The Angel's Knight #11 - Which Witch?
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110 miles north of Los Angeles, October 14, 2017
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The dust storm is really having a jolly good time here, reducing visibility to near zero. This is a bit like I imagined things to look after a nuclear holocaust. Everything leveled, dust in the air, no trace of sunlight to be seen even though it's day outside the city limit. No radiation, thankfully, but quite a few critters around, which is sort of worse. At least you don't feel the radiation while it liquefies your insides. Zombies eating you, though ...
Okay, Xander! Stay calm! The suit seems to be working fine. You walked past about a dozen zombies so far and they just kept on rotting away, not sparing so much as a decomposed eyeball for your sorry hide. Face mask and goggles keep out the sand and the scanners actually give me a field of vision to work with, so no stumbling around in the dust, either. The black robe I acquired from one of the strange guys running around allows me to blend in with the other tourists.
Still, I'd rather be anywhere but here.
We always knew the perimeter scanners wouldn't be able to catch everyone and everything going in and out of Sunnydale. There is simply too much happening underground here, endless miles of caves and sewer system, not to mention the occasional mystical gateway and such. Still, judging by what I've seen so far, our worst estimates have been too conservative by far. Sunnydale is packed.
The smart thing to do would be to turn around and radio for assistance. Something has to be going on here. Large groups of vampires and other demons are prowling the streets. I've seen at least a hundred of these robed guys, probably more. The one I knocked out to get his clothes was human, I'm pretty sure about that one. I brought him back to my car and locked him in the trunk. No sense in leaving him out as food for the vamps or zombies.
Yeah, the smart thing would be to turn around and call for the big guns. I'm not sure why I'm not doing that right now. This is something for Angel and Faith to handle, preferably accompanied by a large backup troop and maybe some of Riley's Initiative guys thrown in for good measure. Instead it's just me, Xander Harris, the dumb ass that keeps walking towards the remains of the only building I was ever tempted to perform arson on. Okay, one of two buildings, actually. My parents' house was in the running, too, but there is no question who was in the lead in that particular race.
The old Sunnydale High School.
There isn't much left of it. Our little graduation ceremony all these years ago reduced it to rubble, generously sprinkled with Mayor meat, well done. During my last year in Sunnydale they actually began rebuilding it, but the Hellmouth's little digestion problem tore down whatever they managed to get done. A few walls are still standing, some skeletal remains of superstructure, that's it. This would be the perfect set for some kind of horror music video.
Even without the certain knowledge that whatever bad is going down here could not be in any other place but the Hellmouth I could not possibly miss the fact that this is party central. The zombies don't go near the place, mostly because they don't move unless they spot fresh meat, but everything else is pretty much hanging around here. Which is kind of strange. You'd think all the vampires and other assorted demons would help themselves to some yummy treats with this many humans around, black robes or no black robes. Maybe it's like one of those buffet things where no one has told people it's okay to start eating and no one wants to be the first to stand up. Yeah, right! Vampires are such a shy and reserved lot.
Well, whatever it is that keeps them off the black robed guy diet, it appears to be working for me as well. I realize my hand is clenched around the grip of my Heckler & Koch and I force myself to relax. If I have to start shooting here I'm dead. Phosphorous ammunition might take a few of the bloodsuckers out in the process, but that does not really make suicide an attractive option. Just keep cool, Xander! Just keep cool! A little breathing would probably help, too.
For some reason the dust grows lighter once I get closer to the ruin, but at the same time the electronics in my goggles decide to go fuzzy on me. Some kind of electromagnetic pulse effect? I do know that technology and magic don't work well together under most circumstances and sometimes, if you've got enough magic around, technology stops working entirely. The scanner array we have around the town is strong enough to count grains of sand on the moon, yet it gives up after a mile or so when it comes to Sunnydale.
Thankfully I know quite a few good witches and one of them provided me with a little gadget that might come in handy right now. Basically it's the magical equivalent of a Geiger counter, a crystal that glows according to the amount of mystical energy in the air. The last time Angel and the guys were here the crystals they took with them barely worked up a glow, or so they told me.
I reach into my pocket, careful to keep the crystal concealed in the folds of the black robe, and somehow I'm not surprised to see it glowing brightly.
Okay, this is a really bad time to panic, Xander! So there are about a hundred times as many critters around as you expected. So the Hellmouth is pouring out mojo in a big way after being dormant for the last fifteen years. So what? No one has started eating you yet, old boy! You're just going to go in, take a good long look, then head back out and call in the big guns. No sweat. Okay, lots of sweat, but you know what I mean. Easy as pie.
At the edge of the ruins the dust clears up even further and I can see several well-worn paths leading into the rubble. These guys have been here a while, it seems. I can also hear some kind of noise coming from deeper inside. Something like . chanting? Chanting is never good. Chanting means rituals and rituals usually mean apocalyptic things are going to happen. I sort of hoped that the time when we had at least one potential apocalypse each year were gone. No reason to start that trend again, people! It wasn't that great to begin with.
There is some kind of big clearing in the center of the ruins. Someone went to a lot of trouble moving all the rubble away. The air is almost clear in here, though one can see the dust storm hovering only a few meters overhead, cutting off the skies. We once managed to get a spy satellite trained on this place via Riley's military contacts, but all it showed us was a gray blob. Nothing managed to penetrate past that curtain.
There is something standing right in the center, but there are too many robed guys standing around it for me to get a clear look. Something golden, that much is for sure. For some reason I'm reminded of that old movie with Charlton Heston. You know the one, right? Where the Israelites all dance around that big golden calve and then Heston comes down the mountain where he talked with God, looking incredibly pissed at them. I must have seen that movie a dozen times.
I try to discreetly elbow my way through the assembled crowd while trying not to freak out due to the chanting when I bump into someone. Someone who turns to look at me. Someone with a really familiar looking face.
"Watch it," the black-robed woman says.
Her name slips past my lips before I can prevent it. "Amy?"
She gives me a look that is half surprise and half fear. I'd go out on a limb and say that she is not on the official invitee list, either. I quickly pull down the hood of the robe, just enough for her to get a look at my face. A second later I remember to remove the dust mask as well. Amazing how you can forgot you're wearing a full-faced mask when you're scared out of your wits.
"Xander?" she hisses under her breath. "What the hell are you doing here?"
There is a really menacing sparkle in her eyes and my brain catches up with my actions, asking me whether I really think it was a bright idea to reveal myself to her. I once considered Amy something of a friend, but that was years ago. I know she and Willow did some magical stuff together after Tara left town during that last year in Sunnydale, right after Willow transformed her back into a human being after three years spent as a rat. That was actually the last time I saw her. Maybe this really wasn't that bright an idea.
"I could ask you the same question," I answer evasively. "Didn't figure you for the black robe crowd."
"At least I have the magical credentials to be here. Last I knew you weren't a practitioner of the dark arts."
"Nah, I just came by for the free food and drinks." Maybe cracking some jokes will distract me from that sense of impending doom that keeps tying my stomach into knots.
She looks at me intently for another few seconds, then seems to come to a decision. I find my hand has wandered back to the grip of the gun at my hip and this time I'm not forcing it back from there.
"I heard rumors that a large group of black mages was coming to Sunnydale," Amy whispers, turning so an onlooker won't see us talking to each other. "Apparently this place has turned into something of a holy place for quite a few covens that deal with the darker side of magic. Some people kept talking about a great magical leader set to emerge from here. I wanted to check out what all the fuzz was about."
My brain is still three steps behind me, but my gut says she is not telling me everything. Well, can't really blame her, can I? We haven't seen each other in fifteen years only to meet again in the middle of a large crowd of vampires, demons, and black robe guys, the latter of whom probably being those black mages she mentioned. Talk about prime spots for a high school reunion.
"What about you?" she asks, standing on tiptoe to try and see something over the heads of the crowd.
"Dreams," I answer. "Lots of strange and scary dreams, all telling me to come back here."
"You wouldn't have anything to do with the people who put up those scanners outside the city limit, would you?"
The ones you obviously managed to sneak past, you mean? We've got to talk to Maryke and her people about strengthening those runes.
"You wouldn't happen to be one of those black mages you were just talking about, would you?" I ask her instead of an answer.
She gives me a brief look, but quickly turns her head back to the front. None of the other people here appear to be very chatty. No sense in sticking out.
"As a matter of fact I was."
"What?"
"One of those black mages, Xander. I guess I ... well, my favorite explanation is that three years as a rat unhinged me a bit. I did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of. There was this mage called Rack and ... well, it's a long story. Bottom line is I'm back to myself again."
Is this already a pattern? Two high school friends of mine turned to the dark side of the force, I'm married to a former vengeance demon, my first time was with a Slayer who joined the bad guys for a while, and Cordelia ... well, she's Cordelia. Yep, I'm sensing a pattern here. I always knew the universe, especially the female half of it, was out to get me.
"That still does not explain why you're here. If you're off the black magic stuff, then why ...?"
Another thing I always knew was that the universe, apart from being out to get me, has an overdeveloped sense of the dramatic. As if on cue the crowd in front of us thins enough for both of us to see past the many bodies, catching our first good look at the thing we're all standing around.
It's a golden statue. Not a calve, no, but a woman. A woman in a cheerleader uniform with a pompom in each hand. A life-sized golden cheerleader statue. Okay, add a sense of the bizarre to that sense of drama. Here you've got a crowd of vampires, demons, and black mages chanting before a life-sized golden cheerleader statue.
Only in Sunnydale.
"That's why," Amy says, wrenching me out of my thoughts.
"You came here because of a cheerleader statue?" I know I'm missing something here. I just wish someone would tell me what it is. At the same time I realize that there is something draped across the statue. I'm too far away to see what it is. Gives me the creeps, though.
"You never met my mother, did you?" Amy asks. "That's her."
That is ... God, yes, I remember. Catherine the Great. Most famous cheerleader Sunnydale ever produced. Also a massively powerful witch. I guess we can be thankful that the worst she ever wanted to do with her powers was to relive her glory days. Okay, Amy might dispute the thankful part, seeing as Catherine stole her body in order to do that.
"Why did they make a life-size statue of her?" I'm not saying I understand how black mages think, but it seems to me there are better idols of evil you could make statues of around than a witch who cursed people so she could become a cheerleader again.
"It's the trophy," Amy explains, her eyes riveted to the statue. "The one that was in the display case in the school corridor. I've looked at it a thousand times. And no, I have no idea why it has grown this large, so don't ask me."
Just when you think this couldn't get any weirder. So these guys have not fashioned a statue of a cheerleader to worship or whatever it is they are doing here. No, somehow a ten inch trophy grew to a height of six feet and that's what they're worshipping.
There is some movement in the crowd and we manage to inch closer. I still can't make out exactly what that thing is they've draped across the statue. It looks ... gross, somehow. What is that?
"You think they're worshipping your mother?" I ask Amy, trying to make sense of it all.
"I'm not sure. I just ... we never did find out what happened to her. When she vanished all these years ago she did some kind of spell, one that was to send me to a place where I would never make trouble again. Only it backfired on her and she was gone. Now, call me crazy, but maybe ..."
I don't hear whatever she thinks I might call her crazy for, because suddenly my brain catches up again and I realize what it is they've got draped across that statue. For a long second I can't make heads or tails of it, the picture my eyes see not being put together correctly inside my head. Or maybe some part of my brain is smart enough to try and prevent me from realizing what that is. Only the smart part gets beaten over the head and it all clicks together.
It's a body. A mangled, withered body. It hangs across that statue like a perverted caricature of the crucifixion and I can feel my stomach heaving upwards into my throat even before the last piece clicks into place.
The body is unrecognizable, shriveled to the point where one can't even tell the gender. One thing stands out, though. One feature that has remained untouched by whatever forces have reduced this human being to this.
A cascade of red hair.
"Please no!" My whisper is drowned out as the chanting starts up again.
TO BE CONTINUED
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110 miles north of Los Angeles, October 14, 2017
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The dust storm is really having a jolly good time here, reducing visibility to near zero. This is a bit like I imagined things to look after a nuclear holocaust. Everything leveled, dust in the air, no trace of sunlight to be seen even though it's day outside the city limit. No radiation, thankfully, but quite a few critters around, which is sort of worse. At least you don't feel the radiation while it liquefies your insides. Zombies eating you, though ...
Okay, Xander! Stay calm! The suit seems to be working fine. You walked past about a dozen zombies so far and they just kept on rotting away, not sparing so much as a decomposed eyeball for your sorry hide. Face mask and goggles keep out the sand and the scanners actually give me a field of vision to work with, so no stumbling around in the dust, either. The black robe I acquired from one of the strange guys running around allows me to blend in with the other tourists.
Still, I'd rather be anywhere but here.
We always knew the perimeter scanners wouldn't be able to catch everyone and everything going in and out of Sunnydale. There is simply too much happening underground here, endless miles of caves and sewer system, not to mention the occasional mystical gateway and such. Still, judging by what I've seen so far, our worst estimates have been too conservative by far. Sunnydale is packed.
The smart thing to do would be to turn around and radio for assistance. Something has to be going on here. Large groups of vampires and other demons are prowling the streets. I've seen at least a hundred of these robed guys, probably more. The one I knocked out to get his clothes was human, I'm pretty sure about that one. I brought him back to my car and locked him in the trunk. No sense in leaving him out as food for the vamps or zombies.
Yeah, the smart thing would be to turn around and call for the big guns. I'm not sure why I'm not doing that right now. This is something for Angel and Faith to handle, preferably accompanied by a large backup troop and maybe some of Riley's Initiative guys thrown in for good measure. Instead it's just me, Xander Harris, the dumb ass that keeps walking towards the remains of the only building I was ever tempted to perform arson on. Okay, one of two buildings, actually. My parents' house was in the running, too, but there is no question who was in the lead in that particular race.
The old Sunnydale High School.
There isn't much left of it. Our little graduation ceremony all these years ago reduced it to rubble, generously sprinkled with Mayor meat, well done. During my last year in Sunnydale they actually began rebuilding it, but the Hellmouth's little digestion problem tore down whatever they managed to get done. A few walls are still standing, some skeletal remains of superstructure, that's it. This would be the perfect set for some kind of horror music video.
Even without the certain knowledge that whatever bad is going down here could not be in any other place but the Hellmouth I could not possibly miss the fact that this is party central. The zombies don't go near the place, mostly because they don't move unless they spot fresh meat, but everything else is pretty much hanging around here. Which is kind of strange. You'd think all the vampires and other assorted demons would help themselves to some yummy treats with this many humans around, black robes or no black robes. Maybe it's like one of those buffet things where no one has told people it's okay to start eating and no one wants to be the first to stand up. Yeah, right! Vampires are such a shy and reserved lot.
Well, whatever it is that keeps them off the black robed guy diet, it appears to be working for me as well. I realize my hand is clenched around the grip of my Heckler & Koch and I force myself to relax. If I have to start shooting here I'm dead. Phosphorous ammunition might take a few of the bloodsuckers out in the process, but that does not really make suicide an attractive option. Just keep cool, Xander! Just keep cool! A little breathing would probably help, too.
For some reason the dust grows lighter once I get closer to the ruin, but at the same time the electronics in my goggles decide to go fuzzy on me. Some kind of electromagnetic pulse effect? I do know that technology and magic don't work well together under most circumstances and sometimes, if you've got enough magic around, technology stops working entirely. The scanner array we have around the town is strong enough to count grains of sand on the moon, yet it gives up after a mile or so when it comes to Sunnydale.
Thankfully I know quite a few good witches and one of them provided me with a little gadget that might come in handy right now. Basically it's the magical equivalent of a Geiger counter, a crystal that glows according to the amount of mystical energy in the air. The last time Angel and the guys were here the crystals they took with them barely worked up a glow, or so they told me.
I reach into my pocket, careful to keep the crystal concealed in the folds of the black robe, and somehow I'm not surprised to see it glowing brightly.
Okay, this is a really bad time to panic, Xander! So there are about a hundred times as many critters around as you expected. So the Hellmouth is pouring out mojo in a big way after being dormant for the last fifteen years. So what? No one has started eating you yet, old boy! You're just going to go in, take a good long look, then head back out and call in the big guns. No sweat. Okay, lots of sweat, but you know what I mean. Easy as pie.
At the edge of the ruins the dust clears up even further and I can see several well-worn paths leading into the rubble. These guys have been here a while, it seems. I can also hear some kind of noise coming from deeper inside. Something like . chanting? Chanting is never good. Chanting means rituals and rituals usually mean apocalyptic things are going to happen. I sort of hoped that the time when we had at least one potential apocalypse each year were gone. No reason to start that trend again, people! It wasn't that great to begin with.
There is some kind of big clearing in the center of the ruins. Someone went to a lot of trouble moving all the rubble away. The air is almost clear in here, though one can see the dust storm hovering only a few meters overhead, cutting off the skies. We once managed to get a spy satellite trained on this place via Riley's military contacts, but all it showed us was a gray blob. Nothing managed to penetrate past that curtain.
There is something standing right in the center, but there are too many robed guys standing around it for me to get a clear look. Something golden, that much is for sure. For some reason I'm reminded of that old movie with Charlton Heston. You know the one, right? Where the Israelites all dance around that big golden calve and then Heston comes down the mountain where he talked with God, looking incredibly pissed at them. I must have seen that movie a dozen times.
I try to discreetly elbow my way through the assembled crowd while trying not to freak out due to the chanting when I bump into someone. Someone who turns to look at me. Someone with a really familiar looking face.
"Watch it," the black-robed woman says.
Her name slips past my lips before I can prevent it. "Amy?"
She gives me a look that is half surprise and half fear. I'd go out on a limb and say that she is not on the official invitee list, either. I quickly pull down the hood of the robe, just enough for her to get a look at my face. A second later I remember to remove the dust mask as well. Amazing how you can forgot you're wearing a full-faced mask when you're scared out of your wits.
"Xander?" she hisses under her breath. "What the hell are you doing here?"
There is a really menacing sparkle in her eyes and my brain catches up with my actions, asking me whether I really think it was a bright idea to reveal myself to her. I once considered Amy something of a friend, but that was years ago. I know she and Willow did some magical stuff together after Tara left town during that last year in Sunnydale, right after Willow transformed her back into a human being after three years spent as a rat. That was actually the last time I saw her. Maybe this really wasn't that bright an idea.
"I could ask you the same question," I answer evasively. "Didn't figure you for the black robe crowd."
"At least I have the magical credentials to be here. Last I knew you weren't a practitioner of the dark arts."
"Nah, I just came by for the free food and drinks." Maybe cracking some jokes will distract me from that sense of impending doom that keeps tying my stomach into knots.
She looks at me intently for another few seconds, then seems to come to a decision. I find my hand has wandered back to the grip of the gun at my hip and this time I'm not forcing it back from there.
"I heard rumors that a large group of black mages was coming to Sunnydale," Amy whispers, turning so an onlooker won't see us talking to each other. "Apparently this place has turned into something of a holy place for quite a few covens that deal with the darker side of magic. Some people kept talking about a great magical leader set to emerge from here. I wanted to check out what all the fuzz was about."
My brain is still three steps behind me, but my gut says she is not telling me everything. Well, can't really blame her, can I? We haven't seen each other in fifteen years only to meet again in the middle of a large crowd of vampires, demons, and black robe guys, the latter of whom probably being those black mages she mentioned. Talk about prime spots for a high school reunion.
"What about you?" she asks, standing on tiptoe to try and see something over the heads of the crowd.
"Dreams," I answer. "Lots of strange and scary dreams, all telling me to come back here."
"You wouldn't have anything to do with the people who put up those scanners outside the city limit, would you?"
The ones you obviously managed to sneak past, you mean? We've got to talk to Maryke and her people about strengthening those runes.
"You wouldn't happen to be one of those black mages you were just talking about, would you?" I ask her instead of an answer.
She gives me a brief look, but quickly turns her head back to the front. None of the other people here appear to be very chatty. No sense in sticking out.
"As a matter of fact I was."
"What?"
"One of those black mages, Xander. I guess I ... well, my favorite explanation is that three years as a rat unhinged me a bit. I did a lot of stuff I'm not proud of. There was this mage called Rack and ... well, it's a long story. Bottom line is I'm back to myself again."
Is this already a pattern? Two high school friends of mine turned to the dark side of the force, I'm married to a former vengeance demon, my first time was with a Slayer who joined the bad guys for a while, and Cordelia ... well, she's Cordelia. Yep, I'm sensing a pattern here. I always knew the universe, especially the female half of it, was out to get me.
"That still does not explain why you're here. If you're off the black magic stuff, then why ...?"
Another thing I always knew was that the universe, apart from being out to get me, has an overdeveloped sense of the dramatic. As if on cue the crowd in front of us thins enough for both of us to see past the many bodies, catching our first good look at the thing we're all standing around.
It's a golden statue. Not a calve, no, but a woman. A woman in a cheerleader uniform with a pompom in each hand. A life-sized golden cheerleader statue. Okay, add a sense of the bizarre to that sense of drama. Here you've got a crowd of vampires, demons, and black mages chanting before a life-sized golden cheerleader statue.
Only in Sunnydale.
"That's why," Amy says, wrenching me out of my thoughts.
"You came here because of a cheerleader statue?" I know I'm missing something here. I just wish someone would tell me what it is. At the same time I realize that there is something draped across the statue. I'm too far away to see what it is. Gives me the creeps, though.
"You never met my mother, did you?" Amy asks. "That's her."
That is ... God, yes, I remember. Catherine the Great. Most famous cheerleader Sunnydale ever produced. Also a massively powerful witch. I guess we can be thankful that the worst she ever wanted to do with her powers was to relive her glory days. Okay, Amy might dispute the thankful part, seeing as Catherine stole her body in order to do that.
"Why did they make a life-size statue of her?" I'm not saying I understand how black mages think, but it seems to me there are better idols of evil you could make statues of around than a witch who cursed people so she could become a cheerleader again.
"It's the trophy," Amy explains, her eyes riveted to the statue. "The one that was in the display case in the school corridor. I've looked at it a thousand times. And no, I have no idea why it has grown this large, so don't ask me."
Just when you think this couldn't get any weirder. So these guys have not fashioned a statue of a cheerleader to worship or whatever it is they are doing here. No, somehow a ten inch trophy grew to a height of six feet and that's what they're worshipping.
There is some movement in the crowd and we manage to inch closer. I still can't make out exactly what that thing is they've draped across the statue. It looks ... gross, somehow. What is that?
"You think they're worshipping your mother?" I ask Amy, trying to make sense of it all.
"I'm not sure. I just ... we never did find out what happened to her. When she vanished all these years ago she did some kind of spell, one that was to send me to a place where I would never make trouble again. Only it backfired on her and she was gone. Now, call me crazy, but maybe ..."
I don't hear whatever she thinks I might call her crazy for, because suddenly my brain catches up again and I realize what it is they've got draped across that statue. For a long second I can't make heads or tails of it, the picture my eyes see not being put together correctly inside my head. Or maybe some part of my brain is smart enough to try and prevent me from realizing what that is. Only the smart part gets beaten over the head and it all clicks together.
It's a body. A mangled, withered body. It hangs across that statue like a perverted caricature of the crucifixion and I can feel my stomach heaving upwards into my throat even before the last piece clicks into place.
The body is unrecognizable, shriveled to the point where one can't even tell the gender. One thing stands out, though. One feature that has remained untouched by whatever forces have reduced this human being to this.
A cascade of red hair.
"Please no!" My whisper is drowned out as the chanting starts up again.
TO BE CONTINUED
