Chapter 14 - Sacrifice
Porphyry smashed two more balustrades and threw them out into the darkness.
"Aaargh!" he cried, beating his chest with his fists and stamping his feet. His eyes began to glow.
The balcony creaked ominously, then with a terrible ripping and rending sound the supports tore away from the tower, and the walkway dropped downwards, hanging into space. Porphyry slipped in mid beat, and began to slide away, grabbing at balustrades that splintered under his weight as he went.
Buffy and Buffybot ran back around the tower, to the relative safety of the part of the balcony that hadn't yet been pulled from the wall. They pressed their backs against the stone wall, and then Buffybot darted forwards and knelt down.
"Oh boy," said Buffy, rolling her eyes. "Now I'm going to have to save the dumb dead rock!"
"Ooh, yes!" said Buffybot, blushing. She turned, holding a rope in her hand. "It's the right thing to do! I'm sorry, I just thought we could climb down my rope ladder before the balcony collapsed," she waved the rope, "but that was selfish, and Wrong!"
"There's a rope ladder?" Buffy groaned. "Of course there's a rope ladder, and an easy way out. The Gods of Irony are on my tail night and day." She looked across at Buffybot, who was scuffing her toe and looking guilty. "Look, Bottie. There's nothing I'd like better than to get off this balcony and leave slime boy to it. But he's our ticket back to earth. It's a deal."
She edged back around the balcony and peered at the torn woodwork in front of her, and the dangling figure of Porphyry some twenty feet below. "We've got to save him. The only question is how?"
The Lead Brother stood blinking at Lady Margolotta, who gave him a charming toothy smile. "Er, I'm terribly sorry, Madam, but this is a private meeting."
"Oh, I can see that it is." Lady Margolotta stepped forward.
The Brother moved sideways, between her and the altar. "In fact, it is an er, religious ceremony. Of the Holy Brotherhood. I'm afraid no women are allowed."
"No women?" Lady Margolotta looked across at the unconscious girl on the altar. "You seem to make an exception for sleepy virgins. How very... broad minded."
She stepped forward, to examine the altar more closely. As she did so, several Brothers moved quietly through the shadows, towards the door. "And what a very pretty pentagram. I can see you are all gentlemen of taste." She stepped up to the pentagram, and stretched out her hand, which began to glow. "Delightful craftmanship, and pure silver."
"Well, you'd certainly know, madam." Count Nosferatu Winkelson stepped forward, a fetish in his hand, emerald ring glowing. He bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Lady Margolotta. Yours is a famous name in necromancy circles, I do assure you." Lady Margolotta batted her eyelashes modestly, and Nosferatu smiled. "And in such circumstances, with a pentagram to hand - pure silver as you noted - and a binding spell almost fully worked. It really couldn't be better." His lips began to move.
The Brothers had now reached the door, and the first to arrive pushed it closed with a clang, and took hold of the bar. "Ha!" he cried. "We have you now, Foul Sister of the Night!" The door blew violently inwards with a huge roar, smashing him and his companions to the ground in a pile of savage splinters.
"Or not," said Lady Margolotta, raising an eyebrow.
Count Boris strode through the blackened hole left by the door, a bloodstained handkerchief held delicately to his lips, and a hand to his ribs. "May I be of any assistance, dear lady? Perhaps you vould like some priests exsangvinated, yes?"
Nosferatu turned towards the new threat, and his ring glowed like fire. A thunderbolt flew across the room and hit Count Boris in the chest.
Lady Margolotta smiled, took hold of Nosferatu's arm, and squeezed. He screamed.
Spike waited no longer. With a happy yodel he ran forward, and leapt, to grab the chains holding the huge censer above everyone's heads. It rocked violently from side to side, spilling glowing coals and stinking incense in every direction. The Brothers ducked from the shower of sparks, and scattered, as their habits smoked and burned.
The goat, which had been getting increasingly fed up with all racket, chose this moment to act as well. The Lead Brother had retreated into the safety of the pentagram, to avoid both the falling coals, and the vampire in front of him. He rested a damp hand on the altar, and took a firmer grip of his axe. The Goat lowered her head, bucked, and with an ear splitting '''baaa!", crashed her horns into the Lead Brother's unprotected behind. He was flung violently forward, out of the pentagram, his habit flung up over his head by the force of his fall.
Spike swung from side to side, laughing his head off at the sight of the priest's bony white backside, marked with the imprint of two horns, until his head exploded with pain, and he fell into the blackness.
Buffybot edged along the planks of the shattered balcony, one rope around her middle, and another between her teeth. Buffy stood anchored, ten feet behind her, playing out the ropes.
"Don't worry, Mr Zombie Troll!" Buffybot cried out to Porphyry, who was dangling below her, now hanging on by his fingernails, rage forgotten. "I'm here to save you!"
There was a sudden blazing light that drowned out everything else into blackness, and Buffybot stopped, blinking.
"Stay right where you are, Miss!" The voice came from the ground. Buffybot quickly adjusted her vision, and moved into the infra-red. Standing below her in a little circle around the huge spotlight, was a motley collection of trolls holding clubs, dwarves with swords, human kitchen staff wielding pots and pans, and a few wizards in their nightshirts, pointy hats askew. She waved merrily. "Hi everyone!"
"Evening, Miss." The dwarf at the front coughed, "That is to say, you're under h'arrest. Trespassin' and Vand-halism of University property."
Buffybot's mouth made an concerned, "Ooh!" She had a feeling that getting arrested when you were a Watchman was a Bad Thing. Still, she could put them right on one thing... "I am sort of trespassing, but I didn't vandalise the tower, the zombie did. I'm rescuing him." She pointed to the dangling Porphyry and everyone's eyes followed her finger. There was a collective intake of breath, and the spotlight began to turn. "I don't think you should point that at him," began Buffybot, but it was too late. The spotlight struck Porphyry in a dazzle of blazing light. His hands came up to cover his eyes, and he fell. The crowd screamed and scattered, as he plummeted towards them.
"Because I don't think zombies like strong lights," finished Buffybot, looking down over the side at the carnage below.
"What happened?" Spike sat up, and groaned. "No don't tell me, I know what happened. The sodding chip happened, as per."
"Oh, how quaint." A darkly handsome lady bent over him. He blinked and tried to focus. "I do believe he's speaking in dialect."
Spike counted to ten, then sat up. Biting the hand that had saved him was very tempting, but unwise. "Did Nosferatu get away?"
"I am afraid so." The Lady's eyes darkened to black, and she cast a brief unamused glance at her companion. Spike turned his head, very slowly, and made out the pouting dandy with the lace sleeves and the silly accent who had made such a big entrance the night before. He curled his lip. "Scared of a little thing like a fireball are we, sonny?"
"Zere vas also a goat," said Count Boris defensively. "It vas running into me." He rubbed his kneecap in memory.
"Yes," said Lady Margolotta, "such a shame. However, looking on the bright side, I do believe it trod on the Mr Winkelson's foot as it passed, also. And I may have squeezed his arm a little too hard, when I grasped it for reassurance. I was alarmed, and these little accidents can happen." She cracked her long white knuckles and smiled again at Spike. "And now, I believe, we should have a chat about what far flung part of the vampire lands you have come from, and what the charming Mr Winkelson might have wanted with you."
Buffy and Buffybot swarmed down the ropes, to the ground beneath, and ran over to the crowd that surrounded the spotlight, which lay on its back, bulb broken and dark, a large zombie troll lying across it, head lolling. Hundreds of salamanders were slittering out of the jagged holes made in the glass, running down Porphyry's arms and dropping to the ground, where several frantic spotty young wizards were trying to scoop them up in their pointy hats before they disappeared into the darkness.
"Tell me he's not dead!" cried Buffy.
"Er..." began the nearest dwarf, casting an anxious look at the wizards, who were gathered in a whispering circle just behind him.
"More dead, that is," said Buffy impatiently. "I need him walking and talking." She stopped, aware that Porphyry had ceased to be the centre of attention. Instead the eye of the crowd was resting on her, and ... "Identical twin sisters, all right?" she snapped. "Only it was a complicated birth, and she got starved of oxygen, which is why she's a complete moron, while I'm perfectly normal." Buffybot grinned happily beside her, admiring Buffy's quick thinking, and the crowd relaxed and nodded. Yes, you could see the half wittedness shining through on the second one, which was no doubt why the family had put her in the Watch.
Buffybot went and looked at Porphyry's mangled head as it dangled upside down over the lip of the spotlight. "Perhaps the wizards can fix him, Buffy. Zombies are magic. At least I think so."
Buffy's nostrils flared. "Wizards always make things worse. They may not mean to, but you can bet they will. No wizards, Bottie, if there's any way to avoid it."
"Now that," said a deep voice behind her, "is the first sensible thing I've heard anyone say all day."
End chapter