The Vampire as Metaphor...Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...
PG-13
Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely (see my Cicelyverse notes at the included link) Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla" ) . )
Archived at the Buffy Rebecca verse, In Book III of the (Semi) Complete Works of William Walthrop
Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Part III...
Two hours later...The New York docks...
A somewhat nettled Detective Harris having agreed after young Mr. Potter's careful phrased lack of satisfaction with his investigative efforts to make inquiries as whether anyone might have seen the person responsible for the unfortunate crate incident, he, Potter, and charmingly concerned Miss Springs. Wonder if it's customary among American women to stay unrelentingly by a man they've saved from death, Potter wondered, eyeing her...Had made an exhaustive circuit of the dock area...
No one apparently had seen 'nuting' as Detective Harris put it. Though to Potter's surprise that seemed to disturb the dockyard detective more...
"That crate couldn't've come out of nowheres. There weren't no ship abouts. And nobody coulda tossed it far. Somebody's musta seen sumtin'...And somebody's lying."
Not good in his business...Harris noted to his companions...Which relied on the trustworthy support and complicity of the local dockers both honest and less so. Without that...Chaos...And rapid escalation of the main problem of the docks from petty theft and delay to large-scale robbery and paralysis.
Yes, well...Potter was now tiring a bit of the law officer's investigative enthusiasm. He'd merely wanted a slight show of effort and concern. Not to spend the fast-vanishing afternoon wandering around endlessly... "Thank you for your efforts, Mr. Harris..."
"I think I'd best be off to my hotel...Miss Springs." he politely touched his hat to the girl who frowned at him as he took up his bags. "Hey...Wait..." she followed him.
"You said you had something for me!" she was beside him in a second. Hmmn...Fast girl, he noted.
Perhaps possibly in more ways than one. The thought occurred to him. But he halted...Yes, of course...
"I have a letter and a box for you. From a gentleman I met on the boat crossing over...A Mr. Merritt...?"
"Yeah?..." she eyed him. "Somebody you met, huh? On board?"
"You don't know him?" Potter paused. "Perhaps I should..."
"No, no...I know Merritt. You can give it to me..." she smiled sweetly. He frowned, but put his bags down and opened one. Here...He handed her an envelope and a small, rectangular box. She took them and putting a leg on one of his bags to prop the box level in the crook of her elbow and arm, opened the envelope, smoothing the letter within on the box.
"Thanks...So...Where is Mr. Merritt? Did he leave the boat ahead of you?" she looked at him.
"I haven't seen him since he gave these to me the third day out." He paused, considering whether or not to politely ask her to please move her...Rather interesting leg...From his bag or wait her out...
Waiting out after all being the more gentlemanly route. Not to mention perhaps the more pleasurable one...
She frowned at the letter and gave young Potter a hard glance. Damn, clearly she'd been mistaken. Well, no harm done...The Brit seeming utterly clueless. Merritt must've sensed trouble and figured he could always retrieve the stuff from him if things went well. But if he didn't make it she'd see this Potter as the likeliest candidate for contact. And if the little fellow became a target himself in the meantime...Well...No great loss...
"Anything wrong...?"
"Nah..." she shook her head. A quick smile at the young figure gazing down on her. Hmmn...Wonder what the heck his game really is? She looked the young Englishman over carefully and throughly...Eh, just another clown hoping to make a pile in the California gold fields or something like that.
[Hmmn...Cicely eyed Will carefully. As he blinked, the catching of her intense stare throwing him off a rather good stride for an instant...Land of Opportunity? California gold fields? Poor college graduate with a brother and sister to support and no money. He wasn't by any chance, considering? Ok, then, maybe time to push things along relationshipwise after this enchanting evening...
Wonder if Henry was planning to use that cottage of his up in the Lake District this weekend?
Hmmn...Henderson thought, giving as concealed a glare as possible at the precious little 'poet'. So perhaps our diminutive pest is planning a move westwards? What a pity.]
Still he was headed her way. Hmmn...In fact...Perhaps Merritt's scheme was worth continuing. At least until she'd learned what had happened shipboard. If Nast and co thought she'd linked up with her new Watcher without incident. They might show their hand faster...
But first things first. She moved the box up for opening. He eyeing it as well, somewhat interested after carrying the thing for days. She gave him a...Yes?...stare and he backed off slightly...Sorry...
"Not at all..." she shook her head. "Just that some of the contents might be...Personal...You understand?" Certainly, he nodded. And tried to look elsewhere. Ummn... "Perhaps if you'd let me have my bag and be on my way...?" he suggested.
"Sure, sure...Just a minute..." she waved him off hastily and opened the box...Mmmn...
He slipped back in a bit, seeing the large, well-bound book inside…With a rather sinister raised illustration on the cover. Well? He looked at her.
Quite a piece of workmanship, he noted to her.
Yeah...she recovered the box. "Pity I can't read it..." Hmmn...A thought struck her... "Say...?" "Potter, Peter Potter..." Potter reminded her.
"Yeah...You don't by any chance read Latin and Greek, Mr. Patter?"
Does a fish know how to swim and a bird to fly? He did not say. Though rather wished he had a second after nodding yes...I believe so.
"Great...You can read this thing to me tonight. At our hotel..."
Our hotel...? he stared at her.
"We're both starting for California tomorrow, right?" she noted. "So odds are we're staying at the same hotel...Or..." she beamed at him. "We could be...Especially as I've not booked a room as yet for tonight."
Oh...?
[Interesting...Jonathan thought, watching William...So, assuming Walthrop knows something about his subject...What they say...At least in those circles not frequented by ladies...About American girls is really...?]
"And it wouldn't be safe for me to wander these streets alone...My...Uncle...Mr. Merrick..." "Merritt." "Merritt, right. Not having showed as yet..."
"Well...But then...Shouldn't you call Mr. Harris back and...?" "Yeah..." she cut him off. "I'll leave a note with him to have Uncle reach me at the...?" she gave him a...Well?...stare...
"Well...I'm supposed to be staying at the Germania. A friend recommended it."
"Here..." she handed him the box. "Just let me get my things, I left them in the baggage office when I came out here...I'll leave a note there, too." she hurried off, leaving him a bit speechless...
But not necessarily displeased...
So...This is how it's done in the New World...
Encountering Detective Harris once again in the baggage office, Miss Springs politely thanked him for his efforts and recovered her things. Glancing out the window several times to confirm that young Mr. Potter was keeping what she chose to consider a promise...To wait for her...
After she left Detective Harris stood near the large window and watched her meet with Potter outside and head off. He turned to an assistant. "I wanta know where they go...What they're doing...When one of 'em heads for the latrine...I know it...Got it?" he eyed him.
Aye...the assistant nodded and left...
…..
A few minutes later...
The New York sewer tunnel #1, triumph of modern (1860's modern) engineering. Though perhaps now a bit...Dank...
Temporary lair of Heinrich Nast, would-be Napoleon of the Underworld. Who'd called his available minions in for a quick consultation...
[Nast?...Cicely blinked a moment...Where have I heard that name?]
"Gentlemen..." he nodded politely to New York's finest. Of the Undead variety...
And including several representatives of fairly prominent local families. None of course comparable with the lineage of Nast or his handful of European colleagues who'd made the dangerous journey to the Land of Opportunity. Gregor standing somewhat downcast off to one side...
"I fear I have bad news. Our attempts to derail the Slayer's meeting with her new Watcher have failed..." he sighed. "Though not for want of effort on our dear Gregor's part..." he smiled at the shamefaced Gregor.
[Slayer?...Watcher?...Cicely stirred in her chair a bit nervously. Still, the "Vampire Slayer" thing has been used by other authors...I'm reasonably sure...No reason to assume...she told herself...]
"This should not be considered a true disaster however." he noted. "As she now must have the location of the Hellmouth portal in her possession. And we can track a Slayer much more easily than a mere puny human Watcher..."
[Come to think of now...Didn't my Watcher mention a 'hellmouth' once? Ummn...Maybe I mentioned it to William as a interesting legend...Or to Henry...Yes...That has to be it...]
"So..." A newly-arrived fellow, fully covered in heavy overcoat, scarf, and hat to guard against the remaining afternoon sunlight. "Your Olive must have failed with the Watcher at sea..."
"Yes..." Nast sighed sadly. "A great pity...I fear we may have lost poor Olive outright." Or will when she shows her miserable face round here…he did not say...
"Now that would be tragic..." the fellow in overcoat nodded. Switching to a feminine pitch... "Especially after she managed to kill that Watcher for you, Heinrich." The coat and scarf dropping away to reveal a rather beautiful brown-haired, grey-eyed, tall...One might assume but would be slightly off the mark...Woman...
"Olive?..." Nast stared... "So you say you succeeded in destroying the Watcher...?"
Floating somewheres in the north Atlantic, my love...she beamed. "A very charming man, actually. Quite brave...Refused to tell me anything and jumped before I could transform him, more's the pity..."
"But...?" Nast looked at the even-more shamefaced Gregor... "Gregor saw the Slayer make contact with the Watcher? At the docks...He even tried to kill him."
"Not the Watcher sent from England, my love." Olive smiled. "Whoever this new fellow is, he's not the one I tracked..."
"I suppose they might have sent two...A rather sensible precaution on the Watchers' part." the Leader pondered.
"Wait..." Olive looked over at Gregor. "Gregor, the man you tried to kill...Was he short, brown-haired? A bit...Well, not the most prosperous-looking of men?"
Gregor pondered in turn...As much as his limited pondering capacity would allow for... "brown hair?"
"There's your explanation, Heinrich..." Olive beamed. "Our Watcher handed his materials over to this fellow...Probably never knew what he had..."
Indeed...Nast placed fingers together...Plausible, yes. "But the fact remains that the Slayer now knows where the Great Hellmouth Portal is and we do not..."
So?...Olive shrugged. "We follow her to California, we kill and you transform her, she hands you, her sire, the Hellmouth in gratitude for her new lease on Unlife. We...er...You obtain access to unlimited power via said Hellmouth. I reign as your new Queen Consort after killing the said vampiral Slayer..."
Loathing competition as I do...she noted.