Chapter 7

Zim of Fear

(A Dangerous Assignment)

Lorne opened his mouth and let out an incredibly painful, high-pitched scream, and Zim slapped his hands over his ears, though it did little good. He was practically crippled by the resonance. It did, however, have quite an effect on the vampires. Most of them dropped their weapons and covered their ears, and those who didn't fled off into the night.

As the remaining vampires rolled around on the ground Zim grabbed a sword and held it in a defensive position. Behind him the door burst open again, and this time a short young man with long hair emerged, followed by a bluish woman in what looked like bad pleather. Her eyes were cold, and just from looking into them briefly Zim felt like he'd been pinned down like a dead butterfly in a lepidopterist's collection.

"Looks like you have everything covered out here, Lorne," the man said.

"Heightened senses aren't always a gift," Lorne said. "Sometimes it can be a curse."

"I hate your high-pitched mouth sounds," the woman who could only be Illyria said. "They make my aural receptors reverberate in an uncomfortable fashion."

"Never mind that. Connor? Would you do the honors?" He waved his hand at the vampires, who were quickly recovering. Some were already back on their feet.

Connor became a whirling blade, cutting these vampires to pieces, turning them to dust. Illyria stepped in to join him. Lorne stood by the sidelines wincing a lot. Zim considered joining the fray, but it looked kind of dangerous.

The door opened again, and this time the people who emerged were the ones Lorne had called Angel and Gunn. Both were covered with blood and dust, and Gunn was out of breath. When they saw that everything back here was under control, they relaxed a bit. "That's him?" Angel asked. He pointed to Zim.

"That's him, Angel-cakes," Lorne said.

"Come with us."

"If you want to live," Gunn added with a lopsided grin.

"Why is all of this happening to me?!" Zim yelled. "I didn't sign up for any of this! I just wanted to sing a song and get drunk! And maybe hit up Tapateos later. I'm not the hero type. I just want to go home!"

"I know how you feel," Angel said, "but right now you have to man up and help us take on the forces of evil."

"Can we stop at Tapateos first?" Zim asked. "I'm kind of hungry."

"No time for that," Angel said. "You have a world to save."

"No, I don't! I don't even know what you guys are talking about!"

"Didn't Bienvido pay you a visit?" Lorne asked.

"Who?" But then he remembered the burn victim from this morning. Had that actually been real? "I think I know who you mean."

"We don't have time for this," Angel said. "We have to get back to the Shelpshov demon's place. Zim, you have to come with us. Only we can help you, and only you can help us."

"How?" Zim asked. "I can barely even help myself."

"You'd better learn, son," Gunn said. "If you turn out to be a disappointment—"

"Come on," Lorne said. "There's no need for that kind of talk."

Angel Investigations started walking away as a group, and Zim could imagine them doing the slow-motion bad-ass walk seen so often in movies and on TV. It was like at the end of a TV show's opening credits when the entire cast has the title in front of them.

The back door opened again, and it was Fitz, Brandon and everyone else. They saw Zim standing alone in the midst of a sea of dust, and their eyes went to his sword. "Damn, dude," Fitz said. "Did you dust all of those vampires on your own?"

Zim looked at his friends. "I . . . uh . . . well, I had some help."

The door burst open a final time. It was Spike, the blond-headed vampire who had saved Zim's life onstage. He looked like he was ready to start killing more vampires, but when he saw there were none left he relaxed, propped his sword up against the wall and put a cigarette in his mouth. He then patted himself down, looking for a lighter only to find none.

"Bloody hell!" he roared. "Any of you smoke?"

"I do," a voice from behind the Dumpster said. It was DD, and he offered up a cheap Bic.

"Cheers, mate."

"I'm kinda out of smokes," DD said. "Do you think I can bum one from you?"

Spike shot him a sidelong glance, as if sensing the parasite within DD. "Sorry, mate. This is my last one."

"That's cool," DD said. "Can I, like, borrow five bucks so I can get a new pack?"

"Uh, no."

"Whatever. Got a quarter? I can get one cigarette for a quarter in Aurora."

Spike exhaled a cloud of smoke into DD's face. "No."

Angel returned to the gathering. "What part of 'come on, let's go' did you not understand?" He aimed the question at Zim.

Zim made some quick introductions. He then turned to Brandon, a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face. "I'm supposed to save the world."

Brandon and Fitz exchanged a glance and laughed uncontrollably. "If that's true," Brandon said, "then we are fucked."

"YOU ARE ALL FUCKED ANYWAY!" a voice boomed.

Everyone whirled around toward the end of the building, and all were surprised to find an eight-foot-tall demon, horns and all, holding a flaming whip. He stared directly at Zim. "You are mine, mortal."

"Oh fuck," Lorne said.

Zim turned to him. "I thought this was PG-13."

"This situation calls for harsher language. That is a Vendrell demon. He has the hardest head in the world, and he's too tough for us."

Zim hefted the sword up, as if testing the weight. "So . . . what do we do?"

"You will all DIE," the Vendrell demon said. It reared back, preparing its whip for attack.

"RUN!" Angel yelled.