Disclaimer: Except for the plot and "Sheila Kelly," 'tain't mine.
X X X X X
Dad could sense my mood almost from the second I walked in the door. "Hey, sweetie," he said, coming over. "I decided to wait for you."
"Great," I said. "Let's eat."
He stopped. "You know, that would have sounded more convincing if it didn't sound like you were getting ready to throw yourself into a live volcano. Want to try again?"
"I don't really feel like mustering up any fake enthusiasm right now," I said. Honestly, I wasn't even hungry. Listening to Grace Kelly and her client definitely killed my appetite.
"Homework that hard?" he said, knowing it wasn't anything of the sort.
I wished I could tell him the whole truth. I wished I could even tell him the truth that I could tell him.
But I know Dad. Five minutes after I convinced him of the existence of vampires, he'd be packing and we'd be moving.
And I have no lack of confidence in my ability to manipulate events, but it would be damn hard to do so from New York City.
Or whatever deserted island we ended up on.
Assuming it had phones. Training seagulls was still beyond me.
"Nope. It struggled, but we conquered it," I said.
"Then what is it?" Dad asked.
If I couldn't tell him everything, I could at least tell him this. "I met Sheila's mother today," I said.
"Ah," he said, knowingly. "'Grace' Kelly." Yes, I could hear the quotes around Grace.
"That's not her name?"
He gave me a patient look. "Kelly, yes. But her real first name is Mabel. Did you really think a prostitute's real name would be the same as the former Princess of Monaco?"
So that's where I'd heard the name before. "I wasn't even thinking about that, honestly." The words came out in a rush. "I know people can be like that. I've met some pretty lousy parents before. This, though – how could someone do that?"
"What is she doing?" Dad asked sharply. "Is she having Sheila –"
"No!" I said. "No, nothing like that at all. In fact, Mabel Kelly seems to make an effort –" not much of one; barely enough to even deserve the word –"to keep Sheila away from things like that." After a second, I said, "If you know about it, why she still has custody?"
"Because I didn't know she had a daughter until after I wasn't sheriff anymore. And when I try to bring it to Don Lamb's attention, he keeps saying he has more important things to do then worry about some whore and her psycho daughter. Direct quote. By more important things I can only assume he means kissing Mayor Wilkins' a – kissing up to Mayor Wilkins, because God only knows he's not doing anything about the murder rate in this town. How it's gone down I have no idea, but if he takes the credit he's lying. And now we're off the subject."
"Lamb said that?" I said. Dad nodded. "Get the bail money ready."
"You are not murdering Don Lamb," Dad said. "No matter how tempting the prospect is. She didn't do anything in front of you, did she?"
And now I was torn. My friend asked me not to mention it; on the other hand, Dad knows me well enough to know that simply finding out that Sheila's mom was a prostitute wouldn't have upset me like this.
So I really had no choice, not unless I wanted to tell Dad to mind his own business. And, honestly, I wasn't really in the mood for that right now. I excused myself by saying that Dad knew 90 percent of what I was going to tell him already. Mentally, I asked Sheila to forgive me. "Not in front of me, no," I said.
"Veronica," Dad said sternly. "This isn't the time to be parsing words."
I sighed. "I really wasn't trying to be cute, Dad. I was in Sheila's bedroom, with Sheila, when she walked in and told Sheila to 'stay in her room – you know, if I don't work, we don't eat."
"You had to listen?" Dad said. "Why didn't you leave?"
"Because I didn't want to get Sheila in trouble. I had no idea if her mother might not have a temper – not to mention her paying customer. And I wasn't going to go out the window unless the building was on fire. Which, from the looks of things, wouldn't require much more than a dropped match."
"No one should have to grow up like that." He shook his head. "It's a wonder she's lived to be 16."
"You're not about to go down to the station and demand that Deputy Lamb do something about this, are you?"
"Sweetie, if I asked Don Lamb to arrest a known terrorist parading in front of the sheriff's office, all he'd do is roll his eyes. I do not, however, want you spending any more time in that woman's apartment."
"Not in my immediate plans, trust me." I would sooner gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon.
"As for Sheila –"
"There is no 'As for Sheila.' She's a victim here. And honestly, given what she's had to go through, I find it amazing she's turned out as well as she has."
"She's been a fairly convincing psychopath," Dad said.
I shook my head. "No. She just plays one on TV. Like I told you before. Her grades are up. She's quit drinking. She doesn't go out at night and go crazy. This is a girl who is absolutely determined not to end up like her mother. Or like just any other Sunnydale statistic. I'm glad I've been able to help her as much as I can. But –"
"But you wish you could do more," Dad said.
"Yes. No one should have to go through that. But then, not everyone is as lucky as I am."
He smiled at that one. "Who's your Daddy?"
"That would be you," I said.
He hugged me then.
I needed it.
We ate dinner, and I went to bed.
X X X X X
I was half-expecting the Adversary to make an appearance in my dreams, but he didn't. Too bad. I was ready to yell at someone. Lilly did, though. I won't bore you with the details, but at least this time around she was no one's messenger but her own.
The days leading up to Thanksgiving were fairly quiet. I made a big production out of my investigation – Rae found a book I could use, but of course I wasn't in it.
My heart did nearly stop when I saw that the Adversary WAS, though. It described him fairly well – apparently the physical form he took when dealing with me was one he usually took, but he wasn't confined to just using that.
Of course not. He was The Adversary. One suspects that the only being in the Buffyverse close to his level would be the first. Possibly Glory or D'Hoffryn, but Glory's not nearly in his league in intelligence, and D'Hoffryn's not especially confrontational.
I wonder if I could frame him. After all, it would even be true – and I found him in the course of the investigation, so it wouldn't even be as though I were revealing the circumstances of how I came here.
We had another magical creatures class. Logan seemed to be taking it seriously. Quietly, just to be sure he wasn't about to pull a suicidal Death Wish stunt – knowing his predilection for grumpy heroism, I wouldn't be surprised – I asked Buffy to keep an eye out for anyone who might be hunting vampires who didn't belong there. Which, as far as I was concerned, at the moment meant her, Angel, and Giles, and Xander, Willow and Cordelia in a pinch.
Personally, things had definitely migrated away from hostility. I wished I could show him the tapes of Aaron and Lilly having sex, but back in Neptune he'd stolen them from the sheriff's office, which had crippled the case against his father.
I couldn't risk him trying to protect Lilly's reputation the same way again.
Anyway, we were able to talk fairly easily about most subjects. If he was going to make a move on me, he still wasn't showing any sign. I certainly wasn't going to force him. Having been through one and a half relationships with Logan so far, I realized that A, it would be a lot of fun, and B, it would be a lot of work.
Part of me wanted it to happen; part of me didn't need the distractions. Which is why I ultimately came down on the side of, if it happens, it happens, and if it doesn't, well, that would stink, but in some ways it would be for the best.
Yes, I have hormones. I can't afford to let them play a major role in anything I do. Not here. Not with what's at stake.
My next meeting with Giles came the Monday before Thanksgiving.
"I have something for you," he said.
"I wish I had more to give to you," I said. "Unfortunately, with blackmailers -- I realize that's not who Epimetheus is, but it does seem to be the way she operates -- you usually have to be reactive. The paper you gave me didn't tell me much more than that she's playful, or wants you to think she is, and has access to a computer. I did manage to track down one individual with the specific ability of "hindsight--"
"I researched three others, myself. I'm not counting the sorcerers or witches who could have done it, of course. The list would have been extended beyond measure. With one exception."
If that exception wasn't Ethan Rayne, I was the divine Glorificus. "I jotted down the names of a couple," I said.
"In the meantime, perhaps this will help," he said, handing me the note I'd written Jenny Calendar. "Ms. Calendar didn't bring this, the first time."
I read over it. In addition to the other precautions I'd taken, I'd done my best to disguise my writing. Harder to do than it looks. Simple tip: Write upside down. It'll come off like it was written by a four-year old, but it'll be a lot harder to peg as yours. A useful skill to develop, if you ever see the need to forge notes. I suppose I could have it done it like Lilly, instead, but that pain was and always would be too raw. Even fifty years from now, it would be too raw.
Lilly Kane wasn't perfect, in this world or any other. But dammit, I loved her.
Giles was talking. ". . . to me, like the author was attempting to disguise their handwriting," he said. "Either that, or they're five years old."
"Whoever it is," I said, "They seem to know the school. So far, the contacts have all been here." I stopped. "I'd suggest staking the area out, if Epimetheus had any kind of regular pattern." Then I had a thought. "Maybe I can."
"I don't believe I'm paying you enough to keep up a nonstop surveillance," Giles said.
"No, but you are paying me enough to let me set up a camera." He looked dubious. "It's not like I don't already know, more or less, what you talk about in here. And I'm not interested in gossip."
He nodded his head. "I suppose so," he said. Then, suddenly, "And if she calls?"
"I'll get a recorder you can hook up to your phone," I said.
"And if Principal Snyder comes in?"
"The camera shouldn't be noticeable," I said. "Still. Pass the camera off as security, and the recorder as an answering machine," I said.
He chuckled. "Right. I should hardly expect him to know the difference."
Then we discussed the entities we'd found.
"The problem with it being Ethan Rayne," I said when Giles brought up the name, "Is that it would require him to have set himself up to get beaten up twice. Is the kind of person that would do that?"
"He has always tended to the Machiavellian," Giles said. "But not the Byzantine. Still, it must be he admitted he has motive."
Motive, means and opportunity are the hallmark of the TV crime drama. In real life, though, a lot of people with motive, means, and opportunity have nothing to do with the crime. I mentioned as much to Giles, who said, "Your point is well taken. Still, I hope you won't think less of me if I simply move him to the bottom of the suspect list without removing him entirely."
"Of course not," I said. "There's always a chance." The chance, in this case, is slim and none. And Slim's left town. "Who else do you have?"
I made notes. Two were duplicates. The only one he hadn't managed to bag was the Adversary. I mentally said, "This is your last chance. Let me know if I'm about to break the rules."
When, after a few seconds, I hadn't gotten an answer, I said, "There's only one more I've located. He calls him the Adversary."
Giles' eyebrows rose so quickly and so fast I'm amazed they didn't smash into the ceiling. "He would have that ability, I suppose," he said. "He's also not given to subtle manipulations like this. He usually goes directly to whoever he's placing his 'wager' with. And I assure you, I have received no such visits."
"Could you tell me if you had?" I asked.
A brief chuckle. "Good point, Miss Mars. Still. I have not and I do not believe Ms. Calendar has, either." A pause, and then he said, "I suppose it could be someone else. Perhaps Epimetheus is merely someone the Adversary has wagered with."
And now we were getting a bit too close for comfort. "Maybe, but that would just make things way too complicated, because whoever he made the bet with would still have to have powers of their own. Occam's Razor."
"Entities ought not be multiplied unnecessarily," Giles said. "Another fair point. Still, I wish there was more to report."
"We'll set up the camera and the recorder," I said. "There should be more to report then."
And that, more or less, was that.
Thanksgiving came and went. We didn't have turkey. Not a full one, anyway. We did have almost everything else, though.
I have one ironclad rule regarding Thanksgiving: We can have turkey, ham, even chicken; sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, rolls, whatever.
But there must be cranberry, and it must be shaped like the can it came in.
In the meantime, I'd set up the camera and the recorder (and doublechecked the microphone I already had in there). I'd borrowed the camera and laptop earlier without Dad's permission, but if I was going to need one for a couple of weeks, I'd needed to get his okay. Gone a night, he might not notice. Gone for weeks on end? Trust me. Going to figure that one out. With Mr. Giles' connivance, I dummied up a story about book pilferage and Mr. Giles wanting to get to the bottom of it.
After a talk with Mr. Giles -- who apparently can be a convincing enough liar to not even get Dad suspicious, and you could take the total number of people I'd met who could do that and fit them all into a phone booth -- Dad okayed the use.
The recorder, I bought on my own.
Another fun fact: The job test? The day after Thanksgiving vacation ended.
So that recorder got an earlier workout than I thought. Using a nearby pay phone, I called the library phone early Monday morning. "Mr. Giles?" I said, doing my damnedest to disguise my voice.
"Yes?"
"This is Epimetheus."
"Oh. Right. Hold on a moment --" I could hear him fumbling for the on switch. I'd made it as simple as I could, but his aversion to modern technology extended beyond computers. I heard a small click indicating that the recorder was on, and then he said, "Go ahead."
"I was wondering if you'd contacted Sam Zabuto recently."
"No," he said.
"Do so. Ask him what he's been doing recently."
Then I hung up and ran to school, making it inside just as the bell rang.
Now I get to find out what job I'm going to have when I grow up.
Remembering how well it predicted futures on the show, I'm guessing women's basketball player.
Or maybe pirate.