Chapter 43.

JOSHUA TREE, CAL.
LATE SPRING, 1997
(7:20 A.M./PST)

The moment the Green Lama raised the chu-ko-nu to eye level, the three kuei-jin advancing on him jumped into the air as one. But, he had been anticipating that! And, as a result, he only had to slightly readjust his aim towards the truly intended target. The areas of each one's upper legs, above their knee caps.

Consequently, the pain from the blessed silver quarrels disrupted their concentration enough that each of them landed in a fetal heap on the ground.

Nor was the Green Lama slow in following up this opportunity. Putting them out of their collective misery, before turning his attention to their hsigo mounts. Unfortunately, these so-called "flying monkeys" were quick learners. And, upon taking to the air, they flew off in three separate directions. As did their compatriots, who were still mounted by the other kuei-jin.

"Blasted piece of crap!" growled their would-be destroyer in frustration: "How did Gabe Van Helsing ever live so long using this?"

Seeing that the rotating, multi-barreled magazine was beginning to run perilously low on quarrels, he saw no other choice. He slowly backed up, re-entering the Integratron while still facing his enemies. And, keeping them at bay with staccato bursts of the remaining quarrels. Some of them even managing to hit and wound their intended targets!

When the time came, however, he turned and ran over to the activation switch inside the nearly geodesic dome. The radar dish-like mirror next to it collected and reflected the necessary sunlight on to the solar battery panels. And, the Green Lama tapped into that energy. Flinging the now-empty crossbow towards the door of the chamber just instants before he teleported away.

* * * * *

ANTHEA ESTATES,
SAUSALITO, CAL.

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

For the first few moments after Ethan, Drusilla, and Dracula had escaped, we were really pissed off at our helplessness. Then, it hit me: I had own my cellphone! And, when I said as much aloud, Angel quickly gave me Joyce Summers' home phone number. Unfortunately, all I got was a busy signal. So, the next call I made was to Julian Luna. With Sonny Toussaint borrowing my phone to give the Ventrue Prince a terse summary of what had happened up here. Not to mention, our urgent need for an alternate means of transportation faster than the immobilized van we had "confiscated" from the SFPD.

A little over an hour later, a Bell JetRanger helicopter (with a tinted cockpit windshield) touched down on the front lawn of Ethan Rayne's time-share condo.

Oz, being human, ran outside to open the right-hand door to the rear passenger compartment for the rest of us. And, we used all the vampiric speed we weren't too tired to muster to dash inside there! Then, he closed the door and climbed into the front passenger seat next to the pilot. And, his surprise at the pilot's identity was no greater than our own.

Nick Knight's grin was positively shameless.

"Remind me to tell you about 'Mike Rivers' of Team Airwolf, sometime."

Whereupon, he took off and headed us southward.

* * * * *

1329 PRESCOTT STREET,
SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.
(7:25 A.M./PST)

The lovely blue-eyed brunette opened the front door.

"Ms. Prudence Halliwell?" said the white-haired woman in the strange golden robe.

"Yes?" asked the former with suspicion.

"I am Magga of House Shaea. And, I need the help of the Charmed Ones."

* * * * *

SOMEWHERE AROUND SAN FRANCISCO BAY

Glordelia had the Ropen land near a certain storm drain. The second he did so, he immediately shifted to the only other shape he was capable of; that of a "serpentaur." In his case, half-man/half-asp.

Like most other Hem Ka Sobk mages, in ancient Egypt, Lotan of the Eighth Sun had been a homid Kinsman of the North African Mokole. Born without the power to assume Dracoform. Yet, none of that had had ever bothered him, before. That is; not until Cleopatra's marriage to the accursed Julius Caesar. He could not believe that Shaea of the Crescent Moon had successfully persuaded the Crowned Ones that Egypt would only benefit from such an alliance with the Tetrasomians of Rome!

Worse still, he could not accept it. Which is why he had ultimately committed the Great Blasphemy: letting himself be "Embraced" by a Follower of Set. So he could gain the power of Serpentis. . .

. . .and thereby swallow eggs from the clutch of a Crowned One.

Thus, did he finally gain the power to assume Dracoform! A power that not even Shaea, armed with the Dagon-sphere, could remove. Merely curtail. And, while the Gumagan of Australasia had initially done their best to reinforce her geas of exile upon him, their power gradually weakened, over the centuries, due to the often-violent reduction in their numbers at the hands of immigrant Euro-Kindred.

Which, of course, had unwittingly aided the Ropen (as he had long since grown accustomed to hearing his birth-name mispronounced).

Now, though, he slithered his way through the miles of sewers beneath San Francisco. Only his upper torso being kept off the ground, as he was currently holding Glordelia in both his arms. The same way a newlywed husband carries his bride over the threshold of their first residence. This was not because of any similar affection she might hold for the Ropen, however. She had merely been reluctant to _walk_ through the sewers, as all that filth might stain her lovely dress (what little of it she wore)!

Eventually, they reached their destination: the Temple of the Searing Wind. And, Sifu Yu Nohu led all his acolytes in kneeling before her.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Glorious One."

"Heh!" Glordelia snorted in mild disdain: "What is with the Kwai Chang Caine look? This isn't KUNG FU: THE LEGEND CONTINUES! Stand up and make with your true appearance."

The erstwhile Dr. Death did as he was told. Whereupon, there was a brief shimmer of grayish light. Seconds later, he looked more like an Appalachian store keeper than a kuei-jin high priest! What with his brown-checkered shirt, gray pants, and black clodhoppers with matching belt.

"How else may I be of service, Glorious One?"

"Get a bubble bath ready for me. It's a dirty job flying thousands of miles to destroy that lousy Dagon-sphere. And, the stupid mortals transporting it!"

"Doc" instantly lost his fawning smile.

"I'm afraid there's a slight problem with that, Your Gloriousness."

* * * * *

PRESIDENTIAL SUITE,
S.F. AIRPORT HILTON
(7:32 A.M./PST)

Willow, Xander, and Giles had just finished updating Buffy about what she had told them (about her mother's abduction by Ethan Rayne), during her trance, when they suddenly received another surprise. Namely; an old man, in a hooded green robe, who had literally just appeared out of thin air, and fallen to his knees.

"Please, don't be alarmed!" he immediately exclaimed: "My name is Jethro Dumont. A.k.a. the Green Lama. And, among other things? I'm Buffy's maternal grandfather."

Xander's reaction arguably said it best for all of them.

"Holy Empire Strikes Back, Batman!"

tbc

Mini-glossary

Crowned Ones: ruling class of the African Mokole (usually born during a total eclipse).

Shaea: eponymous founder of the Hermetic wizarding house that bears her name. I have merely extrapolated that she was a Silent Strider theurge. As, in my opinion, the wandering ways of that particular Garou tribe are very compatible with traveling here and there, gathering together like-minded female wielders of magic. Some of whom might have been homid Kinfolk of the Bubasti, the Children of Gaia, or even Syrian Gurahl!

Tetrasomians: Latin name for the Glass Walker Garou of ancient Rome.