I want to thank the reader who pointed out that the discussion of the possibility of suicide might merit a content warning. I appreciate the feedback, and this is that warning: while the act of suicide is not depicted in this chapter, the possibilities of suicide, self-harm, and/or violence prompted by emotional/mental distress are broached.
"So, your… client has an artifact that hasn't been delivered, but is en route."
Florestan nodded. "Yes, that is correct."
Herve Calderon ran a finger along the edge of his desktop. "And there is a ritual that you want me to verify and, perhaps, perform, but you do not have it yet." He leaned back in his chair. "When will you have it?"
Florestan shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. He has people working on it."
Calderon nodded. "Well, if you wanted, I could… freelance a ceremony that… sounds authentic."
Florestan pursed his lips and shook his head. "I don't think that's what we want to do–" he held up his hands "-unless it's the last resort."
Calderon tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. "That seems… quixotic. You have what is, by your own admission, a minor object that has not yet been delivered, and a ritual that may be lost forever, and you are, what, holding out for authenticity? Why not just fake it and be done?"
Florestan sat up a little straighter. "Dr. Calderon, my client is a very wealthy man with an obsession." He smoothed his lapel. "I drove here today in a Porsche Boxter. You would not recognize the label in this suit because it was made by an old man in London and his apprentice. I will admit that what my client wants is… outrageous." He shrugged again. "But it seems to make him happy and… I like my things. Is that understandable?"
A small smile twitched Calderon's mouth. "Well, in that spirit–" he slid a folded paper across the desk "-this is my base fee for a service such as this." He sat back. "Given the nature of this situation, it'll be quite a bit higher."
Florestan unfolded the paper and smiled. "Let me spend my client's money freely. Let's say… a twenty-five percent gratuity atop this fee, and a five-percent monthly holding charge, to begin immediately."
"So, if it takes you, say, eight weeks to get all this into shape, I would receive… a thirty-five percent surcharge?"
"Yes, and if it takes us twelve weeks, a forty percent premium."
Calderon's eyes narrowed. "You are free with your employer's money."
Florestan touched a finger to his lips in a 'sh' gesture. "Well, since I am acting as an honest broker here, I think that after this is concluded, I should be entitled, say, fifteen percent of the overrun?"
"If it takes eight weeks, you get fifteen percent of the thirty-five percent."
"Exactly." Florestan raised his hands, palms up. "Call it a transaction fee."
Calderon smiled. "I see. I can work with that." He rested his left ankle on his right knee. "Given your client's desires, I'm assuming this object has some religious or occult significance. That's what always drives the Raiders fetish. Tell you what, since you are paying me a holding fee, I'll start looking through my books, just in case I need to concoct something to satisfy him."
Florestan stood up. "That would be very helpful." He buttoned his suit jacket. "Thank you for your time."
Cordelia sat in the passenger seat, sullen and withdrawn. She stared through the windshield as Matti navigated the streets of Sunnydale. She was out of the vehicle almost before Matti turned off the engine. By the time the teacher entered the front door of her own home, Cordelia was already in the guest room. She stayed there until dinner, came out to eat, and got up from the table to head back when Matti stopped her.
"You're not going to stew in that room all night," the teacher said. "Have a seat… Don't you look at me like that, you sit down." As the girl flopped into the armchair, Matti took a position on the sofa. "Okay," she said, "I'm going way out on a limb here and guessing that this has something to do with prom. Hot or cold?"
Cordelia curled into a ball in the chair. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, see, I think you do. So, we are gonna sit here until the spirit moves you. Or we could go into the basement and beat on each other with sticks until you're ready."
"Did you see the theme?"
"Yes, what's wrong with it?"
"It's stupid, that's what," Cordelia said. "If you want an '80s look, you don't do Back to the Future. It's a great movie, but it's a terrible prom theme. The whole thing takes place in 1955. Nobody's going to know what they're supposed to do."
"Okay," Matti said.
"There are no danceable songs in that movie. The Huey Lewis one? As if… total jock jam. And then what? 'Mr. Sandman'?" Cordelia gagged. "Might as well play 'Enter Sandman'."
Matti stretched out on the sofa. "You've thought about this… a lot."
"I mean, an '80s, look, that could be way hip, but you pick, I don't know, Flashdance… or Footloose, if you're not afraid of the cliche, which Harmony is never… or…" Cordelia's eyes widened "...Working Girl. I mean Aqua Net and shoulder pads practically have their own credit in that movie. Plus, the soundtrack has that 'River Running Song', and 'The Lady in Red', both great slow dancers, and that Pointer Sisters song–"
"'I'm So Excited'?"
"That's it," Cordelia said. "Do you know the movie?"
Matti offered a cool look. "Child, I was in high school in 1988."
Cordelia frowned. "Really?"
"Yes, really." Matti wiggled her bare feet." Okay," she said, "so it's a bad theme. Most proms have a bad theme. My senior prom was 'Up Where We Belong', and–"
"Officer and a Gentleman?" Cordelia sat up straight. "That's so brilliant! I mean, the movie has guys in those spiffy white Navy uniforms, you've got 'Up Where We Belong', which is the most prom-worthy song ever, but there's 'Tunnel of Love', which is a less sappy slow dancer for the people who are too cool to like what everybody else likes, and 'Treat Me Right'. That would be a great year to plan prom. I mean, Dirty Dancing is 1987, and a lot of that soundtrack just slides right in beside Officer and a Gentleman… hey, why wasn't your theme 'The Time of Our Lives'?"
Matti raised her head. "I do not know. No one consulted me."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that's absolutely true." She flopped back in the chair. "So many good songs that year…Maybe Dirty Dancing was too soon. Yeah, it would have been a better theme in, what, 1993? "
"You have thought about this a lot." Matti stuffed a pillow under her head. "And I mean a scary amount. You're sure it was Harmony's idea?.
"Please, who else? It has her claw marks all over it." Cordelia held up a hand. "A dumb idea trying to be clever? That's practically her yearbook inscription."
Matti looked up at the ceiling. She said "I see the queen candidates have been announced" in an elaborately casual tone. There was a long silence. She gave a quick sideways glance. Cordelia had crossed her arms.
"I know what you're doing." The girl tucked her legs up under her. "I'm done being Chatty Cathy."
"Okay." Matti swung her feet to the floor and rose smoothly to her full height. "I'm going on patrol. You have any homework?"
Cordelia looked out the window. "All done. It's a great way to burn off anger."
"You can, uh, use the basement if you want to, or…" Matti shrugged.
Cordelia turned her head and looked at Matti. "Are you afraid I'm going to slash my wrists? Take a long bath and just slip under the water? Jump out the window… even if it is the first floor?" She pulled her feet out from under her and stood up, although the move still left her craning her neck to look up at Matti. "Because of stupid–" her breath hitched in her throat and she silently cursed herself "-prom?"
Matti was silent for a moment, then said, "I know it's always the last straw that breaks the camel's back, even if it's a small one."
"Wow, great metaphor, and folksy, too, but you can stash that back in your locker. I'm not going to tweak just because Harmony Kendall wouldn't know how to plan prom if the directions were written on her hand." Dammit, why did her eyes keep watering? She quickly swiped a hand across her cheeks. "So, just go out and get your exercise, and I promise that I won't work any hexes or make any voodoo dolls or write 'Harmony is a bitch' on the walls in Sharpie. Okay?" She rose up slightly on the balls of her feet.
Matti held up her hands. "Message received."
Cordelia glared for another heartbeat, then relaxed. "All right... but… thank you... for thinking I might."
Willow glanced up from her book and looked thoughtfully at the soda bottle on her desk. She moved her fingers and muttered words under her breath. The bottle tipped slightly to one side, then slowly, slowly turned on its base. When it completed its circle, Willow dropped her hand. She smiled; she'd been working so hard on figuring out the parameters of the Never Never that she hadn't done much with basic magic recently.
She stared at the soda bottle, then glanced over at the mirror above her dresser…
And she was in. She looked at the soda again, at its weird popping, fizzing Never Never form. Lines and particles shifted within the crystalline confines of the bottle, a bottle that she could perceive not just as a whole, but as its component… she still didn't have a vocabulary for this place. The thought occurred to her: If I could spin the bottle before, what could I do now? She reached out to touch it–
And ended up on the bedroom floor, blinking. There was a knock on the door, followed by her mother's voice: "Willow, are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah, mom, I'm fine." She pushed up to her hands and knees. "I just tripped."
Matti brought the baton around in a sizzling arc and caught the vampire flush across the face. The shock reverberated up her arm and the crack of the bone was pleasing, slightly undercut by the knowledge that the bones would heal and that right soon. Her backhand return thudded into the monster's neck, causing a whiplash that would have paralyzed a human being. Instead, the vampire staggered to a knee; Matti kicked it under the chin. As it flopped onto its back, she was grabbed from behind and spun around. In the corner of her vision she saw Stefan Warner engaged with his own assailants. The spin completed, she found herself face-to-face with another, burlier vampire. Its arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her forward. Matti threw up her left forearm, jamming it under the creature's chin. It lunged and snapped at her; she was just out of reach, but unable to bring her baton into action.
"Screw this," she hissed, dropped the baton, and pulled her pistol. She jammed it under the demon's rib cage and pulled the trigger. Three flashes, three reports, the smell of burned gunpowder filled her nostrils, and the heat scorched the front of her shirt. The vampire collapsed into ash. She looked around, ears ringing. The vampire she'd clubbed was struggling to its feet; she stepped over it and fired three more times. The monster jerked and screamed at the first two shots, then ashed on the third. She twisted toward Warner, the H&K in a two-handed grip.
Warner was engaged with one vamp; another circled, trying to get behind him. Matti tracked the creeper, then fired a bullet into its skull. The vampire roared, clapped a hand to its head, and turned toward her. She fired two rounds into the demon's torso, dropped the magazine, grabbed a fresh one, and slapped it home without ever taking her eyes off the vampire.
Her shots had hit, but the creature wasn't down. It grimaced and flashed its fangs, then turned and ran away, staggering a bit. The other vampire broke away from Warner and, realizing it was now outnumbered, joined its compatriot in flight. Matti lowered her pistol, still in two hands.
Warner's mouth was moving, but all she could hear was her ears ringing. She waved at him to stop, then motioned toward her ears. He nodded and made a 'let's go' gesture. She nodded, and, after she holstered her weapon, they disappeared into the line of trees.
They withdrew southwest, away from Fort Wilkins and toward the 4 Runner parked along Orville Road. By the time they reached the vehicle, Matti's hearing had cleared up considerably.
"So," Warner said as they buckled in, "we can inform R&D that the new ammo is effective."
"Qualified effective," Matti said, looking over at him as she fired up the engine. "I fired nine shots, all hits, and dispatched two hostiles. Since one of those was a head shot, we have to operate under the assumption that the bullets can cause pain, but only a direct hit to the heart results in termination."
"Whoa, slow down there," Warner said. "You okay?"
Matti took a deep breath and shook her head as she concentrated on staying under the speed limit and signaling her turns. "Adrenaline. Little shaky."
"Uh-huh." Warner looked out the passenger window, then the windshield. "We're partners, and we depend on each other, so I'm going to speak freely. You seem more than a little wired, and it's not just an after-action buzz."
"Maybe I'm concerned about reports of multiple gunshots close to an army base and I just want to create some space between us and the scene."
Warner shook his head. "Nah. I've seen you cooler than this in way worse circumstances. Come on. I'm your partner. I put my life in your hands. What's up?"
Matti drove a little further before she spoke. "It's the girl. I'm starting to wonder if I did a stupid thing."
Warner nodded his head. "Oh, yeah, it was stupid. Entangling yourself with possible subjects of an operation this way is the dictionary definition of poor procedure." He paused. "But, personally, I understand it. What good is saving the world if we let the people burn?"
Matti gave her head a slow shake. "I don't know… the situation doesn't seem to be improving… I think we've made progress, then she blows up or shuts me out… it's starting to drive me crazy."
"Now, see, that's where it would be better if you were in a classroom instead of down in the gym." Warner wedged himself into the corner between his seat and the door. "They're all like that, children's brains in adult bodies. It's like putting a toddler behind the wheel of a Ferrari. They have no idea what they're doing, but they'll make it go fast until it crashes. Their hormones have made them functonally insane, and that's the just ones dealing with stepparents, or mom's new boyfriend, or dad's new girlfriend, who graduated with their older brother, the ones who don't know about the monsters and who haven't been kidnapped and seen their parents die a horrible death." He shrugged. "It's a wonder she hasn't rammed a bus into the high school or climbed up in a tall building with a rifle."
"That's not funny." Matti's voice was sharp and hard.
"It wasn't meant to be. Look, my point is that they're all literally a heartbeat away from turning one-eighty at any given minute, and that's without everything she's gone through." He turned to face front. "You can't keep her from going through what they all go through plus ten, but maybe… maybe you're providing some sort of stability, which we might need before this is all over."
The rest of the trip was silence, until Matti pulled into Warner's driveway. As he got out, she looked over and said, "Thanks. It was a shitty pep talk, but I appreciate the effort."
"Hey, who do I look like, Tony Robbins?"
A small grin appeared on Matti's face. "Do you really think they're all monsters?"
Warner shook his head. "Hey, I love 'em, honest, but they are not complete human beings, not yet. That's why they need us. See you tomorrow."
She nodded and he closed the door. Matti watched him enter his house, then sighed and put the SUV in reverse to head home to her own mission.
