so easily caught and he was sickened that he'd told her about Olivia.
Rupert didn't know who or what Mera was and was feeling very wary, but he suppressed the urge to simply leave. He was curious. He studied her as she ate an apple, a coffee at her elbow and a silver cross at her throat. Close-cropped curly brown hair, a slightly peculiar but otherwise unremarkable face. Short, with a slender figure. Aside from the atrocious glittery green nail colour she was wearing, everything about her looked quite normal. How could this woman be eighteen hundred years old?
"I'm over five thousand years old," she said casually.
Rupert's hand jerked and spilled hot coffee over his trousers. Mera quickly handed him a cloth and he dabbed at himself, thinking furiously.
Mera looked contrite. "Sorry, but there really is no gentle way to say something like that, is there?"
Rupert tossed the cloth onto the table, feeling angry now. "You could have said 'Brace yourself.' God!" He looked hard at her. "Five thousand years? Five?"
"Yes, and it seems to have gone in the blink of an eye." She took a deep breath. "I was born here in Britain. Judging by what I see in the mirror I believe I was about forty when I became, ah - what I am. My tribe didn't count birthdays the way we do now."
"So you weren't born this way? Then how did you become what you are?" He wondered how she would prove her words.
She smiled. "Ah. Now I introduce the only other person like me. Her name is Path and she's a lot older than me."
"Older? What is she?"
"No. You're going to hear the story of me for now, although it does include Path. The abridged version, mind you - there's too much to tell in one sitting. You'll hear Path's tale later. Do you have the time for a story now?"
"If I didn't, I'd make time."
"Curiosity overcomes dislike, eh? I'm not the most subtle person alive." Mera smiled at him. "Here we go then. I was born into a tribe that lived right down on the coast about thirty miles from here, around what is now the Sussex area. Quite uneventful lives we lived. We did the usual tribal things, nothing outstanding - but we knew all about ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggity beasties. Everyone did in those days; it wasn't something we could ignore, not if we wanted to survive. It was only recently - by which I mean the last thousand years or so - that people began to suffer from this 'selective memory' disease that everyone has nowadays. So, between growing food and making clothes and having children, we fought these beasties and kept them at bay. We were quite good at it, as I recall."
"I think I must have been about thirty when Path came to our area. I learned later that she'd been in Britain for a long time: she told me she'd come across the land-bridge from what is now France after the ice pulled back a good nine or ten thousand years ago - about the time the Council came here. When she arrived on our land she made herself a place in the woods and settled in. We'd never seen anyone like her and I remember the buzz her arrival caused. Her skin was black as jet, smooth as silk, and covered in dotted patterns. Her hair was wild and she put some kind of red clay mixture on it."
Rupert looked distant and opened his mouth, but Mera ignored him. "She was fascinating! Strings of beads all over the place. Dressed in woollen blankets. She couldn't speak much more than a few croaks but she got along with sign-language very well. We'd creep up to the edge of her clearing and watch her. She was very strong and we could so easily have taken her for a demon of some kind, but we didn't - she didn't threaten us, you see, so we just watched, like children. Slowly we came to trust her and became friends. She helped us a lot against the dark creatures who were appearing more and more around that time. Path told me later - much later - that we'd had a hellmouth close to us all the time. It's dead now, closed up. She grew plants we'd never seen before and she traded with the tribe. She knew a lot about medicine too, such as it was in those times, and she was a master mage. Anyway, she took a particular interest in me. I'd hover close by pretending to be collecting wood or food and she'd beckon me over. But it was a long time before I took up her offer. I was a shy thing in those days."
"You. Shy." Rupert was feeling less than subtle himself.
"Ha. Wouldn't say boo to a goose. But I went to her in the end: curiosity, you see. She was so strange. I told her my name and she showed me how to talk to her with my hands - simple stuff but effective. Over time we became very good friends.
"As I grew older I noticed that she didn't seem to change in any way. I'd puzzle over that but it didn't worry me - I trusted her. Then I started to feel ill. I grew thin and there was pain all over my body. I've no idea what I had. Path became worried."
Mera paused and stared at her cup, smiling slightly. "One day I couldn't leave my bed - my lungs were filling up, and Path came and handed me a long, scraggy piece of cloth with a series of drawings on it. She was tearful and very nervous. The drawings told me what she was, how she could help me. I was surprised but not as much as you'd think. I wasn't frightened either." She looked at Rupert. "I'm an empath, you see. Like her. This is what she'd seen in me from the start. I knew her feelings, her innermost character. There was nothing bad in there and she'd been a good friend to me for years. She wasn't one of the dark creatures, no matter what her drawings - anyway, I thought about her offer for some time and Path stayed with me. Then - oh god, I looked through the door of my hut and the sun was setting in the most beautiful pinks and oranges. I've always loved sunsets. I made up my mind right then and told her I didn't want to die."
"Just like that? Because of a sunset?"
"Well, yes. Have you never looked at a sunset?" She sighed. "I knew I didn't have a lot of time left to me and Path had just shown me a glimpse of a world I knew almost nothing about. Plus, I didn't want to leave the one I did know."
Rupert saw that Mera was looking hard at him and he felt a little uncomfortable. "So how did she do it?" he asked. "With magic?"
"No. With blood. First she drained me of some of mine, then she gave me some of hers."
Rupert stared at her. "What?" His thoughts moving very fast, he looked at the cross she wore, the sunlight gleaming on her hair. She couldn't be a vampire.
"You need proof," she said. "Watch."
To Rupert's horror Mera slowly let her face change into the dreadful demonic visage he was so familiar with. He went cold and glanced quickly at the kitchen door. Mera smiled sadly, displaying long fangs, her yellow eyes crinkling at the corners. Rupert froze.
"I haven't done this for a very long time," Mera said quietly. "It's ugly." The smile dropped from her face. "I may look like one of them. But I'm not."
Rupert's paralysis vanished and he surged out of his chair, knocking it over. "Jesus Christ!"
"Had sod all to do with it." Mera let her human face return.
"Bloody right, he didn't! You're a demon!"
"You know nothing about it."
Furious, frightened and utterly confused, Rupert said flatly: "I'm not sure I want to." He turned then and left the house.
Mera sat back in her chair and tapped her fingers on the table. "Now we'll see."
*
Dear Willow.
Well, here is some news for you all, especially Buffy. Personally, now that I've calmed down a little I don't know what to think.
On Christmas Eve Olivia and I met a woman. Her name is Mera. Today she told me what she is. I want to say right now that at no point have I detected any danger from her, although after her revelation today I was very disconcerted and left her house in rather a hurry. I feel now that I was somewhat rude. I *will* be going to see her again tomorrow.
This woman can walk in the sun, wear crosses, and I wouldn't mind betting that if she chose to she could bathe in holy water.
BUT SHE IS OVER 5000 YEARS OLD AND *APPEARS* TO BE A VAMPIRE.
She eats human food. As far as I know she does not drink blood. She has a friend named Path. This is the woman who made Mera what she is. Path is over nine thousand years old!
Please ask Anya and Spike if they have ever heard of these beings. There must be *some* sort of popular myth about them.
Hope you have all had a less trying day than I have.
Love to you all.
Giles.
*
"Disconcerted. Yeah, right, Giles. I bet you ran out of there like a rabbit." Buffy sat on the sofa in her lounge and frowned at the message. "Vampires who aren't. Wow. Looks like it's all happening in England." She handed the paper to Anya.
"Do you think this Mera could have a soul?" asked Willow. "If she can wear crosses and everything?"
Buffy shrugged. "No idea. I'm starting to think I don't know what the hell a soul is. I mean - look at me: twice dead and still upright. What about my soul? Urgh, no - don't go there."
"Oh!" Anya said suddenly, waving the message. "This is familiar! Vampires who can walk in the sun. I can't remember exactly but I know I've heard of it."
"Where did you hear it?" asked Buffy.
"I just told you I can't remember."
"It's the nine thousand years old bit that I'm having fun with," said Xander. "God, that's - that's before anything."
"Before me," agreed Anya.
Buffy stood up. "I'm gonna go find Spike."
"What can he tell you?" asked Xander. "Anya's a thousand years old and she can't remember much. Spike's only a hundred and twenty-something."
"Anya wasn't a vampire. Maybe vamps do have a 'popular myth' about it." Buffy took the message from Anya. "I'll see you guys later."
*
"Oh, yeah." Spike leant against a stone coffin in his crypt and read the message again. "Yeah. There's always stories about vamps that can go in the sun. I thought it was all crap. A myth, like he says."
"Alligators in the sewers?" Buffy was disappointed.
"More like the Grail. Put it this way: there's always someone who knows someone who was sired by some idiot who says he saw one getting off a bus once. That's as far as it gets." He looked at her. "You had your hair cut. Looks good."
"Thanks, you're the only one who's noticed." Buffy sighed. "I was hoping I could give Giles something, but I think he knows more than us."
"It's interesting though." Spike frowned thoughtfully at the message. Then he grinned. "At least now I can say I know someone who knows a vamp that can go in the sun."
"That's no help."
"Sorry. To make up for it I'll do tonight's patrol."
"Thanks."
