Part Five

Conrad-Chaney smiled as he watched the tourists gathered around the turnabout, some were snapping pictures, some talked among themselves, some even tried to look nonchalant as they waited to board the cable car. He leaned back into the bench and considered the irony, here he sat in the midst of threescore clueless tourists on his way to set pure murder and mayhem in motion. His amusement grew to the point that he had to turn away to compose himself. It would do him no good drawing attention to himself by busting out in a full snorting laugh. He unconsciously rubbed his finger around the lid of the brass bowl which he held in his lap. The sun had just set and McKinley was due any minute. Douglas snorted a bit, that is the only credit he would give the mercenary - the man was punctual. And he hoped that Aaron was also as prompt.

"What's with the bowl?"

Douglas motioned for Sean to join him on the bench. "Do you always pop up out of nowhere? Can't you ever just... walk up like a normal person?"

"No... so what's with the bowl?"

"It's a love potion that I promised my friend. His lady seems to want to wander from bed to bed and this will keep her true."

McKinley laughed in Douglas' face. "Yeah... want to make me one? I could use something to drop in a nice piece of ass's drink so she just lays down." He laughed again and shook his head. "On second thought.. forget it. I've already got me a bottle of 'get me laid' pills, and I didn't get them at the voodoo store."

"Why don't you believe?" Douglas hissed. "After what you saw at the dormitory? My God! Open your eyes!"

"Douggie, they are wide open. And I don't know what it was you pulled back there in Sunnydale but I sure as hell know it wasn't magic. My guess is that you laced their Saturday night party punch with something then let Rayne go through the motions."

"I learned a long time ago not to bother arguing with a fool. Anyway, our ride is here." Conrad-Chaney observed as a long black limo pulled up.

"Look at that piece." Sean whistled softly to punctuate his comment as he caught sight of the driver, an exotically beautiful, dark skinned woman wearing a chauffeur's cap. "I would like a bite of that."

"I'm sure she bites back." Douglas warned as they made their way to the curb. "And from this point on you 'will' be on your best behavior."

"I always am."

The woman opened the back door and motioned for them to enter. Douglas eased his bulk into the vehicle and sat down beside his host. "Aaron! Old friend! Once again the game is afoot!"

"Just like old times Douglas!" Aaron reached over and clasp his hands around Conrad-Chaney's. "Remember Kiev?"

"How could I forget?" Douglas began to laugh at the memory. As the door shut he withdrew his hand from Aaron's grasp and with a flourish made introductions. "Aaron, this is Mr. Sean McKinley, the one I told you about." His eyes narrowed. "Mr. McKinley, this is Aaron who no longer uses his surname. But that is common for vampires."

"You just won't give it up will you?" McKinley growled.

"Oh Douglas has always been such a jolly joker." Aaron said with a smile. "Here Sean... it was Sean wasn't it? Have a drink. The bar is at your elbow, help yourself."

McKinley's face was a mask as he considered the stranger. This asswipe didn't look much older than twenty-three, twenty-five; and this was the one that Douggie had contracted to find a crew? A flash of a sneer crossed his face as the thought, "Screw this noise, as soon as the next lump of money is in the account I'm cutting my losses and bailing." This decided he turned halfway in his seat and opened a small rosewood cabinet. As he fingered through the small bottles of alcohol he felt Aaron sit down in the seat beside him. Sean's expression clouded. "Scoot over pal, rule one I don't like anyone in my personal space."

"It's going to get a lot more 'perssss-onal'." The vampire literally hissed into the merc's ear.

Sean whirled back around and went face to game face. The vampire struck like a snake. In one fluid motion pinning McKinley's shoulders against the leather upholstery and sinking his fangs deep into the flesh of his victim's neck.

"Don't drain the bugger, remember we have to do the spell."

Conrad-Chaney's voice registered as if from a thousand miles away. Sean's struggles became fainter and the tunnel vision became to close in as his blood pressure dropped. Aaron pulled back a bit and licked his lips. "Bitter. You were right Douglas, this one has no redeeming qualities."

"Of course not." Douglas said with a grunt as he reached over and took the two shot bottle of scotch from McKinley's trembling fingers. "You might want to relieve him of his weapons. He has one in a shoulder harness and another on his ankle."

McKinley felt the cold dead hands slide under his jacket and retrieve his first gun, then the same icy touch ran up his leg and slid the second out of the holster. Through his blurred vision he saw Douglas open the bottle and offer a sarcastic toast toward him. Then it went black.

Aaron licked the blood trickle off the merc's neck and settled back. "Preparations have been made as you requested and I have two others in mind to assist you, they are waiting back at the lair."

"Very good." Douglas said with a nod. "I knew I could count on you."

"So..." The vampire paused to pull out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth as his features returned to human. "...how did you get him to bleed in the bowl?"

"I didn't. The depraved bastard raped a woman and came on her shirt, then he kept the whole foul mess as a trophy." Douglas lifted the lid of the bowl and curled his lip. "In a way it's better. Semen will make the binding more powerful than blood or saliva."

The limo made its way over the Golden Gate and continued heading North. Douglas helped himself to another drink or two and passed the time in a leisurely conversation with the vampire who sat before him. It had been six years since they had worked together and over thirty since Aaron and Quentin and himself had been roommates during their Watcher training.

Training.... Conrad-Chaney's mind went back to the day they had been sent to battle a roomful of vampires under 'controlled circumstances'. One had broken free and disappeared into the depths of the Council's estate house. It had taken two days and nights to find the bugger and stake him but in the ensuing chaos Aaron had disappeared.

Douglas took a long drink and tossed the bottle into the rubbish. "So, where 'did' you go?"

"Pardon?" Aaron asked wondering where the question came from.

"I've always met to ask. Where did you go for those three years after you were turned?"

"Around, here and there." Aaron picked at a fingernail. "Eventually got in with that pack in London. I'll never forget the look on your face when you saw me in that pub."

"If my memory serves me correctly, you were not too happy either." Douglas countered. "But it worked out. A couple of pints is all it took."

"As the old saying goes: one hand washes the other. By the way, be sure to give my regards to Travers the next time you see him. Tell him, hummm.. tell him that I'm thinking of him."

"Oh I will!" Came the laughing response. "Just to watch him squirm and mumble as he denies or justifies everything."

"He has a selective memory." Aaron's vampire features flashed full bloom. "But I don't. He served me up on a silver platter just to make a name for himself."

"It's more of the self-preservation quality in his nature. To save his own arse he would betray his own mother." Douglas stared at the vampire. "We both know that. His time will come someday when he least expects it, for revenge is a dish best served cold. But until then I will use him for any information I can get."

"Our luck he will get hit by a lorry or his heart will fail during one of his tirades. We should go visit him soon. I can't see him being that useful to you."

"True, it would be a sin if he just dropped dead. So, how about after the holidays? we can ring in the new millennium by watching the bastard bleed."

"A perfect plan." Aaron leaned over to check on Sean. "I think he's almost dead."

"Pity." Douglas said without a trace of feeling. He reached for another bottle then stopped as he felt the limo turn into a gravel drive. "Is this the place?"

"Correct, my dear cousin has allowed us to den here for the past few years." Aaron rolled down a black tinted window and pointed to the seemingly endless rows of grapevines. "It's very private but still close to prime hunting."

"How is Jessica? Still dabbling in the black arts? Still married to that idiot?"

Aaron laughed. "Yes, to both. But Fred is a rich idiot so that makes it palatable.

"Speaking of 'palatable', how was the vintage this year?" Douglas asked.

"They have not had the best season, but since Americans will drink anything the money will again roll in." The vampire grinned wickedly. "We're here, let the games begin."

The chauffeur opened the door and stood back as the two exited the limo. Aaron blew her a small kiss as he passed. "Be a dear and go get Arthur and Steven, tell them to come here. Then I want you to go and wait for my friend in the guest bedroom." His hand shot out and grabbed the vampiress by the neck. As he roughly pulled her toward him his face morphed into pure vampire threat. "And he is truly my 'friend', keep in mind that if there is a mark on him in the morning that he did not enjoy I will destroy you by inches." He snarled and tightened his grip. "Understand?" The vampiress licked her lips and nodded. "I will be very good to your friend." Aaron let her go and gave her a push backward. "Splendid, now summon the others then go 'pretty' yourself up."

Douglas arched an eyebrow as he watched the chauffeur walk away. "You're too kind Aaron. I wasn't expecting such amenities." He took a final hungry look as she disappeared into the shadows. "I might be late for my lunch appointment tomorrow."

Aaron laughed and reached back into the limo taking hold of Sean's arms and pulling the limp body out, dropping him without concern to the ground. Two minions appeared and stood by for their instructions. "Strip him and bring him over to the place in front of the barn. And no 'snacking' - he's mine." Aaron ordered. He rubbed his hands together, then with a slight bow motioned for Douglas to follow him.

Silently the two, human and vampire went forward to make the final preparations. In front of the barn a rough box the size of a coffin rested upon a trio of sawhorses, beside it a table draped in four colors of silk, upon which sat four candles and a knife. Douglas placed the brass bowl on the table and removed the lid. He then struck a match and lit the tapers red, black, white and silver in hue. As each flame took hold he named them. "Blood, bile, breath, soul."

"Blood, bile, breath, soul." Aaron echoed.

Douglas smiled as he heard Arthur and Steven approach with the dying man.

Aaron caught their eye. "Put him in the box, hold him down." This done, Aaron picked up the knife and positioned himself over Sean. He rolled his shoulders and snarled bringing himself into a vampire state, then violently ripped the flesh of his own hand with his fangs. He roughly opened the merc's mouth and allowed the tainted black blood trickle down his fingers and into McKinley's mouth siring the man into a damnation beyond what he had earned with his own deliberate sins.

As the first drop flowed down Sean's throat Douglas began his rite. Taking the braided strap from the bowl he passed it through each flame and then looped it around his fingers. He then picked up the candles, two in each hand and held them downward so the wax dripped into the bowl, all the while reciting words which made the stars tremble. With a slow deliberate motion he brought the flames down toward the wax soaked mixture and set it ablaze. He raised the candles and brought them over to the box and placed them into a pocket of silk attacked to each corner - red into red, black into black, white into white, silver into silver. Without a pause in the motion he took the knife from Aaron's outstretched palm and made a deep cut, well into the muscle, starting at Sean's groin and ending at the breastbone. He then took the strap and embedded it into the wound.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

In answer Douglas turned the knife on himself and sliced his palm open. As the blood flowed down his fingertips he held also them over Sean's mouth and allowed the blood to drip down the man's throat. He then reached out and clasp hands with Aaron intermingling their blood and their fates. The flame in the bowl shot upward with a roar casting a hellish light upon the scene. Douglas wrenched his hand free and slapped it down upon Sean's chest then drew it downward staining the length of the strap with the mixture of human and demon blood.

"NOW!" Conrad-Chaney shouted above the thunder of the flames and Aaron impaled his fangs into McKinley's throat. The man jerked upward and began to thrash from side to side with such violence that it took every ounce of strength from the assistants to keep him contained. Douglas ripped the bloody strap from the wound and began to tie it into an elaborate knot.

"You tasted our blood!
You wear its mark!
It fills your empty shell!
And binds your soul to this sphere!
I bind your will to my commands!
I bind your demon to the one who drained you!
You are our servant until your body goes to ash and dust!"

Douglas flung the knotted cord into the flame and with a explosive crack the very gates of hell opened spewing back the damned soul which had resided there for a heartbeat of human existence or a decade of torment whichever the case may be. Aaron screeched and fell to his knees as McKinley's demon rushed into him and filled him with power while with a maniacal laugh Douglas whirled around and slammed the lid down on the bowl, snuffing the flame. His face twisted into a sneer as he leaned over the container and shouted. "Now do you believe?!"

Aaron groaned and pulled himself back up. "He should have the idea."

"Without a doubt." Conrad-Chaney wiped the sweat from his face. "But how do 'you' feel my friend?"

"Stronger! More aware! Heightened!" The vampire rolled his shoulders and gazed around the barnyard. "I see colors that do not exist."

"Sounds familiar, I spent most of 1965 in that state." Douglas smirked. He pulled a bottle of Holy Water from his inner jacket. "But are you ready for the test?" Aaron gave a nod and took the water from Douglas. Without any qualms he opened it and poured it on his bare hand. It flowed through his fingers without leaving the first indication of effect upon the undead flesh. He then held it up for his companions to see. "It worked old friend, thank you."

"That was really Holy Water?" Steven asked suspiciously. In answer Aaron flung the remainder into his lackey's face. Steven howled and clawed at the burning as the sacramental's power raised welts and blisters across his cheek and jaw. "Yes! It's 'really' Holy Water!" Aaron confirmed as he dropped the empty container to the ground. "Now... take our new compatriot to the cellar and wait for his rising. Allow him to feed on the vessel we have procured then beat the hell out of him. We want him completely subordinate from the on... set." With a jerk he stopped and pointed toward the edge of the vineyard. " What the hell was..?"

"What is it?" Douglas moved to beside the vampire who suddenly was rubbing his eyes and shaking his head in a confused fashion. Aaron blinked and peered around the area. "Nothing Douglas. I just thought I saw something." He composed himself and shrugged. "It was nothing. Come on, let's sample cousin Jessica's vintage and allow you to dine."

******

He saw him briefly the first time. A face that he thought he remembered, but that was not unusual - a lot of faces seemed oddly familiar. But for some reason this presence triggered the flash of memories: a computer screen, a sharp click, an explosion.

There he is again, cowering from that thing - naked, torn, cut from neck to nuts. "Don't hurt me... don't hurt me... I'm sorry! Oh God I'm sorry!" The damned shade laughed for the first time in years. "Right Guv'ner... we're all 'sorry'." More memories flooded in: a roar in his head coupled with pain as all went from white to red to black.

"What is that? Now what new kind of torment?" The shade curled up on the burning ice and tried to resist the pull. This hurt, oh Lord this one hurt, tearing, searing.... stop it.... please... stop it.

Ethan's agonized wail echoed through the pit as a sheet of flame erupted on both sides of him, enveloping him with excruciating white hot needles of fire. He felt himself being torn apart, flung to every point of the compass as he screamed again.

Cold... now it's cold. For a long time Ethan stood there shaking, trying to focus on the object in front of him. A grapevine? He jumped as if struck as a voice suddenly registered.

"Now do you believe?!"

That voice... that was, was Conrad-Chaney. Ethan's eyes went wide as he turned toward the sound. He felt drawn to the scene but something was holding him back, something was again pulling him. He shivered as his mind began to focus on the silk swathed table, the brass bowl, the candles. Then it came to him in a flash. "Melding spell... oh fuck, this is bad... he called me back with a melding spell." He looked down at his bloody clothes and slowly pulled his shirt apart. There was the remnants of the mark of subordination but no other wound. "This is not right." Ethan tried to take another step forward but the pull to another place became stronger. Again the heat began to build. He shook and threw his head back and tightly closed his eyes as his mouth formed the motions of a silent scream.

Hot... Hot... HOT! The sensation registered in his mind as the flame flickered through his closed eyelids. Ethan lurched up onto his hands and knees and screeched at the scene before him. A corpse... a burning corpse, the flames feeding on the body fat, the shattered skull leering at him as it was consumed by the fire. He flung himself backwards away from the horror and passed through the crematorium's sealed vault.

"Mr. Bergman, here's the FedEx label."

The funeral home director nodded at his assistant.

Ethan stood, mouth agape, staring at the two men.

Bergman held up a ziplock bag. "One silver and ebony ring, one gold chain, one watch... no wallet or other personal effects?"

"That's MY ring! And what do you mean my wallet's gone?! I had almost four hundred dollars!" Ethan shouted.

"Nothing else. I asked the M.E.'s assistant the same thing." Tim shrugged. "That's all he had on him..."

Ethan went stomping up to the two. "Are you deaf?! I asked you a question! WHERE IS MY WALLET?!"

".... and Harry told me the cops are keeping his luggage as evidence and that there was no wallet found at the murder scene." Tim continued without a pause.

"I'm not amused! ANSWER ME! WHAT THE HELL IS...." Rayne began ,then suddenly froze as he realized that they could neither see or hear him.

"Very well... now this is the one who gets shipped to England, correct?" Bergman nodded toward the crematorium.

"Shipped to England? Murdered?" Ethan murmured as it all began to sink in.

"... he goes to some place called Felixstowe. As soon as the next of kin wires the payment we can send him home."

Ethan began to weave on his feet as his mind went back to last breaths. Again the disjointed visions flickered, sitting down at the desk... feeling a presence behind him, the gunshot, seeing his own gray matter hit the monitor.... pain, descent, darkness... hell."

He threw his hands upward and screamed "NOOOOO!!" as he raced toward the funeral director. He tried to grab the man by the shoulders but his hands passed through the living flesh without impression. Again and again Ethan tried to make some form of contact. He swore, he begged, he hit, he raged but nothing could cross the void between the living and the dead.

Bergman left and the assistant spread a newspaper on the table and began to take his break. Ethan sat down across from him, laid his head down and wept.

A soft chime signaled the end of the crematorium's cycle. Tim leaned back into his chair and stretched. "Ashes to ashes."

"And dust to dust." Ethan added softly as he raised his head and rested his chin on his folded hands. He sighed and glanced down at the paper before him. "And life goes on... tell me did my murder make the front page? How long did I lay there? Did I get at least one bloody bouquet of flowers from my friends?" A sudden thought hit him. "Friends... Ripper and the Rosenberg witch. They might see me... maybe." He nodded to the unaware man who sat in front of him. "What do you think mate? Is it worth a try?"