All characters are the intellectual property of their respective creators, film companies, etc.; this story may not be sold or distributed on a profit-making basis.
I'm British, so's my spelling. Live with it.
WORK IN PROGRESS - Feedback is greatly appreciated, especially on anything that looks like a continuity or factual error. I'm now aware of one error, which I will probably fix in the next part if I can find a convincing way to bring it up.
Apologies for the delay in posting this - I've been changing ISPs (to get broadband) and things got more complicated than expected.
Slayer, Las Vegas
By Marcus L. Rowland
III
Greg Sanders never liked cases involving children. From the photos this one was worse than most, and for once he was glad he hadn't been near the crime scene. What he had to do right now was strictly routine; check a bunch of photos and a mailer for prints, handwriting, and anything else that might be a clue to the sender. Just concentrate on the technology, and forget what the photos actually showed. He started the recorder as he set to work, with the photographs in a glove box to avoid contamination.
"Okay, let's see now. All of the pictures are the same size and shape, some sort of instant format. Could be Polaroid or Fuji, my bet would be Polaroid. Which is confirmed by the trademark on the back. Let's see, any batch number? Type number?" he punched the dimensions and numbers into a database of film sizes. "Here we are. Old Polaroid SX70 format. Still a lot of cameras around using it. Any distinctive marks from the camera mechanism? Mmm..." He shone a halogen light across the surface of one of the pictures, eventually spotting a slightly raised line in the plastic towards one edge. Measured its position. Found the same mark on the other prints. "Okay, slight notch in the top pressure roller, position nineteen point five millimetres from left edge of photo, width zero point three millimetres. Corresponding ridges in the under-surface of each print, most noticable in the foil capsule, caused by a similar notch, my guess would be it was caused by a trapped piece of grit. It's on all of them, so damaged prior to these... let's see, twelve photos... that's a pack and a half. Wonder what's on the other four..."
"Keep it down a little," said Nick Stokes, at the next bench, examining the card, "or I'll start giving you a running commentary on the chromatography I'm going to do on this ink."
"You'd get bored before I do."
Catherine came in with two sets of fingerprints. "Summers, Buffy. Adressee of the package and opened it. Her prints are probably on all of the photos and the card. Summers, Dawn. Handled the package, says she didn't see the contents, but she's a teenager and I'm willing to bet she took a look if she got a chance. Probably regretted it if she did."
"From California? Hell of a way to come to give us a few prints."
"You'll be meeting them later. They're going to brief us on vampires."
"Friends of Angel?"
"Yes and no... They're more in Riley's line of work. Vampire hunters. Except they call it vampire slayer. She's a vampire slayer."
"You're kidding, right? You've got The Slayer here?" said Nick.
"Nick, you've been spending way too much time on that Demons Demons Demons web site."
"We've had a vampire, two werewolves and some sort of demon through here in the last year or so; I think someone needs to get up to speed. And if you spend any time researching this stuff you find out about The Slayer; most of the rest of it is really ugly, a story about mystically-selected girls with super-powers that fight evil tends to stick in the mind."
"So does what Riley told us about their average life expectancy."
"Slayer? Life expectancy?" asked Greg.
"They're girls, they're strong and fast, they fight monsters, they die young, usually violently. Any questions?"
"Is she hot?"
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," said Catherine, handing him the prints and walking out.
"Yeah, I'll bet she's hot."
About an hour later Grissom came by with a teenager wearing a visitor's badge; both men overheard a few words as they passed the lab: "...and make sure the sewer access is too small for vampires..."
When they were gone, Nick said "I know the web site said The Slayer was young, but that's ridiculous."
"Catherine said the death rate was high."
"Damn... that poor kid."
Sara Sidle needed to do at least another hour's work at the crime scene, Grissom's message came while he was lifting faint footprints from the tiles around the jacuzzi, a delicate job that just couldn't be left at a moment's notice.
"Warrick, you head back, I've just got a few more to get here. Find out what Grissom wants, and if it's important call me."
Warrick Brown was just about finished with fingerprints on the cameras and lights. "Okay, but if you're late for an important briefing don't blame me." He shouldered his camera bag and left.
Sara was good at this. The trick was to find the print using a halogen lamp, cover it with a sheet of specially prepared black aluminised mylar, and zap it with a few thousand volts of static electricity. Then you lifted the sheet off and hopefully the particles of dust and dirt that made the print had jumped to it, if the damned equipment hadn't gone wrong. Sandwiched in plastic, the print stood out clearly on the black background and could be examined properly back at the lab. So far she'd mostly found the marks left by paramedics, plus the bare feet of several children. Then the high-voltage power pack had died.
Twenty minutes with her tools and it was working again. Since she was using the light to find the prints it took a while for her to notice that it was getting dark, and that she was alone in a building that had recently been the scene of a vampire attack.
"Okay... Not such a clever place to be..." she thought, then she heard a woman say "Where is everyone?"
Sara said "In here."
The door opened, and the most beautiful woman she'd seen in her life came in, wearing a red silk dress. She seemed to be about thirty, and had light brown hair and green eyes.
"This is a crime scene," said Sara, "what's your business here?"
"We're waiting," she said, in a voice with some indefinable accent. Another woman came in, followed by a third. All three looked very similar, and they were dressed almost identically. Sisters?
"Waiting for what?"
"The Slayer."
"What's that? The murderer? Coming back to the scene of the crime?"
"Don't be silly," said another woman. "Why would we do that?"
"Why would we... oh shit." Their faces seemed to shift, becoming ridged, and their eyes glowed yellow. Their mouths morphed into fangs, and all three began to advance on her..
Sara thought fast, said "take a look at this," and switched the halogen light back on. All three hesitated, shaded their eyes with their hands, and came on. Sara backed away, desperately looking for something, anything, that could be used as a weapon. She was still looking when she caught her heel on the edge of the jacuzzi and fell backwards into it, dropping the light as she fell. All three crowded forwards, spreading out around the edges of the tub.
"Come out, woman," said the first vampire. "This can be... pleasant... if you want it to be. If you come out now. You know you want to..." There was something odd about her eyes, and she was swaying from side to side, in a way that reminded her of a snake. She had a feeling that it was only the cold water and the fear that were keeping her from obeying.
"Afraid of a little water?" All three vampires swung round to look at the door. So did Sara. A blonde woman, short and pretty, in leather pants and a tank top, holding a wicked-looking crossbow. "Hi. Looking for me?"
"Slayer! We shall have our revenge!" said one of the vampires.
The blonde said "Why do you guys always say that?" and fired; one of the vampires caught the bolt a few inches from her chest, and hissed with rage. The others leaped the jacuzzi and joined her in advancing on the blonde, who held the crossbow up, revealing a silver crucifix fastened to the wood. They backed away, snarling.
The blonde reached into a pocket and came out with a fragile-looking bottle, marked as holy water. All three vampires leaped back, leaving the jacuzzi clear. "Quick," said the blonde, "get over here and out. I can't hold them for long."
Sara didn't need telling twice. In seconds she was on the stairs and looking for something, anything, that she could use as a weapon. Behind her she could hear the noise of breaking glass. There was a mop and bucket on the landing below, the mop had a wooden handle. She broke the handle across her knee and ran back, hearing something clang in the studio above.
"Who are you guys anyway?" shouted the blonde, swinging a sword at one of the vampires. The vampire dodged it, ran for one of the camera tripods, and advanced on the blonde, swinging the tripid like an awkward flail. She parried it with her sword, slicing one of the legs from the tripod. Sara slipped in behind the blonde and held up the pieces of broom as a crucifix. The vampires began to back away again, then seemed to reach a decision. Suddenly all three were gone, morphing into bats which fluttered up, circling to gain height, and flew out through an open window.
"What the hell was that?" asked Sara, panting and trying to shake off some of the water.
"Vampires. Weird, they can't usually do that. Wonder where the hell they came from, and what they wanted with me. You one of Grissom's people?"
"Yeah..."
"What part of 'get out of the building an hour before nightfall' didn't you understand?"
"Got a little behind."
"Would have got a little dead if I hadn't showed up."
"Thanks. Who are you, anyway?"
"Sorry. Buffy, Buffy Summers. I'm the Vampire Slayer."
"Sara Sidle. The what? Vampire Slayer?"
"Don't you guys have phones? Look, have you got a car handy? I left mine at your offices."
"You are without a doubt the worse driver I ever met," said Sara as she squelched into CSI headquarters.
"Okay, so I'm not used to city traffic. You're in no state to drive, you're shaking like a leaf."
"I'm cold, I'm wet, and I've just had the shock of my life. What did you expect?"
"Get some dry clothes and a cup of hot chocolate. With the little marshmallows if they have them. Always worked for me."
"We have coffee, tea, coke and mineral water. Chocolate I somehow doubt."
"Never mind, you get changed, I'll find a kettle. I think I have some packs in my bag. I need to check up on my sister anyway, by now she probably has your boss stringing up garlic at all the windows."
"Does it help?"
"Nope. Handy if you like Italian though."
Buffy found Dawn and Grissom in the conference room, where Grissom was helping her to set up a presentation on vampires.
"Find anything?"
"Well, this building has better security than some. Strong doors, the sewers are pipes rather than tunnels, and nobody here seems to be a vampire already, which is a definite plus. Trouble is it's a public building, nothing to keep vampires out apart from the physical barriers. Same for the offices."
"What?" said Grissom, "When Angel was here he didn't come into my office until he was invited, I thought that meant he couldn't."
"No, he was probably just being polite," said Buffy.
"They're only stopped from entering homes," said Dawn, "and that's only so long as nobody who lives there invites them in. Once they have an invitation they can just walk in, unless someone does a ritual to uninvite them."
"Can the ritual be done on a public building?" asked Grissom.
"Not a chance," said Buffy. "Maybe if someone lives in part of it, permanently, that might be secured, but not just office space or public areas."
"Damn. Okay, we'll just have to try to find a way to spot them at the entrances. Two cameras, maybe, covering the same area but one reflected in a mirror."
"That's the least of our problems."
"Why?"
"Because I just ran into the vampires. Three of them."
"Did you know them, Buffy," asked Dawn.
"No, but I think I know of them. I owe you an apology, it looks like Dracula's back for another round."
