CHAPTER 3

The young girl's screams could be heard from down the hall. The sound was full of fear and disorientation, a sound to wake the dead from their slumber. Several of the occupants of the nearby beds stirred and showed some scant concern, as if this had been a regular occurrence and no longer startled the occupants of the room as it had once had.

But one figure, in the next bed, awoke and crossed the gap between the two beds and lay down next to the sobbing child, taking her in her arms and whispering soothing words of comfort to her. The child soon relaxed, her thoughts calmed by the soft voice and arms that held her. The tears were still flowing, but these were more tears of relief than tears of terror. She felt safe again. Warm, secure and loved.

Tara wiped away the child's tears, soothing her young charge. "Its okay, Heather. You're safe. No nightmares here anymore."

Heather relaxed. Since her arrival here, to this place, she had been plagued by nightmares. She never remembered them after she awoke, only that whatever images she had seen in her mind's eye had terrified her. But Tara had been there every time, and had protected her when the women in the room had asked, in the name of serenity, that she be moved to another room alone. Since then, Tara had been her unofficial guardian.

Tara smiled at her young charge. She had taken to the role of "mother" to Heather so easily, she had wondered if she had been a mother in a previous existence. Heather was no more than 10, she knew that, and as such was a young, headstrong girl who sometimes was mischievous. This often grated on the rest of the Order, and sometimes Tara as well, but she was still only a child and Tara had found a great reserve of patience and tolerance for Heather. She had also realised that whilst Heather rarely obeyed the words of the other members of the Order, other than Lady Nimue, she obeyed her without question. Whilst Tara sometimes felt the burden placed upon her was sometimes straining, she felt duty bound to protect Heather.

Tara could see the sun shimmering through the curtains and heard the sound of others rising from their beds to greet the dawn. "Time to get up, little one."

The new arrival felt disorientated as she heard the others walking, whispering down the hall. She had been asked to meet the head of the order in the garden before breakfast. She had so many questions, and she had been assured answers.

Since she had arrived the evening before last, she had found herself at peace in the halls. The women had been friendly and she felt as if she belonged here, somehow. The trouble she had was in not knowing where here was, or how she got here, or what she would be doing here. She tried to remember, tried to think back to before she arrived, but she could not. He mind was like a fog, unwilling to yield an inch in its quest to hide her memories from her.

She dressed, noticing once more the tattoo of the Dove on her upper left arm. She couldn't remember getting a tattoo, but there it was. It was beautiful. The white dress and cape that was hanging in the wardrobe was a perfect fit.

There was a knock on the door. A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, entered. "Good. You are awake." She said with a smile and friendly tone. "Lady Nimue wishes to speak with you. I know you are confused, so does she. She will help you find some of the answers you seek."

The young woman nodded and followed her guide out into the garden, passing a multitude of corridors of soft wood and beautiful tapestries, each one a picture of serenity and tranquillity.

Out side the building, Lady Nimue sat by a small fish pond in the front garden. The morning sun was warm and soothing. Footsteps approached from behind her, and she turned and smiled. "Welcome, Michelle. Did you sleep well?"

Michelle looked at the woman in front of her. She was older than she and was beautiful. Her voice was soft and yet she sensed that it was also possessed of strength. She nodded. "I slept well enough but I am still very confused. I have so many questions".

"Of Course you have. I will do my best here to answer them. But first, you must eat."

"Please, I know you are trying to be nice and kind and I appreciate it but I won't be able to eat without some peace of mind. Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here? What am I doing here? Why can't I remember anything prior to arriving here?"

Nimue sighed softly, and smiled. "Very well. My name is Lady Nimue and I am head of the Order of Avalon. We are a peaceful order dedicated to ensuring that the powers of light are maintained. As for the how's and why's, I suggest we wait until after breakfast. I promise you, I will explain everything then. But you must eat."

Michelle nodded. "Very well. Yes, I could do with some breakfast. But I need answers." As she turned she saw on Lady Nimue's arm the same small tattoo of the white bird, the dove, that she had seen on her own arm that morning. "That bird, the tattoo, you have one too. Why?"

"The Dove is the symbol of our order, the symbol of peace."

"How come I have one? I don't remember ever getting a tattoo of any kind, let alone a Dove."

"The tattoo is upon you when you arrive here. It marks you as one of ours, which is why you come here. Breakfast, then I will show you what we do here."

Brighton, England

Giles drove as if he were a man possessed. He had assumed that his days of being knocked out or over had gone with the closing of the hellmouth in Sunnydale and that his days of battling demons and monsters on the frontlines were over too. Instead he was nursing a few bruises and cursing under his breath that he had let his guard down over the years and had been swatted by the demon they had faced so easily. He felt a little better than he had the day before when the demon attacked, but his hands still stung.

He glanced over at the passenger seat at Willow. She had stopped the demon with barely a pause for breath. That had unnerved him more than the demon had. He had seen how Willow's power had grown over her time at Sunnydale. How it had grown out of control through grief, and how she had battled daily to get some semblance of balance back into her life. But having been on the receiving end of her rage, he saw in her attack on the demon the same violent streak that he had witnessed, and felt the same fear as he had that day when he crossed swords with her, and it scared him to see the potential for destruction still present in her.

He had tried to hide the fear when they returned to the small hotel that they had been using as an overnight stop. Giles had insisted on changing hotels and had told no-one in the Council of this. Giles was worried that an insider may have been responsible for the attack on the boy, and he was in no mood to give in to his guilt of questioning the loyalty of the Council.

He hadn't wanted to take David or Whittaker with him, but he didn't trust the security of the Watcher's Council not to mess up and he had no place to hide the two of them whilst he and Willow went to the Merrick home. So they were with him now, sitting in the back seat. David was asleep whilst Whittaker was attempting to solve yet another crossword. It was a stereotype, Giles knew, but he realised it was the only way Whittaker could concentrate on something other than the last few days.

Willow glanced at Giles. He looked pensive. So much so it scared her sometimes. She knew that, like her, Giles had a dark streak to him. A streak she had seen only occasionally but knew about by reputation.

She worried too about her own dark streak. She had felt it welling up within her when the demon attacked, begging to be set loose. That was something she wasn't prepared to do. After everything that had happened in Sunnydale, Willow was determined not to allow the dark to come to the fore.

So now they were driving down to Brighton, to check out Mr Merrick's house and see what kind of clues they could find. Willow was apprehensive, but was calmed by the thought that she would be meeting Althanea after they had finished. There was much to ask, much to say, and much to plan with her former teacher.

Willow and Giles together saw the Merrick house, such as it was. There were no upper storeys to the house, and the bottom storey looked as if it had stood there for centuries, such was the state of dilapidation. The light rain that had started fell on the stones and wood of the house with an audible hiss, the heat still present even days later.

But there was something else here, and Willow and Giles both sensed it. Though their battle senses had atrophied over time, the attack yesterday had heightened them once more, and they could feel the presence of someone, possibly more than one, other than themselves.

Giles entered the building first, heading to the back of the house as David had instructed. He was loath to leave them there, but he was more fearful of taking them into this place, where so many recent, painful memories had been created amongst the hissing debris. He had considered keeping Willow back, but he also knew that his own skills, however skilful he had become in sword and magic, were not enough should they face opposition, which his senses told him they would. So Willow walked with him, slightly behind, muttering in an archaic tongue.

Willow had sensed the danger too and had thrown a barrier around the car in which David and Whittaker sat. That should keep them safe for the time being, she thought to herself. She was hoping that the sense was just apprehension, and not anything more.

They entered into the ruins of what had been the Merrick study and library. Here the mess of rubble and timber took on a more organised visage, as if the piles of debris here had been stacked, rather than merely fallen, in their current position.

"Well, we've had company for sure", said Giles in voice barely above a whisper, viewing the whole room again with renewed intensity, "but I fear they may not have gone. You check over that way," He said, motioning to the remains of the far wall, "I'll check around here".

As if in answer to Giles' beliefs about intruders, a small popping sound echoed, followed by the sting of a bullet hitting Giles in the arm. He did his best to muffle his scream of pain as he dropped to the floor, carried by the momentum of the bullet.

"Giles!" Willow cried out as another pop sounded and a bullet cut its way through her sweater. Willow dropped, more from the momentum than any damage. She had often mused over her predilection for over-sized sweaters, but she thanked the Goddess for her choice now as the bullet tore through the fabric but left her flesh more or less intact, grazing it rather than penetrating into her.

Footsteps entered the ramshackle remains of the study from somewhere outside. Willow looked up, feigning weakness, and saw two large men armed with automatic pistols and large swords at their sides, flanking a woman dressed in flowing, dark robes and sporting a great deal of gothic make-up.

"Knew you Watchers would come, sooner or later. We only had to wait. Now we know that there is something here worth finding." Her thin lips twisted into a satisfied grin that looked more full of wickedness than happiness, amplified by the black lipstick she wore. She crossed to the wall where Giles had been heading towards and motioned to one of her guards who threw back a piece of the plaster and brickwork as if it were paper.

The safe was there, still in good condition if the door was any indicator. The woman's eyes blacked over as she spoke a few words of Latin and turned and twisted her hands one and another. She stopped her incantation and the safe unlocked and opened slightly. "Perfect, now let's see what there is to see". She opened the safe all the way and her eyes opened wide with what looked like genuine surprise. "A book! A bloody book of Poe stories!" Frantically, she skimmed the pages, looking for a clue, looking for anything that might indicate what she should be looking for. "Nothing! We must already have the clue amongst our maps and charts that we stole. Seems the Watchers have come for nothing, except of course to die!"

Giles chose that moment to make his move. He had taken the advantage of their disbelief over the book's lack of information to manoeuvre himself nearer the door, and Willow. He opened up his jacket to reveal that the guards were not the only one carrying guns. A small pump-action shotgun was holstered on his shoulder and he smoothly drew it out, with such little noise it was if he were pulling it from thin air.

The guards turned to where they had left Giles and were stunned by his body not being where they expected it. The guard on the left turned to his left, and saw Giles stand, shotgun in hand. He had no time to move as the thunderous shot rang out and caught him in the mid-rift, nearly splitting him in two.

The other guard backed off slightly as he lifted his gun to fire. He was quick, unnaturally so, but Giles, though wounded, was quicker. A second shot rang out from the shotgun, catching the guard in the upper torso, removing his head and neck from his body and covering the area around him, and the gothic woman that he had been protecting, in blood.

The woman was startled and ran for the exit of the open wall outside. Latin and feverish hand movements punctuating her every step. She knew that she had to even the odds, had to get away before the next shot rang out.

Giles span and aimed at her and pulled the trigger. Nothing. He cocked the gun and tried again. Still nothing. And then he felt the pulling force on the gun. It strained from his grip as if it were alive and demanding freedom. Giles clung on for dear life, knowing he was all but defenceless without it. And then he felt a counter-force, pushing the gun back to him. Now the gun in his hand felt more alive than ever. Suddenly it was if the gun was being pulled from its master and was now fighting to stay. Giles looked to see if the counter-force was coming from a familiar source. It was. It was Willow.

The red-haired woman is strong, ran the mind of the gothic woman who now started to run, dropping the book she considered useless and concentrating completely now on escape. But she could feel her run slowing as if her body was being reduced to slow motion. She turned, eyes blackening, voice becoming louder as arcane phrases in forgotten tongues spewed from her mouth as if they were the last ramblings of the condemned.

Willow could feel the counter-spell, feel the shockwave approaching, and tried to escape its wrath. She did not succeed. The blast threw her across the rubble and into what remained of the wall that separated the study from the remnants of the hallway. Willow dropped to the floor, consciousness fleeing from her treacherously.

Giles now had control of his gun again, and reacted. His instinct was to tend to Willow, but he knew that would get them both killed and he had to be ruthless. His darker nature had been nicknamed Ripper, a name he once used when he was a young man, a man for whom the darker sides of life had been endlessly fascinating. But now that nature came to the fore, and it trained itself upon the intruder who had attacked them. He fired without emotion, without regard for her gender. He fired knowing that if he didn't she would surely kill both Willow and himself. He fired knowing it was all that stood between life and death.

She felt the 12-guage round from the shotgun smash through her lower torso, ripping her spleen and kidneys and bowels into shreds, as it sought for an exit. That exit came via her spine, which left her body as if instinct had caused it to sense the danger and to attempt to avoid it at all costs. Her body slumped and fell, lifeless within moments.

Giles closed the distance, taking no chances. He aimed another round at her head, preparing to fire at the slightest sign that she could have survived. But when he saw what was left, the twisted mass of bone and flesh, blood and sinew, he knew she was dead and lowered the shotgun.

He checked around and picked up the book. She had been right, it was a book of Poe stories, seemingly borrowed from a library. He flicked to the contents page, and saw that one story, "The Purloined Letter", was faintly underlined. Giles placed the book in his pocket, making a mental note to sit down and study it more closely later on. He then turned his attention to Willow, who was slowly coming round.

Willow got to her feet. She was shaky but was determined to look her attacker in the eye. She crossed, shakily, to where Giles was standing and looked at the body. She looked into the dead woman's eyes, down her face and neck until something on her arm caught her eye. She pulled back the small section of cape that obscured her vision and then saw what it was that had intrigued her. It was a small tattoo, a raven diving to strike, its eyes were red as if delirious with the thought of the kill it sighted. The image was unsettling and seemed to fit the wearer perfectly.

Giles saw the stern look on her face. "What is it?"

"Raven tattoo. Kinda goes with the gothic look, don't you think?"

Giles looked at the guards, as if on automatic pilot. "And the guards have the same tattoo. Could be some sort of society, raven worshippers, although I confess I've never actually heard of such a thing."

"It's a start at least. What on earth do they want with David? Or the Merricks for that matter? Tell you, Giles, when I said I wanted a holiday I wasn't meaning a Busman's holiday."

"I am sorry, Willow. But you are needed now, more than ever I fear. If this woman is any indication of the power that these society members may wield you may be our best defence."

"That's me, defence woman." Willow did her best to show enthusiasm but she was tired, dizzy from the attack, and angry.

"Well, I suggest we leave before any more of these people arrive. I think we have everything that we came for. I only hope that this book is the clue and that I can figure out Merrick's cryptic brain." Giles was weary. He hadn't paid much attention to his arm as the battle had raged but now that it was over and the adrenalin had begun to subside he could feel the bullet, and it hurt like Hell.

Willow looked at his wound, and closed her eyes. Her mind concentrated on nothing but the bullet. She saw it in her mind's eye and she pulled it, effortlessly, from Giles' wound and using a small spell, healed up his arm and numbed the pain. She let the bullet drop to the floor.

"Haven't used that spell in a while", she said with a weak smile, "not since Buffy got shot". What smile was there faded as her memories returned. A single tear fell from her eye and she quickly attempted to regain her composure.

"It's alright. I know it still hurts." Giles had seen the tear and knew what had gone through her head. He embraced his young charge. He had, for all the Scoobies, been the closest they had to a stable father figure and he took that responsibility seriously enough. Even now his paternal instinct called into play and he held his surrogate daughter, knowing that she was still in pain, and probably always would be. Some wounds never heal completely.

Avalon

Michelle walked beside Nimue in the garden. "So what is the purpose of this place?"

Nimue smiled. "We are the Gateway. Centuries ago the Fey imbued the world with magic and humans with the gift of imagination. Every dream, every inspiration, every aspiration is because of the Fey legacy on this world. When the Powers That Be and the demons lost their footing on this world, we aided mankind, as best we could, until mankind's dominance surpassed even us. There are those of us who still believe in aiding mankind, by dreams or direct action, and we have our strongholds, such as here in Avalon. These strongholds are the light which allows the Ley lines of pure magic to run."

"Ley lines?" asked Michelle, confused but fascinated by Nimue's words.

"The Ley lines are the veins of the world, within which are the forces of nature and elements that allow magic to exist. But not all lines are pure. Some were corrupted by demons, some by man's desire for power. Some were corrupted by the Court of Nightmares, Fey who have decided to use their power to hurt and destroy mankind. Some of the members of the Court are demonic in appearance, some would easily pass for human. We, the Court of Dreams, counter their machinations when we can. But it is a hard fight."

"I see. So how did I arrive here? Am I Fey?"

"Yes and No, is the best answer I can give. The Fey in the past often married mortals. So whilst you are human, there must be some Fey blood in your lineage. But not all humans such as you come here. Most go to wherever their souls deem fit but those who have used magic, and are in tune with nature, such as followers of the Pagan faith, find their way here when they die."

"So are all here humans with Fey blood in them?"

"No, some here were born to this realm and came here, rather like a pilgrimage. We are seen as a holy order as such, the Order of the Dove, to be precise in our case. Others are like you, humans of fey heritage whose souls came here, because they belonged here."

"So why can't I remember my former life?"

"When you died, your spirit was released from its mortal body, and came here, on instinct. But as so often happens, the spirit leaves behind few of its mortal memories, except perhaps your name, and comes to us reborn, one might say. Also, the emotions that one feels when one dies can be strong and, if negative, can disrupt the energy that Avalon gives to the world. If you remember nothing but your name, there is a very good chance your end was violent."

"Will I ever get my memories back?"

"No. But you will soon settle here and you will find this place to be a peaceful one. There is someone I think you should meet. She came here a few years ago and like you, had no memory of anything but her name. I believe she could lay your worries to rest as she seems to be quite good at re-assuring the worried when they first arrive."

Nimue turned to one of the women who stood nearby. "Take Michelle here to the cemetery where Tara and Heather are. I am sure she will be able to put your fears to rest."

Nimue watched as Michelle was led away, and then turned to Diane. "Matters are progressing quicker than I had anticipated. Keep an eye on her. When the time is right, we will make our move."

"Could she be the one?"

"I am sure of it. So sad, that so much pain is needed in order for this good thing to happen. She will know when the time is right. Until then, keep an eye on her. She must be kept safe. All depends on her now."

END OF CHAPTER