The Crest of Kale
Raging embers, deep crimson night,
Spawn of hell come touch the light.
Seething darkness, burning sin
Growing powerful from deep within.
Cold and cruel, sealed with blood,
Hands of Satan release the flood.
Dripping horrors shall conquer time,
Slaughtering all that stand against the throne.
The saved by daylight shall linger no more
When fiery wrath upon them bore.
Design of hatred the Soulless shall come
And claim what is rightfully his own.
Sooty smoke rose from a large pentagram upon the floor. Candles the color of dried blood garnished its points. Kale knelt before the gate, offering blood harvested from his own wrists to the master that dwelt below. His blood sizzled against the pulsating lines of the pentagram, the mixture allowing him to feel the forces deep beneath him. They were waiting, waiting to rise and satiate their thirst.
Frozen hands of time squelch the sun.
Throws of darkness; engulfing hell
Will claim the light of time undone.
Mouth of eternity wreathed in ash
Flooding demons their hunger to dash.
Once opened no mortal shall remain
To stand against the hunter, Kale.
White-hot energy radiated upward. The forces below grew more and more restless as they awaited their turn to reign. "Soon, very soon." He assured as the pulsing force against the gate intensified. The lines of the pentagram thrummed, the marks visibly moving as if blood rushed through mortal veins. "It is not time yet, but it will be very soon."
Chains of fire, torture will reign,
Forcing all into torment and pain.
Seething tempest, the unholy shall glow
Bringing power to all wretched souls.
Lair of darkness, cloak of doom
Night will rule the eternal gloom.
Strike of death upon all mortals will fall
The time of the wretched will claim them all.
He placed a tapered candle in the center of the pentagram and put flame to the wick, allowing the tarry smoke to flow upward as he internalized the thrum of force from the gate below. His eyes closed and he allowed his own force to flow outward in answer. He touched the separate planes, accepting the fiery pain as they briefly surged into one and then parted again. Blood pulsed from his wrists; arms splayed over the two farthest points of the pentagram, and raced to its center to pool around the base of the candle. It was only after the pool of drying life-force had congealed into a solid gelatinous mass that he sensed the power and life-blood of the child that would provide the key to the gates.
He then allowed himself the luxury of focusing to this rich source of power. It took all of his inner-strength to refrain from entering her soul or tainting her mind. It was no help knowing that she was also focused upon him. Her gaze was like a harsh burning ember that left deep, painful craters beneath his skin.
As much as he was tempted to violently take her soul and taint her mind, he knew that her power would serve a greater purpose, all in time. He had learned much from just her presence. The burn she had left upon his cheek was enough to remind him that she, even in her young appearance, could very easily destroy him if she really set her mind to it. She was like no other child, and it stood to reason, as no other child had the proper genetic make-up and powers to be the key to opening all three of the dark planes at the same time.
His finger followed the lines of the pentagram, moving in sequence with the pulsing as he snuffed out each single candle at its points, leaving only the candle in the middle. The energy from the gate throbbed through his flesh and it took all of his will not to continue to indulge in its allure. Rising from his knelt position, his skin crackling with the motion and his features reddened with burns from his time at the gate, he slowly backed away; leaving the presence of those beneath in order to satiate his hunger.
She was still watching him, her gaze imprinting deep marks upon his flesh as he passed within meters of her position inside the confines of the cage. Her chains were silent and even though she appeared to be resting upon the cot he had allowed her to use, she was far from asleep. Power radiated from her flesh. As he passed, he sucked in a deep inhale, his six sets of fully functional serrated fangs dripping with viscous saliva in response to the scent of it.
He paused for the span of a heartbeat to be sure that she had not managed to tamper with the chains and manacles that kept her confined to the back half of the cage. Turmoil grew within him as the scent of her power and the need to claim her soul raged to the surface. 'NO, not now, it's not time,' he forced the sensation to abate. The pain of her presence nearly sent him into a streak of unhinged violence as he watched her attempt at foolery.
Since she had been captive, she had done plenty of damage to his being, the worst of which were the long streak-like burns that graced his face where she had vehemently pushed away from even so much as his company. How though could he blame her? He had basically torn her from all that she knew and now her existence was the next to be stripped from her. She might be young but she was wise far beyond her age and appearance.
After nearly a day of nothing but cursing and vehement spitting of incantations that left his flesh battered and blistered, she had left him no choice but to forcefully silence her. The gag consisted of a leather, halter style, head harness that secured a smooth cylindrical metal bit over-wrapped in heavy foam shaped as a thick rectangular edged tube. The foam kept the solid metal cylinder from injuring her mouth and took up the extra space to fully stifle her voice. She had fought him tooth and nail during that battle. The result being that he had left several dark bruises on her wrists and arms in his intent to secure the gag and adjust her manacles so she was unable to reach her face to remove it.
Even though he knew that she was not asleep and he could feel the burning pain of her gaze when she thought he was not paying attention, he did not disturb her or make movement toward the cage. The battle of wills to halt her vehement spelling of him had been more than enough stress upon her. He could not afford to cause any sort of harm that might be detrimental to her ability to open the gates when the time came. If that meant spending the interim suffering with the torment of just being in her presence while keeping her captive and semi-unaware of the reason for her imprisonment then so be it for the ultimate goal was far more important.
{The Magic Box}
The haunting tones of Domenico Scarlatti played over the store speakers leaving the air brimming with radiant power that seemed to dance along the sultry, yet beautiful melodies. Influential in the development of the 'classical style', Scarlatti was one of the few Baroque composers to transition into the Classical period. The deep, dark tones of his many sonatas, intermingled with some Handel seemed to fit the rather overcast and dreary state of the outside world and also the rustic gothic interior of the shop. The scented smoke from a stick of royal blood rose incense tainted the air, it's sweet but tangy fragrance seeming to calm the nagging anxiety that kept gnawing at her soul as she watched not only the entrance but also the patrons that were already inside.
'The world isn't quite right this day.' That thought had been playing in her head since she'd opened the shop a bit later than the usual hours. So far, it had not been super busy more just a steady stream of those who mostly were intent on merely easing their idle curiosity. There had, however, been a few of the usual customers and she didn't have to ask to know their needs. She had just finished wiping down the counter when the bell rang and a group of teenagers entered followed by several others, two of which she knew she had never seen before. The hair on the back of her neck rose and her instinct told her to be very interested in these new patrons while also keeping an eye on the others as well.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head as one of the crowd that she did know very well approached the counter. "What do you want, Spike? Besides to make a bloody damn nuisance of yourself." Of late, he had been more than eerily civil to her and idly she wondered what sort of brazen scheme or trick he was trying to play this time. Usually, he didn't enter the shop unless he was invited. It was a rule of law that Buffy had set down when the shop had first opened. Her reasoning had been that she didn't want him losing his 'manly' nature and draining some poor, defenseless mortal as the carnage would be too much to have to explain or clean up afterward.
"Contrary to popular belief, I don't necessarily want something every time I make my presence known." His expression sported a debonair, half-cocked smirk as he glanced over his shoulder at the two that had entered just in front of him. Both were dressed in long, heavy ebony robes, lined in deep crimson, with cowls that for the most part covered their features. "Ain't they the shit?" He gave a subtle nod in their direction before turning his steely gaze to Anya; "Wonder what sewer they resurrected from."
She shook her head in regards to his comments. The more she watched them, the louder the warning bells rang in the back of her mind. "It's been one of those days." Maybe the brooding undertone would be enough to warn him not to create a scene in front of what had become a rather rowdy crowd of mortal teenagers who could not decide if they were more interested in the edibles, the jewelry and trinkets or taking selfies to post to their favorite social media website.
Spike ran his hand through his hair, a quirk-like habit used when he was scheming or plotting some sort of rogue comment or ruckus. "Like it couldn't be worse," He slid to the side as one of the mob of teenagers approached the counter with a handful of single wrapped lavender lycan mints in one hand and a purse of coins in the other. "This place could be full of…"
Loud hollering drown out the statement and sound like a herd of rampaging elephants followed. The young lady calmly finished paying for the candy and as soon as she had receipt in hand, she dropped the purse, with a clank, onto the counter. The rest of the teens sprinted toward the door. She stood, as a statue, in front of the counter, blocking the point of exit from behind it in an effort to give the rest of her friends a head-start.
"Hey!" Anya's gaze grew dark as she moved with purpose to try and thwart the attempted theft before there would be a need for law enforcement. "Spike, keep her here, because even though she didn't steal she knows their names." She lifted her hand and drew a circle in the air. To the patrons in the shop it looked like merely a simple signaling gesture, but it was far more than that. There was a loud click as the heavy steel lock on the shop's door slid closed, trapping the wad of teenagers and putting an abrupt halt to their reckless stampede. "I think not!" She grabbed a wicker shopping basket from atop one of the jewelry cases and held it out. "Empty hands and pockets of everything that belongs to this shop and don't try to hide shit because I will know and you will regret it."
Begrudgingly, they each did as they were ordered and after giving up their prizes along with their full names, they were allowed to leave with the warning that if they ever returned or were seen on the premises they would be immediately turned over to the police. She watched them until they had crossed the street before taking the basket back to the counter. Her icy gaze focused then to the young lady. "I will choose to overlook the fact that you helped them, just don't come back with them or I will turn you in also." She handed her the bag of candy and allowed her to leave before focusing on Spike. "Can't get worse eh? Wrong, try again."
"Thieves, which would be bad but not worse," Spike finished, a quivering grin plastered upon his expression as she rolled her eyes and promptly flew him the bird. His hand rifled through the basket, "Useless trinkets, just like mortals to have cheap tastes."
She shook her head and took the basket. "Teenagers, it's what they are about." With that, she exited into the back room to put the basket on the table for sorting so that the value of the items could be noted even though they had not technically been stolen and the contents then returned to the proper shelves after the shop had closed for the day…
As Spike leaned roguishly against the end of the counter, the two cloaked individuals approached. He watched them as they positioned themselves so as to hem him in so that he had nowhere to go but in the direction that their presence herded him. "You two have leprosy or something?" He had been watching them since they had arrived and no matter how he sized them up, he always ended up at the same conclusion and that was that he didn't like them.
Neither spoke other than to peer at him from the gloom created by the cowls of their cloaks. Their eyes were the color of fresh blood and their faces an ashen pallor that only made the stony, cold expressions even more eerie. The taller of them shifted then, closing the open space directly between them ever-so-slightly, his gaze settled and unwavering. "You will come with us."
"Really?" Spike chuckled and wagged his finger at them. "Did your light bulb burn out? You think you're going to make me just up and follow you like some starving mongrel, eh," He stood, lifting his weight from the counter and taking on a confrontational posture. "Give me one good reason why I should..."
"You will come with us." With lightning fast, smooth motion the taller one's hand shot from somewhere at his sides to rake, palm down along Spike's jaw. "You were not given a choice. You will obey!"
Hot fire radiated through his body as if he'd been dipped in smoldering magma. "What th-eehl-" Gross motor skills failed and needles of fiery pain surged upward into his temples as his muscles went into a flurry of spasms before losing all rigidity. A cold hand caught his now limp, completely paralyzed form before he could collapse to the floor and easily bore his full weight. Warning gongs rang inside his head, and even though he was, for the most part totally lucid, his head felt strange as they carted him from the shop…
"So, I know you well enough to know that you didn't just come by here to hold idle conversation." Anya insisted returning from the back room. She pulled the door shut and turned to further question Spike's motives only to find him gone. Her gaze surveyed the confines of the shop, "Okay, well I guess it wasn't important." She sighed noticing briefly that the two cloaked strangers had also vanished. The implications of the odd string of departures was interrupted before it bloomed by the drumming of her cell phone. "Alright, alright," A flick of her hand across the screen stopped the incessant thrumming.
"Anya, it's about time," The voice on the other end was Oz and in his tone she could sense frustration layered with unsettled energy. "So what's the random excuse this time?"
"It's been one of those days," She answered her tone blunt. "Don't even ask, let's just say that this day can't get done fast enough." There was a moment of rather unnerving silence. "So?"
"Anya, what do you know about Kale?"
"Kale? As in Kale the Soulless," A trickle of frozen ice slid down her spine at just the mention of the name. "Uhm…well…"
"Close the shop, Anya, and come to the library. It's important." He ordered his tone giving away that there was more wrong with this day than just what had occurred at the shop. "Don't dawdle. We're waiting." Before she could argue the point of dawdling, he ended the call.