Chapter 62: Control

Dawn and Buffy found their window and cracked it open. Nick barely made it to a hiding place before Zoe and Hull turned the corner. As they headed into the alley, Hull slowed, chin going up as his nostrils flared. Damn! The alley would still smell of Rose.

After a moment's hesitation, though, he kept walking. Rose's stink must have been faded enough that he just dismissed it as a stray "bad smell." He'd ordered Rose to stay at the hotel, so that's where she'd be.

"I should call," Zoe said. "Let them know we're on our way."

They missed Hull's response, but it must have been something like "Don't bother calling," because she took her cell phone from her purse and waved it at him.

"This little box?" she said. "Great modern invention. Means I don't even need to stop walking. No time wasted."

"Do you really think they need any disruptions right now? Why else would they have sent me?"

Sent him? Was Hull working for someone else?

A figure appeared at the end of the alley. The bowler-hatted man, coming up behind them.

Zoe stopped. "Why send someone at all? Why not just phone?"

Hull shrugged. "Perhaps they couldn't find your code…your numbers. They don't tell me such things. Now, please, we have to hurry—"

When Zoe still didn't move, Hull sighed and turned to her.

"This is hardly the best place, but you're going to be difficult, aren't you? No matter. I take my opportunities where I can find them, and I can't ignore a chance at my last ingredient."

It hit Buffy: Zoe thought they'd summoned her, using Hull. Why wouldn't she? The last time she'd seen them, he'd been in their care.

Buffy grabbed the window sash and threw it open, the bowler-hatted man strode toward her, a huge butcher's knife in his hand. They realized why Hull wanted Zoe, the final ingredient. "Zoe!" she screamed.

At Buffy's shout she turned, but too late. The zombie swung, and the knife cleaved into her throat. She wobbled; eyes wild. Then she fell.

The zombie yanked the knife out of Zoe's neck, and then looked around. Dimly Buffy realized she'd given herself and Dawn away. She and Dawn stumbled back from the window, getting out of his sight, Buffy's gaze still fixed on Zoe. She lay on her back, head almost severed, held on only by her spine. Buffy had learned a long time ago that for a vampire to dust it had to be a clean decapitation. Everything including the spine had to be severed or the vampire would not dust.

"You two might as well come out," he called knowing that Buffy would not willing leave her sister to face him alone.

Buffy and Dawn crept to the side of the window, where they could see out without being seen.

"Hiding is useless," he said. "All I need to do is cast a spell, and I can find Dawn and by extension you Buffy. Better come out now, while I'm in a good humor, buoyed by my success with your little vampire friend."

When the sisters didn't answer, pique flickered across Hull's face. He didn't cast a spell, though, probably because he didn't want to waste his magical energies. Instead he motioned for the zombie to start searching for the sisters. They weighed their options. They could jump down, surprise Hull and leave the zombie to Nick. Or they could search for a window farther down the alley, slip out, collect Nick and get someplace safer, where they could talk strategy.

The zombie walked in Nick's direction first. Excellent. All they had to do was wait until he was close enough for Nick to grab, then jump out—

Nick lunged at the zombie. His aim was perfect. As he knocked the zombie off his feet, he sent the butcher knife flying. When they hit the ground, Nick grabbed him by the hair and smashed his skull into the ground. Not as clean or foolproof as snapping his neck, but it did the job.

Buffy and Dawn moved to act, to take advantage of Nick's distraction. But the zombie was already crumbling, and Hull had recovered from his surprise. His hands were going up in a spell—

Buffy's mouth opened, the scream still burbling up through her throat, hands still reaching for the window to swing through as Hull launched his spell. Her blood turned to ice water, certain Hull had launched a fatal spell, taking Nick out—

Hull's fingers flicked and Nick stumbled back. Stumbled hard enough to trip, but that was it. A simple knockback spell.

The air whooshed from Buffy's lungs, nearly doubling her over. Hull advanced on Nick and Buffy recovered, taking hold of the window again—

"If you get up, I will pick a spell that will keep you down," Hull said, looming over Nick.

Buffy and Dawn scrambled back, out of sight. Hull wasn't going to kill Nick. Not yet. Magic was all Hull had, and a lethal spell would drain his power.

The sisters' gaze traveled to the knife. It lay in a heap of garbage about ten feet away. Hull ignored it, probably knowing that if he went for it, Nick would do the same, and in a hand-to-hand fight, Nick could kill Hull before he could cast.

"Where are they?" Hull said.

Nick glared.

Stones crunched at the end of the alley. Hull slowly turned toward the sound, his face creasing in a smile.

"Ah…" he murmured. "Perhaps I don't need that tracking ritual after all."

Another crunch of gravel, the noise still small enough to be a mistake, someone shifting impatiently. Jaime was drawing Hull's attention away from me.

Perfect. Without Hull's zombie servant, he'd have to go after "Buffy and Dawn" himself, turning his attention from Nick.

But he didn't budge. Instead, his voice rang out, echoing along the alley.

"Buffy, Dawn. Earlier, Dawn refused to consider my offer to spare her life and her mate's in return for her babes. Then you, Buffy, offered yours in her place. I trust you'll both be more flexible in the matter now."

"I'm sure you can see, from your nook, that I have your friend. Do I even need to articulate my exchange? I think not. I will say, though, that it comes with a time limit. I am a patient man, but I have waited so long—so unbelievably long—and the end is right before me. A vampire to complete my experiment, and a black-market treasure to allow me to make the final preparations at my leisure, unhurried by want of funds. Seeing these things, so close…it would try any man's patience, would it not? You have five minutes. At the end of that, I kill your friend and come after the two of you."

"Buffy, Dawn," Nick said, his voice a low growl. "Get out of here."

"Oh, come now," Hull said. "Do you really think—"

"My choice, Buffy," Nick continued. "Do you remember that? I make my own choices. For our baby."

Hull's fingers flew up, the spell cast too quick for the sisters to even move. Another knockback spell, this one harder, sending Nick flying into the brick wall. A dull crack, and he slumped.

Buffy didn't breathe until she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest. She clenched her fists, fighting the urge to attack.

"Buffy, Dawn!" he called. "The clock is ticking. Your friend is sleeping away the last minutes of his life."

Buffy balled her fists. Hull didn't care that he could get them easily. He wanted them to turn themselves over. He wanted control.

There was only one thing to do as the sisters looked at each other. Give him that control. Let him take them, get him away from their family and friends, bring this down to them—him, Buffy and Dawn and their unborn children—and pray that once he thought he'd won, they could somehow turn the tables.

"We're here," Buffy said as she and Dawn moved to the window.

His gaze swung along the alley, then up, following Buffy's voice. Seeing them, he smiled.

"Very good. That's the first step. Now, come out—slowly. If there is anyone with you two, please remind them I still have your friend, only a spellcast away."

Buffy and Dawn knew Hull wouldn't let them retreat to the fire escape. They crawled backward out the window, lowered themselves as far as they could and dropped, bending their knees as they fell. Then they turned around and face him.

"Excellent," Hull said. "Now, I'm afraid our departure will be delayed while my zombie makes the journey from the portal. An inconvenience, but I'm not about to leave my vampire corpse just lying about where anyone can find it."

After a couple of minutes, Nick mumbled something, and Buffy jumped. Hull spun, hands rising to cast. Nick settled again, still unconscious, but for how long?

"You killed Anita Barrington, didn't you?" Dawn said as Buffy looked at her quizzically and then understood what her sister was doing. Distract Hull from Nick. "She saw you at the crime scene. She knew you were a sorcerer. That's what she wanted to tell us. But you got to her first."

Hull laughed. "Ah, yes, the poor witch. Always innocent, aren't they? Except for you, Dawn, you're not the innocent little witch, are you? Yes, she recognized what I was … and begged me to help her, promised to deliver you into my hands in return for immortality. Pathetically desperate. Cried about her poor granddaughter, who'd be all alone if she passed, but the truth is that she saw death in the mirror every morning, and would do anything to stop it from coming." He smiled, showing his teeth. "So, I helped."

"You killed her," Buffy said. "After you made her finger Shanahan—"

"Enough of this, Buffy, Dawn. I'm not fool enough to fall for distraction tactics. You can talk, if it makes you feel better, but it won't help."

Distant running footsteps sounded before the sisters could answer. The bowler-hatted man? They sampled the air to be sure.

After his second death, he was ripening nicely. Not falling apart—if he could run—but decay was setting in. Kill him a third time, and he'd skid into living death, like Rose. Good.

The footfalls slowed at the end of the alley. Then they stopped. Hull frowned, and opened his mouth to call out. The zombie turned the corner. The skin around his mouth and nostril had blackened and that left arm seemed to swing a little too freely as he moved.

"There you are," Hull said. "A little the worse for wear, but we'll get that fixed up soon enough. Now, I want you to harvest a few items from the vampire. Then we'll hide the corpse, so I can return later and take more. I hope you remember your anatomy lessons." Hull chuckled. "Seems they'll be useful for more than playing…" He cocked his head and looked at me. "What did they call him? Ah, yes, Jack the Ripper. Nasty fellow, I'm sure. But I owe him a debt of thanks. He's been most helpful, whoever he was."

The zombie had stopped in front of Hull, head drooping and swiveling. Was something wrong with his neck? He looked confused, almost lost.

Hull sucked in his breath and glared down at Nick's unconscious form. "Had to hit him in the head, didn't you? If—"

The zombie lurched forward, like a stalled motor jumping to life. He walked over to the knife and scooped it up.

"Good," Hull said. "That's it. She's right over there, behind you."

The zombie turned. He looked at Zoe's body, but his brow knitted, as if confused by what he was seeing.

"Yes, that's her. Now—"

The zombie turned back to Hull, head bobbing, brow still furrowed.

Hull let out a hiss of frustration. Something moved at the far end of the alley. Jaime had come out and was standing with her back against the wall. Dawn gestured for her to get back before Hull saw her, but her eyes were closed, squeezed shut. Her face was ashen, almost glowing in the moonlight, shiny with sweat. Eyes closed, concentrating so hard she was sweating…

Buffy and Dawn's gaze swung back to the zombie, who was tottering there, confused. Confused by a conflict of commands. A conflict of control.

But that couldn't be. According to the stories, a necromancer couldn't control someone else's zombies.

The zombie lunged at Hull, knife flying. Hull fell back, already casting. Casting a spell at the zombie. Protecting his own life. Buffy, Dawn and Nick's forgotten.

Buffy and Dawn saw their chance…and waited. Attack now, and all he had to do was redirect the cast their way. The last words left his mouth and the zombie fell back, then the sisters flew at Hull.

They hit him in the side. As they fell, they grabbed for his hands. Dawn caught the right one, but her fingers only brushed the left. He cast a knockback spell, the best he could manage when he was low on power. It still hit the sisters like a blow to the solar plexus. And instinctively their hands flew to their stomachs to protect the babies in their wombs.

Before either sister could grab Hull again, he backed up, putting distance between them as his hands lifted, starting a fresh spell.

The bowler-hatted zombie struggled up, knife in his grip. Hull looked from him to me, hands hovering, spell uncast. Only enough power to repel one of us. Which to choose—the knife-wielding zombie or two pissed-off werewolves? Before either they or the zombie could take advantage of his hesitation, Hull made his choice…and bolted.