The Many Faces Of Evil - XXIV
'If the devil does not exist, and man has therefore created him, he has
created him in his own image and likeness' - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The gem grew unbearably hot in Willow's hand and it was with a startled yelp that she allowed it to fall from her fingers. It rolled less than a metre away from the toe of her boot but Willow did not dare to retrieve it for fear her skin would be blistered by the intensity of the heat it exuded. Furrowing her brow, Willow attempted to recall from memory another power draining spell. The last twelve she had employed seemed to do little to effect the stone for the better and Willow was beginning to doubt her own expertise in this particular field. Had the fate of Los Angeles and even the world not relied upon the destruction of this article, Willow would more than likely have given up already.
Jameson and Grey kept their eyes and weapons trained upon the exit of the alley, their backs to Willow as she worked at disabling the force field. At her cry, Jameson glanced briefly over his shoulder to ensure her wellbeing and, once satisfied, returned his attention to their most vulnerable point.
"What the hell is taking so long?" Grey demanded, frustration creeping into his tone as panic threatened to overwhelm him. Willow exhaled slowly before chanting a Latin incantation under her breath that ordinarily would have obliterated its chosen target after sapping it of all power. As the final words left her lips, the stone on the ground twitched a little and then was still. Willow held her breath, daring to hope for success. She groaned inwardly as the gemstone began throbbing once again as though taunting her with its apparently indestructible shell.
"Damn it!" Willow cursed, raking her hands through her hair in desperation. Jameson turned once again to observe the witch, his gaze coming to rest on the tiny nugget that was proving the source of so much trouble. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"There's one thing you haven't tried yet," he offered, lowering his rifle and crossing the short distance between them in several strides.
"What…" Willow began in confusion, suddenly trailing off as she realised the soldier's intent. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide as she shrieked a warning to the naïve young man, "No! No… you can't…"
Jameson had raised his right foot and brought the heel of his boot down upon the stone before Willow could move to stop him. There was an audible crunch that was almost instantly proceeded by a flash of brilliant green light that rippled outwards and knocked both Willow and Grey off their feet.
Allowing her eyes a few seconds to recover, Willow eventually raised her head from the ground and gasped as she took in the sight of Jameson's body. The young soldier had fallen where he stood, his body having been incinerated to an unrecognisable black husk. He had not even had the chance to scream. A few inches away from his corpse, lay a pile of amber dust that now seemed dull and not at all luminous.
Willow's thoughts drifted to the photograph of the smiling woman and infant that she had watched Jameson place in his breast pocket only hours ago. She had never even found the courage to ask their names. Swallowing her misery, Willow glanced to the heavens and noted how the rolling clouds had suddenly calmed and stilled. The city was in darkness but the presence of a beautiful crescent moon high in the sky alerted Willow that the natural order of things had been restored. The force-field was down.
x-x-x
Faith grunted as the wave of green light connected with the centre of her chest and flung her body to the ground. She skidded several feet backwards, grazing her forearms painfully against the dusty floor. Squinting, Faith glanced to her left side where two of the potentials now lay, stunned and struggling to recover their breath. Faith pushed herself up on her elbows and wasted little time in jumping to her feet in order to peer into the distance. The soldiers that had only moments before moved with purpose about the perimeter of the city now lay in haphazard formations on the ground, their eyes closed and limbs still. Faith relaxed a little as she noted the steady rise and fall of their chests, signifying that they had been nothing more than temporarily stunned by the anomaly that had radiated from the city.
Faith's lips curved upward into a smile and she nodded her head once in silent homage to the powerful witch she knew had brought about this sudden development.
Reaching down with both hands, Faith hauled the potentials to their feet and pushed them roughly in the direction of the minivan. The two girls stared in confusion back at their mentor who grunted her frustration at them.
"Gather the others," Faith commanded, little civility present in her tone, "the force-field's down… it's time to party, girls."
With eyes wide Ruthie and Jenny took off in the direction of the minivan, their hands interlocked and hair flying in the wind behind them.
Faith narrowed her eyes at the horizon, raised her battleaxe, and ran as she had never run before towards the barely beating heart of the city.
x-x-x
Buffy lay in stunned silence for less than a second after Cerberus and Angel had vanished. The gateway seemed to be almost flickering now and Buffy soon realised that time was of the essence should she plan to follow. With a snarl Buffy leapt to her feet and used all her strength to launch her body atop the bonnet of the nearest vehicle. The delivery van groaned and screeched in protest under the sudden shock of Buffy's weight after having lain unused for so many months. Gritting her teeth and balancing precariously on the edge of the hood, Buffy swung her arms behind her like an athlete preparing to undertake the long-jump. Whipping her arms forward, Buffy threw herself towards the open mouth of Hell with every last ounce of power she had left.
As soon as her body passed through the crackling sheath of energy, Buffy felt the burn of a thousand blades plunging relentlessly into her flesh. Shock left her unable to scream and so Buffy endured the pain for several moments in forced silence before it abruptly ended as her body connected with a stone floor. Buffy gasped, her head whipping from side to side as she searched for Angel and the monster that had claimed him. She withdrew the stake she always carried concealed in her waistband and tried to bury the realisation that it served as a pitiful weapon at best.
Buffy blinked in surprise as she peered at her surroundings. She wondered momentarily if she had hit her head during the fall and slipped unknowingly into unconsciousness, but her vision seemed a little too sharp around the edges for this to be true.
Buffy stood in the centre of the yard and spun in a full circle, mystified by her presence in such a seemingly innocent place. She had braced herself for instant attack upon her arrival, having expected demonic hordes to be lying in wait. Her grip tightened suspiciously on the stake that was now her only lifeline.
An enormous winding slide dominated the far left of the playground, flanked on either side by a teeter-totter and a rusted set of swings. The roundabout positioned to Buffy's right creaked noisily as it rotated, the only sound to pierce the stillness. Buffy glanced around the skeletal trees, noting the absence of birdsong and laughter of children that formed the natural soundtrack to most playgrounds. The sky above was overcast and there was a definite chill in the air as though a winter wind where somehow present, yet the bare tree branches remained frozen in place. The grass at the edge of the concrete was withered and brown as if it had never been allowed to experience the invigorating kiss of sunlight. Buffy glanced in every direction, scouring the vicinity for any sign of excitable children towing parents in their wake. She found none. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
Buffy sighed and moved towards the sole bench in the immediate area. She sank onto the wooden planks, groaning as her back screamed in pain, and prepared to wait.
The first recollection Buffy had of closing her eyes was when they once again flickered open, bidden by an unfamiliar but rhythmic sound that now rang out across the playground. Buffy sat up straight, the hairs on the back of her neck standing erect in warning. The stake was poised in her hand within the next moment but something prevented the Slayer from rising. The odd sense of serenity was disconcerting enough in itself.
Buffy's eyes narrowed as she watched the child at play, gripping the ancient chains of the swing in pale fists, leaning backwards and extending her legs as she encouraged her body higher into the air. After no more than a minute had elapsed, the child cocked her head to one side and suddenly turned to affix her gaze upon Buffy's face. Slowly, the little girl's rose red lips contorted into a grin.
The Slayer's blood froze in her veins and her heart stuttered to a halt.