Chapter Ten Everything Dies

Thursday December 21 11:45 pm


I followed the sirens to Frankenburger's Department Store. The doors were all decorated up pretty for the holidays with fake snow and clusters of colored ribbons. The big display windows were showcasing the kind of fancy clothes you'd need to attend all those ritzy parties uptown. The kind I wasn't invited to. There was a dark smear of something on the glass front doors that looked like a hand prints, and a line of cop cars in front. Probably not the best time to shop for your holiday gifts.

I pulled the Desoto around the corner close to the dumpster. I spotted the ubiquitous Mr. Finn and took a dip around behind the coroner's black van. That's where I ran into my favorite news hound, Webster.

Webs, my man. Hot on the trail of a scoop?

"You got it. Man, it's gruesome in there. Wall-to-wall bloodbath, he was enthusiastically waggling his eyebrows and grinning. I could see the greed for headlines like it was tattooed on his forehead.

Oh yeah? Like what?

Like something with great big teeth and an hour to kill did just that. Paint-by-the-numbers, old buddy. Four or five dead ones from what I could get out of the coppers. He shrugged a shoulder in the direction of the flashing lights. I backed Webster into the alley behind the dumpster. He was still craning his neck for a better look.

C'mon Harris. This is a big story. Pulitzer worthy, maybe. When Demons Attack! I can see it now, front page! Don't hold me up.

Not gonna take a minute. I just want all of everything you've got.

Like I said. Something nasty had itself a little party in ladies lingerie. I didn't get inside. Just took a gander inside the front window. He was champing at the bit, My photographer's on the way...

A low voice from the shadows said, I was inside.

The Slayer!
She stared at Webster and gestured at him to leave, but they didn't call him the Spider for nothing. He'd glommed onto her and wasn't gonna let go until he had all the dirt fit to print.

Gimme a quote, why don't ya, Slayer. You gonna take out this murdering animal?

Lay off, Webs. I told him. You have got to keep this under your hat for now.

Why should I? This is news.

The Slayer's eyes hardened to stone, Because your life can be real easy or real hard, Mr. Webster. Why not make it easy on both of us?

C'mon, Webs. Be a pal. Get your scoop from the cops and maybe we can make a deal with you later. I gave him my best wheedling voice, Listen. I'll buy you a beer and give you all the stuff you wanted about Congressman Kreflo. I've got pictures.

He wasn't happy, but took off for Frankenburger's. I owed him big time. He was a good guy, though. I hoped he could keep the Wild Irish Potato off my back for a while, too.

She turned to me and continued, I recognized something on the tape, Xander. In the background, I could hear music and an announcement about store closing time. There's not that many places open this late. I figured he was sending me an invitation. That advertisement in the newspaper at Sasha's crime scene had been from Frankenburger's, too. I should have figured it out sooner.

And when you got here?

I was too late. By the time I'd gotten here, he had already been and gone. The clerk, some shoppers, all dead. They were all laid out for me in a row. Wrapped up in ribbons. There was a woman, about my age lying by the front door, like she'd tried to escape. He massacred them, Xander and he made them suffer before they died. Then he
ripped out all of their hearts. He wrote a message on the wall in their blood. I wiped it off before the police came.

A message! You destroyed evidence! Old cop instincts gagged on that, Do you remember what it said?

I'll never forget it. Won't it be nice dear Slayer to have the good ole times again?

Huh, I could see why she wiped that one off. No way did the Mighty Finn need to get his mitts on that kind of explosive ammunition.

I stepped up close to give her a shoulder to lean on, but she stepped back out of reach, her black clothing blending into the mottled shadows. Guess she wasn't feeling up to any kind of comfort right about now.

I guess maybe we need to talk about this, Xander. I owe you that much. You've really been working in the dark.

Then a thought occurred to her, What are you doing here?

Uh oh. In all the excitement, I'd forgotten my original mission.

Spike. He's gone. I don't know what happened or how. I sent Carlos and the boys out to bring him in.

She was furious all right, but at herself.

God! I'm such a fool! She stalked away toward her vehicle, then turned back toward me. He knows me too well, Xander. He's two steps ahead of me. He wanted this. He wanted me to come after him. He expected it. It wasn't me he wanted at all. It was Spike all along.

What are you saying, Buffy? Who is it?
Angelus. It's Angelus, Xander. You were right, he's not dead. He's out there and he's killing.

Music: Angelo Badlamenti, from Mulholland Drive
AN:
Ripperologists may recognize a few things here & there. Patricia Cornell's latest Portrait of a Killer has lots of new info on Saucy Jack.