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 XXXII…
Los Angeles, California...Freight depot of Addams Express Transport, terminus of the California Road from Salt Lake City, Utah...
"Here, Mr. Cully." Clarissa Twitty in black bonnet and traveling suit, tapping on roof of her carriage to alert the driver, Dirk Cully, detached, like Clarissa, from her mother's establishment for this essential mission in the near vicinity of where, by all accounts, if largely legendary, the equally legendary Hellmouth would be found.
A mission which, given the need for daylight transport and movement, in the very strong sun of southern California, "stepdad" Nast had deemed not possible for he and Kity to assist in, without requiring protective equipment sure to raise eyebrows and questions. Besides, the whole point of having one's main base three hundred miles away from the battlesite was to keep one's leader safe, as long as possible, after all.
No, given Clarissa's recovery to some measure of normal and her steady performance as the manager/hostess of her mother's establishment, she was quite capable of this mission...Critical but not involving a great deal of independent thought…
And she probably the last person who might raise the Slayer's suspicion or even curiosity if Miss Springs had arrived in the area without notice and ahead of schedule…
"Your mother has given you the notarized copy of her power of attorney if anyone questions your right to act for her here, though Mr. Cully will do his best to deal with anyone choosing to make legal trouble. Just obtain my equipment as noted in the registry here..." Nast had indicated a large notebook of accounts to Clarissa in traveling dress seated in carriage as the party prepared to leave the previous evening. "And secure it at the warehouse in Los Angeles I've chosen. Make sure the inventory is correct, then leave Mr. Cully in the City to guard it and return here, immediately. You understand, dear?"
"Yes, stepfather..." nod.
"Of course, as I say, Mr. Cully can handle the authorities and arranging transport to the warehouse but the paperwork may be a bit beyond him...So you will deal with that, dear."
"Yes, stepfather..."
"And mind the Master, girl." Kity noted. "His equipment is precious, get it safely stored away asap."
"Yes, Mamma..."
"Hurry back...The place won't be the same without you all." Nast smiled fondly, patting her arm. Kity? He eyed her…
Your beloved little daughter, leaving…? We discussed the need to show a bit more of your old maternal affection…
Right…Kity, frowning a moment…"Give Ma a kiss." Kity, slight sigh, moving to offer cheek to Clarissa who kissed it. Nast, the fond paterfamilias, beaming…
My dear girls…
"Gregor?" Nast addressed Gregor in his armor, seated across from Clarissa in carriage...Face covered somewhat by his helmet but more so by a large black shawl folded for the moment to let only his eyes been seen, glowing like two hot coles, burning in Hell. Covered goggles at hand for daylight…
"You will deal with anyone Mr. Cully cannot. Sadly there are those who might try to go beyond legal measures with our Clarissa. Indeed, I entrust you with the success of this mission." Nast addressed his protege solemnly. "Do not fail me, dear boy...And take good care of Miss Clarissa." Gregor nodding, firmly.
"Deal…" he croaked. "For Clairy."
Clarissa, ghost of a smile…
Hmmn…Nast blinking a bit.
Much as I do want them to get on, and assume they shall after her death and transformation…This, even to a hybrid vampiral lord, seems a bit…
Well…I suppose Gregor just loves his new toy… Closing the carriage door…
"Take care, Mr. Cully. And see my dear ones come to no harm…" He addressed the driver, Dirk Cully, seated on blankly awaiting the order to depart, nodding and flicking whip as Nast stepped back.
…
Present (1869) day again…Later afternoon…
The carriage rolled to a stop at Clarissa's order…Gregor, seated across from Clarissa, quickly shielding eyes from sun with goggles before a rap on the door…A rather unusual polite move for Dirk Cully, but these days he was unusually polite…And a quick word from Cully, announced they had indeed arrived.
"I'll be right back, Gregor." Clarissa patted his arm, brushing her travel-dusty dress…He clearly a bit nervous about her.
That she was off to face those awful humans bad enough…But he'd noted the way some acted around her, even in her own mother's place since the reopening a few nights earlier.
Some quite rude, a few even…Ungentlemanly…Though she'd made it clear as had Kity that she was off-limits even to the best customers.
But they always backed down at the sight of the strange hulking bodyguard in armor, for Christsakes?... As one had put it…Who seemed quite able to protect her, a single demonstration of ability by tossing a huge blustering fellow through a window the second night since reopening having been quite enough.
"Ma'am." A blank-faced Cully, a quite large and muscular fellow of looks that might be considered brutal but for his quiet manner and respectably middle-class suit, offered assistance to Clarissa as she came out of the carriage…Cully having become a model employee after his meeting and discussion with Nast a week ago.
"Thanks, Mr. Cully." She turned, startling several laborers at the depot engaged in hauling sacks…
What the hell?
"You are one…Fancy…Little…Ni…" one lout cut short by Cully's grim stare.
"Excuse me…" she politely moved past another and climbed the stairs, Cully at her side…Both moving to the window looking out on the porch where a sallow-faced, for once somewhat less bored clerk eyed her, adjusting pince-nez spectacles to see her clearly.
"Hello, sir. I'm Clarissa Twitty. Here to pick up a shipment from the Salt Lake route?" she offered Nast's papers of account. Cully eyeing the clerk a moment, then looking about carefully.
The laborers after eyeing Clarissa, gradually setting back to work.
"Oh, yeah…" the clerk nodded. Not especially inclined to boorish racism…Especially when the young gal seemed so, well…Nice…Even, elegant…
"Lot of equipment…Electrical, some of the crates say…That's yours?"
"My stepfather's…The electrical, anyway." she smiled… "He's an inventor…"
"Uh, ya? Well, it's here. You wanna sign for it? It's all paid for."
"Excellent…" she beamed, taking the paper he'd pushed out to her and quickly signing. "Thanks so much." She pushed it back to his quick scanning. "Uh…?" she paused.
"Let me open her up, over to the right there." He pointed. "You may need two fellows to lift some of it. Can get one of the boys, if you like."
"I have another helper, thank you so much." She smiled.
"Not at all…Just a moment." He closed the window by sliding down a panel.
"We'll get Gregor in a moment…" Clarissa told Cully.
A woman passing on the other side of the side, bonnet firmly tied down, glared over at her. Cully eyeing her narrowly as she hurried her pace.
"Don't go alone, miss." He noted flatly to Clarissa.
"Oh, no. I'll wait for you." As the large door to the storage warehouse opened slowly.
"Here we are…" the clerk, a visor now on his head to symbolize his professional rank, stepped out. "Come on in… You can check the crates with me. Make sure everything's ship-shape for the insurance and all."
"Thank you." Clarissa, Cully following.
The clustered laborers staring as they went in…The clerk coming out a moment later to shoo them all back to their work… "What ya all hangin' about for? Get to it!"
"Was Ma that purty, Pa?" one young fellow of somewhat swarthy complexion addressed a fellow laborer as they headed off to resume their labors.
"Can it, boy…And keep tellin' folks your Ma was an Injun." The addressed older man hissed back.
"Yeah…She was." Quick final hiss…
…
That evening, at Kity Twitty's Place…The private quarters…Basement and tunnel area where an improvised crypt had been set up…
Heinrich and Kity taking their ease in comfortable seats before a fire, having just reviewed accounts of their rather booming business. All and sundry among the clientele quite impressed by the renovations and the new air of quiet elegance…If somewhat oppressive at times. Heinrich somewhat nervously trying to read the local paper…Another girl, Betty, appointed to handle the customers as hostess for the evening…
A bit on the wan and blank side, but considerably recovered since her initial taking…And Kity's Place was noted for its discreet, quiet, even rather elegant, staff…
"Heinrich?" Kity eyed him. "What's bothering you?"
He gave narrow sidelong glance, lowering paper…
I see pork has risen and Grant's administration is taking serious criticism for corruption…And it seems there may be typhoid in Chicago. What?
"You seem troubled, Heinrich…" she began. "Can I do anything…?"
I, Nast? The Napoleon of Vampiral Lords? In need of comfort? Even from my own stand-in mate?
Still…Nice of her to be concerned…
"It's my girl again…" she nodded. "We should kill her if she disturbs you so…I curse the day her father and I made her…The days I bore her…The day she…"
"Dear…" Nast shook head. "Quite unnecessary…And only your demon talking…"
"I'm sure even my soul would be sick of her…" Kity began, gasping as a furious Nast in demon form rather close to Gregor's terrifying visage, yanked her from her chair and pinned her suddenly to the nearest wall, her large bulk a good six inches above the ground.
Strong lil' fellar I got, she noted to herself…
"You sack of walking rotting guts, your cursed soul screams to me morning, noon, night…!" Nast hissed, glaring, then calmed.
"My…Soul?" Kity gasped as he lowered her, resuming human.
"My apologizes, dear Kity…" he sighed, brushing back rumpled hair, composed again. "You aren't to blame, certainly, but yes…It's like the faintest music being played in the background…But never-ending, always repeating. 'My baby…my baby…Spare my baby…Oh, for love of (deity of your choice, I must leave blank, you understand, dear), take pity…' Over and again, night and day…As if I were another feeble human it could appeal to…"
"That's awful…" she sighed, then brightened… "If we killed Clarissa, transformed her at least…"
"She's needed alive for now, likely for some time yet." He frowned. "It's fine, it's nothing I haven't dealt with all my existence…"
Kity staring…
"For some bizarre reason I seem to be accursed to attract the pleas of my victims' souls…All of us do of course for some little while…And just the faintest calls…For most. But for me, for reasons I cannot fathom…The cries only fade over decades…And never completely."
She blinked…Well… "Maybe they think you'll listen…"
He frowned…
Well…Duh…
"The question is dear, why should they think so? Am I not the Napoleon of the Vampiral, the greatest Vampiral Lord in our history?! Am I not on the brink of restoring our people to their rightful place on this Earth?"
Uh…I'll guess he wants a yes…Emphatically so…
"Yes, Lord." She nodded…Emphatically.
Miguelito used to get just the same way, sometimes…Usually after some scheme was frustrated…
"Yet they call to me, faintly, then louder, than faint again…And you…You, I hear more than any since…" he paused.
"Heinrich?"
"Il Papa…My own father…Pope Clement to human history…" he eyed her.
"Your pa was pope?" she eyed him. "But I thought…"
"And I thought all you Protestants indulged in lurid tales of the depraved Papacy…" he shrugged. "But hardly all that sordid, he fathered me before my mother died and he chose the priesthood and was, being, able and well-connected, quickly made a bishop."
"You're son of a pope?"
"The shame is almost more than I can bear, although it does grant me some status among the Undead, but yes. And ever since I was taken and transformed…And proved myself by avenging myself on the father who'd abandoned me for the Church…I've heard his cries."
"My…He curses you still?"
"Oh…Dear girl, if only…" Nast sighed.
"Well…Then…"
"He calls me to me, pleading for me…The man never lets up…'My son, my poor son'… 'You are innocent'…'Save yourself'…Blather like that. Constantly, like the croaking of frogs in a pond below one's window all night…"
"Really? That's awful." Kity stared. "You mean to say I…My soul? Does that?"
"Yes." He frowned. "And until I learned of the power of the Hellmouth, I had no way to silence those cries. His, yours, so many other innocents…" he sighed. "But now they will be silenced, forever. And that is no small part of why I must secure this power. I must have peace. And global dominion, of course."
"I see…Well, I will do anything to help, Heinrich. If you think killing me…" she sighed. Not truly thrilled at the prospect but…
"No, no…You'd only cry out the louder…It's not you that's calling to me…"
But…Kity pondered…
If all these people think they can reach you…?
"One might almost think they had reason to believe I'd heed these senseless calls. Why, why won't they give up?" Nast frowned… "How many innocents must I devour, torture, brutally and sadistically kill before these souls realize they are barking up the wrong demonic essence? Surely there's some weakling out there with soul hovering round who would love to be pushed onto the righteous path of redemption. Dracula was one of those…Demon Lord, he was a Prince of Darkness…One of the mightiest in Evil. But his wife calls him up, makes a few puling appeals to his soul, and it's 'oh, I must seek redemption'. The great Dracula, brought low…"
Which would be fine by me, normally…But oh, the embarrassment to our people…
"My…That's awful." Kity shook head. "But it will never happen to you, my darling."
"Damned straight." Nast nodded. "But I can deal…Actually it's Gregor that troubles me, right now, far more than the squalid cries of innocent idiots."
"He's very fond of my girl." Kity noted. "That's a little strange, him being a Turok-Han pure vampire demon, right?"
"It is indeed…The Turok-Han are the vampires, vampires fear. No human bits mucking about in them. They hate the living, the mortals who stole this world, their Heaven, their Paradise, from them ages ago. And yet…" He reflected. "There is a legend…From the days of the Old Ones…When the First Slayer was created from a mere girl by the desperate human sorcerers, the Watchmen, who'd somehow learned to control and channel great occult power…"
She eyed him…
"The Turok-Han were devastated by her attack…They'd already suffered at the hands of the humans challenging them for control and from their own constant warfare amongst their own and with the other demon species. But one day, a Turok-Han had the Slayer at his mercy…He should have killed her…But…"
"No…" Kity blanched.
"Yes. He spared her, hid her away and helped her to recover. He…" slight gasp. "…loved her. An unusual one, a renegade who'd even spoken of negotiation with the mortals before…"
"Spoken of…" Kity stared.
Gregor of course has an eloquence all his own but…
"The Turok-Han are not without intellect, Kity. They simply don't speak as humans do. If you went to Russia and the Russians treated you as an idiot child for not speaking Russian would you in fact be an idiot child?"
I mean if you weren't human, of course.
"I guess not…"
"It's said he became the first vampire-human hybrid…Out of love for her and perhaps even binding with a dying human who also loved her, no one is sure. And died with her, fighting his own kind. And that other hybrids were created, to mock their love and curse it…To allow the Slayer to be betrayed and forced to betray her lover endlessly. And scorn Humanity forever…" Nast paused.
"But…My daughter's not the Slayer…" Kity, nervously. "You said the Slayer is coming."
"She is, on the train from Chicago, then overland by stagecoach or wagon or perhaps by horse." Nast eyed her. "Sadly until we hear from my agents, we've no certainly just where she is right now…"
Hope the poor girl didn't get caught by that typhoid outbreak in Chicago…Of course the press does love to exaggerate a crisis.
"But when the Slayer dies, another comes forth…" he noted. "Always a new Slayer arises from the ashes…"
Kity, open-mouthed. "Are you sayin'?"
"I've not truly sensed Slayer power in Clarissa, but she has a unique radiance, a spirit that endures even my thrall. You've sensed it, Kity. It's why she so offends you, why you fear her now."
"Then…You must kill and transform her, Master. As soon as you can… Or just kill her, if she'd challenge you once transformed."
"That is the problem, dear. I can't kill her just now. She might transform regardless of the method, given her deep thrall, and she might not be amenable to your or even, my, control. And she is too valuable right now to kill lightly. In fact, so long as we have her in our thrall, we have an ace card over the current Slayer…We, Kity…Thanks to you and your late mate…Control the future." He eyed her.
"Once I control the Hellmouth, all will be well…She must bow to its power, the source of her own potential power, my power. She will be my Vampiral Slayer…My…Princess…" he noted, hastily replacing "Queen"…
Yes, my lil' Princess. That might actually be nice. A vampiral royal family…And she is such a dear child.
"But you're worried about her… Heinrich?"
"Not so much her…" he sighed.
"Gregor? But he's yours…Isn't he?" Kity stared.
"You don't thrall Turok-Han, Kity. He is like a son to me…And sincerely devoted to me since I rescued him as the equivalent of a child from his world during a first effort to open another portal of the Hellmouth which was, it being not the true Mouth, merely a limited access, unsuccessful. But his devotion and love are…Voluntary." He regarded her.
"You have to kill him, then…Heinrich? What if he…?"
"Chooses her, a human, over me, his loving adoptive father? Oh, my heart breaks at the thought…" sigh.
"And I cannot succeed without him…" another sigh. "He's not only my strongest defense but vital as the Slayer to opening the Hellmouth."
Kity, shaking head…This does not sound good.
"But for now he seems content with the idea of having her transformed self, when the time comes…" Heinrich noted. "And it will, and she will be mine, in a manner of speaking…A father-daughter relationship, I assure you both." Earnest stare, pat of arm.
"Indeed I do hope I have made a good start there, in our current relationship…" he noted.
"Oh, you've been a wonderful stepfather to her…" Kity beamed, then frowned. "But can't we speed things along somehow?"
"I wish we could, Kity…The longer they are together the more dangerous their relationship may become."
Eehew…Kity involuntarily thought. No offense, Gregor, but…Even I…
"…But I see no way to hurry things until the Slayer arrives. It's just nerves, dear. I should try to relax a little more."