Part Twenty One

Before accepting it, Wesley paused for an instant to eye the thick, black coffee. "Thank you."

"Pas de quoi." John Blanchard yawned. "Yous want somet'ing in it, hein?"

"Mmmm... no, it's fine." Wyndam-Pryce mumbled, stifling his own gape. "But I do wish you would quit yawning. It's rather contagious."

"Was up all night lis'ening to da fais do do in da nex room." John stretched and chuckled. "I'm turning into my pere, too tired to go and join da party and it pissed me off dat dey were having a bon temp without me."

"You could go back to the Inn and get some rest." Giles offered. "I'm sure we're safe here..." He tapped the mound of reference books on the coffee table. "...Wesley and I have more than enough to keep us occupied."

"A no." John quickly disagreed, plopping down in an easy chair. "Luis said watch yous, so I'm gon to watch yous." He took a sip of his coffee and nodded toward the stack. "So you t'ink you hauled enough books out of headquarters?"

Wesley leaned forward and ran his finger down the titles. "Mr. Giles brought over half of these with him. From the Alliance library we borrowed two spellcasting manuals - just to see if the text of that melding spell is included, plus a nineteen thirty edition of the Alliance Book, and..." He paused and pulled a slim volume from the center of the stack. "...and what's this, 'Tibalt's Ruins'?"

Giles nodded. "At one time I had this in my personal collection, but it was ruined beyond restoration during the witch burning."

Both of John's eyebrows hit his hairline. "Da.. what?"

Rupert cleared his throat. "(Ahem) Witch burning. A German demon possessed the townspeople and goaded them into in a dual book and witch burning." He shrugged. "It was quite the study in mob mentality."

"I don want to know." John interrupted, leaning forward to take the top book off the stack.

"In a way that is for the best." Rupert considered. "Sunnydale as a topic of discussion always brings up more questions than answers."

With a grunting noise John nodded his head in agreement as he began to page through the spellbook. "You want me to look through dis one?"

Rupert took a sip of his coffee and pulled 'Tibalt's Ruins' from the bottom of the stack. "If you want to, you may skim through that for any information on the melding spells."

"Yous think dey tried it again, hein?"

"I have no idea, but the report from Wesley's dear Uncle makes me believe anything is possible. Travers is definitely here in Rutland, Smith is possibly here..."

"If we just knew for sure if they were still in league with each other." Wesley interrupted.

"But, unless you brought your crystal ball, that piece of information is missing." Giles pointed out with a sniff.

John gave Wesley a questioning look. "Yous have a crystal ball?"

"No..." Wesley huffed, drawing a reference from the pile. "...he's just being an ass. But we have to find some glimmer of what their plan might be. Of course Mr. Giles has went straightway to the worst case scenario. That is, they have regrouped and conjured up a second melded vampire."

"Bad, bad." John said with a hard frown. "Shellenbarger is checking to see if anyone has come up missing around here. But with all da tourists, it will be hard to know." He leaned forward. "Now, dis Rayne ravat, he did dis melding spell and dey thwacked him, dead."

Giles nodded. "That's what was reported."

"That's what 'happened'." Wesley stated, emphasis on the final word.

"Could dis Travers do it, too?"

"Absolutely." Giles said without hesitation.

Wesley shrugged. "Perhaps."

Rupert cast a sidelong glance at Wyndam-Pryce who caught the annoyance radiating from his predecessor. "Oh for God's sake. I'm not in any way, shape or form suggesting that Mr. Travers is innocent. I was just stating that we do not know his level of expertise in the black arts."

"True." Giles grudgingly conceded. "It would take a powerful and black hearted sorcerer to perform this." He curled a lip. "We know he's black hearted, but as for the level of his power that remains to be seen."

"Melding." Wesley, hissed out the word. "It's hideous enough when a vampire and sorcerer combine their evil, but when they bring into the equation a third damnable creation, then the very gates of hell tremble."

"A bit less prose would be appreciated." Giles commented with a faint smile. "And that brings us to what we need to ferret out." He ran a finger up the spine of 'Tibalt's Ruins'. "What happens when two out of the three accessories in a melding are destroyed? Does all the power condense into the remaining being and does this enhance or destroy the survivor?"

Wesley added a bit for John's benefit. "Most of the accounts we found dealt with the simple, consensual melding of two beings."

"And dey can make another one, just as mal as dey are." John stated.

"Correct. Or even more so because it is a combination of willful human depravity, the base demonic nature of the vampire and the hopeless shell of a damned villain." Rupert's mouth became a thin line as he added. "It cannot be destroyed except by fire."

"Almost unstoppable." Wesley commented in a dark tone. "Thankfully extremely rare."

"Precisely." Rupert agreed.

"And dat info is in there?" John asked with a point toward the volume in Rupert's hand.

Rupert removed his glasses and twirled them by the earpiece. "Tibalt was a Grecian sorcerer, circa 249 CE. Some say he sold his soul to the devil, some speculate that he amassed power to the point of insanity and some theorize that he was merely an egotistical fraud." He shrugged and sighed. "But that's neither here nor there. What I want to study is his final fall. This narration doesn't specifically confirm that he melded with a vampire, but if my memory serves me right, this could be the case."

John rubbed his chin. "What happened, hein?"

Rupert replaced his glasses and fiddled with adjusting them for a moment. "When I first read this, years ago, my interpretation is that he basically self-destructed and took everyone around him on a downward spiral. There are several translations of this, but some accounts claim that a demon of his own making materialized and took him body and soul to hell."

"Serves da mal bâtard right." John muttered. He worked his jaw for a moment and allowed a wicked smirk to bloom on his lips. "So, maybe dis Travers will get his ass nailed to da barn door by da devil?"

"If there is 'any' justice that would..." Rupert began, then shook his head to retract the statement. "...No, I would not wish that on even a man like Quentin Travers."

Blanchard's eyes narrowed. "A yes, but I'll tell you now.. and dis is da hard, cold truth. If he messes with da Alliance, if he tries anyt'ing here in Rutland, if he shows his ass at all - he's gon wish it was just da devil takin' him." His leaned forward and pointed toward Rupert. "All of yous are under our protection and dat's what we are gon do - come hell, high water or Council." He smacked a fist into his palm. "Whatevers dey try, we give it back twice, a yes!"

At that moment, Rupert realized how dire the situation could become. If Quentin's plot even ruffled a hair on a Hunter's head, it would result in all out war between the Council and the Alliance. No questions asked, no diplomatic maneuvering, just an immediate escalation of hostilities.

And he, Wesley and Matthew would be in the middle.

Rupert held up a finger in a cautionary gesture. "We'll see what happens. But until then, we must remain on guard and hope that Quentin reclaims a glimmer of common sense."

*******

"Travers you witless sod, I must say that little move was not in your best interest." Ethan commented as he turned away with an involuntary wince.

His head dripping with dark, lifeless blood, Quentin came back up off the floor and again attacked his melded colleague. With one hand Sean raised the quivering prize by the scruff of its neck up and away from Quentin's lunge. The former mercenary snarled in rage as his blow missed making contact with his foe's jawbone.

Fueled by the scent of blood in the air, his face a horrid mask of vampire wrath, Travers came back around and sunk his fangs into the dog's side. Sean's fist came down on Quentin's head and with a furious howl he wrenched him off the canine vessel.

Ethan covered his ears as Travers' vampire screech mixed with the almost human shriek of the wounded dog and the spitting blasphemies erupting from McKinley.

Lowering his bulk onto the landing halfway down the cellarway, Douglas settled in to watch the contest from a safe distance.

Aaron ambled past and seated himself a few steps below Conrad-Chaney. With a curl of his lip he assessed the combatant's strengths and weaknesses. "My money is on Sean, but if Quentin gets a lucky break he could be the winner."

"Someone in this hellhole should deserve a 'lucky break'." Douglas snotted.

"Poor Tubby-Doug, I do feel for you." Ethan said sarcastically, turning his back to the bloody brawl. "Couldn't find any black candles, couldn't find any Guinness, couldn't go calling on that business." He crossed his arms and glared at the pair on the staircase. "I can understand being brassed off over the candles and the pints, but why was it such a tragedy that the Realtor shop was closed on Thursday morning?"

Completely unaware of the specter tag-along, Aaron continued his conversation with Douglas. "Well, we did acquire that hybrid cur for free, that was a plus." He arched an eyebrow in thought. "Mmmm... what breeds do you think it is?"

"It 'was' half pony, half mastiff." Douglas snorted. "Thought it would put up more of a fight but that's a mongrel for you." Slowly an evil smile began to spread across his face as he considered his words. "You know old friend, this is rather prophetic, the mongrels always lose, whether they are canine or human."

"I don't know, Douglas, sometimes the mixed blood is stronger." Aaron pursed his lips and raised a finger to underscore his warning. "From what I've seen it would be foolish to assume that the Alliance is second rate."

Ethan slid closer, a deep frown settling on his face as Douglas dismissed his friend's warning with a grunt.

Aaron's expression mirrored the shade's as he stood to look Douglas in the eye. "Tonight we 'must' bring some more followers into the circle. The wedding is a bit more than forty-eight hours from now and we need..."

"Yes... Yes.... YES!" Douglas interrupted. "You are becoming worse than some bitching and pissing old spinster!"

"You're attacking the wedding?" Ethan choked. "Jesus God.... No!"

The luckless dog howled out its final breath.

Aaron threw up his hands in disgust. " 'Somebody' has to consider all the possibilities! You think that we can just march into the reception and ask everyone to please remain seated while we take our positions! Damn it, Douglas! We need to reconnaissance that hall! We need to know what we're walking into! We need you to get off your arse and..."

With a harsh symphony of grunts and curses Douglas heaved himself onto his feet and with one final nod toward the pair of melded creatures hissed out. "Look at that carnage Aaron! Look at it! No matter what they do it won't make a sodding bit of difference... even now they are dead where they stand." He turned and lumbered up the stairs. "But if it will soothe your nerves my doubting friend, we'll pop over to the reception hall and take a look."

Ethan began to pace. His mind raced through every spell he had ever cast in his life, recalled every demon he had ever conjured, remembering every shade he had ever brought up from the pit all in a vain attempt to find a straw to grasp. "Perhaps I could call up a minor spirit and send it to Ripper in a dream. Yes... yes, relay the message about this plot. That would be easy enough." For a split second a victorious smile crossed his shattered face then disappeared as the reality of his situation came to the fore. "But I can't mix those blasted casting ingredients."

Above him the back door slammed, signaling that Smith and Conrad-Chaney were again heading out. Ethan clenched his fists and swore at the sound before gliding up the cellar stairs to join the pair in the truck.

The trip into town was a study in contradictions. The topic of the conversation ran from the mundane observations of how lovely of a day it had turned out to be to considering the possibility that files found this afternoon at the Realtor's would reveal the location of other out of the way tourist accommodations. Places where they could find an few unfortunate souls who would not be missed for a day or two.

His anxiety growing with each passing minute, Ethan sat and listened to the pair discuss the plan. There was no way he could stop this without finding a medium to be his voice. The specter tried his best to soothe his conscience by spinning the facts to make it all their fault. "None of this would have happened if Ripper wouldn't have brassed off the Council." He muttered to himself. "They only have themselves to blame. And the Alliance? Well, they should have never hired that lad on."

"There it is, 'By Invitation Only'." Aaron noted with a point. Then his eyes narrowed at the change from Monday night. "They've taken the congratulations message to the happy couple off the marquee. That's not good, Douglas. Not good at all."

"Oh for God's sake!" Conrad-Chaney spit. "It means nothing!" He exhaled with a hiss and turned into the drive. "The Alliance knows Quentin is here and assumes your are. I'm sure it's just a sign that they are making the wedding a tad more low-key."

"What if they canceled it?"

"We can only hope." Ethan hissed out. "And if they haven't I'm sure as hell going to find a way stop this!" The ghost jabbed his finger toward the conspirators. "And let me remind you two sods of something, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that 'hell is sure'!"

Douglas glanced at the dashboard clock. "It's 1:45. I believe we can assume the other cars in the lot are the workers preparing for this evening's Alliance banquet."

"Or they're in there setting up a trap." Aaron sniped. "They did leave that notice on the marquee."

"Of course. I'm sure they're hoping that either you or Mr. Travers will make an appearance during the festivities." Douglas muttered, bringing the truck to a stop in the back of the hall. "They will not be expecting anyone to arrive early."

"And we're going to just walk in." Aaron's eyes narrowed. "Forgive me, but that's rather... oh, how should I phrase this? What's the proper word? Perhaps... 'stupid'?"

"Make up your mind, old chum." Douglas hissed. "I was under the impression you wanted to survey the reception hall." His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

"Oh my, a lover's spat." Ethan sneered. "And you seemed such a happy couple. How tragic."

Aaron gave a dismissing wave of his hand. "I assumed there would be less activity. Go on in. I'll stay here and keep the motor running for when you come out on a dead run."

"What... 'ever'." Conrad-Chaney snorted, easing his bulk out of the truck. He adjusted his coat and leaned back in toward his reluctant companion. "I will go in and inquire about leasing the facilities for.. for... mmmmm. My dear grandson's wedding this upcoming Summer."

The vampire shook his head and slid over into the driver's seat. Douglas gave the door a slam, turned on his heel and headed for the delivery entrance of "By Invitation Only".

*******

Mark Shellenbarger handed the binoculars off to his father. "Yeah, they pulled into the back lot and whoever they are one of them just went in and the other one's staying in the truck."

"Black pickup with a camper shell. For once I'm glad you like to stand by the window and brood over Renée." Keith muttered under his breath, bringing the vehicle into focus.

"I'm not brooding over Renée." Mark countered. "Just can't figure out why she's seeing that English pri..."

"Put a cork in it." Keith snapped, lowering the scope. "It looks like the camper windows have blackout curtains. Neither one of them is Travers, but still this might be it."

"I'll go inform the others."

"No."

Mark's arched eyebrow asked the question. Keith reached for his coat. "We'll check this out ourselves. Yank the driver out and make him talk."

"Right" Mark agreed moving back to the window for a last glance. He squinted across the snowfield, brilliant in afternoon sun. "They're not vamps, but I'll bet they know where they are."

******

"Toni dear, that celery needs chopped a little finer." Mary Ann determined without even slowing down as she passed one of the cooks. "And for this event you may add an extra tablespoon of Tabasco to the dirty rice."

"My Word! Whatever this is it smells tantalizing!"

The booming voice rang through the kitchen. Mary Ann blinked twice at the figure who filled the doorway, stomping the snow from his shoes. "Well, we do our best. May I help you?"

"Your best? My dear lady, I've heard that this establishment is the absolute best." Douglas thrust his hand forward and falsely introduced himself. "Joseph Niswonger and I'm interested in booking a wedding reception for this coming June. Is your employer available?"

She returned the handshake. "I'm the proprietor, Mary Ann McAllen. And, well... usually I work by appointment."

Douglas released her hand and whirled around to unlid a kettle on the stove. He leaned forward and inhaled the steaming aroma. "Oh, I understand. I can see that you're in the midst of an event. My wife and I live in Kingston, Ontario but my grandson, Edward is engaged to a young woman from Rutland. He met her in college, you see. But anyway, we all arrived here this morning so the families could finally meet." Plastering a false smile on his face, Douglas replaced the lid with a clatter and proceeded to open the oven door. "A friend of mine was here for a reception two years ago and he still positively gushes about the quality of service you provide!"

Mary briskly closed the oven door and with a wave of her finger steered her customer away from the hot stove. "Referrals are always the best advertisements. Come into my office and we'll see what's open for June."

"Splendid!" Conrad-Chaney shouted with a clap of his hands. His voice then suddenly lowered and took on a note of conspiracy. "Now for your information, Linda's kith and kin are as poor as church mice and I've already heard whispers that the reception will be some horrible cake and punch type of affair. But my wife and I have decided that we are footing the entire celebration and money is no object."

"I also offer total wedding planning services. The complete package takes care of all details from the proposal through the honeymoon." Mary Ann mentioned as offhandedly as possible as she ushered her new customer toward her office. "This way please."

Douglas stopped and pointed at a cooling rack of freshly coated Petits Fours. "Not only are those beautiful, but also my favorite pastry!" He threw back his head and laughed. "Perhaps I should 'crash' this afternoon's event."

"Then you would miss out." Mary Ann laughed. "Those are for a wedding rehearsal luncheon scheduled for tomorrow."

"Really?" Douglas said through a faint smile. "You must give my best wishes to the happy couple."

Without a doubt, Douglas Conrad-Chaney could be disarming. His charade as the deep-pocketed and somewhat scatterbrained grandfather of the groom went like clockwork resulting in a complete tour of the facilities courtesy of Mary Ann. Every question, every possibility he brought up was answered by the relating of a previous event.

Or by the telling of how well the services of "By Invitation Only" were accommodating the upcoming Karn/Giles wedding.

Taking a glance at his watch Douglas let out a theatrical gasp. "Oh Dear! It's almost 2:30. I'm suppose to be picking my wife up at the hair stylist!" He enveloped Mary Ann's hand with his own beefy paw. "I'll be back with you on Monday. Thank you so much, you've been a world of help." Giving her a broad smile he turned and headed back toward the kitchen. "I realize you're busy, so I'll see myself out."

"Monday at 10:30." Mary Ann answered. "It's been a pleasure Mr. Niswonger."

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him Douglas's crocodile smile morphed into an evil grin. "Wedding rehearsal luncheon, perfect." He took a step toward the parking space and drew up short for the truck was gone. "What... the... hell?"

"Over here." Aaron called from the corner of the building. "I had to move it."

Douglas opened his mouth to ask why, but Aaron had vanished. Pulling his coat a bit tighter against the winter cold he followed the vampire. Again the question "What the hell?" bloomed on his lips, but this time it was in regard to the splatter of fresh blood which laced the camper's back door.

From his perch on the bumper of the truck Ethan raised his head from his palms and glared at the man who stood at the corner. "In a nutshell, I'd say you bastards got your war."

Moving his bulk more quickly than one would imagine Douglas rushed toward the truck coming to a stop at the shade's elbow. He paused, not in shock at the testimony of the violence but instead to check for any sign of blood on the ground. A drop noted here, a drip spied there were all quickly ground away under his heel.

Ethan clenched his fists. "The blood on the ground cries out for vengeance. You better remember that Tubby Doug." Sickened at the sight, the shade stood and passed into the back of the camper.

"What happened?" Douglas seethed under his breath as he yanked the door open and wedged himself behind the steering wheel.

"Do you like my new toy?" Aaron asked, holding the binoculars up by the strap. "Very nice ones. I've always wanted a pair of this quality."

"Answer me!"

The vampire continued to play with the binoculars. "The older one was a bleeder. I cracked his skull into the doorknob and tossed him in the back to keep him from doing anything while I took the younger one. You should have seen the look on their faces when I attacked. They had no idea what I was until it was two seconds too late."

"Alliance?"

Aaron nodded and tossed the scope toward his friend. "You can see the rear of that motel from where we were parked. I'd speculate they saw us pull in and decided to come over and be heroes. I've been watching the motel, no one else seems to be alerted. Get out and take a look for yourself" He then reached into his jacket and pulled out a set of car keys. "Oh, and we now have a second mode of transportation."

"Splendid, you follow me back into town." Douglas twisted the ignition key, bringing the engine to life. "Where are the bodies?"

"They are both 'resting' comfortably in the back."

"Resting eternal or resting until this evening?"

"Until this evening." Aaron answered, sliding back out of the truck. "We're going to have a full night of it. Hexing Williams, snatching up that Realtor, beating the hell out of three new ones, making final preparations for Saturday..."

"The attack will be tomorrow during the rehearsal luncheon!" Douglas revealed. "Especially now since two of their own are missing, we must strike hard and fast and take all that are present."

"Finally, a glimmer of planning rears it's head." The vampire snotted.

"Change your disposition and get moving!" Douglas ordered.

Aaron slammed the door and went to get the Shellenbarger's car.