The Vampire as Metaphor...from 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 Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...
Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...
Part XXVII…
Hiding behind his cup of black coffee...Eyed intently from across their dining car booth table as the increasing rain splattered against the window.
"So?" frowning stare.
"So..." Detective Harris set down his cup for an instant… "We've had a murder...It was murder, no question. And murder with a purpose, not some grab for a purse in the dark. And an attempted murder...That crate wasn't hurled all the way fer nuthin'.
We got two people who barely knew each other, linked to both events, both headed this way...Hitched in a day."
"They could've known each other..." Ana noted sternly, her large hat firmly pinned on bunned hair wagging at him a bit.
"I've thought of that..." Harris took another pull at his cup. "Yeah, sure." to the porter/waiter passing, offering more coffee… "But I doubt it from watchin' them at first. They didn't know each other unless they're the finest actors since the Booths, curse that bastard John Wilkes of the name."
"Amen, sir." the porter who'd served him noted on hearing, raising coffee-pot slightly.
"Right." Harris nodded, Ana likewise.
"And?" she asked, turning back to her intended…
Whose intentions at last had better be of the done deal variety...Even if we've been taking separate berths to date.
Sides' a train's no place to go sneakin' round with porters and conductors all over and I'm gettin' antsy for it.
[Antsy? Cicely pondered. For…It?
Well...Shy or no...I think our upcoming excursion to the Lake District...Thank you for the loan of cottage, Henry...she beamed at the seated Henry, beside her...Will prove most…
Antsyness relieving.]
Chicago's a fine place to get hitched quick, given me Harris is Police and connected all over.
"And...Motive. We don't have that quite yet, though someone wantin' to keep the girl isolated works well enough."
"The girl? Not the feller?"
"No, don't think so..." Another pull of coffee… "Even if they knew each other, he's at best a junior partner here, at worst, just a mark. I'd say mark. You thought so..."
"I did...The other day back in NYC. Not since that crazy night and the wedding..." Ana shrugged. "She's nuts about him...Him too, but he was already."
"Know that, do you?" smile.
"I know my own kind...Women. That one's hooked and yanked by that lil' dentist. And she didn't plan to be...I can you that much. She's fallen hard and she's not glad of it."
He stared…
"She's terrified for him...All last night she wasn't leaving his side...Like me with you, Harris." smile, first warm one of the day. Returned.
"It wasn't her plan, but it happened. And now she's scared for him. Which, if you're right and I think you are, someone's tryin', not to kill her...Yet...But anyone she could count on. Is a real shame." she took a sip of her coffee, laced with sugar and cream, slight sigh. "To meet someone like that, go head over heels, and know you gotta unload him, or else."
"I bet she tries to dump him...In Chicago if time permits." she concluded. "She wants to save him, it was written all over her poor, if schemin', little face."
"Sounds right...Too bad we'll have to have otherwise." he noted.
"Yes?" she eyed him.
"Yeah. She's too important to be left alone, more I can't say on that...Yet, An." he noted to her look… "...We need him to keep the ones shadowing her distracted."
"So we're gonna kill him now…?" she noted, calm stare.
"I hope not, but it may add up to that…" Harris nodded.
"If she's as able as you've said...As powerful...And she finds out..." Ana, cautiously.
"Yeah, she might." he nodded. "But if they manage to take her, in their own good time, and what she's after...It may not matter how I go."
"We go." Ana, simply. "If I have to tell her myself that I was in on it."
He sighed, but nodded.
"But what about the little matter of who…? Suspectswise?" she pointed out. "You think that 'Count' Cule or whatever and his clerk…?"
"He saw Smackles last, by his own testimony...But, there's a whole train full of folks who might be the one or ones..." Harris shrugged.
"None likely, of the ones I've seen, able to hurl a 200 or so?..."
"Likely four, I'd say..."
"Right...Four hundred pound crate a halfa mile..." she noted.
"True enough...Though we're dealing with folks of unusual abilities here. Including our Mrs. Potter." Harris giving a quick glance to Ana as Olive entered the car, smiling to them.
"Detective...Harris? Miss Jenkins?" she called, a quick wave. "Good morning..."
"Ma'am..." Harris lifted bowler from his head in acknowledgment, Ana turning to nod to her.
"Tea, please..." Olive pleasantly requested of the dining car porter who'd saluted Harris, coming to sit at a booth just across from theirs. "A bit rainy..." she noted, indicating the rain pattering on the other side of the blinds-drawn car window… "But we can hope for better."
"Yes, ma'am." Harris agreed.
"Your boss not up yet?" Ana asked, as nonchalantly as she could…
"Count de la Cule is a late riser. He often will sleep much of the day and work through the night, though not today, given last night's events, I'msure." Olive smiled. "It's a bit difficult to adjust to his schedule but all part of my job. I suppose it's the same thing for a police detective, at times, Mr. Harris?"
"Sometimes, ma'am." he nodded.
"So the Count's writing about his travels in the US?" Ana asked.
"Yes...Through all of North America and perhaps even the Latin...He's not decided yet. But he wants to focus on the Pacific Coast...Golden California and all that...Very interesting to a European audience still."
"Then you're not stopping at Chicago but pushin' right on…?" Ana, friendly smile.
"Yes, that's the plan...On to San Francisco as soon as the train schedules will permit."
"You will have to do some wagoning or carriage for part you know...The transcontinental's not quite finished yet." Harris noted.
"Oh, yes...And the Count's looking forward to doing that...Riding the wagon trail across the prairie. He's a bit of a romantic, I'm afraid."
"Hope the weather allows for Romance...It can be rough out there." Harris noted.
"Well, we've managed in harsh conditions before. The Count has always surprised me with his ability to endure. Unusual in some aristocrats..." Olive smiled.
"Hard on you, I imagine..." Ana eyed her.
"I'm tougher than I look myself..." Olive grinned. "And I suppose, more of a Romantic than I may give out."
She looked about…
Speaking of Romance…
"Have either of you seen…?" she began.
"Miss Giles!...Glad you could make it! Top of the mornin' all."…. the somewhat booming voice of Oliver Wainswright at the dining car door. He in his traveling suit from yesterday…His bowler hat lifted in tribute to the ladies.
"Sorry to be late...Ran into our doctor and his lady in the car..." he noted, stepping over to Miss Giles, Dr. Potter, then Elisabeth visible at door behind him.
Ok...Nothing to worry about...Olive repressed a jot of fear...I've my necklace, there are plenty of humans about...It's daylight outside if vampirally tolerable.
No need to think she'd sense me...Though best if dear large Ollie...She beamed with genuine pleasure as he politely doffed hat again, standing by her booth and requesting permission to...
"Please...Sit yourself down." she indicated seat across fromher.
"Doctor? Did you and Mrs. Potter sleep well?" she called as Potter helped Elisabeth to a booth seat, he taking seat by her…
"We did indeed, Miss Giles." Potter nodded. "Oh, the Count will be here shortly he asked us to hold a seat for him when we passed him by his sleeping compartment."
"Ah...Very kind..." she nodded, blinking.
He's going to sit with them? He's going to sit across from the Slayer? Damned cheeky little aristo showoff, does he want to get us both Undeaded dead?
And, equally, irritating…
Sleeping compartment? He booked a sleeping compartment?
"Good morning, everyone!" Vladimir's cheery greeting from the doorway. "I hope the rains are not dampening anyone's spirits?!"
They also won't 'dampen' your vampiral aura, you moron...She repressed frown as Oliver, now seated, requested coffee and a breakfast menu.
"Ah, Miss Giles!" Vladimir, now by the Potters and yes, taking the seat just across the small table from them in their booth. "Glad to see you weren't too exhausted by our late night."
…
"Anything wrong, Miss Giles?" 'Wainwright' gave her a concerned look.
"Hmmn?" she looked at him, taking her gaze off the Potters and Vladimir… "Oh, no...Just not really hungry this morning." fingering her tea.
"That's a shame, the eggs are pretty good." he took a forkful of fried egg, then a pull of coffee. She sipping tea.
"Pardon me for being distracted..." she noted apologetically. "So you were telling me about your work upcoming in San Francisco?"
"Yes, a bit of mathematics and practical engineering..." he smiled. "People think it's all about putting in the guns and seeing they fire but there's quite a bit involved."
"I imagine..." she nodded. "But they still must fire..." smile.
"Oh, yeah...And I've seen a few competitors lose sight of that point as well." grin. "Bad powder, poor manufactory...The gun fails or even explodes, like at Sumter."
"Oh?" She glanced over to see Vladimir happily engaged in conversation with Dr. Potter...Elisabeth looking just a bit frustrated…
What in Hades are they talking about? Dentistry? I suppose Rumania needs dentists en masse but…
"Yeah, at the surrender they fired a gun to salute the flag and it exploded...Killed some poor lad, the only actual causality."
"Really?" nod.
"But what about youself? Have you been traveling much with the Count?"
"Recently, quite a bit...All across the United States from the East. Back in Europe we're generally in England these days."
Well, my true employer, Heinrich, and I were...Vladimir favors hiding in the backwoods of Transylvania, claiming he's defending the family heritage…
Hiding from the Watchers and their Slayer, more like it...
"Good place for a writer..." he nodded, looking over. "I see the Doctor and he are getting on..."
"Yes...Curious."
"Well, the Doc's a poet as well...And a bit of a historian, I guess." he noted.
"Oh? You had that much chance to talk?" she asked.
"Briefly this morning, briefly...He mentioned his interest in poetry when he saw I had a copy of 'Leaves of Grass'..." Wainwright, indicating book now in his lap.
"Oh..." She nodded.
Yes, American writers...Interesting I suppose but hardly to set against Dickens, let along Shakespeare…
"And he'd dropped quite a remarkable ole volume...Beautiful thing...That's how I learnt of his interest in History. Quite an antique...Though he said it belonged to his wife's family..."
She looked at Wainwright carefully…
Old volume?
"Really? An American work?"
"Oh, no...Far too old...Something brought from Europe, I'm sure..."
Ah...No doubt something that Watcher, Merritt had on him.
Damn if only he'd been less well protected or a bit more cowardly…
That's got to be the Key, the Key to the Hellmouth...But if the legend Heinrich related to me is true, activated only by the power conferred upon a Slayer.
But she's letting the buffoon Watcher stand-in carry it? Her face clouded…
That's rather cruel...Might just as well paint a target on his neck.
But he must know Latin and Greek...That's it, she's having him translate it. Americans being so deficient in their education, she was counting on that Merritt doing the translation and now her little dentist is.
Still rather cruel though.
And disturbing...A clear-headed girl like that is sure to appeal to Heinrich, even beyond her unique abilities.
Meaning my usefulness may be at an end soon as we open the damned thing...At least any hopes of being a proper consort…
And I have no interest in becoming milady Vampiral Slayer Queen's lady-in-waiting/slave/likely victim given most vampiral Queens are not tolerant of possible rivals.
Vladimir, your stock with me may have just risen…She glanced over.
Though of course, if I could establish myself in control of the Hellmouth…? Queen in my own right…
Difficult to shake off Nast's sire hold of course...And his sweet puppy dog eyes...But if I could be the one commanding the Mouth, milord might possibly be more inclined to keep his word as to my advancement...And to dispose of a Slayer both dangerous and at our non-existent mercy.
Have to see more of what Vladimir knows, then perhaps a conversation on antique books with the good Doctor, absent his wife.
After all, it's always delightful to meet a fellow Briton in this barbarous American wilderness...
"Forgive me...Oliver." shy smile. "My thoughts were elsewhere. But that sounds fascinating, regards this book. Perhaps we can find a moment to discuss it with the Doctor later."
Yes, certainly less suspicious...Both regards the super- and the -natural to have a couple rather than an over-eager single woman engage a newly married man in conversation, minus his new-minted missus.
"Indeed...I'd like a peek at the thing myself." 'Wainwright' nodded.
Indeed I would, Gordon thought. And probably about as safe with you and our dentist as I could hope for.
"But what about those guns of yours…?" she shifted back to a matter she imagined was dear to her companion's heart...And of not a little interest to her.
Nothing like a potential ace in the hole, particularly when dealing with both a Slayer and a pure-bred vampire…
And neither, however supernatural, are high-caliber shell-proof.
"Do you actually have a few on the train?"
"A few, the smaller caliber of course...But sufficient to demonstrate our craftsmanship." he nodded. "They can furnish a pretty punch when fired."
"Oh, my..." smile. "I wish I could get a chance to see one in action. Perhaps if we do continue on the same routes to San Francisco, you could let me come to see your demonstration for the naval authorities?"
"I don't see why not, Miss Giles. It's my feeling everyone should get to experience the power and thunder of a solid, high-caliber rifled gun as close up as possible. Probably a fine prevention of war to have the public aware what these girls of mine can do. Ka-boom!" he gestured with hands to stimulate a massive explosion.
"Oh, my...Ka-Boom!" she beamed happily.
...
"Transylvania...Must be a fascinating place." Potter was noting to Vladimir who'd just waxed eloquent on the ruined battlements of his ancestral cattle, lost in the desolate Carpathians...Though looking forward eagerly to modern improvements. After all a telegraph line now connected Bucharest with the greater world...The railroad was sure to follow, with all attached innovations, he happily noted.
Elisabeth, attempting to seem interested...Given the guy seemed to bear no dangerous auras easily sensed, though she was not particularly anxious to spend the day listening to him jaw to an eager audience in Peter about "Roomanier" or wherever the fellow hailed from originally. Plus, I ain't feelin' so hot just now...
Still, he was the last to see Willie alive, far as she knew...And he did say he was based now in England.
Could it be he was a new contact? Or maybe the dame? She scanned over…
She did look the Watcher type...Well, bein' a dame maybe assistant Watcher?
But no...She couldn't quite put a finger on it but these two rubbed her the wrong way.
Could just be Willie...Could be whatever's got me feelin' a little low...But something about them…
"Of course I must remain in exile in England until the day we free our sacred soil from the Ottoman grip..." Vladimir noted. "I and mine have earned the enmity of the government over centuries of resistance."
"I hear the Russians are advancing once again and demanding freedom for all the Slavic peoples." Potter nodded thoughtfully.
"The Russians...Bah!" Vladimir shook head, rather carried away by national fervor now. "They seek only to impose themselves on us. They'd betray us at the first chance. The Turks are more honest with us. No, my friend. My nation will only be free by our own efforts...But the day is coming, soon, after so many centuries of oppression." fervent gesture.
"Here, here, sir!" several cries in support, he nodding politely.
Hmmn...Best to perhaps contain my emotion...He thought, smiling quickly at Elisabeth.
I wanted to push limits a bit to see how close I could engage but no need to be foolhardy...
"But I am allowing myself to monopolize your husband in my enthusiasm, dear Mrs. Potter."
"No, I'm enjoying our conversation very much..." Peter noted before Elisabeth could make polite reply.
She trying to avoid sour look at him…
Ya might consider ya new bride...Who might not love company on her second daya matrimony...And who's feelin' a little under the weada. She sniffled and looked for the napkin.
Choo...She struggled with a sneeze, trying to dodge.
"Bless you, my dear." Vladimir, instinctively avoiding a more religious reference, and gallantly offering a handkerchief which she took with a quick… "Thank ya."
"I hope you're not ill, Mrs. Potter..." he asked politely. "These crowded trains are full of noxious miasmas."
"Maybe a little cold...Thanks for the concern..." pointed look at Potter...The husband showing no concern.
I mean, sure I was gonna let him be killed and plan now to dump him in Chicago but he could show a little…
"Maybe you should get back to bed, dear." Potter suggested.
"Nah, I'm fine...I never get sick." she sneezed again, into the Count's fine monogrammed handkerchief. "Just the coal dust, ya know, Count?"
"It is , unfortunately, everywhere...One drawback to the wonder of locomotive travel, awaiting the inventiveness of you Americans to remove..." gracious nod. "But, you should, dear lady, take proper care of yourself."
"I'll watch out...But I'm pretty hungry right now, so I'd say can't be too bad. Right, Pete?" she asked.
Hmmn?
"I can't be too sick if I'm ready to chow, eh?" she eyed him.
"Oh, yes...Of course." Potter nodded. "So Count? I've followed the struggles of your Slavic peoples naturally in Byron's works during his time in Greece..."
"Ah, yes...Byron..." Vladimir agreed, rather eagerly. "I only wish he'd had a chance to journey to my own land...His was the pen that would have captured the tragic beauty of Wallachia and Transylvania for the whole world."
"Yeah, great..." Elisabeth, coughing slightly. "Pete, could you tap that waiter, I'd like to get something..."
"Oh, certainly...Soon as he passes again, dear." nod. "I've read some of the epic poems on Tsar Lazar and Hunyadi and the two Battles of Kosovo..."
"The noble Lazar...The great Hunyadi..." Vladimir, solemnly, bowing head. "So you've read the poems of the Kosovo Cycle?"
"Those I could find..." Potter nodded.
The who and which? Elisabeth blinked, coughing a bit more now...Blowing into the handkerchief Vladimir had given her. "C. V. de la D." yeah, nice to have it all marked for ya...She folded the cloth and tucked it under blouse.
Never know when you'll find a snot rag out here…
"Hey, waiter..." she waved. "Peter? Could ya call that guy?"
"Just a mo when he comes round, dear. Yes, the poems are quite thrilling...And I've managed to get hold of some of the traditional songs." Potter noted.
"I am so pleased to hear a foreigner so appreciative of our history, Doctor." Vladimir beamed. "So often it's overlooked in the enthusiasm for Greece and Rome...Oh, young man." he waved to the passing waiter. "The lady would like you to take her order. Doctor, have you ever come across t? It's a delightful tale, not to be missed. he ballad of 'Little Radoyitsa'"
"Thanks..." Elisabeth sighed, frowning at her husband. "Yeah, look..." she began to the waiter. "I'd like some eggs and toast. And some coffee… Pete? Peter? Ya want anything?"
"What? Oh, no, I'm fine...Just coffee. Count?"
"Coffee is quite enough for me as well. Have you toured Constantinople, Doctor?"
"I've not had the chance, Count. I hear it's magnificent."
"Well...Most of old Byzantium is lost but there are still..."
Ooooh...Elisabeth groaned suddenly.
Maybe I'll pass on those eggs…
"Hey, Pete? Do I feel warm?"
"What? It's too warm?" he absent-mindedly eyed her. "Perhaps it is too close in here, you ought to have the waiter bring your breakfast to the berth. I'll finish talking to the Count and be along presently."
She glared…
"You know Count...I've been reading a rather fascinating ole tome..." Peter began. "An heirloom of Elisabeth's family..."
What? She looked at him...Vladimir showing genuine interest.
"Really? A history?"
"Peter!" Elisabeth cried. "I'm not feelin' well, take me back!" she put his hand to her forehead.
"Oh...My, you're quite warm, dear." he noted, taking hand off. "You ought to go back to bed."
"Yeah. And I could use a little help..." she hissed.
"I'll call the porter…"
"Peter!" she suddenly vomited on table…
"Oh, my dear..." Vladimir, startled as Potter. "You must get to bed. Waiter?" he called.
"Yeah...Peter. Peter?!" she cried. "Get me back..."
"Oh...Of course, dear. Just a mo...Ow..." as she kicked him under table.
Groaning as she did…Camon, husband, she glared at him.
Oh…He eyed her.
A conference, eh?
Damn, let this jest be some bad meat...Not the typhoid or cholera, sigh.
"We must go. But I'd love to continue this late, Count." Potter nodded, offering a hand which Vladimir shook heartily. The waiter frowning at Elisabeth as he began wiping up...She glaring back.
"Absolutely, Doctor. And I am curious about this history of yours… Dear Mrs. Potter..." he rose. "I hope you'll be feeling better soon but please make sure you rest. One never knows what one can pick up in these cars."
"Is she ok?" Ana, looking over. "Need a hand?"
"Indisposed..." Potter, waving a hand. "I'll just get her to bed."
"Yeah...I don't feel so well…." Elisabeth, swaying a bit.
"Lemme help you, honey." Ana had come over. "Alex? Back in a bit...You might see if there's a doctor abouts. No offense, Dr. Potter." she eyed Peter apologetically.
"None taken, madam..." he smiled.
"Geesh, would ya get me to my bed?" Elisabeth groaned.
Poor thing, Vladimir, honestly concerned stare… Hope she's not caught anything.
Not only would it be so cruel to deny her a clean fight to the death ending in transformation but I need her alive until we uncover the Hellmouth. Not even a Slayer vampire can uncover and open the Great Seal, according to all legend and the little fact I've heard.
"Charming fellow..." Peter noted as he and Ana helped Elisabeth toward the door, Vladimir offering a kindly wave, Olive looking over.
What? She's ill? She looked to Vladimir, a sincerely concerned look on his face.
Tell me you didn't try anything last night, you moron. We need her intact for now.
"Is Mrs. Potter ill, sir?" she called.
"I fear so..." he looked back…
Poor girl...Well, lets hope she bears up. He rose..."Olive, I'm going out to seek a physician as well...Detective?" he addressed Harris, now rising. "I suggest we try in opposite directions. I'll head to the forward cars." Harris nodding... "Olive, dear? Back as soon as I can." he called. "You might get a head start on my correspondence when you can. I'm in Compartment 3 in the car just ahead."
A what on your what? Olive stared.
"Fine...Sir." she replied, just slightly grim.
"Lady seems a bit under the weather..." Wainwright noted.
"Yes...Poor child." Olive nodded. "Lets hope it's not contagious."
"Newlywed, isn't she?" 'Wainwright' asked, carefully.
"Oh, far too recent for that..." Olive smiled. "I think..." she noted, reflecting.
I mean if they actually did know each other earlier…
Goodness...No… She blanched a bit.
Relations so long before marriage?