Ezekiel

Disclaimer: Do not own Buffy.

A/N: overview.

Naval Air Station Alvin Callender Field, Louisiana, United States of America: 1997

"Black Light Bravo requesting permission to land at Naval Air Station Alvin Callender Field, over."

"Permission granted to land at secure field Alpha Bravo, over."

"Roger that."

Tivona grinned as she felt the pull of gravity. It felt like she was ona roller coaster, or, at least, how she thought it would feel to be on a roller coaster. She wouldn't know for sure, but, it felt good. She came in smooth and braced herself for the impact of her landing.

"Hey, Graham, look at that."

Forest Gates pointed towards what he wanted his fellow Marine to see. Graham turned to his right and saw a black jet along the tarmac. The two were standing along the runway, waiting for their friend who was a mechanic on the airplanes and fighter jets that came through to get off duty.

"Wow," he commented, "That's a nice jet."

"Doesn't have any markings," Forest said, "Must be one of those Spec Ops."

"I don't think so," Graham said as the pilot came out of the cockpit.

The pilot was dressed in a forest green trench coat that was open at the top, exposing her brown shirt which held her firm chest. She took her helmet off, revealing her luscious, red hair. She held her headgear near her side and looked up into the gray sky. It was raining again, the third time today, and it made her shirt stick to her body. She smiled as she began to walk away.

"Holy crap," Forest muttered.

"Who is she," his fellow Marine muttered.

"Better yet, what is she doing flying that kind of a vehicle around," Gates said.

"I didn't know we let females do Spec Ops."

"They don't."

"Excuse me," a voice said behind them.

Forest and Graham turned around to see who it was. Oh, boy, they both thought.

"Major Gaines," they both said simultaneously as they rendered a salute.

"Marines," he muttered as he returned it, "What are you doing out here?"

"We're waiting on our friend, Sir," Forest answered, "He's working on the planes out here and is due to be relieved in five minutes, Sir."

"Well, this specific tarmac is being used at the moment for a specific purpose which you have no part of," the Major growled at them, "Clear off or you will be sent to the brig."

"Aye, Sir," they both answered, and then, they all but ran away.

The Major of the Marine Corps smiled as they took off. He really enjoyed terrifying those guys. They were both promising Marines and would probably end up inside an assignment such as the one he was in charge of but, until then, he would satisfy himself by making their lives a living Hell. He straightened his face and walked out onto the black ground to meet the pilot of the Manta 2.

"Ma'am," he greeted the redheaded pilot, "My name is Major Gaines. I'm here as your liaison to the Marine Corps."

"Isn't this a Naval Air Station," the redhead asked.

"Yes, it is, but the Marines have been given special circumstance to this vehicle. May I take your bags, miss…"

"I got them," she answered.

"Very well," he said, "If you would like, the chow hall is just inside. I could take you there and you could get something to eat."

"No, thank you, Major," she answered him, "I'd just like to get underway."

"Of course, ma'am," her attitude was really putting him off, "Underway where, ma'am?"

"To my family," she answered as she walked away, "Oh, am I allowed off base?"

"We need to clear you through personnel, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"Thank you, Major. Have a nice day."

"You, too, ma'am," he responded and, as he turned away, muttered, "Screwy British bastards don't know what the fucking Hell they're doing letting women into their force. Particularly, that one."

Sighing, he returned his attention to the Manta jet that he was to fly to Area 51. Hope Angleman enjoys this little bird.

Tivona made her way off the base with a smile. A little bit of flirting and that sailor had just waved her through. Now, she just had to trek across Louisiana and find out exactly where her brother was. He would get a kick out of her story. She stopped for a moment to think of which way she should go. From what she had seen in the skies and of satellite views, the city of New Orleans was actually a little over five miles from her present location. She could walk there and explore the city.

She made sure that she had everything necessary and set off for the city.

She slowly made her way through the bayou, feeling as though she were at home. In reality, she was right at home. She had been born within the bayou itself and had learned how to navigate around the environment better than any hunter of her time. She swatted a mosquito away from her face and got her hand tangled up within her blonde hair.

She stopped. She knew, somehow, that something was around. She settled down along the swampy ground, thankful that she had her shin-high alligator skin boots on. She scratched an itch along her bare skin, just below her shorts. She reached behind her back and unhooked her shield, then set it down quietly near her leg.

She gripped her wooden bow and scanned the horizon. She caught sight of something moving through the trees and decided to take action. She reached behind her back and gripped one of her arrows and pulled it out. She fitted it along the bow and took careful aim at the being that she had caught sight of. She drew back, careful to not snag her white blouse as she did so, and let the projectile fly.

Once it found its destined target, she heard the familiar sound of a vampire becoming dust. She smiled and stood up, gathered her stuff, and made to continue her trek. She smiled as she thought about the type of reaction she would be receiving from him.

Tivona walked along the New Orleans street and surveyed the scenes. She was in the market area, just around a mile from the swamps, and was looking at the weapons that were for sale longingly. However, her pockets were horrifyingly empty. She would have to find a way to make money while she was here.

As she walked, she noticed something that caught her gaze. A rapier sword covered in ancient runes for strength and blessing. It reminded her of her own rapier, which had been loosened on accident during a particularly violent bit of turbulence in her trip across the Atlantic. She reached out and picked it up. It seemed to blend in perfectly with her grip, and almost hummed with life.

"I reckon you fancy that one there, hey, sug?"

The Warrioress looked up to see who it was that had spoken to her. It was a short man with a protruding stomach. He had on dark glasses and brown gloves, a chain-mail shirt with a white shirt underneath it, and a black fisherman's cap to cover up his white hair.

"I do," she said with a smile, "It is a marvelous weapon. Did you make it yourself?"

"Well, I surely did," he answered, "Ain't no man in this here market ever sold a weapon that he didn't done did."

She took a moment to translate what he had said, and grinned once she got it.

"You seem to know an awful lot about these here thangs, ma'am. You in de trade?"

"Of a sorts."

"Well, then, we must talka some business. If you ain't in this trade 'round here, then you betta have some good explanation for why you's carryin' 'round all these weapons."

Uh-oh.

"Well, I…ugh."

He was staring at her now.

"I hope for youra sakes that you carryin' them weapons 'round for a good purpose."

That caught her attention. If he was talking about what she thought he was, then maybe she'd just found an answer to he problem.

"And what would that good purpose be," she asked him.

"Why, that'd be huntin' things that the preacher man do believe in, I'd reckon."

"…I'm Tivona."

"Jacque. I been livin' round this here bayou for nearly alla my life. What's your story, eh, lassy?"

"You seem like a trustworthy man, Jacque, but I'm not going to tell you with all of these people around here."

"Just tell me, you's a hunter, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well, then, that's all I need ta hear. I guess you're lookin' for some new cuttin' thangs, eh?"

She nodded.

"Well, take your pick. First one's on me, eh, sug."

"I can't let you do that."

"No, it's my pleasure. Go on."

"…You make these yourself, you say?"

"That'd be right, yeah."

"How'd you like some help around here?"

She sat her weapons down on the table and walked up the stairs to the room which contained her houseguest. It had been a little over three months since she had met her mentor, and he was still teaching her the ropes of the trade. He was a good man, she believed that much.

She walked up to the door and knocked upon it.

"Come in," a British voice answered her.

She opened the door and walked inside the lavish room, closing it behind her. She turned around and faced the man before her.

"How did the hunt go, Yvonne?"

"…It went well, Sir," she answered.

"Did you eliminate the vampire?"

"Yes, Sir," she responded, "He did not put up that much of a struggle."

"I didn't believe he would," the British man said as he stood up, "The texts all inform that, in spite of him being a member of the Confederate army, he was a very lazy vampire. Anything else to report before you make dinner?"

"I found a second vampire along my way, Sir. I dispatched it with ease."

"Excellent. You are improving, but, you still need a great deal of work. Now, off with you."

The young woman nodded and walked out the door. The British man sneered after her and returned his attention back to his work.

Tivona sat at her post and held the blade at an angle as the sharpening stone turned. Jacque made his swords in the old fashioned ways of the knights and sharpened it with the round stones that they used back then. She looked up for a moment as she heard her boss come by.

"Nice method, sug," he said with a toothy smile, "You got some real talent in them fingers of yours."

"Thanks," she said with a smile, "I've been making swords and knives since I was three."

"Well, you had some teacher," he said while he took a seat nearby, "That angle is sorta like what those masters taught me in England. Weird 'en, that."

"But, it works well," Tivona countered, "And the English did have great swords, back in the day."

He grinned at her in response. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but, stopped as he heard someone knocking on his wooden stand. He stood up and walked to the counter.

"Mon Chéri," he said with a booming voice, "Tis good to see you, eh, sug? Come on ova here and plant a big one on your uncle Jacque!"

The Warrioress of God looked up to see whoever it was that her new employer was so friendly with and had to resist the urge to drop her jaw in amazement. Standing inside the marketplace was a vivacious blonde girl with nothing more than a white blouse that was wet and a pair of extremely short shorts on. She wasn't even wearing a bra underneath it. However, she was smiling and graciously kissed the old man.

"Hello, Jacque," she said with that familiar Cajun accent, "How're you doin' on this sonny day, mon ami?"

"Just about as good as any oda day, eh, girl. Why don't you come on inside and I'll get you a changa rags?"

"Merci beaucoup," she said with a smile.

Jacque smiled a toothy grin and went across to the right side. He pulled a piece of fabric that kept the sun out and allowed her inside. When she caught sight of Tivona, she gasped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear," she said as she regained her composure, "I wasn't aware you were entertaining, Jacque."

"I wadn't, Chéri," he answered as he walked to the back of his workspace and began to fish through piles of clothing, "My friend here just got started on her first day on de job, but, she's got the trainin' of a squire, ain't that right, lass?"

'Lass' decided not to answer and focus on her work. She didn't know why but, something about the girl got underneath her skin.

"Eh, she's just shy, what wid your lack of clothin', eh," Jacque smiled as he walked back with some actual clothes, "Dark spot in the back, mon chéri, and don't let no one take a look."

"Yes, Jacque," the girl said with a smile, and she walked back to a dark corner of the room.

"Who is that," the Warrioress asked as soon as she believed the girl was out of earshot.

"Oh, that's Yvonne Badeau," the smithy said, "Her family used ta be big timers 'round these here parts. 'Bout a year ago, her father and mother got killed in a boatin' accident. Real bad time for her. Then, dis British guy came over and sorta took over her estate. Claimed he was there sole beneficiary, he did. Weird 'en, too. Reclusive man, but, he is, cording to those darned courts, her guardian. Can't do a ding 'bout it."

"Who's the British guy?"

"Don't know, don't wanna know, eider."

"Who're you talkin' 'bout, Jacque," she heard Yvonne ask as she walked out from the darkness, her wet clothes in her hand.

"You, Chéri," Jacque answered before the Warrioress could stop him, "My Miss. Tivona here wanted to know a little somethin' 'bout you."

"Well," the girl said as she sat down across from the huntress, "Why don't she ask the girl herself, eh? Go on."

"I was just asking him who you were," she defended herself, "And he started spilling his guts."

"Ain't my fault, sug," Jacque said, "I's a people person."

"Well," Yvonne's interests, not to mention her suspicions, were rising by the minute, "While we're bein' chummy an' all, mind tellin' me some of your stories?"

"…What are you?"

"Excuse me," the girl was getting nervous now, "What exactly do you mean 'what am I?' I'm a girl, just like you."

"Tivona," Jacque interrupted, a warning look on his face.

"No," the Warrioress pressed on, "You're a normal girl like me, huh? So, you're a demon hunter?"

He ran his fingers along the stone surface of the wall. He had determined that it was somewhere within this room, the room he was currently staying in with his charge, and he had every intention on finding it.

"Potential Slayer," Tivona asked, "So, that's what I felt."

"Right," Yvonne answered.

"When were you called?"

"A few months after my parents died," the young girl answered, "That British guy Jacque mentioned is my Watcher. He's preparin' me for when that time comes on that I gotta start huntin' and savin' the world."

"I guess I'm in the same boat. I'm a Warrioress of God."

"Never heard of 'em," she looked up to her elder friend, "Jacque?"

"Can't say I have, sug," he answered.

"Well, I guess you could say I'm a demon hunter trained by the Catholic Church. Specifically, the Vatican."

"Really," Yvonne was interested now, "How was their training?"

"Brutal," she answered the potential, honesty evident in her voice, "What're you and your Watcher doing now?"

"He's been trainin' me to fight," she answered proudly, "He's a great teacher when it comes to the demons and all that but, Jacque here is the source for the weapons. Right now, he thinks I'm fixin' dinner."

"Girl can't cook worth her life, but, he don't know that," the smithy quipped with a smile, "So, I always got a little doggie bag out here that she can take home and heat up."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Jacque saved my life," she answered the Warrioress, smiling up at her friend as she did so, "I got cornered by a pack of vamps. He heard and came runnin'."

"Twadn't nothing, sug," he said, embarrassed, "Just did what any man'd do."

"Not any man," Tivona muttered as she remembered Cain.

"Saved my life that night, he did," the potential said affectionately, "I owe this man here a lot."

"Nothin' at all, mon Chéri, just all worth it to see your smilin' face, eh."

"So," Yvonne began, returning her attention to the Warrioress, "What're you doin' in New Orleans, Miss. Tivona?"

"…I'm making my way across America to find my brother," she answered honestly, "I think he's somewhere near California, possibly the Hellmouth, but, then again…"

"Well, maybe my Watcher could help out," the Southern girl suggested, "He does have a lot of resources. If you want, you can accompany me to my home?"

"Where is it?"

"In a bayou not far from here. We'd have to walk, but, it shouldn't be that hard a journey for a Warrioress of God, eh?"

"…I do love a challenge."

"Eh, you two go on ahead," Jacque said with a smile, "It's been so long since I done seen Yvonne here with a friend. Be good for her, eh? You just come on by tomorrow."

"Right, Jacque," the potential smiled at the old man and wrapped her arms around him, planting two kisses on each of his cheeks as she did so, "I'll come by early, alright?"

"You do that," he answered, "And take care o our little miss Warrioress, ya hear?"

"I hear."

"Bye, Jacque," Tivona said as she gathered her stuff to leave, "I'll be by tomorrow to help you set up."

"Oh, no worries, sug, I live here. It's always busy, and no vampires dare come up in here. You just come by tomorrow and show me some more of that European stuff, eh?"

"Will do."

The Warrioress of God moved as quickly as she could. Even as she did so, the native of the bayou just kept moving. The swampy terrain was so familiar to her that she didn't even have to stop when she noticed a snake nearby, she just kept on walking, and it curled back and hissed at her, but didn't strike. The Warrioress, however, had taken the time to kill the snake and ended up falling into some quicksand.

"Tivona," the potential asked as she heard something sink.

"Over here," the Warrioress said as she stopped moving to keep from sinking faster, "Toss me a vine, please?"

Yvonne smiled at the fighter's predicament and began to contemplate playing with her mind. She didn't deserve it, however, and the bayou native knew this, so, she reached up and threw a long vine over to the sinking girl, who reached up and gripped both arms around the green and brown rope of nature, pulled up, and dragged herself out of the situation.

As she came up to the land, she brushed herself off as best as she could and smiled at the potential Slayer.

"Thanks," she said with a gracious bow, "I owe you."

"Tell my Watcher that one, and we're even."

"Deal."

"Wow," Tivona had been in many interesting places before, particularly in the Vatican and in London, but all those were either deeply religious or extremely military. The Badeau Plantation had been one of the few plantations to survive inside of those bayous during the Colonial times, the Revolutionary War, and the Civil War, when so many had been burned and torn down in that section of the city of New Orleans, even to the times when New Orleans hadn't been around. It was an elegant estate, filled with history and lore of the South, and looked as though it could contain several of her old quarters within its entrance hall.

"This house has been within my family since before the Revolution," Yvonne explained, "This is the entrance hall, and in the room to the right is the living room, to the left is the dining room and, through there, the kitchen. Upstairs are the bedrooms, mine is to the left on the far side, and my Watcher's is in the far right. He should be upstairs now."

"Did you bring the doggie bag," Tivona asked, remembering hers and Jacque's conversations.

The potential Slayer just pulled out a brown paper bag and smiled. She walked back to the kitchen, followed closely by the Warrioress, and opened up one of the cabinets. She pulled out a large plate and expelled the food onto it.

"What is this," the Warrioress asked, smelling the food.

"Crawfish and biscuits, with a Helluva lotta peppers, Cajun style."

"Smells funny."

"That's just because you and good cooking haven't been properly introduced yet," the potential said with a smile as she scooped her load up and walked away, "But, stick around for tonight and you'll get some real good cooking. My beau is comin' by tonight."

"Beau," Tivona asked while she caught up, "What's a beau?"

"Boyfriend," the lady of the house answered, "His name's Neville and he's been mine for about six months now. He comes by from time-to-time, cooks real good, too. Don't look half bad, neither."

Tivona smiled as the two came to the door of the room that Yvonne had indicated as belonging to her Watcher. The Slayer in training straightened herself up to appear more proper and tensely knocked on the door.

"Enter," a snooty voice called, one which reminded the Warrioress of the Air Marshal.

Acting quickly, the potential opened the door and walked inside. Tivona, aware from lessons Mother Bethany had taught her, remained behind to be invited.

"Ah, crawfish," the British Watcher said, slapping his hands together from what the Warrioress could tell, "My favorite. A bit cold, dear, but it will do."

"Thank you, Sir," Yvonne said, her voice tight with an air of professionalism, "Sir, there is a guest here that would appreciate making her presence known to you."

"Oh," his voice held an aura of surprise, "And who would this guest be?"

"The Warrioress of God, Sir."

"…Invite her inside."

The huntress waited for her friend to come to the door. When she did, she had upon her face a look of anxiety.

"Come in."

Tivona walked inside his quarters and immediately noticed that it was probably the most elegant room in the entire mansion, it even held a stone wall with a fireplace. There, sitting in a chair that probably cost more than every item she had on, was an old man with gray hair. His face was twisted into a suspicious smile and his demeanor, not to mention aura, spoke greed and disdain in waves.

"Good day, Warrioress," he greeted without getting up, "My name is Sirk."

The British Watcher watched his charge and the Vatican trained girl walk out of his room with a smile. When the door closed, however, his smile immediately twisted into a snarl. That girl was trouble, he could tell, and she had her sights directed at his Slayer.

Sirk sighed and moved over to the stone wall. Somewhere along that wall, he knew, was the answer to all his troubles and the beginning of his supremacy. All he needed was to find out how to get to it. Now, however, his time had gone from months to years, all the way down to days. The Warrioress held much less faith and awe of him than the potential did. She was blinded by the fact that he pretended to care, unused to it, for even her parents had hardly spent a day with her, despite how much she cared for them.

He had never met one of her kind before. They were rare during this time, maybe a hundred, tops, each one so trained and mutilated by the church, forced through rituals that were once commonplace, but now all but outlawed throughout the entire Earth, that they each no longer held a true form of life. They just…existed, no surety in the world, no recognition by race or scheme, just beings. They were rare…and they were dangerous. He would have to accelerate his plans in order to compensate for this…unfortunate turn of events.

"That was chilly," Tivona remarked as the two went downstairs.

"He was a bit…rude to you," Yvonne agreed, "But, then again, the Vatican doesn't exactly have the best relationship with the Watcher's Council. Maybe there's some bad blood."

"…Was that a joke?"

"If it was, it wudn't that good."

Tivona lay inside her chosen room late that night. Neville had come by, as Yvonne had promised, and she had been very correct: he was hot. He had gorgeous, brown hair, the kind that she could wrap her hands around all day, broad shoulders that looked as though they could support a stone fortress, and a chiseled out stomach, with a set of six.

Sighing at the amount of pleasure she was getting picturing him in the nude, and cursing Yvonne for being so lucky, she allowed her mind to go back to her brother.

Ezekiel was rumored to be in California, just from what she had heard on the streets, and was clearly making a reputation for himself. But, then again, so was the active Slayer, Buffy Summers. They both had many enemies in their young lives and the younger Warrioress truly wanted to help them both out. Maybe, just maybe, they'll have forged a slight partnership by the time she arrived. She would like to meet her, and become reacquainted with her brother.

Sighing, she looked up as she heard a knocking on her door.

"Come in," she called out.

The door creaked as it was opened. The form silhouetted against the door was obviously feminine, and was dressed inside of lacy, black negligee that did little to conceal her form.

"Hey, I don't do that, now," the Warrioress teased with a smile.

"Oh, and here I had my hopes up, sug," the potential Slayer said with a sly grin.

"So, what's up," she asked as she patted a place down on her bed.

"…I got a problem," her friend began as she sat down, "I got to thinking about how rude Sirk was to you and, well, I decided to go and do something about it. He was in the bathroom, so, I went inside to wait and…"

Wordlessly, she handed the Warrioress a vanilla folder. On the front page was a symbol that she recognized very well: the all-seeing eye. On the other pages, there were several detailed pictures, one of which looked like the room that Sirk was currently staying in. On the side of the wall, the part of the wall that was stone in the real room, appeared to be a hollow point…which led downward.

"What is this," she asked, "A secret passage?"

"That's exactly what it is," the potential responded, "And, it isn't one that exists. I should know, I was taught each and every secret point in this whole, damn house."

"…What if it is real? Where does it lead to, and why does he have this?"

"I don't know," her friend answered, "But, I wanna find out."

Sirk smiled as he muttered the incantation. It had taken quite a long time, but, he had finally discovered its passcode. Conveniently, it had been written in Archaic Latin on the blade of one of the Civil War sabers that were held inside the house, the one that had belonged to his charge's great great grandfather, who had lived in this very room. It had taken a little while to figure it out, what with most of the records being locked to him, but, he had done so by 'teaching Yvonne how to write.' Now, his success in Wolfram and Hart was guaranteed.

He walked into the portion of the wall that had disappeared and looked down into the chasm. It had been lucky that he had discovered the way before his charge had gotten wise. Of course, he never would have had to worry about that if it hadn't been for the Warrioress. He would get even with that girl, he swore it. Sighing, he looked down once more, and stepped into the darkness.

The stone wall reformed itself as he fell.

"Sirk," Yvonne called as she entered the room, "Where are you?"

Tivona quickly scanned the room and determined that the rotten bastard was not there. She knew, for some reason, that he had left. His presence was like a disease to the surrounding air, and its lacking of that filth was almost like a pleasant breeze moving through the air.

"He's not here," the potential said while she went over to the desk and began searching through his papers.

"It's no use," the Warrioress said, no tone recognizable within her voice, "Look."

She pointed to the fire, where a stack of black papers lay sizzling.

"Oh, no," Yvonne said grimly, "He got away. And got rid of the paper trail."

"The odds are that he slipped down that passage," Tivona muttered as she examined the stone surface, "There aren't any creases or air passages coming through."

"So, how does it work?"

"Must be magic. We had a portal like this in the Vatican. It led down to the weapons and the Temple of the Trials."

"…Where does this one go?"

Sirk smiled as he examined the room around him. It was right where he thought it would be, filled with everything he could have hoped for, and would provide him with anything he required.

"I think I'm going to enjoy this."

"I am not enjoying this," Yvonne growled as she and her friend walked along the market the next day.

The two of them had spent most of the past night and morning searching the house for anything that could possibly give them a lead upon what it was that Sirk had been searching for, aside from the passage, and where it might lead to. Thus far, they had held no luck and, so, they were going to their friend who knew much of the other world.

"I know, and neither am I," Tivona reminded the worried potential, "But, we've got to be ready for whatever he throws at us. Whatever he wanted, he's got now, and he could turn it against us. We have to make the first strike, otherwise, he could catch us by surprise."

"But, that portal could lead anywhere, we don't even know how to open it yet."

"That's why we're going to see him."

"Oh, mon Chéri," the kind old man called Jacque whispered as he listened to the potential Slayer as she finished her tale, "That be a bad man, I knows it, and I always did."

"I wish I woulda taken your advice, Jacque," Yvonne sighed, "Right now, we need to know a little somethin' 'bout what we're dealin' with. We figure it's a portal that leads…somewhere. We were wondering if you could tell us where?"

"…I might be able to," he responded, his brow curled up in confusion, "But, I fear what they'd do to youse. They don't like no strangers comin' up dere, eh."

"Who," the Warrioress tempted, trying to gain as much information as she could.

"I don't like them much, no…I surely don't, but," he said no more and went back into his stand.

He knelt down on the floor and pulled out a cast-iron chest. It was kept secured by a rusted looking lock that appeared to be ready to go upon a single strike. The old man waved his hand around the lock three times, muttering in Cajun as he did so, and the rust glow a brilliant green glow and reshaped itself into a serpent. It snarled and hissed at him, but Jacque just grabbed its throat. It disappeared in a cloud of green air and reshaped itself once more, into the form of a key. He took the key and placed it atop the chest. It stayed there for a moment and began to mold down into the wood. Finally, he took his hand away just as the last bit of the key slipped away and pulled the top off.

Inside the chest was an brilliant, green handled dagger with a golden blade. The green handle appeared covered in runes that she could not recognize, a few of which appeared similar to the ones upon her own rune dagger. He reached into the chest and withdrew the weapon, holding it with the blade pointed to his heart. He came forward, carefully, and extended the weapon to Yvonne, who took it with resounding amazement.

"Wherever did you get this, Jacque," she asked him.

"It's not important," he said before turning back to his station and pulling out a sheath for the weapon, "Here, mon Chéri, you will need this."

"Hold on," the Warrioress interrupted before the conversation could continue, "Where did you get that dagger?"

"I found it out in the swamp," he said, everything from his posture to his eyes proving it as the truth.

"OK," Tivona said, leaving the matter alone.

Without word or warning, she drew her own dagger out, hidden amongst her articles, and placed it upon the wooden counter. She took the rune dagger which Jacque had handed Yvonne and placed it near that same dagger.

"The runes are identical," the huntress declared, "They are from the same set."

"Ain't that somethin'," the older man muttered as he examined the blades, "Wherever did you get this, mon Chéri?"

"From His Holiness," the Warrioress said as she picked up both daggers, "Who is it that you want us to see?"

"…In a bayou, 'bout thirteen miles away here, headin' south, cross the Mississippi. It's hidden from most people nowadays, but, you two should be able to find it. When you get there, keep your weapons close and don't you forget that dagger I gave you, Yvonne! You'll be needin' it, eh?"

She nodded her head in response and took the dagger away from her friend, placed the sheath up along her belt, and placed her weapon down within the binding case.

"It'll be nightfall if we go by foot before we reach it," Tivona said, pointing to the sky as she did so, "Considering we have to cross a river and a large amount of swamp and track down exactly where it is. We'd best get started now, if we go by foot. Is there another way, Jacques?"

"Not that I know of, suga," the old man shook his head, "I would tell you to get a boat to go along the river, but, it'd take you a lot farther away than you need to be. Best way is go by foot, that way, they won't see you coming."

"Who exactly are they, Jacque," Yvonne asked, her fear and anxiety beginning to mount.

"…They be powerful witches, eh. Lived in those swamps and bayous since before your ancestor born. They know more about this world than anyone I ever met, maybe even you, Tivona, and I ain't been knowin' you as long as I've known of them."

"…Very well, Jacque," the huntress said, "We'll return by tomorrow, hopefully."

"Don't slow her down too much, eh, Warrioress?"

Tivona and Yvonne squatted down as they felt it. They had traveled all day and for a good portion of the night and were now in the bayou that their old friend had said they would 'know.' And, indeed, they did. The potential Slayer and the Warrioress of God could both feel the awesome power that was growing by the footstep as they traveled in its direction.

The two shared a glance before their minds were made up. They would be going in and would try and find out whatever it was he, she, it, or they knew. Before either of them could move, however, a bright light began to shine through the trees. It seemed to float around like a faerie, like some sort of Tinkerbell, with a brilliant white hue. As it traveled closer, and its light intensified, the two beings began to feel a sense of…calm and happiness. By the time it had gotten within two feet, they were passed out on the ground, waves of ecstasy beyond any mortal standards having engulfed their minds into sweet oblivion. They smiled even as they slept.