Note: I'm really sorry it took me so long to get this chapter done. I decided to make this one longer. But I didn't expect it to take me so long to finish it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it.
34
Seras adjusted her sunglasses on her face as she watched Paladin Anderson leave his hotel room. She had positioned herself on the roof of the building opposite his window. From that vantage point, she could see the front door of the hotel and also the back exit of the restaurant on the ground floor where he often ate. She had used that same location for the last couple of nights. But now there seemed to be a real sense of urgency about the whole matter. Walter had felt terrible about the incident that morning and he was determined to make up for it. To that end, he'd hatched a new plot to trap the paladin. Seras' cell phone rang and she jumped a little. She hoped it was Michael. If it was good news then Walter's plan was working.
"Hello?" she answered.
"It's me," Michael said on the other end of the line. "We've got something. You were right. He's been calling his people on the hotel phone. The records confirmed it. And Mr. Walter was right too. Anderson didn't notice the bug you planted."
Seras sighed with relief. "Remind me to give you a kiss when I get back there. What did we get?"
There was a pause and Seras could almost hear him blushing over the phone line as he answered.
"You might want to wait on that. Here's where it gets a little hairy. It looks like he might know where the swords are already. If he gets there first it might be impossible to get the swords away from him. Even if we assume that Anderson is leaving in the morning, that doesn't give us a lot of time. Our people would have to burn up the road half the night to get there ahead of him. You should let them know sooner rather than later."
"Why can't you do it?" Seras asked.
"Cummon, I've got work to do," he replied.
"Thanks alot, Michael," Seras said with a little stress in her voice.
"Do I still get a kiss?" Michael asked hopefully.
"Sure, if I'm not hungry," Seras returned with a little grin. "If I am, I think I'd rather have a bite instead."
Michael laughed a little and so did she. It was a nice reprieve before she had to make the difficult phone call to Sir Integra.
35
For the second time that week, Integra looked very unhappy as she listened to her subordinate's report on her cell phone. Amon stood watching her while he squeezed water from his shirt. If he were so inclined, he would be laughing at her just as Nagira had done a moment before. It had been a rare comical sight to see her trying to maneuver her ringing cell phone out of her wet pocket. They had all completely forgotten about their phones when they entered the cave. When Integra finally answered her phone the rest of them had all taken theirs out and set them on a rock to dry.
"Damn them all to hell," Integra snarled as she hung up her phone and set it down with the others.
"More bad news, Buffy?" Nagira asked, not really expecting to get an answer. Integra fixed him with a look so sour, he had to turn away.
"Don't call me that," she growled low at first, but grew louder as she continued. "Our pursuers may know where the swords are. We must reach the end of the trail by morning. We won't be able to stop for the night." Even with her hair wet and stringy, she was not to be toyed with. Amon didn't care.
"Do you suppose this is another strike from the dog demon curse?" he teased.
Integra's head snapped around to him and a wicked hiss entered her voice.
"If you want me to be a dog so much, I will gladly oblige."
With that, she slapped her hands down on the rock beside her and shook herself as hard as she could. Robin and Nagira yelped and turned their backs. But Amon simply held his arm up to shield his face. When the spray stopped, Amon lowered his arm and locked eyes with Integra.
"Are you finished?" he asked, perfectly calm in the face of her fierce expression. "From what I understand, we really should get going."
For a moment, Integra looked as if she were about to spring at him and tear him limb from limb. But then she stood up straight and the rage seemed to sink under the surface again.
"We don't have time for this," she said, picking up her phone again. She marched past Amon onto the trail leading back to the car. Amon noticed that she slowed down at the first curve in the path to let them catch up.
36
Two hours later, the flashing of the streetlights past the car window was keeping Robin awake. She closed her eyes again and listened to Nagira's slow breathing in the seat next to her. Amon and Integra were still awake in the front seats. They had both been quiet since they left the waterfall that afternoon. Amon was driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the plastic cover of his coffee cup in the cup holder. Integra had been slowly slouching down in her seat and now she seemed half-way to the floor. She had to keep one hand up to support her head as she leaned against the door. Robin was just drifting off when Integra's voice brought her around again.
"You mentioned the dog demon curse at the waterfall today," she said, in a quieter voice than usual.
"Hmm..." Amon grunted in reply.
"Is it really the curse that causes these things to happen, I wonder."
"You tell me. You invented that curse last night."
"I didn't invent it. I only recognized it."
"So start recognizing its rules."
Robin kept her eyes closed and listened. There was a pause before Integra spoke again.
"Do curses even have rules?"
"There are rules for everything," Amon replied. "For instance, we both lost our parents when we were young. If that's part of the curse, then the same thing must have happened to our other relatives. And we can expect to die when our children are young."
"Are you trying to put me in a low mood? Because you're succeeding."
"We've both devoted our lives to slaying evil things and we're very good at it."
"That's the cause of the curse, not a symptom. I said that last night."
"I don't think that's true. There's nothing wrong with doing what we've been bred for. The cause of the curse is at the root of our drive to slay evil."
"Perhaps we care too much. We want to save everyone. If that doesn't invite misfortune then nothing does."
"That may be true for you."
There was a scraping sound as Integra turned her head to look at Amon.
"Don't you care?" she asked. "Don't you want to save people from evil?"
"I couldn't care less," Amon said.
"Liar. If you didn't care, you wouldn't work so hard to hunt your witches. Or do you just enjoy killing things?"
"If that doesn't invite misfortune then nothing does."
"You can make fun all you want. But that doesn't change the facts. The advantages we might gain by having a demonic lineage will always be offset by the trouble that lineage causes."
"So you've accepted what we are?"
"I still need proof. You promised to get it for me. Or don't you remember that?"
"I haven't forgotten."
There was another pause.
"I'm still at a loss to understand how you will use a pair of swords to prove anything," Integra said. "Is there some sort of magical trick to it? Will the swords strike us dead if we are not their rightful owners?"
"I don't know about that. But I wasn't planning on anything magical at all."
"What then? Surely, you don't expect to get usable DNA from the blades. The smelting process would have destroyed all the genetic material left in the Dog Demon's teeth."
"The DNA won't come from the blades," Amon explained. "It will come from the hilts. The epithelial cells caught in the bindings will be at least two hundred years younger and should still be intact."
"You seem to have thought this through. But are you sure the sword hilts will yield enough DNA for the tests?"
"We'll have to find the swords before we can know that."
"If you're wrong, I'll see to it that you never forget it," Integra said.
"I'm well aware of that," Amon replied.
Robin wasn't sure if the conversation would go on, but it didn't matter. She was asleep before anyone could speak again.
Story Notes:
"...dog demon curse..." - See chapter 11.
"...epithelial cells..." - The scientific term for skin cells. These can rub off when you touch something, especially something textured like the binding of a sword hilt.