Chapter 16.

SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA

(SEPTEMBER 1, 1997)

The new school year would be starting first thing Wednesday morning. So, to celebrate Labor Day, the owner of the Bronze had decided to hold a Karaoke Night! With Angel having some difficulty explaining the custom to the Tenctonese Slayer.

"The last one I ever took part in was at a night club called 'Caritas' in L. A. It's owned by a Dethwok demon named Lorne. And, at the time, he was having trouble with a real loan shark named Bro'os, who was trying to sabotage the punctuality of Lorne's installment payments. Just so he could take over the club! I straightened him out, though (with the help of a silver harpoon)."

Vanessa Helsing started to laugh. But, then, she hurriedly clapped a hand over her mouth as Xander and Willow now took the stage to do a "Weird Al" Yankovic parody of a Phil Collins song.

"If you follow me, then I'll follow you.

Then, we'll follow them, and they'll follow us!

So, just stay with me, and I'll stay with you.

And, we'll stay with them, then they'll stay with us!

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

CARITAS, LOS ANGELES

SEPT. 25, 1999 (7:30 P.M.)

It was this same song parody that Vanessa now performed, for Lorne, as the latter closed his eyes and concentrated on the tarnished charm bracelet. It was not often that he was asked to read something, retro-cognitively. Most of his customers were more interested in their futures! But, in this instance, he definitely proved himself up to the former task.

The images that sprang to his mind's eye, however, were deeply disturbing. . . to say the least.

"Oh, my stars!" he finally gasped (dropping the bracelet to the floor in the process).

"Lorne!" exclaimed Vanessa: "What's wrong?!"

The host of Caritas inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself down.

"Oh, sweetie! You have no idea what you're up against. For starters? Rosita Cruz- -the dearly departed human who used to own this trinket- -was killed by a giant wererat. And, no ordinary one, either. It had been ghouled by the TJ branch of Clan Tremere!"

"I thought it was impossible to Embrace members of the Changing Breeds," Vanessa replied. "Even partially."

Lorne shook his head: "It's extremely difficult. But, it's definitely been done on more than one occasion. In this case, however, there's more to the story. Just before the late Ms. Cruz became late lunch, the wererat in question had nibbled on something else. Something that was literally not of this Earth!"

Now, it was Vanessa's turn to gasp.

"You mean. . .?!"

"No, not one of your fellow Newcomers. But, it was definitely something from your former neck of the cosmic woods!"

Meanwhile, down in the sewer system, Wesley Wyndham-Price trudged along in his angler's waders, while shining his coal miner's headlamp back and forth.

In addition, he also poked into various puddles with an alpenstock (held in his right hand) to insure that the water was not deeper than it looked.

Jeff Burns, on the other hand, made do with faded dungarees; a green hooded rain coat; a pair of army-surplus boots; a large flashlight in his left hand; and his trusty Polaroid camera over his right shoulder.

"What is it you called this thing, again?"

"A coydog. A coyote/feral dog hybrid. No doubt mistaken for a giant rat because it's afflicted with mange. I recently investigated several sightings of similar creatures in West Texas, where (for some strange reason) the resident Latino population collectively refers to them as 'chupacabras!' Perhaps as a result of confusing second-hand stories, about the Puerto Rican cryptid of that name, with Native American legends of the Skin-walker (or were-coyote)."

"Whatever," muttered Burns: "I just hope we find something soon. I'm beginning to think slogging through all this crap ain't worth just two hundred bucksI"

"I told you, Mr. Burns," Wesley countered, "My employers need photographic proof before they give me any bonuses. So, two hundred dollars is all I can afford to advance _you_, at the moment."

"You've both been grossly underpaid."

Wesley and Burns stopped in their tracks. Because the voice that had made that comment had not been heard with their ears. They had heard it. . .in their minds!

Wesley immediately rearranged his grip on the alpenstock. Holding it out in front of him like a soldier with a bayonet-tipped rifle. He then turned to Burns and said: "Start walking backward, very slowly. Then, when I give the word? Run like blazes!"

Burns opened his mouth, intending to issue a sarcastic comment about belaboring the obvious. But, that penultimate thought never came to fruition. And, for one tragically simple reason. The only thing to come out of his mouth. . .was the radula that pierced the back of his head.

Wesley immediately swung about, the light from his headlamp illuminating just what Giles had asked him to come to Los Angeles to confirm or deny.

"Good Lord!" he muttered. "Angel was right."

"And soon he'll be dead right," the Ratkin Abomination telepathically replied.

Whereupon, its radula pierced Wesley's left eye. Fatally skewering his brain!

"Follow You, Follow Me"

Tony Banks/Phil Collins/Mike Rutherford

(Copyright 1978)