Chapter 55: Sorcery

"See?" Dawn said as Jeremy left their hotel room. "Diagnosis: just tired."

"Exhausted," Clay said as he handed me a bottle of water. "And dehydrated."

Dawn took the water and made a face. "Oh, that's just Jeremy."

"He's right, though, about tonight. You need to rest, not run off again in a few minutes."

"Notice how he tossed out that 'suggestion,' then bolted, leaving you to handle the fallout?" Dawn shrugged off her shirt, which, despite a morning shower and liberal applications of deodorant, smelled faintly of body odor. "Can you hand me that one over there?"

"We haven't even discussed it yet, and you're already changing to go out. You need to rest, Dawn."

"And I will, you know you're getting to be as bad as Buffy was back in Sunnydale. Right after that portal is closed. If Hull is working with Shanahan, then this meeting might be—" Dawn said.

"The end of it? How many times have we said that in the last few days? Just steal the letter, and it's done. Just kill the second zombie, and it's done. Just follow the zombie back to Shanahan, and we're done." He wrapped his hand around my other forearm and faced me. "Forget the meeting. I'm pretty certain Hull has no intention of showing up. Even if he does, he found us today, so he can find us again. Right now, it's this I'm worried about. You and the baby. You need—"

He jerked his left hand back, and blinked.

"What is it?" Dawn asked.

"Your stomach. It—"

"Oh, please. Jeremy said I'm fine, so don't go trying to convince me something's wrong." Dawn said.

His mouth set. "You think I'd do that? I was going to say I felt—" He stopped, anger falling away in a quick grin. "There. Give me your…"

He took my hand and put it on the side of my stomach.

"I don't feel—" Something jabbed Dawn's hand. "Oh, my God. A kick! That's a kick."

"Or a punch," Clay said, still grinning. "If it's our baby, it's probably a punch. Trying to fight his or her way out already." He steered me across the room. "Here, look in the mirror. You can see it."

"BUFFY! GET IN HERE QUICK!" Dawn thought.

Buffy and Savannah ran into the room. "What's going on?" Buffy asked.

"The baby kicked or punched," Clay said as Buffy and Savannah moved to Dawn as Clay moved out of the way.

Dawn's sister and niece put their hands to Dawn's stomach to see if they could feel the baby.

After a minute of watching, a lump poked from the lower right of Dawn's belly, then disappeared.

"Can you feel it?" Clay said.

The sisters and Savannah all nodded.

A knock at the door. Clay leaned over to open it.

"I didn't hear shouting," Jeremy said as he walked in. "Have you come to an agreement already?"

"The baby's kicking," Clay said. "You can feel it."

"And see it," Buffy said, grinning like an idiot.

And so, for a few minutes, all thoughts of their meeting with Hull were forgotten in the simple excitement of a baby's kicks. When he or she stopped bopping around and settled, though, the question still needed answering. By then, Clay wasn't in the mood to argue, and even Jeremy, Buffy and Savannah had to agree that Dawn looked much better, having gotten her second wind.

They decided to walk. It was a bit of a hike, but if this was a trap, the zombies might start tracking them from the hotel. The sooner they smelled them, the sooner they could catch them.

Not a single whiff of rot came their way, though, and when they arrived at the park, Hull was already there. Antonio, Savannah and Nick stayed out of sight, watching and patrolling the perimeter.

Hull was under a tree, scanning the growing dark. He started when he heard footsteps, and once again, he seemed relieved when he saw it was us.

"Expecting someone else?" Clay said as we approached.

A weak smile. "Fearing, I would say. Though I suppose I'm only a minor threat. For now, they're much more interested in—" He met the sisters' gaze, then looked away, as if naming the target would be rude.

"We know who they're after," Buffy said. "The question is why?"

"A question we're hoping you can answer," Jeremy added.

Hull looked over at the new voice. "Oh, you're not—I thought it was—" A nod to Clay, Dawn and Buffy. "—your friend from earlier."

"He has other business to attend to," Buffy said.

Hull cast another look around the park, as if he knew darned well what the "other business" might be.

"You said you had information for us," Jeremy said. "A firsthand account, I believe, was the phrase you used."

"Yes, of course." He hesitated. "I'm not sure where to start…"

"Try the beginning," Clay said.

Hull nodded. "Before all this, back when I was…" The sentence trailed off.

"Alive?" Dawn said.

Dismay flashed across his face. "Oh, no. I'm still alive. That is, I think I am. I didn't die. I'm certain of that."

"Let's move to that bench." Jeremy nodded at me. "She should get off her feet."

"Yes, of course," Hull said. "I should have insisted. My apologies."

As they moved to the bench, Hull relaxed.

"Now," Jeremy said. "As you were saying…"

Hull nodded. "Yes, right. Well, I was employed as a bookkeeper, as I had been for many years. At the time, though, I only had one client." He gave a small laugh. "That doesn't sound very good, does it? As if I couldn't find enough work, but this particular gentleman gave me more than enough, and the remuneration was excellent, so I'd temporarily given over my other clients' accounts to my business partner. This man—my client, not my partner—had recently arrived from Ireland, with sizable holdings to transfer and invest, and therefore required my undivided attention. His name was Edwin Shanahan."

He looked at their faces, waiting for a reaction. When no one obliged, he continued. "Yes, well, I suppose you guessed that this device originated with the Shanahan family, where it has apparently remained. As I was saying, Mr. Shanahan was my only client and, being a widower, without a wife to complain about such things, he conducted most of his business from his home. I was there much of the time, my presence forgotten, as employees often are. I quickly learned that some of Mr. Shanahan's business was…"

He flushed. "It wasn't my place to judge. My father always said a bookkeeper's responsibility was to protect his client's assets, not to question the source of those assets. Yet with Mr. Shanahan, it wasn't just the source of his money. Some of his associates were less than savory characters. One in particular. He called himself a surgeon, but he and Mr. Shanahan would laugh when he said it. When this business in Whitechapel started—"

Hull swallowed. "I…heard things, between Mr. Shanahan and his friend. I tried to tell myself I was wrong. Then one night this friend brought over a woman. A…paid companion, but not the sort you'd expect a man like Mr. Shanahan or his friend to consort with. I was supposed to be working late in the offices in the south wing, but I was curious, so I crept over to the main quarters. Nothing seemed particularly amiss. They were laughing and talking in the dining room.

"I was about to leave when I heard a scream. A dreadful scream. I stood there, frozen in my nook. Before long, Mr. Shanahan and his friend came out. They were talking about needing to 'procure' one more. As Mr. Shanahan escorted his friend to the door, I snuck down and peered into the dining room, expecting to see the poor woman dead on the floor. She wasn't there.

"The table had been moved aside, and there were strange patterns on the floor, drawn in some fine powder, like salt or sand. And there were other things…Objects of…devil worship. That reminded me of something I'd overheard before this Whitechapel business began. They'd been talking about his friend's father, of asking him for a boon and, when they spoke of him, they called him a demon. At the time, I thought they were simply being disrespectful to the old man. But after seeing that room, I had cause to wonder.

"A couple of weeks later, Mr. Shanahan seemed very agitated. He gave the staff the night off, and encouraged everyone to leave early. I pretended to leave, then returned. After dark, Mr. Shanahan's friend arrived. Again they retreated to the dining room. I could hear bits of conversation, primarily Mr. Shanahan reassuring his friend that 'it' was ready, and he'd be safe there. At the right time, he would release the servants who would prepare things for his friend's return, then they would carry out the final phases of their plan.

"Next, I heard Mr. Shanahan speaking in a strange tongue. I summoned my courage and cracked open the door. I peeked in just as Mr. Shanahan's friend disappeared. One moment he was there. He took a step…and vanished. I was so startled I stumbled back. Mr. Shanahan heard me. I tried to flee, but he worked some sorcery on me. He dragged me into the dining room and flung me on that same spot where his friend had vanished. The last thing I remember was him saying, 'We can use a third servant.' Then all went black. When I awoke, I was stepping onto a street in another time…your time."

They looked at one another.

"So," Clay said, "what do you want from us?"

Hull stared at him. He'd just relayed the fantastical tale of his brush with demons, sorcerers, black magic, notorious serial killers and over a hundred years of suspended animation. Why weren't they speechless with horror and amazement?

"You told us earlier you wanted something from us," Clay said. "What is it?"

Jeremy shook his head at Clay, telling him to be patient.

"So, you believe you were pushed through that portal while you were still alive, which explains why you aren't a zombie," Jeremy said.

"A zom—? Oh, yes, I see. I suppose that's what they are." Hull shuddered. "No, I'm quite certain I'm not one of those. Neither is he, though, and he is our main concern."

"He being Jack the Ripper," Dawn said.

"Jack the—? Yes, he did call himself that once, didn't he? Is that the name they kept for him? Suitably macabre, I suppose."

"And you believe this friend of Edwin Shanahan, the real Jack, came out of that portal with you?"

"No, he didn't." Hull swung to his feet, trembling with agitation. "That's what they're trying to do. The rite, the one they need the letter for."

"How do you know that?" Jeremy asked.

"It's obvious, isn't it? I know they want that letter. When I was hiding from them yesterday, I overheard the man say something to the woman about getting it back."

"To free this killer? They said that?" Jeremy asked.

Hull's brows knitted as he looked at Jeremy. "No, but that must be the reason, mustn't it? That's their purpose, to act as his servants. This killer can't have come through yet or they would be serving him, not Mr. Shanahan's grandson."

"Great-grandson, presumably," Jeremy murmured.

Hull nodded. "I suppose it has been that long, hasn't it?" He went silent, eyes downcast.

"If he isn't through yet, then we really need to close that portal," Dawn said. "As quickly as possible. So how do we do that?"

Hull looked at Dawn as if I'd just asked him how to turn off the moon. "I—I have no idea. I thought you knew how to close it. That's why you're still here, isn't it? Trying to close it and set things right?"

Clay made a noise deep in his throat. "In other words, you're just here to warn us that yet another catastrophe might strike if we don't fix this damned thing."

"Perhaps I can do more than that. If I could lure in a zombie, would that help?"

"You still haven't told us what you want in return," Clay said.

"I was hoping for your assistance."

"With what?" Buffy asked.

Hull spread his hands and gave a tight laugh. "Anything. To me, just days ago, I was a bookkeeper in London, under the reign of Queen Victoria. Now I'm here, and I'm not even sure where here is. What little money I have on me is useless. Since I've arrived here, I've had to…" He flinched. "Steal to eat, to clothe myself—"

Jeremy took some bills from his wallet. "This will be enough to find a place to stay tonight and buy food. We'll meet with you again tomorrow, in case we have further questions."

"Did anyone else get the impression he was hoping we'd take him with us?" Dawn asked as they left the park.

Clay snorted.

"It would be the humane thing to do," Jeremy said. "If his story is true. But if it isn't…"

"I agree with Jeremy," Buffy said. "My Slayer senses keep going off on him."

Dawn nodded. "If he's working with Shanahan, he'd like nothing more than to go back to the hotel with us."

"You think he's full of shit, then?" Clay asked.

Jeremy shook his head. "I have no idea."

"We could skip the wrap-up," Clay said as he held open his and Dawn's hotel room door. "Let Jeremy bring the others up to date, while we get an early night."

"No, I want to—" Dawn stopped, seeing the bed across the room, so inviting, and feeling lead seep into her bones at the thought of heading out again. "Yes, I want to be there, but … sure, let's call it a night. They don't need—"

Clay had moved to the middle of the room, and was slowly turning, scanning the room, nostrils flaring. "Someone's been here." He strode to the work desk. "I left this drawer open when I grabbed my key card."

He dropped to a crouch and inhaled. A pause and a frown, then another sniff, his head dipping almost to the carpet.

Dawn walked over. "Maybe the maid service popped in—"

"Someone's been here. I can't smell anyone, but my papers—" He gestured at a stack of notes he'd brought on the trip. "Someone's flipped through them, and straightened them up."

Dawn pulled open the dresser drawer she'd been using for my clothes. They were still haphazardly stuffed in, but the piles were separated, neater, as if someone had rifled through, and made some effort to cover his tracks.

Dawn walked to the door, dropped to all fours and sniffed. She did the same at the connecting door into the next room.

"Our scents, and the cleaning woman's from this morning. That's it."

As Clay did a quick check of the room, Dawn picked up the phone and called Jeremy's number. There was no answer. When she went to try Buffy's room, Clay shook his head.

"I'll find them." He strode to the connecting door and opened it. "Buffy?"

A muffled answer from the bathroom.

"When you're done, get in here," Clay called. "Stay with Dawn for me."

Dawn grabbed the door from Clay. "Go on. I'll wait in there."

Clay left. Dawn stepped into her sister's room, then realized she had a call of nature of her own to answer. A word to Buffy through the bathroom door, then back into her room.

The bathroom door was half-closed. Hadn't she just watched Clay shove it open, glancing inside as he'd checked the room?

Dawn crept closer to the door and inhaled. Nothing. Another step, and I could see into the bathroom. Empty and still no scent.

Okay, now she was getting paranoid.

Dawn walked in, and pushed the bathroom door shut behind me. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a blur through the mirror. She started wheeling, fists flying up, but an invisible force hit her with a werewolf-strength uppercut to the jaw. As she fell, her head cracked against the toilet and she blacked out.

Dawn's eyelids fluttered, and she saw a figure hunched over her. She punched, but a hand closed around mine before I could make contact.

Still dazed, Dawn struggled to get up and throw her attacker—

"Dawn."

That voice slapped me to my senses. Dawn focused and saw Buffy and Jeremy over her, Buffy's hands still gripping hers. Clay was behind her, cradling her head.

"What happ—?" Dawn tried to jump up, but Buffy's grip held her back, letting me rise slowly until I was sitting on the bathroom floor.

"Someone hit—" Dawn looked around. "Did you catch—?"

"He's gone," Jeremy said.

"I heard you yell," Buffy said. "I ran in here, but he was already in the hall. I took off after him, but all I saw was … I don't know. Like a blur, I guess. I probably should've chased him but I was worried about you…"

"The right decision," Jeremy said.

"Is there a trail?" Dawn asked. "Maybe we can track—"

"No trail." Antonio said as his, Savannah and Nick's heads popped through the bathroom doorway. "Nick and I checked to the elevator and the stairs. This floor is practically empty, and the only strong trails are ours."

"I did a sweep also when I saw well whatever it was. There was no scent in here," Buffy said. "No scent out there. Which shouldn't be possible—"

"Shanahan," Clay said. "Potion or spell to cover his scent. A knockback spell to hit Dawn. A blur spell to escape."

"So he knows what we are. Damn it. But if he was here—either lying in wait for me or looking for the letter—I bet his zombies are nearby. And no potion or spell can cover their stink," Dawn said as she pushed herself to feet, wobbled for a second, then steadied myself.

"Can we Change?" Dawn asked Jeremy.

He nodded. "What about Savannah?"

"That's right I forgot to tell you," Buffy said. "Slayer speed is equal to werewolf speed. She can keep up easily."

Jeremy nodded again. "Then she can go with us. We can even give her our clothes for safe keeping if we don't think we'll be returning to the same spot."

"That's what mom did when we chased, Zoe," Savannah said. "She gave her clothes to me and I kept them in my backpack. But I might need a bigger one for seven people."

After stopping at a nearby store for a duffel bag, they Changed inside an empty loading dock near the train tracks.

As with the last several times Dawn Changed Buffy watched to make sure everything would be alright and then Changed herself.

Once all five of them had joined Savannah, they split up. Antonio, Buffy and Nick took the side streets while Clay, Dawn and Savannah searched the ground behind the hotel.

Savannah and Dawn started with the tracks, which ran along the rear of the hotel over to Union Station. After five minutes of that, Clay bumped Dawn's shoulder and then Savannah's leg, telling them to give it up. He was right. The stink was too much—creosote, diesel fuel, pesticides and whatever else decades of use had dumped into the soil.

They headed for the maze of sidewalks, green space and covered walkways that linked the SkyDome, CN Tower and convention center. The wind whistled around the empty buildings, the distant clomp of a security guard's boots was the only sign of life. Here we became canine scent vacuums, loping back and forth over the open areas, noses to the ground.

They eventually ended up down a small hill, in a desolate piece of wasteland that earned a tidy sum as a parking lot during baseball season. As they crisscrossed the lot, Dawn and Savannah both found what they'd been hunting for—zombie rot.

"Uncle Clay," Savannah thought.

Clay came over and snuffled the ground, then grunted. They split up, Clay tracking the scent one way, Dawn and Savannah the other. When Dawn and Savannah realized their trail headed away from the hotel, they doubled back and took over from Clay.

Once out of the parking lot, the tracking was slow going—too many other people's scents joined the zombie's…and it was the male zombie, who didn't stink as bad as Rose.

When headlights flashed behind them, Savannah motioned toward the shadow of an advertising sign, and they huddled there while the cars disgorged by a red traffic light zoomed past. Coast clear, Dawn and Savannah headed back to the sidewalk … and couldn't find the trail. It was so faint and overlain with other scents that they had to backtrack to pick it up. Half a block later, it vanished again.

As they stepped away from the streetlights to let more cars pass, Clay nudged Dawn and Savannah and gave a slow shake of his head. With the trail this faded, it probably wasn't recent. True, but it was the only one they had, so they veered around Clay and kept following it.

The longer Dawn and Savannah insisted on following the trail, the more incensed Clay became. By the time they neared the hotel, Clay was furious, growling and jostling Dawn as hard as he dared. He would have done the same to Savannah if not for the fear of Buffy biting his head off. Several times he strode off, but when Dawn and Savannah didn't follow, he came back, mood fouler. When he nipped Dawn's haunch, Savannah spun on him instantly between him and Dawn. Clay backed off he knew not to get between a Slayer and someone that said Slayer cares for, for the Slayer always protects those she loves.

"Uncle Clay," Savannah growled out as she stood protectively before Dawn. Suddenly she heard approaching footsteps. "Someone's coming." She, Clay and Dawn dove for cover.

A couple passed on the distant sidewalk, laughing, arms around each other. As they watched them go, a sigh shuddered through Clay's flanks. He looked over at Dawn and Savannah and gestured, asking them to just leave the old trail for a while, and they'd come back if they couldn't find a better one.

They both noticed Savannah acting strangely. Savannah tapped her nose to indicate she smelled something and Dawn took a sniff. It was faint. Dawn looked up at her niece; she like Buffy was still surprised how much Savannah's Slayer senses were equal to her own werewolf senses. She wondered if the Powers that Be had enhanced Savannah's powers so that she was equal to her mother. She nodded to Savannah indicating she had the scent. She then gestured for Clay to follow, continuing in the same direction the bowler-hatted zombie had gone.

He growled, patience evaporating.

"Uncle Clay," Savannah said as she pointed in the direction the scent was coming from. "Smell. It's faint but it's there."

Clay's eyes widened as he caught Rose's scent. Then he tore off after Rose's scent, leaving Dawn and Savannah to catch up.

As they ran, they were shocked to hear that Savannah was indeed keeping up like Buffy had said. They slowed as they entered a service road. From up ahead came the clicking of nails on pavement. Dawn and Savannah sniffed, and then Dawn let out a sharp yip. Clay circled Dawn and Savannah, tail swishing, eager to be off now that they might have a target.

Dawn was about to yip again when Antonio and Buffy slipped from the shadows ahead of them, with Nick at their heels.

"Uncle Antonio, Uncle Nick, Mom. Smell. Here," Savannah said.

Antonio and Buffy dipped their muzzles in a nod, and they both signaled left. Within twenty feet they hit Rose's trail, which they'd already been following.

Dawn, Buffy and Savannah snuffled along it for a bit, back and forth, then looked up at Clay. He grumbled deep in his chest; eyes doubtful. This trail was stronger than the bowler-hatted zombie's, but didn't seem any more recent.

When Dawn motioned, she wanted to follow it, though, he grunted his agreement. They were about to set out when Antonio stepped in front of her. She backed up, presuming he wanted to lead. Pack hierarchy can be a tricky thing. Technically, as Jeremy's "spokesperson," She and Buffy outrank Antonio. Yet he was their senior—and a stronger wolf than Dawn, though Buffy was stronger than him. They all knew Buffy was stronger than all of them—so the distinction was questionable. In a hunt, Clay and Dawn followed Buffy and Antonio's lead.

Buffy locked eyes with Antonio and he backed off feeling the Alpha within her. Then she snorted at Dawn and gestured for her sister come a long side of her and they would lead, but cautiously. Dawn figured that Buffy and Antonio must have seen or smelled something up ahead earlier—probably people. Something didn't jive with that though. Buffy wouldn't have stood up to Antonio unless she thought there was something up ahead that sent her Slayer senses screaming. So they proceeded single file behind the sisters down the empty service road with Savannah bringing up the rear—she was the most vulnerable after all since she was in human form even if she could match a werewolf's strength and speed with her Slayer powers—clinging to the shadows in case someone appeared.

As they reached the end, the sisters pulse quickened. Rose was here. They could smell her in the air. Just around that corner—

Buffy nudged Dawn with her muzzle and made a show of sniffing the air. Dawn followed suit and took a deep breath. Other scents fluttered past, woven with Rose's stench. Other people. Close by.

Dawn and Buffy hunkered down, crept to the corner and peered around it. It opened into an alcove, maybe the size of a bedroom. And that's what it was being used as—a bedroom. Four kids—none older than twenty—slept on the bare pavement.

Dawn and Buffy then took a careful look around. In the back corner lay a dark pile. That seemed to be where Rose's smell was coming from … on the far side of the four sleeping teens. Was this what Buffy sensed, Dawn wondered? Just four humans. That didn't make sense.

Dawn and Buffy backed up so Clay and Antonio could take a look. Then they waited for Antonio to make the decision. After a quick look, though, he walked behind me, sat and started nipping at a burr in his coat.

Dawn glanced at Clay. He peeked around the corner, then pulled back and gave a soft "hmmph"—your choice.

"Well?" Savannah asked, impatiently.

Buffy looked up at her daughter and shook her head. Then she turned toward Antonio who was studiously working at that burr, leaving the decision to her.

Buffy set Clay, Savannah and Nick on watch duty, then Buffy and Dawn crept into the alcove, rolling on foot pads so their nails wouldn't click.

They picked their way through the sleeping bodies. They were passing the final sleeper.

"Careful, Aunt Dawn, Uncle Clay just grunted at me and indicated the boy beside you," Savannah said.

Dawn and Buffy stopped, one paw still in the air. The boy beside Dawn shifted. He flung out his arm, knocking against Dawn's hind leg. Then his hand fell to the pavement, and the deep rhythmic breathing of sleep resumed.

Dawn eased her back legs over his outstretched arm and she and Buffy crossed the final few feet to the pile in the corner. Rose's stink was evident, but her heavy clothes must have stifled the worst of it or those kids would never be sleeping so close.

The coat Rose had been wearing was pulled up over her.

Dawn maneuvered as close as she could, leaned in to take the coat's edge between her teeth when Buffy snapped at her, indicating that wasn't a good idea. Dawn realized Buffy was right. She didn't want her lips anywhere near Rose. So, she stepped on the hem, catching the edge under her nails, and gingerly peeled it back.

"Mom, Aunt Dawn," Savannah said in warning.

Dawn and Buffy froze as they listened. One of the kids muttered and the sisters waited until all went quiet, and Dawn tugged the coat off the rest of the way. As she did, she and Buffy realized the stench came from the garment. The underside was dotted with sloughed skin and bits of rotted flesh. Dawn looked at Buffy and stifled a snarl of frustration. They uncovered a pile of crushed cardboard boxes.

They headed back toward the others.

They followed Rose and the bowler-hatted zombie's trails for a while, but soon had to admit that Clay was right. They were old tracks—probably from earlier in the day or even the night before. So they headed back to the hotel and packed. Buffy and Dawn suggested the hotel beside Trinity Church, where they'd been that afternoon, and Jeremy agreed.