Disclaimer: Veronica Mars was created by Rob Thomas, Buffy by Joss Whedon, and the expansions of Sheila Kelly and Rae Mistwood are mine, as well as the plot.
X X X X X
When I was able to speak, I said, "The first thing: I assume you're going to me rather than my father because you suspect this has something to do with our town's night life?"
"It definitely does," Giles said. "Although that doesn't necessarily mean that Epimetheus is herself a vampire. And actually, since she has been seen in the daylight, I assign that a low probability."
"Herself?"
"Yes. My friend and I have had three encounters -- once in person, once over the phone, and one via that letter. The first two times it was a female."
"Was it the same female?"
He sat down across me. "You know, I hadn't considered that we might be dealing with an organization."
"What has this Epimetheus done so far?" I asked.
"Best to wait until my friend gets here," he said. I don't why he was being so coy about revealing it was Jenny Calendar. I'd know as soon as she walked in.
For a second, I wondered if this was a carefully laid trap: watch my reaction when someone other than Jenny Calendar entered the room. I somehow didn't think so, but on the chance I was wrong, I mentally prepared myself to show my "straight face." It didn't look that different from my "over the moon" face, but still, there were subtle differences, detectable only by the trained expert.
But nope; Ms. Calendar walked in, only to stop when she saw me. "Rupert?" she said.
"It's alright," Giles said. "Veronica is quite aware of . . ." he seemed at a loss for words.
"Those who hunt the night," I said.
"I hated that book," Ms. Calendar said.
"I didn't like it much either," I said.
"I have informed her of our difficulties with Epimetheus and have asked that she endeavor to find Epimetheus for us," Giles said.
She frowned slightly. "I'm not sure I like this. What if she turns out to be dangerous?"
"Just to check," I said. "You mean Epimetheus and not me, right?" She nodded. "Well, if I find myself face to face with her, I'll be careful. I'm not nonconfrontational, but I prefer not to be the one with the knife at the gunfight." The only time I'm going to find myself face to face with Epimetheus will be when I'm looking in the mirror. Maybe I'll brush my hair. "Anyway. Tell me about these encounters. And don't leave out anything. Any secrets you might have, I'm not going to spill."
"Right," Ms. Calendar said. "You have to understand, this is hard for me. Part of it involves something I thought was well-hidden enough that no one could have figured it out." She took a deep breath and said, "The first thing you need to know is that Jenny Calendar isn't my birth name . . ."
There followed a reasonably accurate description of our encounter in the public library. I asked for a description of 'Epimetheus' and she did a reasonably good job. Got the height wrong, though. She thought Epimetheus was around her own height. Jenny Calendar's about average height for a woman; I've got to be a good half foot shorter. Even in three-inch heels I'd come up short, so to speak.
Still, for my long-term prospects, that was probably best. "I thought she was wearing a disguise. The hair, at least, was phony. I'm not sure about the rest of her."
"Hmmm. What did say about finding out when you changed you name?"
"Something like -- It's been a few weeks, remember -- 'Jana Calderash didn't do any crimes and couldn't have been in witness protection because I never would have been able to find out when they switched places."
"That would seem to argue against your hypothesis of it being a group," Giles said.
"Not necessarily," I said. "She blackmailed you into revealing your true identity and what you were really doing here in Sunnydale. For the sake of completeness, have you made any further progress?" My book-mike was still operational, but I hadn't heard anything about it -- or about me, either as me or as Epimetheus.
It was a calculated risk I was taking, but a slim one. At most, I figured they'd think I was being too curious.
"Why do you want to know?" she said. If there was any hostility in the tone, I couldn't detect it.
I figured I'd better "come clean." "Well, I do want to know because I'm betting it's something you've kept secret – it might let us figure out where her knowledge is coming from. It could be supernatural sources, or it could just be really good detective work." I winced when I sued the word detective, but there was no way of taking it back now.
"Your safety has nothing to do with it?" Giles asked. His tone was mildly suspicious.
Actually, I hadn't been thinking about that, though I seriously doubted they'd believe me if I said so. "Sure. Angel knows me. Of course, I have no idea how he acted when he was evil. 'Vicious killer' applies, from what I've read, to all vampires."
"Prefix your description with the word 'exceptionally," Giles said. "He is known to have a tendency to go after those close to his victims."
"Okay. Now I'm a bit more worried. Still, whether any of this actually happens depends on what you and Ms. Calendar may or may not have found."
Ms. Calendar sighed. "I finally got my Uncle Enyos to talk," she said. "The 'escape clause' in Angel's curse is happiness."
"So he laughs at a joke and, boom, we're all being murdered in our sleep?"
"Sorry; I was sloppy," she said. "True happiness. To the point where he forgets, even for a second, all of the horrible things he did to my people."
"Okay. Thank you. Have you told anyone else about this?"
"The usual suspects were rounded up," he said. "Still, none of them are likely to spill the beans. Though, unfortunately, it did give Xander an unfortunate new reason to disapprove of Buffy and Angel's relationship. I ask you not to force me to recount the details."
"I won't." I couldn't go any further, anyway. Delving into Buffy's sex life might have been part of my "wager" with the Adversary, but it wasn't part of the case Giles had assigned me to.
"Did anything else strike you?" I asked.
"It's kind of a combined observation – both R, I mean, Mr. Giles and myself noticed it. We think she may have picked the name Epimetheus deliberately."
"Yes. She spoke of knowing our pasts."
"So she might have some kind of magical ability to look into your pasts?"
"It is a possibility," Giles conceded.
"And one you'd probably be better off tracking down than I would," I said. At his puzzled look, I said, "I've noticed those books in the rare books cage. I suppose I could try paging through them, but that's not where I'm an expert."
"I've already done some research," Giles said. "I haven't been able to locate any sorcerer or demon with that specific ability. Except, of course, for the original Epimetheus – but whether he exists, or ever did, is a matter of dispute."
Jenny Calendar laughed. "It's not likely to be him, anyway. Epimetheus was a pretty tall guy."
"Perhaps he has shrunk in his old age," Giles said. "In any event, Miss Mars, your point stands. I shall continue my research. But, to assist you in your task --" he proceeded to describe the Halloween phone call. "And the letter, of course, is right in front of you."
"So so far Epimetheus hasn't really caused any real harm."
"I'm not fond of being blackmailed," Ms. Calendar said.
"Who is?" I said. "I'm just saying so far these manipulations of hers appear not to have any particularly malevolent outcomes."
"True," Giles admitted. "But I still dislike being manipulated."
"So would I," I said. "It's just another piece of the puzzle." I stood up. "I'll do my best," I said. "And that leaves only one thing."
"Yes?"
"My fee."
"Fee?" Giles said, blinking.
"I said I would cheerfully assist in the event of an apocalypse. This isn't an apocalypse."
We haggled for a bit and came up with something I thought was fair.
I'd be donating this fee to a charity, of course. I may like making money but I have trouble taking it under false pretenses.
A lot of people have tried to find themselves. I might be the first one getting paid for the experience.
X X X X X
After school, I went home and walked Backup, and then dropped by the magic store to check in on Sheila, and to pick up some more bottles of holy water.
I took care of the purchase, then headed for a back room. It was half an office; with a start, I realized that, heavily remodeled, this was the room that had become Buffy's training room.
Sheila was leaning against the wall with a crooked grin on her face. I started to say hi, then realized her eyes were closed.
Rae Mistwood was sitting behind the desk, apparently doing paperwork. I waved to her and she said, "Come on over."
"Isn't Sheila meditating?" I said as I crossed the room.
"She is," Rae said.
I frowned. "I thought that involved the lotus position."
Rae smiled. "Normally, sure," she said. "But the idea is to let people find a calm spot within themselves. For most people, the lotus, or simply sitting cross-legged, works. For Sheila, this is what does it." After a pause, she added. "Admittedly, most people meditating don't grin like the cat that ate the canary."
"Can she hear us?"
"Part of the point of this meditation was to tune out distractions," Rae said. "If she's doing it right, she's not going to react to anything other than me touching her on the shoulder – or a really loud noise. If I leave the room, I don't want her burning to death in case there's a fire and I'm not in the room to wake her up."
"How long has she been under?"
"A half hour, so far," she said.
I was impressed, and said so. "Any spells so far?"
Rae said, "You'd think so. Most novice witches by this point are absolutely burning to try something. A little telekinesis, a dust devil, anything."
"Love spells."
"One of the most popular, and stupid, reasons," Rae said. "But if you do the kind everyone dreams of doing, it comes back and bites you more often than not. But Sheila hasn't even asked. She's read up on them, but hasn't tried any."
There were hidden fonts of wisdom beneath Sheila's superficially psychopathic exterior. Assuming she wasn't sneaking off and quietly casting spells well away from everyone else. From what I knew of Sheila, I doubted she'd do that, though.
I figured I might as well keep up my investigation. I said, "While I'm here, I was hoping you could help me with something."
"How?"
I explained "Epimetheus." "My client is knowledgeable about magic and the supernatural," I said. "But he can't think of anyone with this particular ability. Short of Epimetheus himself, of course."
"I doubt it's him," she said. "I haven't had any twenty-foot tall clients recently." Then she thought. "I'll do some digging downstairs, see if I can find any books on it. It's not common. There are a couple of time-viewing spells, but they're pretty time-consuming. No pun intended. Sure, people like to see what happened to JFK, maybe what went on at the crucifixion. In general, though, when it comes to spells, people are more interested in learning the future than the past."
"The Tarot, casting runes, prophecies . . ." I said.
"Exactly. The thing is, the future isn't set in stone."
Didn't I know it. "Prophecies usually come true," I said.
"With a capital P, true. But all the other ways of knowing the future are suggestions only. Strong hints. The saying goes, the stars impel but do not compel. That applies to pretty much every other method of learning the future, too. It may be hard to change a vision of the future. But it isn't impossible."
"I'm learning that," I said.
"What was that?"
"I said, I'm learning a lot. Thank you."
I thought for a minute. I'd have to do a pretty convincing fake investigation; the problem is, I couldn't actually come to any conclusions. There were all number of evil forces out there, but I wasn't going to dummy up the evidence that said they did it. I leave framing people to the Kane family.
Fortunately, I had a couple of weeks until What's My Line, so that gave me a breather in actually deciding what to do about that. I had a couple of decisions to make.
But I wasn't stressing over that at the moment. Looking over at Sheila, I wondered if maybe I should learn how to meditate.
Almost as if on cue, Rae stood up and walked across the room. Tapping Sheila on the shoulder, she said, "Time to wake up."
The grin widened, and became a laugh. In case I haven't mentioned it, Sheila has what can only be described as a cheerfully evil laugh. Not the laugh of the megalomaniac who's about to take over the world; more the laugh of the person who, in the language of old cartoons, "knows something they won't tell," and wants you to know she knows it, too.
Standing up -- almost bouncing to her feet -- she said, "Heya, manhunter. Sorry I couldn't say hi when you came in."
Rae frowned slightly. "You knew she'd come in?"
"'m meditating, not deaf,' Sheila said. "I was pretty damn deep in there, but that doesn't actually cut off the soundwaves hitting my eardrums.
"Are you calm?"
"Calm as I ever am," Sheila said. "Waiting for you to say when I can try a spell or two. 'scool if you want me to wait, though. I got nothing but time."
Rae said, "I think you're ready. Have anything in mind?"
"Sure do," Sheila said. "Manhunter. Want to come help me practice?"
"Do I!" I said with puppylike enthusiasm. Then, "Do I?"
Sheila laughed. "Sure, you do. It won't hurt. And if it does, I'll say I'm sorry."
I thanked Rae. As we left, Sheila stopped and said, "Rae?"
"Yes?"
"Who did kill JFK?"
"Lee Harvey Oswald."
"No shit?"
"Worked a ritual with some friends. Saw it myself. The only thing on the grassy knoll was grass."
"Huh. Thanks."
We left.