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Part Seven
Somewhere to his right, something landed with a thud. Matt opened his eyes but this did nothing to clear his disorientation. The hiss of the sorcery and blackness was all that registered. A flash of memory played like a video through his head. Junior's horrified expression getting smaller and smaller until the mist blocked the view; the free fall through the icy, sulfurous cloud; Matt gasped and jerked as in his mind he again hit bottom.
"ROTH! You gon dance to an Alliance tune."
Andy's enraged scream filtered down as if from a thousand miles away. Matt turned his head toward the sound, the stubble of his beard scratching across the heavy paper bags he lay face down upon. He tried to rise onto his hands and knees but stopped as his senses registered nothing solid below his feet. Slowly he went back down on his belly and dug his fingers into the bags. Mumbled syllables came from above. Junior? Was that Junior?
Panic began to rise from within. "Where the hell am I? Am I dead?" He asked the darkness. As if in answer, a rumble shook the place where he lay and the sizzle of the mist all around him became intense. Matt reached forward and found support to drag himself ahead a few feet into the pitch black, the motion bringing his overhanging feet onto the sacks and plowing his face into a heap of loose granules. Searing pain shot through his eyes and battered lips. He swore, spit, rolled over onto his back and sat up. He clutched his chest growling as his bruised ribs responded to the quick movement. "Sonna-bitch." His curse echoed back through the sudden quite. Tears washed down his face as his body cleaned the irritant from the eyes. He licked something off his lips and crunched it between his teeth. Salt?
Matt went back over on his hands and knees and ran a hand across the bags before him until he found the loose pile. Sticking his hand into the granules he jerked and swore as the salt entered a tiny cut on a fingertip. "Salt in a papercut. Damn! Rather get staked. Shit!" He briefly stuck his finger in his mouth and then rapidly shook it in the air to cool the sting. "I'm gonna have to stop talkin' to myself before I end up as loony as the Old Man." He reached back through the pitch black with his other hand and ran it through the salt as he corrected himself. "Ah, what the hell Giles, you're already gone." Matt straightened back up. "Okay, salt... bad-ass sorcery and salt don't mix so the whammy didn't work in this spot. That must be why I ain't halfway to hell." His voice acquired a sarcastic tone. "Yeah, lucky fuckin' me. Must be my lucky day. Gotta get outta here and go buy a damn lottery ticket."
Keeping the solo conversation going he ran his hand along the contours of the bags feeling for the edge of whatever it was he was on. "Okay, good, here's the edge." He reached downward into the blackness - nothing. "Great, just great." He crawled forward until he came to a corner and repeated the process down the second side. WHACK! Pinwheel stars exploded in his eyes and blue commentary from his lips as his head made contact with a brick wall. He sat back on his heels and rubbed his forehead. Reaching forward again he touched the wall and then leaned on it to test its texture and stability. Moving to the side his hand bumped into a mass with a different texture. "What the hell is that?" Hesitantly exploring with his fingers he suddenly realized it was his weapons bag. He drew it over onto his lap and unzipped the top. As he felt around for his flashlight a series of muffled thumps and yells began to be heard through the ceiling. "Hang on guys.. I'm comin'." He shouted upward as his fingers found the flashlight. Flicking it on he examined his situation.
"Oh, for cryin' out loud." Matt spit as he realized he sat only three or so feet above the floor on a battered pile of twenty pound bags of kosher salt. Shining the beam overhead to the ceiling ten feet above his head, his face twisted into a sneer. "Good job dead dick. You'd have to drop-kick my ass farther than that to take me out."
"Oh, drop-kicking is not in the cards."
Matt directed the light toward the voice. Roth stood in the open doorway of the storage room with a half smile plastered on his game face. "Instead, you will replace Max, my former associate. So you might want to remove your cross. It is so uncomfortable to rise with one of those things blistering on your chest."
"Shitdead, you're gonna have to start sharing your drugs." Matt laughed as his hand went for a stake.
Roth raised an eyebrow. "Drugs? I might have done a lot of things, but never drugs."
"Well, silly fuckin' me." Matt said as he slid off the heap and began to advance toward the vampire. "Saying shit like 'remove your cross' and that I'm gonna replace your pal just made me think you were on something."
With a frown Roth glanced upward toward the sound of the battle on the ground floor. "I have a feeling I should go." Placing his hands together as if in prayer, Roth chanted a short incantation. Matt had closed the space between them to less than thirty feet when the vampire spread his hands apart and released the conjuring. A half a dozen large demonic bats flew outward from his palms and swirled toward Matthew. "That should occupy you for awhile. I'll return to deal with you later."
Matt ducked and swung his flashlight at the leading edge of the drove. They parted like smoke, swooping around him, parrying and diving. One landed on his back, claws gripping through both shirts and pricking into the flesh; leathery wings folding around the hunter's waist. Matt made a dive for the closing door but was two seconds too late. Dropping both flashlight and stake he ripped his work shirt off and whipped it along with the attached creature up against the wall. After the third crack the bat dislodged and tumbled onto the floor. Before it could take to the air again Matt stomped the length of his boot down on its body. Crazily swinging his shirt back and forth above his head he tried to force the door. A second bat swooped in and landed on his shoulder. Matt pried it off and in the same motion brought its head down on the doorknob decapitating it with a crack. As he flung the body away a shuddering motion in the beam of the flashlight caught Matt's eye. The first 'dead' bat had begun to twitch, its crushed body reformed and with a hiss it took to the air.
Matt's eyes widened. "Oh, that's good." He understated, then yelped as one landed across his hipbone and sunk its fangs into his upper thigh. "Yiiee! Way too close you little...!" Grabbing the bat he pitched it across the room. It hit the floor and rolled into the side of the salt skid. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" The creature began to shrill as it struggled to get out of the dusting of salt on the floor. Matt scooped the flashlight up and spotlit the creature as it began to disintegrate.
The once headless bat also regenerated and leaped upward, landing on the back of Matt's knee while the others began to dive bomb his face. He made a run for the pallet and dived onto the top of it. While beating a hole through the tough paper with the butt end of the flashlight he felt two of the creatures land on his back. He ripped the bag open and hoisted it over his head pouring a stream of course salt down his back. With an earsplitting banshee screeches the bats released their hold and fell snapping and quivering to the floor. Matt rolled over on his side and wrenched the bat off the back of his leg. "Fucker!" He raged at the creature as he gave it a hard shake before jamming it head first into the half empty salt bag.
Matt scooted over and sat with his back to the wall, panting, sweat pouring off his face. Around him the salted bats quit thrashing around and began to dissolve. Shining the flashlight back and forth he searched for the rest of his demonic attackers. From the corner of the room two pairs of baleful orange eyes reflected back. Matt blew them a kiss followed by an obscene gesture then wiped his face on his T-shirt. Moving the beam back toward the door he saw a breaker box to the side of it. Armed with a handful of salt he went over to the box and hit the switch. As light flooded the room Matt flicked off the flashlight and gave a heavy sigh of relief. After a quick glance over toward the remaining bats he knelt down and examined the lock. "Piece of cake..." He said outloud as he rose to retrieve his bag. "...'Bout time something was easy."
On the ground floor 'easy' was still a pipe dream. The demons had attacked with a vengeance, following their orders to kill and enjoy. The only "ace in the hole" the humans had against their foes was the fact that the creatures did not mount a coordinated offensive. Roth crept through the back door of the center office and watched the battle from above, his presence hidden in the gloom. "They are skilled." The vampire grudgingly noted. Out of the six creatures he had set upon the party, one had been destroyed and one was in its death throes. This was not going the way he had planned. "I guess I'll have to improvise." The vampire commented to himself.
Roth pursed his lips and his features returned to human as he studied the action. The Alliance crew fought as one, their style confirming many years of working together. The two strangers however, were not as closely teamed. His brow furrowed as he focused in on these two. While their techniques showed a common training thread, the younger one seemed more mechanical in his fight, as if performing from formula. With a nod he decided that this one was not the one to fear. "Rookie Watcher. Must have been sent here from 'Jolly Old' to train with the Slayer." He rubbed his hand together. "Hummm, so you're probably not the person who anyone would suspect; I'll send you after that rookie hunter."
Risking a step forward Roth turned his attention to Giles. As he observed the man, his features hardened. This one wielded a short sword like it was an extension of his body; his movements a deadly ballet which took advantage of every misstep of his opponent. The vampire hissed as he recognized the weapon in Rupert's hand. Black hilted, the blade darkened to a non-reflective finish with an inlay strip of hardwood running wickedly up its length - Alliance sword, custom made.
Once upon a time he had one of those, held it in his hands, felt the balance, enjoyed the lethal promise of the wedded metal and wood. His eyes narrowed in hate as he considered the possibility that he was looking at the same sword which John Blanchard had snatched from him so many years ago. Taken the same night the Blanchards had stolen his wife and baby and almost his life. And this man had it in his hands, this human who had dared return his stare. The game face returned with a vengeance and he let out another seething hiss as he pointed a finger at Giles. "You! I will set your own son on you. Or maybe vice-versa. Decisions.... decisions.... but you both will serve me."
"Hee-YA Peekon! Hold!" Sam's voice shot across the room.
Roth tore his eyes from Rupert. "Landry. You and your damned dogs are such a nuisance. I would love to see you torn apart by your own beasts. Yes, that would be worth seeing, that will be your fate, Sam - old friend." He stroked his beard and watched as Peekon responded to the command, baiting and distracting a cornered demon as Sam and Junior came in for the kill. "Junior... John Blanchard, Junior." The vampire muttered. "Teethed on a stake, been hunting since before you started to shave. You are your father's son." A twisted grin appeared on his face. "Before we leave this place you will have pay a visit to your daddy, show him how well you've done. I actually hope he recuperates, just so this can happen."
"Andrew, Andrew, Andrew." Roth chanted almost in a sing-song voice as he turned his attention toward the younger Blanchard. He shook has head in bogus astonishment as the hunter went toward a demon in a one on one attack. "When are you going to learn to control that temper of yours? Never... you never will, that I guarantee. For it will come in handy... Andy. I can see you becoming enraged as your lovely Anne screams in terror at your unexpected homecoming. And we know how that will end."
The vampire's thoughts focused on the Blanchard clan. "And where is your equally bad tempered uncle Michael? He should have been here by now; his crew in tow; hell-bent for revenge. Can't rely on anyone anymore." Roth's musings were interrupted by a figure staggering through the door. His eyebrows shot up in amazement as his recognized the Slayer. What the....? She should have been out of commission for another couple of hours." He crossed his arms and tried to remember what he had heard about Slayers and The Council. He had never personally dealt with these people. Oh, of course, he had heard stories about Slayers - the vampire equivalent of the monster under the bed, but he never thought he would see one. He drew in a large breath just to make a sound of disgust. "So they do heal as fast as we do." He muttered as Buffy went to assist Wesley. "But it would be a safe bet that a simple decapitation would slow down the recovery." Roth chuckled at the thought of sending one of the Watchers back to England with the Slayer's head.
The roar of a wounded demon effectively brought Roth's forces down to three left in the game. The vampire curled his lip as he observed the fourth bleeding demon lurched back toward Rupert. "Well that won't last much longer." He thought, then spit out his words. "Damn it!" Turning away from the fight he went to the rear of the office and sat down cross-legged against the wall. Placing his hands palm up on his knees he gazed upward for a moment, considering his options. "I need to split them apart." He thought as he felt for the sorcery within him. A silent snarl crossed his lips. Drained, he felt drained of the gift. Yes, it was regenerating within him, but much to slowly. He clenched his hands as if trying to grasp the power he once fully possessed. A power that in life did not ebb and flow like this; the magic which had spiked within him at his turning. His share of the gift, ripped from his being by those two witches.
Roth reached into his pocket and withdrew a bloody mass of hair and scalp tied in a black cord. Bringing it to his nose he inhaled the dark scent of Teresa's blood mixed with the floral aroma of her shampoo. The erotic pleasure he had experienced while ripping this prize from her head washed back over him; the memory of her scream exciting him to the point of orgasm. He shuddered and flung his head back, inviting the ejaculation, anticipating the release.
But instead of sexual climax, what swept into him was an uncontrollable vision from far away. Roth clenched his fists and snapped his fangs in frustration at the images which danced through his mind destroying his impending gratification. The scenes flickered before him like a muted play. Joellen Landry snapping a cell phone shut and turning toward the setting sun as if daring the orb to continue its descent. A car arriving with Anne Blanchard and her mother-in-law. One of the Landry daughters emerging from the house adjusting a modified fly fishing vest, from out of which the tools of the hunter's trade showed. The catahoulas freed from their kennels sniffed around the yard in response to the commands of Renee Jeanmard, her face hard as stone over the deaths of her mother and brother.
How had the women had been warned of his intentions? The revaluation spell he had cast after Teresa's murder had shown no sign of preparations. He knew that the two vampires now on their way from Memphis would not have a kerosene cat's chance in hell of getting past these prepared defenses. "No problem. They will destroy those idiots and then relax their guard." He thought to himself. "I'm sending their own men there, hunter blood will spill hunter blood." He rubbed his hands together and tried to control his rising ire as the vision continued to torment him. "It will just take a bit longer this way."
But what sent Roth's fury over the edge was the apparition of a second car, out of which hopped a five year old girl. The setting Louisiana sun turned the child's auburn hair to fire. He needed that little spoiled brat dead. As Sheri turned her head to greet her Aunt and Grandmother, her curls swept across her back causing the vampire's face to freeze expression of hellish fury over the child's continued existence.
Halfway across the country the child hesitated and pointed toward the West, toward the revealed truth. Her lips mouthed the words. "I don like dat man." Sue Blanchard stiffened and observed her daughter's motion. She exchanged a brief glance with her sister-in-law and opened the trunk of the car. Mamere Blanchard took Sheri's hand and the two younger women each removed a suitcase and weapons bag from the trunk.
Roth's snarling, raging howl shattered the air.
Rupert landed the mortal wound on his adversary and turned toward the yowl. Without hesitation he followed the sound toward the stairway; his face a expressionless mask, his finger tracing the length of his sword.
Andy shouted at the departing Watcher. "NO! We don split up!"
Wesley took his eyes off his opponent for a spilt second. "Mr. Giles! Don't! Not alone!" His voice cracking as he noted Rupert's ascent toward the offices.
"DUCK!" Buffy screamed as the demon they were fighting took a hamfisted swing at Wesley. Wyndam-Pryce bellyflopped onto the floor with the demon's fist ruffling his hair as he went down.
Junior gave Sam a sharp nod. "Dis one's 'bout done... git dat fool back down... GO!"
Landry called Peekon and took off for the balcony, catching up with Rupert as the man stepped through the broken window of the center office. "Where you bons sens?" Sam called out, a bit out of breath. "You can't go after Roth alone."
The catahoula jumped through the window, made a beeline for the back of the office and began to paw at the door.
"Go on back with the others, and take your dog." Giles softly told the hunter as he made his way to the closed door.
Sam stepped in. "Ain?"
"I said: Go back, I don't need your help."
Moving quickly past Rupert, Sam made it to the door and slapped his hand across the knob. "You not goin' nowhere's. Junior sent me up to bring you back...."
"Step aside." Rupert said with a motion of the sword.
With a slow shake of his head Sam removed his hand from the doorknob. "You don listen worth a damn, do you." His inflection making it a statement of fact instead of a question. The hunter's eyes locked on Rupert's cold stare. "Mais, guess I have to go with you." Before any disagreement could be voiced, Landry opened the door and gave Peekon the command to "Find 'em!"
Rupert followed the dog through the door as Sam brought up the rear. Illuminated by only the red glow of the "exit" signs the hallway had a surreal feeling. In silence the men followed Peekon around the corner and down a flight of stairs to the ground floor landing. The catahoula sniffed back and forth looking for the freshest scent then announced his findings with a winding bay as he headed down the next set of stairs at a dead run.
Sam smiled and traced a Sign of The Cross on his sword blade before following Peekon. "Time to go hunting."
"Carpo noctis." Giles answered.
Landry chuckled under his breath as they descended the stairs two at a time into a cavernous industrial kitchen. "You turning into one of us? You gotta Alliance sword, saying da Alliance motto. Nex t'ing you know you be throwing away dat suit and riding shotgun with us."
For a split second the vision of The Council's reaction to one of their own jumping ship to the Alliance flashed by. "Tempting proposition, but we both know it cannot be."
"Think 'bout it. Da teams could use a experienced repl..." Sam shut up mid-word and turned away from Rupert softly cursing himself. Giles watched vacantly as Peekon nosed around. Suddenly Sam was in front of him trying to find the words. "I should.. should have let go, but... too afraid. Le Bon Dieu! Din't think, din't know he would do dat."
Rupert held his hand up and looked away. "I cannot deal with this at this time." Landry swallowed hard and gave a faint, almost imperceivable nod of understanding.
From halfway across the room Peekon growled. Sam took a few steps forward to check out the catahoula's find. "Dead demon." He whispered. "We seen it when we were down here looking for Junior. Throat be cut so deep da head is mostly off."
"So I see. Is that Junior's handiwork or Roth's?" Rupert asked not really caring who caused the creature's demise, but thankful for a change in topic.
"Roth's, we t'ink. Junior and Xander saw it when they brought John through." Sam pointed at a far doorway. "Through there, dat's where Roth had them. Teresa... her body, still back there where dat mal ravat put her."
"I want to see the body." Rupert said as he made his way toward the door. Stopping a step past the threshold he scanned up and down the hall. "Which way?" He asked Landry without turning around.
"I don know. We did not go back there 'cause Junior showed up. He said they got out after killing da guard."
As Rupert's eyes became accustomed to the gloom he noted a double set of faint footprints on the floor to his right. Bending over he touched the still sticky demon blood. "That way." He said with a nod toward the smears.
Sam nodded and whistled for Peekon, as he attached the leash to the collar he glanced up at his companion. "Why you want to see her? It's bad, bad." He knelt by the catahoula and rubbed its ears for a moment. "Junior said dat her skin is charred, like she burnt from da inside out. Why?"
"I have a theory, but I have to see her to confirm it." Rupert quietly said as he began to follow the trail back through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms.
*~*~*~* Matt cocked his head at the sound of leather soles hitting the cement. Someone was coming and this time he would be ready. Sliding behind the door he raised one of his needle sharp darts and waited, hoping the vampire was too preoccupied to sense his presence. The footsteps paused in the doorway and then entered. Matt felt the door quiver slightly as a shoulder brushed against it. Without a sound the hunter came around and brought the dart down in a viscous plunge.
The sword stopped barely breaking the skin over Matt's jugular.
The dart stopped a barely an eight of an inch into Rupert's chest.
"Good reflexes, Old Man." Matt dryly commented as Rupert withdrew the sword.
Sam and Rupert stood there in shock.
Matt pulled his shirt collar up and pressed it against his neck, patting away the beads of blood which lined the slice. He crinkled his brow at his elders over their silence and cracked wise. "And hey! I'm fine, thanks for askin'."
"You're welcome." Giles mumbled, oblivious to the sarcasm as the gravity of what nearly happened sunk in.
Sam barreled past Rupert and lifted Matt off the ground in a bearhug. "Que diablo you trying to do? Scare da hell outta us. Here we be thinking 'pauvre defan Giles'..." Landry dropped Matt back to the ground and gave him a not to gentle smack on the side of the head. ".....yes 'poor dead Giles', and here you go showing up alive. You be harder to kill than a serpent d'eau under da dock."
"Ah hell, Sam. 'Fess up, you already had your eye on my gear. You've been waitin' on me to bite the.." Matt stopped as a hand was placed on his shoulder.
Rupert stood there with genuine relief on his face, almost unable to speak. When the words did come they were a simple, "Thank God." followed by a quick tightening of the grip.
Matt acknowledged the action with a small return touch on Rupert's shoulder. "Yeah Old Man, It was closer than I like to think about." This said and done, he drew away. Giving a motion toward the bloodstain on his father's shirt. "You okay?"
"Aaah, yes.... no damage. Good reflexes, also... on your part." Giles touched the bloody bullseye over his heart and took a step to the side.
Matt exhaled uncomfortably and shifted on his feet as he watched the motion. He rubbed his chin and turned to Landry. "Look, I found out something, if you hit Roth's transmutations with salt they dissolve." He shook his head for a second. "It was weird, the hoo-doo worked everywhere except around this shitload of salt - that's what saved my biscuits, I landed on it. Then Roth showed up and called up a bunch of bats outta hell, but when I tossed them into the salt they just went to shit."
As Rupert listened to the account he went over to where Teresa's body lay. Kneeling beside her he fought back a wave of nausea as he rolled the corpse over on its side. His breath hissed between his teeth as he saw where a fistful of hair had been ripped from her scalp.
"What it is? Landry asked as both he and Matt went to Rupert.
"We have to collect the others and return to the library as soon as possible."
Matt did not even try to hide his annoyance. "We've went through this before.."
"SHUTup and listen" Giles snapped back. "LOOK! Look at what he did to her. The hair has been violently snatched from her head." Rupert stood and went face to face with Matthew. "Between what we see here and what you reported its obvious that Roth is not completely vested with the gift."
"That's what I told you back at the fuckin' library." Matt shouted back as he clenched his fists. "So why you so hot to trot back there? Missing your goddamn tea time or something?"
Rupert's temper hit a flash point. Giving Matt a hard push backwards. "Bothersome, damned little pillock! Either shut your gob or piss off before I knock you on your arse!"
"Bring it on, Old Man."
"PEEKON! Hold 'em!" Sam's command sent the catahoula toward Rupert's ankles as Landry gave Matt a shove toward the door. "Comme le père, comme le fils." He growled as he stepped between the two. "You two, poppa, son, both alike... should pass a slap on both 'o yous."
"Damn it Sam, call Peekon off him." Matt shouted as Rupert backed up sidestepping away from Peekon's snaps.
Sam eyed them both to make sure their anger was now directed at him, instead of each other. "Peekon, l'terrain."
Rupert gave Landry an icy look as Peekon went and laid down beside the door. Sam met his gaze and then dug out his cigars and lit one. "Now, you gonna tell me, in words an old coon ass can understand, why we have to go back der...." He flicked his spent match toward Matt. "...And then, you gonna tell me why we have to stay here. And then I tell both of you where me and da dog are going."
Matt opened his mouth to make a smart-ass comment but a hard look from Sam made him reconsider. Instead he spit on the floor toward the remains of the demon in a gesture of grudging defeat. "Let's hear it."
With a roll of the shoulders Rupert composed himself. "Roth has taken you friend's hair and, from the appearance of the wound, scalp. Given his knowledge of sorcery, I believe that he needs this to prevent the power which Teresa possessed from flying away to the next recipient of the gift."
"Dat be Sheri Blanchard, so why did Andy called his femme, not Junior's?" Sam interjected.
"Remember what he said? He told Anne to call Sue and all of them head to your place." Matt said with an irritated edge to his voice. "So what's that have to do with us bailing outta here?"
Gritting his teeth at the interruption Rupert continued. "Roth needs the true heirs to the gift to be... dead before he can take the full power to himself; hence both Junior's daughter and Andy's unborn child are at risk." Rupert paused for a second and looked away from Landry. "Andy called everyone when he stepped away from us, but it is possible the calls came too late. There was no answer at either of the Blanchard residences or at... or at your home, Mr. Landry."
Sam paled and whispered. "Le Bon Dieu."
Matt stepped forward and made a motion with his fingers for Rupert to continue.
"The crux of the matter is Roth now has what he need to perform his spell, that is the hair he ripped from Teresa and the deaths of the next generation. This incantation will remove the gift from its rightful bloodline and amass it in Roth and it needs to be cast over a point of manifest evil. The Hellmouth is this point and the library is over the Hellmouth." Rupert stopped and took a few steps toward Teresa. "I was not sure what this devil's plans were. But on seeing... this... things are beginning to come into focus."
"You've been right so far." Matt conceded. "But what if the kid and Anne are okay?"
Rupert curled his lip into a half smile at Matt's acknowledgment. "Roth stays within the sphere of the Hellmouth's influence or forfeits his chance to steal the gift." The smile faded as he added. "But he will send minion after minion to Louisiana until one is successful."
Landry nervously chewed on his cigar. "Being a bloodsucker, he has time on his side."
Matt picked up his weapons bag. "So let's find out for sure the status back at the Island and go from there. Either way that fucker ain't got as much time as he thinks he has."
"Wait."
Sam paused in the doorway watching Peekon's movements. The catahoula was straining against the end of his leash, staring down the unlit segment of the hallway toward something which only he could sense.
"Hey Peekon, what'ca see?" Matt said as he stepped back toward the dog.
Impatient at the delay to leave this basement maze and return to the others, Giles stood where he had stopped upon hearing Landry's call. He crossed his arms and observed for a minute as Sam crouched down beside his catahoula, rubbing its ears and whispering something under his breath.
Matt caught Rupert's irritated expression. "That way, hell and gone..." He told Giles with a toss of his thumb. "...At the end of this hall is the storeroom where I landed. Bet my left nut Roth is down there wondering where I went."
"Acceptable wager." Rupert dryly answered as he motioned the opposite direction. "But 'this' is the way back."
"Well, then go that way." Matt sniped back while loading a dart into his weapon. "Me and Sam, we're gonna check this out. If that shitdead's back there, he's trapped."
"Or he's setting up the trap for the two of you."
Sam arched an eyebrow at Rupert's observation. "Mais, won't be da first time. Two years ago we got da job up in Seattle to clear a nest of 'em out of da Boeing headquarters." He pulled the neck of his shirt away to reveal the start of a viscous scar across his collarbone then traced his finger downward over his shirt to a point at the bottom of the ribcage. "Got me dat time."
"Then you should know better." Rupert said with a shake of his head as the two hunters headed down the half lit hallway. He pursed his lips and let out a hissing exhale. "Damn it." He mumbled as he stomped after them.
Matt gave Rupert a sidelong glance as he caught up with them. "Hey, glad to see you grew some hair and decided to join the party."
"Are you always so disrespectful?" Rupert snapped. "We 'have' to get back to the Hellmouth or have you already forgotten..."
"I haven't forgotten shit, Old Man." He interrupted as he sat his weapons bag down and dug out his lockpick roll. " After I get into that breaker panel so we can have some light, this sweep will take five minutes - tops, then we'll go back to the damned library."
Rupert tapped the side of his sword into this palm. "Are you willing to bet your bollocks on that also?"
"Hell might as well, ain't using them for nuttin else." Matt chuckled.
Sam made a "hurrumping" sound causing Matt to shoot him a look of mock indignation. "What's that suppose to mean, Landry? I'm a good boy."
"Yes, yes. Good to every whore, every town." Sam muttered. "John told me once you be worse than T.Paul ever was."
"It's hereditary." Matt paused to decide on which pick to use then glanced over at Rupert with a twisted grin plastered on his face. "So what about you Old Man? Any step-moms or lady friends or you'll be introducing me to?"
"No."
"Tips on where to find the workin' girls?"
"I won't justify that with an answer."
Matt's grin faded to a sneer as he continued to bait. "Touchy subject, huh? What happened, lose your autographed copy of 'How To Pick Up Chicks'?"
"Hurry up! We do not have any time to spare." Rupert ordered, his voice edged with irritation.
"Say no more Old Man, I've got it." Matt laughed as he tossed the panel padlock to Rupert. "And I get it... things just ain't working out, or is it the thing just ain't working anymore? Guess it's been awhile, huh?"
Rupert held the lock in his hands for a moment, focusing on it to try to steer his mind back to the present, away from the memory that was always just under the surface of his consciousness.
"Did I hit a nerve or something?" Matt snotted while flicking on the lights.
"More than you realize. My lover, Jenny... was murdered by a vampire." Rupert stated quietly.
Matt's insolent expression disappeared as he averted his gaze from Rupert. "Turned?"
Rupert felt his temper begin to rise within him. It's not that he expected sincere condolences, but this emotionless, one word, detached question went through him like a knife. He inhaled with a hiss as he briefly considered knocking Matt's head into the brick wall. Steadying himself he answered sarcastically. "No... she was 'only' murdered."
"You lucked out." Matt mumbled as he slammed the panel door shut and stood facing the wall.
"Lucked out?" Rupert whispered as his fist tightened around the hilt of the sword. "Lucked out?" He then repeated a bit louder as he took a quick step toward Matthew only to be stopped by Sam's hand on his shoulder. The hunter's somber expression said more than his actions as he silently pointed at Matthew, touched his wedding ring then held up his stake and brought it down into an imaginary vampire.
"Knock it off, Sam." Matt growled as he caught the final motion. "It's none of his business."
"None of my... Why didn't you tell me you were marri..." Rupert stammered only to be cut off by Matt's angry words.
" 'Cause I don't talk about it, so let's just say we're even in the dead wife, lover, piece of ass, whatever category and move on."
Rupert involuntary shivered as the conflicting emotions whirled within him. "If that is how you truly feel, God help you lad, God help you."
"Fat chance! I'm beyond help." Matt spit. "Yeah, like God's ever been around to help me anyway."
"Á ca oui!" Sam shouted as he waved his clenched fist emphasizing each syllable. "You will not blame Le Bon Dieu for you fall. I have watched you for four years, and yes, yes you are on da way to hell." He lowered his fist, shook his head as his voice softened. "One could say you are already there. But Le Bon Dieu did not push you into da pit - you have chosen it." Sam paused for a moment and crossed himself. "In many ways you are as much of a dead man walking as doze we hunt. You poppa was right, God help you."
Matt's lip curled into a sneer at his comrade's observations. "Well Sam, guess when the time comes you'll just have to light a couple of extra candles over my dead ass."
Rupert's insides twisted as he heard "Ripper" in both Laundry's candid warning and Matt's arrogant reply.
Turning his attention toward Rupert Matt snapped. "So Old Man, let's hear your two cents worth."
"My two cents?" Rupert paused, took out his handkerchief and began to clean his glasses. "My commentary is not something you'll want to hear. But, since you asked for it, I will tell you. You admitted that your brush with death was closer than you cared to think about. But here you are, still alive whether by the Grace of God or the luck of fools or pure chance you are still breathing. I would like to think that you are intelligent enough to realize that what has happened to you makes you officially the luckiest little bastard on this planet. I also would like to think that you are intelligent enough to take this second chance at life and use it to the fullest." He replaced his glasses and searched Matt's face for any sign that his words were having an effect, but the hunter's expression remained a mask. "But, I see that I have also wasted my breath."
"Storeroom's that door way down at the end of the hall. I'm the one who left it propped open" Matt said in a monotone, then giving his head a small nod he muttered. "You wanna lock this panel back up so Roth can't put us back in the dark?"
Sam rolled his eyes heavenward before leaning down to free Peekon from his lead. "Find 'em." He mumbled to the hound as he released his hold on the collar. Shooting ahead of the party the catahoula went at full speed down the remainder of the hallway and without hesitation vanished into the blackness of the storage area. Rupert relocked the panel door and the three men followed the dog into the storeroom.
"Here we go." Matt whispered as he hit the power box switch inside the door. The lights blazed on causing the two bats to launch themselves from their perches and swoop back and forth through the cavernous room.
"Where Peekon?" Landry muttered under his breath while taking a few steps into the room. Rupert cautiously approached one of the two wall size fire doors that lined the East and West sides of the storeroom.
"Don't bother Old Man, they're bolted, chained, latched, welded, someshit from the other side. Can't budge 'em. an inch" Matt commented as Rupert walked toward the Western door.
Rupert looked back over his shoulder and snapped. "The catahoula has disappeared somewhere. Either through 'this' or 'that' door." His statement punctuated by rough jabs of the index finger. "So, use your thick head."
"Yeah.. right, use my thick head." Matt thought as Sam joined Rupert in trying to force the fire door. "What a pain in the ass. Can't wait to blow outta here." Walking over to the Eastern door he began to softly mock Rupert's accent and observations. "I'd like to think you're intelligent enough... God help you 'lad'... use your thick head." He grabbed the door handle and looked back at Rupert with something akin to both hate and hurt. "Screw you, Old Man." He whispered. "Screw you. I've done just fine for twenty-two years without having to listen to your shit." Still glaring toward his father Matt's hand tightened on the metal handle and he gave the door an angry push causing it to slide open. "Well I'll be damned..." He said outloud as the door rolled twelve feet or so along the overhead track. He raised his crossbow and scanned the next room. "We're back in the kitchen again."
"Yes!" Rupert exclaimed as the squeal of the rollers drew his attention from across the room. Landry yelled toward Matt. "See Peekon?"
Matt took a step into the next room. "Nope, he's not here - neither is Roth." A faint hissing noise drew him farther into the room. "Oh great!" He deadpanned as he caught sight of the origins of the noise. Both the stairwell at the far end of the kitchen and the hallway to his left were filled with the same yellow-green mist that Roth had conjured up before. Matt swore softly and began to back out of the kitchen.
From the stairwell a menacing growl could be heard; from the storeroom Sam's cry of alarm confirmed that they had indeed walked into a trap.
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