Chapter Four: Something In Common
"Oh, yeah." Buffy's frown melted into dreamy contentment. "Oh, yeah! Oh, that feels good. More, please!"
"This feels better than fighting, ja?" Inga's thick fingers sank deep into the Slayer's back, making her aches and pains fade faster than a dusted vampire. Funny how the fight with Inga had made her so sore. All she remembered was throwing a lot of punches and kicks. None of them landed, but she sure wore herself out. Maybe she pulled something too. Either way, it was surprising to wake up and find herself getting the royal treatment from a blimp-sized bloodsucker.
There had to be a catch, of course. There always was in this kind of deal. Maybe it had something to do with the other vampire – the classy old English dame Cordelia had been babbling about at school.
"Ah, there you are." Right on cue, the silver-haired lady vamp strolled into the room wearing a timeless Chanel suit. Her face was all high cheekbones and smiling blue eyes. Her perfume was all flowery and elegant. "Feeling better?"
"A little better." Buffy clamped down on her face muscles. The lady vamp had one of those rare smiles that actually made your whole face ache to smile back. But Buffy didn't trust her . . . yet. So she made her face into a no-smile zone.
"I brought you something to wear," the elegant older woman said softly, an apologetic lilt to her voice. "I thought perhaps we could talk. Inga makes the most wonderful herbal tea."
"I never drink . . . tea." Buffy slipped into an embroidered black silk kimono that made her feel insanely elegant. And sexy. No wonder Cordelia was crazy about this woman!
"You never drink tea?" The fancy lady sat down on a chair facing the massage table, a worried look on her face. "I can ask Inga to serve some juice, or mineral water, or . . ."
"It was a joke," Buffy said, annoyed. "You know, like Bela Lugosi in Dracula? 'I never drink wine.'"
"Oh, dear. I remember when that awful movie first came out. But I never was very fond of horror films. Dark Journey with Vivien Leigh, now that was a lovely film. So romantic! I saw it at the Odeon in Piccadilly Circus in 1937."
Buffy had to smile. "You're really not like most of the vampires I deal with. What's your name, anyway?"
"Edwina Covington."
"Buffy Summers."
The two women shook hands, and the next thing Buffy knew the herbal tea had arrived, served in tiny china cups. Inga's huge, hulking form looked pretty funny pushing a tea tray.
"So, I'm guessing that you've got a favor you'd like to ask of me, seeing as how your servant didn't kill me when she had the chance." Buffy sipped her tea, which was hot and full of flavor but at the same time rich and like mega-soothing.
Edwina nodded, her face going serious. "You know that there is an ancient, truly evil vampire living in Sunnydale."
"Yeah." Buffy shuddered. "He's called the Master. He's the creep who's supposed to kill me. Only I'm not into dying."
"Indeed." Edwina set down her teacup. "I've died at his hands myself, dear. So it seems you and I have something in common."