Chapter 13

The Amulet

Sunnydale – May 20th

"Madame LaFusce, won't you please come in," said Giles through a stunning smile. "It's positively lovely to see you again." Just moments before, the bell to the Magic Box had rung and everyone had looked up to see Madame LaFusce standing there. Giles was the first to react, but instantly everyone moved to make a place for the grumpy old Frenchwoman.

"We're so glad you could come back down to Sunnydale on such short notice," Buffy said, doing her best to be gracious. Madame LaFusce simply sniffed in reply. "Um … would you care for some tea?" She inquired politely.

"Yes, I would," the old woman replied. "You there," she shouted, pointing at Anya who was standing behind the counter, "get me some tea. The rest of you sit down and explain to me this poppycock you all called me about."

"Well, I wouldn't call it poppycock," Giles began calmly.

"Of course you wouldn't," she replied instantly. "That's why I came back down, you know, to see whether or not your magic certificate needs to be revoked. Filling these girls heads with such preposterous things. Why, if they had been properly born on the continent instead of this godforsaken 'New World', they'd have been properly educated in the magical arts. I think you've done quite enough damage, Rupert." Her voice practically dripped with disdain, and Giles simply clamped his firm British reserve back into place. He wouldn't argue with this woman – not needing her help like they did. "Now then," she continued, taking her tea from Anya's trembling hands, "why doesn't one of you tell me what has happened so far? Not you, Mister Giles. I'd rather hear it from someone else."

Everyone looked back and forth at each other for a moment, much like school children in trouble wondering who was going to break first. After a few uncomfortable moments, Willow spoke. She began haltingly at first, waiting to become the object of Madame LaFusce's vitriol. Madame LaFusce, though, neither commented nor even looked at her. So Willow unfolded the tale.

When at last it was done, there was a long silence. Finally, Madame LaFusce looked around the table. "Is that it?"

"Yeah," said Buffy weakly.

"Preposterous," the old woman muttered. "I can't believe you dragged me all the way down here for this."

"We're sorry, Madame," Willow began, but the waving of LaFusce's hand stopped her in mid-sentence.

"No, dear, this isn't your fault," she said. Then, glaring at Giles, she continued, "More experienced and level heads should have prevailed here. Besides, my sister has become quite the bore here in America; it was a relief to have an excuse to get away for a few days. Be that as it may, I find it extremely unlikely that you have a jornikof demon running about. Extremely. I don't see how the amulet will be of any use to you."

"So you're not going to help us?" Buffy asked, anger beginning to build. "Someone is out there trying to kill one of us, and we have only five days left to figure out if it's the congressman or not."

"Don't jump to conclusions, girl," the old woman snapped back at Buffy. "I didn't say that I wouldn't help you. I said that I didn't think it would do you much good. However, I think experience with the amulet would be good for these young witches; much better experience than they're getting with Mr. Giles."

"So you can get the amulet?" Giles asked, unperturbed.

"No," she replied and then sipped her tea, savoring everyone's disappointment. "Not 'get,'" she said finally. "You do not 'get' the Amulet of Arinoth. You cast it. I happen to be very familiar with the spell, and I shall supervise the casting of it tomorrow night. Willow and Tara will do the actual casting under my guidance. Then, we shall see what we shall see."

"Excellent," said Giles, smiling. "I'll get what you need."

"No, Mr. Giles, you won't. You won't have any part of this whatsoever." Madame LaFusce's eyes took on a threatening glare. "And if we do not, in fact, have a jornikof demon on our trail, then you will not ever have a part in any magic again. Is that clear?"

"Of course, Madame," Giles said quietly, his jaw grinding his teeth against one another. When Willow made to protest on his behalf, he simply shook his head at her. The need to find the truth was more important than his own pride – he needed to remember that.

"Good," Madame LaFusce said after a moment. "I will make a list. Perhaps, Rupert, you'd like to take a couple of days off?"

"From my shop?" he asked, astounded.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm sure Anya can keep an eye on things. You, on the other hand, will simply be underfoot."

Giles looked around the room, seeing the support on the faces of his friends. If he were to refuse, they'd find another way. But this was the best way. He nodded his acquiescence, picked up his jacket, and left without a word.

* * *

"Where is my tape with the Manchester game on it? I set the VCR last night to record it off satellite and I'd like to watch it." Giles picked his way through his own living room, stepping over the newspaper Spike had left on the floor, the clothes Spike had left on the floor, and even the half-finished cup of pig's blood Spike had left on the floor.

"Oh, that," Spike said distractedly, his eyes glued to the TV screen. "It's this one."

"But that isn't football," Giles replied. "That's … that's … a soap opera," he finally managed to spit out.

"Yeah. I didn't want to miss Passions, so I taped over the game." Spike replied.

"You what?"

"I taped over it. I mean, I watched it first, then I taped over it." Spike held up a hand to cut off Giles swallowed screech. "Now would you mind being quiet? We're about to find out if Randy is the father of Melissa's baby."

"You watched it? You watched it? But it was mine, and I didn't get to watch it!" Giles was nearly purple with rage.

"Oh," said Spike. "Well Manchester won 2-1 in the last minute with an absolutely incredible header. You really should've seen it." Spike smiled at Giles obvious anger. While he couldn't hurt humans physically anymore because of the chip in his brain, he could drive them absolutely mad. Hurting people emotionally was one of the few joys left him after the government sponsored Initiative had neutered him. "While you're up," he continued, mindless of Giles fury, "could you grab me a beer?"

Giles left the room.

He realized that he'd been doing that quite a bit over the last week. More so since he couldn't even go to his own store until after the Amulet was cast. Looking at his watch, he realized that Sundown was only an hour away. They would begin the casting then. It would be done at midnight. Tomorrow, he could return to his shop and leave Spike to his own company.

Not that sharing an apartment with Spike was bad. Not when you consider many of his other encounters with the demon. Before getting the chip, Spike and his vampire love Druscilla had been as evil as they came. Giles had been captured and tortured. Certainly this was better than that. Upon reflection, Giles realized that it really wasn't.

The chip hadn't made Spike any less evil; it simply prevented him from physically harming humans. That meant that Spike had to find other ways to exercise his own twisted brand of horror. The baiting and insensitivity he was showing as Giles' guest was one aspect of that. Spike's willingness to fight and kill other demons was another.

But to simply call Spike evil didn't quite capture the whole truth. There was a certain aspect about him where Buffy was involved. He hated her, and yet was obsessed by her. Giles knew that was a dangerous mix. But as long as Spike had the chip, he was an excellent, though somewhat unwilling, ally.

Giles checked his watch again. Fifty-five minutes to go. There wasn't much left for him to do except wait; and try not to stake Spike.

* * *

Anya closed and locked the door of the Magic Box. The last of the customers had left, and it was getting close to sundown. Madame LaFusce, Willow, and Tara were set up in the back room. Anya was supposed to guard the door against interruptions. She was curious about the spell; if she could see it done, she might be able to reclaim her own necklace of power – the necklace that made her into a demon and gave her the power to grant wishes. Not that she would do it; Xander loved her, and she was getting used to living as a mortal. There were even some parts of it that she enjoyed. Still, the knowing would be good.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Tara came out of the back room to rummage through some incense. Selecting the ones she needed, she hurried back through the rear door. Anya wandered over to examine the shelf Tara had been at, making a quick mental calculation and determining that she needed to add an addition $1.37 to their tab. She might not be able to participate in the magic, but Anya contented herself with the dark art of retail management.

* * *

In the back room, Willow finished chalking out the outline of the amulet on the floor. It was quite large – nearly three feet across. Madame LaFusce had explained that they would lay out the components in the exact form of the amulet on the floor. The large scale was required to get the detail right. Then, when they invoked the spell, the components would merge and solidify, condensing themselves into the actual amulet on a much smaller scale.

When she had completed the task to the Frenchwoman's exacting standards, each letter properly formed, each line connecting the various components exactly, she and Tara began laying out the elements. The symbols were overlaid with crushed crystals of various kinds – one type per character. The connecting lines sprinkled with pollen granules of various plants. Larger stones placed within specific circles. Finally, a mix of incense was used to form the additional outline.

When all the components were in place, the outer circle was ringed with candles. Willow and Tara sat within the candle ring, facing one another across the large formation of the amulet. With sonorous voices, the two began the first incantation. Madame LaFusce had drilled them mercilessly on proper pronunciation and timing over the last two days. However, the effect was impressive. With each recitation of the phrase, they each pointed at a candle and it lit. Again and again they repeated the chant, forming a protective circle around them and concentrating their powers within it.

When the warding spell was concluded, the air fairly crackled with power. Willow and Tara were obscured within the circle, as if a veil of fog sat between them and any outside observer. As they began the second chant, a light formed over the amulet construction. Locking their gazes, they continued repeating the chant. The light grew brighter and brighter, steadily increasing in intensity. There began a low sound within the circle, like a heartbeat. As it grew in volume, the light began to pulse in time with it. Lost in the chant, Willow and Tara soon lost track of time.

Eventually, the pulsing and light subsided, collapsing onto the amulet construction. Slowly, the two witches ceased chanting. Then, leaning across the floor, they gripped one hand, Tara's left in Willow's right, and placed the other palm down over the now glowing form of the amulet. They began the third and final chant:

"Elements and power, knowledge and proof

Collapse these offerings in due form

To help the Slayer see the truth

Create the amulet to be worn"

Over and over they chanted, growing in intensity with each iteration. Suddenly, the light below their hands flashed outward, and they lost consciousness. When they awoke, a small amulet lay between them, shining gold in the candlelight. They looked about, disoriented, but saw Madame LaFusce standing there. She was smiling. Madame LaFusce was actually smiling!

"There is hope for you witches yet," she said simply. Tara and Willow, though, flushed at the praise. More than impressing the old witch, they had succeeded in creating the amulet that Buffy could use to discover the enemy.

They took down the wards, and began picking up the materials that weren't consumed in the spell. Madame LaFusce picked up the amulet and examined it closely. She smiled again, pleased with the work. Very pleased.

* * *

It was near midnight when Giles' phone rang. He was still awake, arguing with Spike about Gilbert and Sullivan while playing cards. "While you may have been at the actual premier of the musical, William, that doesn't mean that you could tell a Major General from a tavern wench if your life depended on it."

"How many bleedin' times do I have to tell you to call me Spike?" the vampire responded heatedly. No matter how many years passed, he still was incensed whenever anyone used his proper name. "Gimme three," he added, tossing three cards into the discard pile.

The phone call provided the necessary interruption to allow the two men to cool. "Saved by the bell," Giles muttered. Then, picking up the receiver, said, "Hello. Oh, Willow. Yes, tell me. Good. Good. Oh excellent. Very good then, we'll see how to put it to use in the morning." He got up and walked a ways from Spike. "What can you tell me about the ritual?" he asked. "Well, I know it's supposed to be a secret. Yes, I know what Madame LaFusce thinks of me. Okay, fine. We'll talk about it in the morning." He hung up the phone forcefully.

"That French one has them two witches too scared to tell you anything, right?" Spike said nonchalantly. "Can't say as I blame them."

"Neither can I," Giles answered distractedly. "I can only hope that things will be better in the morning."

* * *

The next morning was Saturday, so everyone was able to come to the Magic Box early. They all waited anxiously for the unveiling of the amulet. When Madame LaFusce presented it to Buffy, everyone held their breath. Buffy put it around her neck and looked about. All eyes were fastened to her expectantly. For long moments, the gang waited. Finally, she said, "Sorry. No difference." A collective gasp sounded in the room. "Maybe we need to check the batteries."

Madame LaFusce rolled her eyes. "What did you expect, you silly chit?"

"Um, I don't know. Lights or something," Buffy replied.

"This amulet reveals hidden demons. There are none of those here," the old witch said caustically.

"What about Spike?" Buffy asked.

"He is known, not hidden. The amulet will show you nothing of him you do not already know," Madame LaFusce said quite dismissively. "No, we must look at an image of your suspect." Madame LaFusce took out a photograph of a man in a suit. "Tell me what you see," she asked, placing the picture before Buffy.

"That's not Congressman Greene," Buffy said, glancing at it.

"I did not ask you who it was and wasn't," the old woman said sharply. "I told you to tell me what you see!"

Buffy looked down at the portrait for long moments. Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Hey, it's changing. It's a demon." She looked up expectantly.

"Tell me more," Madame LaFusce ordered. "Details."

Buffy looked back down. "Well, he has green skin. It's kinda lumpy. No, make that spikey. He has spikes, all over. And gills, which are kinda pink."

Madame LaFusce nodded. "Good," she said. "Tell me about this man," she ordered, producing another photograph.

Buffy looked at it for a long time. Finally she said, "Nothing. Just what we see here."

Madame LaFusce nodded again. "These are the congressman's assistants. We've known about them for a while now. We know that the one on the left is a demon, and the one on the right is a human. You have correctly identified them, which means that the amulet is working as designed." Madame LaFusce looked around the table for long moments, to make sure no one was challenging her claims. "Now," she said, and produced the photograph of Congressman Greene.

Buffy stared at it for a long moment. Twice she closed her eyes and breathed slow steadying breaths. Finally, she looked up from the picture. "Demon," she said.

"Describe him," LaFusce ordered.

"Grey skin, almost like stone. Two large horns curving over the skull. Fangs. Almost like a wicked goat-guy." Buffy was visibly shaken. "His eyes – they glow. It's … evil. It's like nothing I've ever seen, and believe me, I've seen a lot. It's like he can see me, like he's watching me. And it's … it's totally creeping me out, and I don't creep!"

Madame LaFusce nodded during the whole description. When Buffy was finished, the old woman looked up at Giles. "Either you're very lucky, or you're not quite the fool I believed. This is a jornikof demon. There is no doubt. Even if she had known the description before, the fear they inspire cannot be fabricated."

"Well, it seems we now know what we need to," Giles said thoughtfully. "But what do we do about it?"

"Go after it," Buffy said resolutely. "And I'm not waiting for it to come to Sunnydale."

Everyone around the table soaked in the proclamation soberly. Except Madame LaFusce, who smiled. "Excellent choice," she said.

* * *

In a remote corner of England, an old man sat at a small writing desk. The quill pen wrote of its own accord, scribbling on the paper and occasionally returning to the well for ink. He waited patiently. The other man in the room was less patient. He paced back and forth. The old man smiled, his skin seeming to stretch beyond its limits in the act.

His skin was like parchment, having a somewhat transparent brownish hue that showed the veins below like a fine tracery of some odd language. He was bald, thin, and prone to stooping. The overall effect was Mediterranean.  His clothes were eighteenth century, dominated by a golden silk waistcoat and stiffly tied cravat. His smile showed a complete if somewhat yellowed set of teeth. The eyes, though, were what stopped most people. The eyes were bright and eager; they were also the windows to the very deep well of his very old and very troubled soul.

The quill set itself down carefully and he picked up the paper, reading it eagerly. "The amulet works," he told the other man in the room. "The demon has been identified, and soon will be dead."

"All is as you said it would be," the other man replied.

"Exactly as I said," the old man replied with a harsh, mirthless laugh.