Disclaimer: The only people we don't own are Buffy and Angel.
Chapter ThreeIn the junction of three corridors – had anyone been there to see – an ethereal woman stood still as a statue wearing skin-tight silver cotton slacks and a loose gossamer black shirt with her pure white hair pulled back in a French braid. She moved, and went soundlessly down the left corridor upon delicate bare feet that left no prints on the darkly carpeted floor. She passed many doors before stopping in front of a glass paneled one that lead to another hallway. She placed her hand on the handlebar and turned. It did not budge. With a frown, she placed a hand over the keyhole, a faint glow outlining her hand for a moment before there was a soft click. Nodding to herself, she opened the now unlocked door.
That should not have been locked, the woman thought to herself as she moved down the hallway.
She idly glanced at the paintings that lined the walls of the corridor that were portraits of the past Heads of the Irish branch of the Watchers – each one labeled with their name and the years of their service –. She smiled humorlessly as she came to the last portrait. It was of herself, and the beginning date was the same as that of the oldest painting. There was no ending date. Pushing the door open beside her portrait, she entered the office.
She looked to the left of the doorway as she entered to see an elegantly appointed conference center that was modern while retaining a certain antiquated feel to it. Beyond that – in the center of the right wall – was another entryway blocked by an old Oakwood door etched with olden designs accented with silver inlay.
I'll check over there in a minute, the woman thought to herself.
She then looked past the conference area to see a wetbar – very well stocked – and a small refrigerator – like one might see in a college dorm – at the far right corner of the office. Looking to the center of the back wall, the woman saw an ancient oak desk of elegant design and solid build. Old and new mixed upon the desk. A state-of-the-art computer, a printer/copier/fax machine and an office phone stood on one side, as an old-fashioned ink well and quill occupied another corner – along with modern pens and pencils –, the center was clear but for a large calendar with some writing on it and several miscellaneous electronic devices. Glancing left, she saw along most of the wall a long row of filing cabinets, each one with a combination lock. The woman frowned.
When did we start locking everything up?
Shaking her head, she fully entered the room and shut the door, heading for the doorway on the left. Opening it, she saw what could only be described as a small dorm area with a cot, cabinet, and small bathroom off to one side. She went to the cabinet and looked through the clothes and accessories that were there, making sure to put everything back the way she had found it.
Nothing, but I expected as much.
Giving the rest of the room a cursory glance, the fair-haired woman returned to the main office, went to the desk, and sat down in the lavish rolling chair. She rubbed her hands appreciatively over the soft leather armrests before focusing her attention on the contents on top of the desk. Looking at the calendar, the woman felt a shock go through her as memories surfaced.
Stars above! That's when I am! Then that means...
Quickly, she turned on the computer, grimacing as she did so.
One thing I can definitely say about my time: computers are a lot faster and easier to manage!
A minute later, the computer was up and running, the woman typing in the passwords when needed to access what she wanted.
Thank the Heavens for a perfect memory, or I'd be in really big trouble. Alright, now where's that calendar?… Ah, there it is!
The woman quickly scrolled through past dates until she came to the last few days.
Hmm. Here's my namesake. That was last night... Oh! and night before that was when Faith became an Oracle in full. It had slipped my mind when that happened. There's when I'm supposed to meet Maeve tomorrow, but I don't recall ever coming to the meeting. Huh. I'll have to sort through my memories later to find out why. Now, let's see…anything else of note?
The pale woman carefully studied the calendar, before noticing a small flashing blood-red symbol that was a fairy sitting on a crescent moon that was on the day before last. Then she noticed that this icon was flashing on several of the dates of that month. Her brow furrowed.
What's this?
She placed the mouse pointer over the image and watched as it became a link. Tilting her head to one side, she clicked it. Immediately, a small window popped open asking for a password. Frowning, she typed in the over-riding code, and pressed enter. There was a tense moment while the password was run, then another program opened. A list of dates was cataloged, along with commentaries.
A private chronicle? Why…?
Shaking her head, she clicked the date she wanted and began reading.
The Lady will not be pleased that our first plan was thwarted. I hope, though, that by making reparation with the Oracle's child we will be able to grasp another opportunity once St. Vigeous is destroyed.
The woman sat back in confusion as she thought, Another opportunity? An opportunity for what?
The fey lady had no time to think further about it as she heard the sound of the outer door opening. Quickly, she closed all the programs she had open, and then opened the Internet program. She looked up nonchalantly as a woman she vaguely remembered as the assistant under Maeve and herself came into the room.
The young auburn-haired and freckle-faced woman looked startled as she said, "My Lady! Forgive me for intruding. I did not realize you would be here, or I would not have disturbed you."
"'Tis alright," the fair-haired woman said, "I am merely going online for a short time before taking my rest, as I am not yet weary." She tilted her head to the side. "Should you not be sleeping? I thought I heard Maeve order you all to do so."
"It is as you say," the other woman agreed, then lifted up a folder saying, "I merely remembered a file I needed to return before doing that."
The Lady nodded her understanding and gestured for the dark-haired woman to do as she had said. After a quick bow, the woman strode over to the filing cabinet closest to her, unlocked it, and after sorting through one drawer, placed the file where it should be. She then shut the cabinet again and locked it.
As the woman opened the door to leave the office, the Lady called to her and said, "You need not disturb Maeve with the knowledge that I am here, child. She is in need of a rest and short respite from her duties. Should I need her, I shall speak to her directly."
The other woman nodded her head in understanding, then left. Once she could no longer hear the other woman walking away, she sighed heavily and rubbed her brow in a rare show of frustration, before pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes.
Stars above! That was too close. She lowered her hand and opened her eyes, turning her head to the row of filing cabinets. I know it is probably unlikely, but I should check over there.
The woman quickly turned off the computer, stood, walked over to the cabinet nearest her, and began pursuing the labels on the front of each drawer.
Apocalypses. Demons. History. Arthurian Legends... She paused for a moment.Arthurian Legends? For a brief moment she wondered why Maeve would have such a file, as she pondered her eyes glanced to the next file drawer. Ah! Here we are: Current Events.
The fair Lady pressed her hand against the lock, and within seconds the drawer was unlocked and open. She quickly riffled through the files in the drawer before closing and relocking it.
As I expected: nothing that I did not already know.
Looking around the room, her silver eyes noticing everything, the woman made sure that all was as it had been, before leaving the room to search elsewhere for what she desired to understand.
The sky had darkened to a dark sapphire blue after the sun's setting, and the dishes were being cleared from the dinner table, as Buffy and Angel found their way to the private parlor once more. They walked in to see Maeve with the unknown fair-haired rider from last night chatting companionably as they drank a dark green wine. The woman looked away from Maeve to see the couple, and smiled as she said in greeting, "Ah! So at last they have decided to join us. Welcome, my friends. Please, come and sit awhile."
Buffy and Angel nodded silently in agreement, walked over to the couch opposite the two women, and sat down.
Maeve put her glass down, she stood up and straightened her skirt before addressing them. "Good evening, Buffy, Angel. The time has come for introductions. I would like the both of you to formerly meet my mentor and the Head of the Irish Branch of the Watchers: Lady Tala Bloodmoon, Granddaughter of Her Elven Majesty Eleania, Daughter of the late Elven Princess Tal'eja and Sister to the Role Heir of the Elven throne Jericho. My Lady, this is Buffy Anne Summers—"
"The Slayer of vampires, and yes: the notorious vampire with a soul, Angelus the vampire with the angelic face," Lady Tala said curtly, abruptly interrupting Maeve.
Angel flinched, before saying quietly, "I go by Angel now, my Lady."
The fair Lady inclined her head, and said more calmly, "As you wish."
Buffy tugged on Angel's sleeve, her expression confused. The vampire looked at her for a long moment, nodded, then turned back to the two women and said, "Buffy wants to understand how Lady Tala is an Elf."
Maeve quickly chimed impishly, "Well, where do you think Tolkien got his information on elves?"
Buffy and Angel stared. Tala shook her head, before saying in a slightly reproachful tone, "In form only, child. We are not they whom he wrote of, for they are not real."
Looking for all the world like a child punished by a beloved parent, she responded, "Yes, my Lady." Then clearing her throat and raising her eyes, she continued, "All the myths, legends, and fairy tales of old hold some truth, however: they have been stretched over time. But behind all the folklore, there is factual information to be rediscovered. Reasons for the obscure information on the elves have been for their own protection. But, yes, they still exist, and Tala is living proof of their existence."
Angel's brow furrowed as he said, "I can understand keeping yourself hidden from humans, but why is one of royal blood working for the Watchers?"
Maeve took in a deep breath and headed for the bar while asking, "Anyone for a drink…besides me?"
The Slayer and vampire shook their heads, as did Tala before taking a sip of her nearly full wine glass.
Maeve turned her back on Tala and placed ice into the crystal tumbler and then reached for the scotch as she asked, "My Lady, don't you think that this is your area of expertise?"
"Aye," the Lady said while placing her wine glass on the table before her, "I may, but should you not say that which you have learned under my tutelage?"
The liquid sloshed as Maeve place the bottle on the bar a little harder than necessary, followed swiftly by the chink of the glass cork stopper placed on top of the bottle. She hastily tipped the glass to her lips and in one swallow, drained the glass. Almost slamming the glass back on the bar top, the ice tumbling around, she then once more poured more scotch than usual into the glass. Picking up the glass more calmly, she turned back to the others, walked over to the fireplace, and gazed into the flames. The light danced hauntingly over her face, making her seem like a fey creature stepping out of ancient times long forgotten by mortal kind.
Mesmerized by the flames, Maeve began to speak in a distant haunting tone, saying, "Nigh onto six thousand years ago, in a time when demons were gods, a war broke out between the elves and vampires, they who served the gods for good or ill. It was a war over who was more important to the Old Ones: the Warriors or the Foreseers. This war was caused and stopped by one individual. But not by this person's actions, but by the proceedings of those around her, as you will soon understand.
"A fell and loathsome vampire of great age took the one I speak of – a Lady of blessed and sacred lineage –, kidnapped her, tortured and raped her – body, mind, and spirit –, then turned her into one of his kind. This had never been done, for so great was the animosity between the Warrior vampires and the Foreseeing elves that to have this happen was blasphemous to their very way of being. Due to this blessed Lady's turning, neither group could decide who should have her. This was how the war began…but not how it ended. For a thousand years the war raged with neither side giving ground, until the Lady herself begged for surcease. The reason: her body and mind could not stand the constant battle between the demon and soul within her. Truce was given, but at great cost. The elves forfeited their right as servants to the gods, as well as their birthright to the power of the gods of that time. In return the vampires would never again change an elf into one of their kind, then returned the Lady to her kindred.
"With the Lady returned, the elves brought her before their queen. The Lady – mad with the constant warring within her – attempted to kill the Queen of the Elves. She did not succeed. In fury, the Queen denounced her as no longer the Heir to the Elven throne…never to know peace in elven lands again, to walk among men forever more.
"Whom is this tormented and cursed Lady, the reason for this tale?" Maeve drained her glass, then turned to gaze at the group behind her, saying somberly. "She is the Lady Tala Bloodmoon, our leader and benefactor."
The Head of the Watchers Council gazed at the elven Lady, and said in a bitter tone, "I hope that I have appeased you, my Lady, for it is you who has embedded this story deeply within my very essence since I was old enough to comprehend it," before returning to the bar to refill her glass.
The glass once more filled, she turned to look at the mystical group once more. Drawing in a breath, she said quietly in entreaty, "My Lady if this is all that is needed from me, I ask you to allow me leave to retire for the night."
Tala Bloodmoon gazed a long moment into the eyes of her protégé, seeing the anguish within them, and inclined her head regally in acquiescence to the woman's desire. With a barely audible heartfelt sigh, the Head of the Watchers Council left the room.
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TU and WRH