Chapter 50: Lore

Hecate's Haven was a tiny bookstore on Yonge Street, wedged between a candy shop and a Korean takeout. When they arrived, a plump woman with a long silver braid was flipping the open sign to closed.

She looked out at them, her faded blue eyes crossing their faces with a questioning look, as if they weren't her usual clientele. Dawn rolled her eyes wondering if this witch was really a witch or just not using her magical senses to detect that she and Savannah were witches. Then the woman's gaze dropped to Dawn's stomach, and her lips parted in a silent "Ah." She hurried over and opened the door.

"Let me guess," she said. "You're looking for something to protect you against the water contamination."

Before Dawn could answer, she leaned forward, hand on Dawn's arm, and continued. "In times of trial, many of us feel the need to turn to the mystical. To be blunt though, dear, there's no ward that can protect you as well as common sense. Follow the health bulletins and avoid tap water, and that will serve you far better than any charm or amulet."

"Anita Barrington?" Buffy asked as she looked at Savannah who indicated the woman was a witch.

She looked up at Buffy. "Yes?"

"My name is Buffy Danvers. I'm the Slayer. You were recommended to us by Robert Vasic," Buffy said.

A frown line appeared between her eyes, and then she let out a small laugh. "Ah. Well, that's different, isn't it? Come in, come in."

She ushered them into the shop and locked the door, then closed a beaded curtain over the front window.

"You must think me a dotty old lady, jumping to conclusions, but you would not believe the day I've had." She waved Dawn to a stool pulled up to a counter stacked with used books.

"Is that too high?"

Dawn hopped onto it.

"Excellent," she said. "Now, there's another one there, Slayer, if you want it." She headed behind the counter. "Such a day. Mind you, when one runs a bookstore with 'Hecate' in the name, one comes to expect shoppers looking for charms and wards and other New Age nonsense."

"Well that is understandable," Dawn said, "When Hecate is one of the most invoked in spells."

"A witch I see," she said. "A powerful one at that. Two witches I see now. I rarely deal with real witches so I didn't have my magical senses opened to detect you when you showed up at the door."

She pulled the plastic wrap off a plate of bakery cookies and pushed them toward Dawn. "Eat up. While you still have the excuse."

Dawn and Savannah each took two.

She continued. "Now, if Robert Vasic referred you, then I know you aren't here for charms against the water contamination. While humans are scrambling for supernatural cures, we supernaturals are renting cottages and stocking up on bottled water. So, how can I help you?"

Dawn and Buffy started by asking her about supernatural stories related to Jack the Ripper.

"Ah, our folklore," she said, eyes lighting up. "My specialty. I adore stories—they tell us so much about ourselves and our world, and our particular world has some of the most fascinating ones. However, in this case, I suspect you'll be disappointed. What fires the imaginations of humans does not necessarily fire our own."

"Because we've seen far worse than Jack the Ripper?" Buffy said.

"Exactly, Slayer. You would know best I'm sure of what's out there. If you look for human fiction and folklore speculating that Jack the Ripper was a supernatural, you'll be absolutely swamped by it. There's a wonderful story by Robert Bloch—" She laughed. "But that's not what you're here for, is it? Let's stick to our folklore. Now—"

"Nana?"

They turned to see a girl with a light brown ponytail peeking from behind a beaded curtain leading into the back rooms. She looked about the same age as Savannah.

"Erin," Anita said. "My granddaughter." She smiled at the girl. "Done with your homework and thinking this sounds more interesting? Come get a cookie, then."

The girl looked at Savannah who smiled. "I'm Savannah. Here," Savannah said as she handed the girl a cookie.

The girl took it, and then Anita whispered to her, telling her she could listen from the back room, but not to disturb them.

Of the four stories Anita told them, two postulated that Jack the Ripper had been a sorcerer and the dead women were ritual sacrifices. In other words, the obvious angle, but very unlikely, she said. Brutality wasn't necessary for sacrifice, and even if a sorcerer preferred doing it that way, he'd never take the risk of performing the murder and the ritual in a public place.

The third story said the killings were done by a werewolf and were part of a territorial dispute. One werewolf had been trying to scare another out of London and hoped the killings would do the trick. Nice theory…if you didn't think about it too much. If you're a werewolf who wants to spook a fellow wolf with the threat of exposure, why make the murders only vaguely werewolf-like? Why not just change to wolf form and make them the real deal? Whoever started this rumor knew nothing about werewolves except for their reputation.

The last tale was apparently the most popular, with multiple variations dating from the time of Jack the Ripper himself. According to that story, Jack had been a half-demon who'd made contact with his father. Not that easy when Dad lives in a hell dimension, but I guess an enterprising son can find a way.

According to the lore, the half-demon had made a pact with his father, trading sacrifices for a boon. The nature of the boon varied—invulnerability, immortality, immeasurable wealth—pretty much all the regular wishes. The demon connection, the stories claimed, explained why the killings had been so brutal and why Jack had corresponded with the media rather than commit his crimes in silence. Demons feed on chaos. A demonic sacrifice isn't about bloodletting, it's about the chaos caused by death. This, then, would have been Jack's true offering to his father—not the five lives themselves, but the fear and panic they'd caused.

"Now that one makes the most sense," she said. "Though it is, of course, almost certainly only a story."

"And not…really what we're looking for," Dawn said.

"Well, perhaps if you put this into context for me…"

Dawn and Buffy looked at each other and then at Anita and told her what had happened.

For a moment, Anita just sat there, staring at me.

"Jack the Ripper's From Hell letter?" she said finally. "As a dimensional portal trigger?"

She slid to the floor, then came out from behind the counter and paced to the far shelf and back, shaking her head.

"Mrs. Barrington…" Buffy began.

"Anita, please. I'm sorry. I'm just…exasperated. I knew there was a supernatural story behind that letter. Why else would Shanahan have had it stolen? I haven't been in Toronto long. I came five years ago, when my daughter died and her husband needed help with Erin. But my reputation as a folklorist is impeccable. So, when I heard the infamous From Hell letter was here, in the collection of a man known for gathering supernatural oddities, I presented myself to young Mr. Shanahan and requested permission to see it and learn the story behind it. He—"

Spots of color lit her cheeks and she glanced toward the back room before looking at Savannah as if remembering her granddaughter and Savannah were listening.

"He was … not accommodating." She paced to the shelf and back again. "It is so frustrating. Prejudices can make life quite intolerable at times. Sorcerers and witches—" A sharp shake of her head. "A ridiculous feud rooted in events so far back in time—" Another, sharper shake. "I'm sorry. You didn't come to hear me rage about that. But, yes, I don't doubt that the From Hell letter has a supernatural legend behind it, and that Patrick Shanahan knows all about it."

"If he does, we'll get the story from him, and we'll give it to you," Buffy said.

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you, dear." She turned slowly to face the sisters. "I don't suppose—I shouldn't ask but…well, at my age, I've learned to pursue opportunities when they present themselves to me. Is there any chance I could examine that letter? Presuming you still have it…"

"We do," Buffy said. "And when this is over, I'd be happy to show it to you. In the meantime, may we contact you if we have questions?"

"Absolutely. And perhaps, now that I know the letter's supernatural link—a portal and dimensional zombies—I might be able to dig up some more stories for you."

The first restaurant they passed had a note on the door, saying that the shop was closed due to E. coli in the city's water supply.

"E. coli?" Dawn said. "So, they know what it is? Or is that just a guess? Maybe I should call my newspaper contacts here in Toronto and—"

"Dawn, they think we're dead, remember," Buffy said.

"I can always make up an excuse," Dawn said with a sigh.

"We need to stay focused, Dawn," Buffy said.

"Buffy's right," Jeremy said. "We need to keep the blinders on and move forward, however tempting it may be to stop and look around."

They picked up sandwiches and took them to a downtown park, where they could be assured of privacy. With the exception of the occasional late-working office employee cutting through to the subway station, privacy is what they had…until a change in the wind brought a now-familiar stink.

"Son of a bitch," Clay muttered under his breath.

"Guess Rose was right," Dawn said. "They can find me. Saves us the bother of looking for this one." She inhaled deeper and nearly gagged. "I can barely pick up a scent under that stench. I think it's male…"

"You'd be right," Buffy said.

Buffy nudged Dawn's leg to the left. On the pretext of taking another napkin from the bag, Dawn glanced over and saw a figure almost hidden behind a metal sculpture.

"Shall we try to find a convenient alley?" Jeremy murmured behind his sandwich.

"I know something better." Dawn wiped imaginary sweat from her forehead, made a face and raised my voice above normal. "God, I have to get out of this heat. Can we eat someplace else? With air-conditioning…and tables?"

Buffy knew exactly what Dawn was suggesting. She and Dawn led the others to the street corner and across to a looming business tower. They went inside. Dawn smiled at the security guard and waved to a "down" escalator a hundred feet away. He nodded and returned to his reading.

Seeing where Dawn and Buffy were taking them, Clay stopped. "Is that—?"

"Entrance to the Hellmouth?" Dawn took his arm and continued walking, then glanced over at Jeremy and Savannah. "It's part of PATH, Toronto's underground walkway system. Clay had a bad experience with it last winter when Buffy, Clay and I came to check on the status of the Hellmouth."

"Traumatic," Clay muttered. "Still recovering."

"Dawn had to buy Clay a new shirt," Buffy told Jeremy. "He'd ripped another one."

"I ripped—?"

"So, I told him to meet me at the Second Cup near the store. Only, he didn't come in that entrance," Dawn said.

"Probably because it was cold enough out there to freeze—"

"It was cold," Dawn continued as they stepped onto the escalator. "So, he takes the nearest entrance, not knowing the tunnels stretch for over six miles. The first Second Cup he sees, he thinks, 'This must be it' and sits down. When Buffy or I don't show, he realizes there might be another one down here."

"Or twenty," Clay muttered.

"Be glad she didn't say Starbucks. Upshot is, if you don't know your way, it all starts to look the same. Of course, the logical solution is to stop and ask for directions," Buffy said as Clay snorted. "Believe me I learned that lesson myself. It's easy to get lost down here. Even for me, and that's saying something. This is a perfect place for vamps to hide because they don't catch any rays. That's why I added it to my places to patrol."

"So, what happened next was entirely his own fault," Dawn said.

"Dare I ask?" Jeremy said as they stepped off the escalator.

"Lunch hour. For thousands of office workers. With sub-subzero temperatures outside."

"One minute I was just wandering around, the place practically empty, and then—" Clay shuddered.

"Traumatic, I know," Dawn said, patting him on the back. "But—" She swept a hand around "—much different now."

They stood at the end of a hall stretching a few hundred feet, flanked with coffee shops, bookstores, drugstores and everything else an office worker might need between nine and five. But it was summertime, when no one cared to work later than necessary. The stores had been closed for hours. The walkways were left open only as a convenience for pedestrians.

"Not bad," Clay said as he looked around.

"If our zombie pal wants to make his move, he'll have plenty of opportunities," Buffy said. "We just need to watch out for security guards and cameras. There's an even quieter place a block over. We'll head that way."

Before they'd passed three storefronts, hesitant footsteps sounded behind them. Bait taken.

They made sure to turn lots of corners and avoid long straightaways, letting their pursuer stay close but hidden, watching them from behind the last corner until they turned the next. As they walked, Buffy counted the number of attack opportunities they'd given him. When she reached five, she paused at a storefront and pointed to a display of baby sundresses.

"What's he waiting for?" Dawn whispered.

"Same thing his bowler-hatted friend waited for," Jeremy said. "The doe to separate from the herd."

"He didn't wait at the truck stop," Buffy said.

"He probably didn't figure two Slayers were guarding Dawn, either," Jeremy said.

Before Dawn could even open her mouth, Clay said, "No."

"I—" Dawn said.

"Remember your promise? At my side. At all times," Clay said. "Unless it's in the restroom and then you're with Buffy."

"I'm not suggesting I lure him away and finish him off myself. Just the luring away part. As Buffy's calls it the bait and relocate."

"Dawn's right," Jeremy said. "We'll be close behind. It's safe enough."

"Good," Dawn said. "Then it's time for Buffy and I to use the bathroom." She raised her voice. "There's a food court just around the corner. You four can sit and eat while I find a washroom."

When they reached the food court, Dawn put her sandwich bag on a table, then looked around.

"Oh, the bathroom's over there," Dawn said loudly, Buffy had already darted into it as Savannah had cast an illusion spell to make it look like Buffy was still with them. "We walked right past it. I'll be back in a minute."

Dawn took one last hit of chocolate milk, giving the zombie time to get out of sight.

The bathrooms were down a service hall and around the corner. As Dawn walked, she tracked the distant pad of footsteps behind her. Buffy would be around the corner down by the bathroom waiting.

Behind her the footsteps sped up … and two more joined them. She sniffed and barely caught over the smell of rotting flesh Savannah and Clay's scent as she smiled.

A shadow leapt from a recessed doorway just as she was about to turn the corner. She wheeled, but too slow, and a body hit her shoulder, knocking her into the far wall. As her foot went up, she mentally slapped herself having forgotten about her altered sense of gravity and was thrown off balance. As she stumbled, the figure rushed her, hands out, going for her throat. She swung and caught her attacker in the jaw. He flew back with a shriek…a very unmasculine shriek.

Dawn leapt onto the falling figure. A face turned to Dawn's—a woman's face, pocked and red. Rose.

"Thought you were done with Rose, didn't you?" she cackled.

Dawn's surprise threw her off. She lunged at Dawn, fingers hooked into claws, aiming for her eyes. An uppercut stopped her hands before they got within a foot of her face. As she fell back, Dawn grabbed her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. Her face twisted, then went slack, and when she let her go, her body slid to the floor and started to crumble.

"Easy to kill," Dawn muttered as Buffy came around the corner at the same time Clay came up from the other side. "Problem is keeping them that way."

"I heard—" Buffy said.

"Got her," Dawn said. "Again. It was Rose. I could have sworn it was a man—"

"It was." Clay grabbed Dawn's arm and pulled her back toward the main hall. "The same guy I killed at the truck stop."

"Did you—?"

"Started to," he said, now moving at a jog and pulling Dawn along. "Then I heard you and mine got away. Savannah turned around, grabbed Jeremy and they went after him."

"You let Savannah," Buffy started.

"You really think I can let her do anything she doesn't want to?" Clay asked. "She is a Slayer now, remember?" Buffy sighed and nodded. "Regardless Jeremy won't let anything happen to her. You know that, Buffy. While Savannah thinks of him like Antonio and Nick as an uncle. Jeremy does see himself more of the grandfather type with Savannah. He won't let anything bad happened to her."

"Just to be on the safe side," Dawn said trying to comfort Buffy. "Let's go." And they started off.

The bowler-hatted man had taken the first exit. They crested the top of the escalator just as Jeremy and Savannah was stepping onto the down side. They backed off it and led Buffy, Clay and Dawn outside before speaking.

"He crossed the road and Savannah and I lost the scent in traffic," Jeremy said. "Are all three of you, all right?"

"Just another encounter with not-so-sweet-smelling Rose," Dawn said.

Jeremy tensed. "Rose?"

"The zombie we—" Buffy said.

"Yes, I know. You didn't—Did you touch her?"

"Sure," Dawn said. "I had to. She attacked me. But if you're worried about the syphilis, I swear I didn't have sex with her."

Jeremy didn't smile. "Did you touch her lips or any of the sores near her mouth?"

"I don't think so, but—" Dawn said.

Jeremy's fingers clamped around my elbow. "There's a coffee shop across the road. Buffy will take you into the bathroom and you need to scrub your hands and arms." He didn't even wait for the light to change, just led Dawn across between cars.

"Jer?" Clay said, jogging up beside them. "I thought you said syphilis was easily treated."

"It is," Buffy said. "But it's particularly dangerous to pregnant mothers." Jeremy looked at Buffy as if to ask how she knew that. "Dawn and I had a friend in Rome. Contracted syphilis when she was pregnant, she lost the baby. Remember Sofia, Dawn?"

Dawn sighed and nodded. "Yeah," she said.

Jeremy looked at the sisters and could see something had happened to this Sofia after the woman had lost the baby. He relaxed his grip on Dawn and decided to try and comfort them without asking them what had happened to this Sofia. "Dawn, you'll be fine." A small smile. "I'm overreacting, as usual. The only danger is if you came in contact with the sores around her mouth and ingest the bacterium or transfer it through broken skin. A thorough scrubbing will do the trick. I should have mentioned something last night but…"

"Rose was already dead, or so we thought. So, what's happening—" Dawn said.

"First, scrub up," he said, stopping outside the coffee shop doors. "Then we can discuss it."

Buffy led Dawn into the women's bathroom and watched as Dawn scrubbed her hands and arms until her skin was red, then washed her face and neck, cleaning off every bit of exposed skin, even parts she knew hadn't touched Rose.

"Sorry for mentioning, Sofia," Buffy said as she remembered the woman had been Dawn's best friend in Rome, a fellow witch.

"It's okay," Dawn said. "I grieved for her a long, long time ago. She took the loss of her baby so hard."

"I know," Buffy said.

When the sisters went outside, they returned to the escalator leading down to the PATH walkways, and found the bowler-hatted man's scent there, but lost it at the street. Between the exhaust fumes and the smog and the stink of a thousand daily passersby, their target's scent had disappeared.

"If we wait a few hours and I Change, it would probably be safe," Dawn said.

Buffy shook her head. "It's not worth the risk. Killing them doesn't seem to help."

Jeremy nodded. "Time to talk to Robert again. And Dawn maybe we should find you a cybercafé and see what you can pull up on the internet. And Buffy let's see if we can contact that vampire thief tonight. I'll go back to the hotel to make the call to Robert while Buffy and Savannah track down Zoe Takano. And Clay and Dawn do their research."

Clay opened his mouth, but Jeremy cut him off. "Yes, I know you don't like that idea, but it's the best use of our limited resources. Even if that zombie or whatever it is did circle back and find me, presuming I'd know where the letter is too, they've hardly been difficult to kill so far."

"Rose didn't even have a weapon," Dawn said. "And unless my nose is wrong, they're coming back a little the worse for wear. Deteriorating."

Clay hesitated.

"You can walk me to the hotel and lock me in, if it makes you feel better," Jeremy said. "After tonight, we won't have this problem with dividing our resources. I'm calling Antonio and asking him and Nick to come. He still hasn't forgiven me for not summoning them back from Europe when Buffy and Dawn were taken. I don't have an excuse for not bothering them this time."