Chapter 32.

SFPD HEADQUARTERS

(12:45 A.M./PST)

Buffy had been alternately running and jogging through the building. Searching every publicly accessible area for any sign of Cordelia. And, if the area was off-limits to civilians? Detective Frank Kohanek would flash his gold shield and ask his co-workers if anyone had seen any young woman answering Cordelia's description. Or, failing that, had they seen a plainclothesman resembling a young David Bowie!

After reaching the fifth floor, with still no sign of success, Buffy suddenly had another massive migraine.

"Buffy?" exclaimed Kohanek: "Buffy! What is it?"

She could not answer. The pain made it impossible to do so, during the vision. When the pain finally stopped, however, she opened her eyes and gasped.

"Are you okay?" Kohanek asked again.

"A lot better than Cordie, at the moment," she replied: "Get me back to the hotel. Quick!"

SAN FRANCISCO AIRPORT HILTON

MICK ST. JOHN'S P.O.V.

I had decided to wait with Angel, Xander, and Willow for Buffy's return to the Presidential Suite. Because, after what I had been told concerning the origins of the Dagon-sphere, the Orb of Thesulah, and the Ferrula Geminiarum, I knew that the thefts of all three couldn't add up to anything good.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the suite's front doors.

"Xan? Wills? Open up!"

"It's Buffy!" exclaimed Willow. And, with a speed I would've deemed impossible for a human girl, she beat me to the doors and threw them open.

"Oh, Thank God, you're safe!" declared the redhead: "Because, you won't believe what we heard from Giles, while you were out."

"I wouldn't bet on it," replied the blonde: "But, go ahead, anyway."

It took another ten or fifteen minutes to explain to her about the stolen talismans. When Xander and Willow had completed the explanation, Buffy grimly nodded.

"That explains the vision I had of Cordie...and what was done to her."

"Vision?" echoed Angel: "What vision?"

Buffy then explained (much to our slack-jawed astonishment) that, while Doyle had been dying in Cordelia's arms, he had mystically transferred his precognitive abilities to her. And, when Buffy had likewise hugged Cordelia (to comfort her), those abilities were similarly transferred to the former. Without either girl knowing it had happened!

"And, now," concluded Buffy: "It's shown me that Cordelia is now serving as the host body for some hell-bitch goddess calling herself 'Glory'."

BRITISH EMBASSY,

NICOSIA, CYPRUS

The circular landing pad, normally used by diplomatic helicopters, was today being utilized by a Harrier jumpjet from the British naval base at Gibraltar. With the dust kicked up by the jet's VTOL engines momentarily blinding Brother Demetrius. As a result, he did not get to see what the aircraft's occupants looked like until he heard himself being addressed.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"I said, 'Are you Brother Demetrius?' " repeated the jumpjet's pilot.

The Greek monk nodded, now taking a closer scrutiny of the two men before him. The pilot was a black man who spoke his university-taught English (Oxford, probably) with a bit of a West African accent (Ghana or Sierra Leone, perhaps). While his white co-pilot was clearly American. One whose complexion was unusually pale. In fact, if he did not know better, Brother Demetrius might almost swear...

His ponderings were interrupted.

"My name is Rice. Captain Vaughan Rice; British SAS. This is my colleague, Ensign Sam Lawson; U.S. Naval Intelligence. And, like me, he's currently on loan to the Ministry of Defense/Department V. As in; Code V."

The monk's eyes widened: "Then, I was right. Your companion is...!"

"...currently undergoing gene therapy for his 'condition'. Which makes him totally trustworthy," asserted Rice: "I guarantee it."

"The Knights of Byzantium, who helped me flee from Crete, might not be so quick to believe you, Captain. Especially when one stops to consider what is at stake! But, the bestowing of blind faith is a part of my calling. So, for the time being, I will take your word for it."

"Splendid! Then, please don this spare jumpsuit and helmet we brought along. Ensign Lawson will take over chauffeuring you to the States. And, don't worry about running out of petrol! A NATO KC-135 tanker plane will refuel you, in-flight."

Ten minutes later, the Harrier was once again airborne.

MICK ST. JOHN'S P.O.V.

The private detective in me could not help asking for some clarification.

"When you say 'hell-bitch goddess', you aren't talking metaphorically. Are you?"

Buffy shook her head.

"According to the vision (and I sensed this info, more than anything else), Glory is a very old Big Bad. So old, in fact, that most outfits (like the Watchers) don't even have that much written down about her! But, the PTB's showed me where we can get that additional 4-1-1 about her."

That's when she turned to me.

"They showed me you talking to your new friend Daedalus on the subject."

So, for the second time, that night, I found myself running through the sewers of San Francisco like a vampiric version of the Flash. And, I have to admit, I was a little nervous. The sight of Daedalus decapitating Lak Nepp (with his bare hands!) kept replaying itself through my mind. Over and over and over!

So, Buffy had agreed to phone Julian Luna while I was en route. With a request for him to alert Daedalus that I was making a return trip to the big Nosferatu's digs. And, Julian must have been present to answer the phone. Because, when I arrived at the secret entrance, Daedalus opened it before I could even rap on it with my knuckles to the tune of "Shave And A Haircut."

He listened patiently to everything I told him. And, when I was finished, he steepled the fingers of both hands against his chin.

"The Slayer was right to send you to me," he finally declared: "There are legends, within my clan, concerning a triumvirate of Antediluvians who fled to a parallel-realm, called Aralu, in order to escape the Flood. There, they did jointly rule, for a time. Yet, eventually, one of them tried to overthrow the other two. Tried, but failed! She was subsequently banished back to our world. Her essence imprisoned within a powerless mortal body for all time."

"If there's one thing I learned as a cop," I replied: ". . .it's that no prison is a hundred percent escape-proof."

Daedalus nodded: "Sad, but true. And, in the case of She Who Glories In Herself? I fear she might be seeking to prove that. . .at the expense of Earth, itself."

"What do you mean?"

He didn't answer right away. But, after another half-minute of awkward silence, he finally spoke up (again).

"Have you ever heard of a mystical talisman called. . .the Key?"

tbc