Just A Girl

Just A Girl

29 March 1977 – At last the day has arrived. Finally, I have been given the care and training of a Slayer - something I’ve been working towards for so long - and now it’s happened I feel weirdly numb. What if I’m not up to it and can’t give the girl the guidance she needs? The responsibility is crushing. I’m not much more than a girl myself really, what have I got to help a confused and frightened youngster to feel part of this bizarre world? And as for the training regime…I don’t even know if I can keep it up. It’s gruelling. Still, I signed up to the Watchers Council for this very day. Not every Watcher gets a Slayer. It’s a great honour.

So - my Slayer. My Slayer. I can’t really believe I’ve just written that. She’s young, not yet sixteen and her name is Jessica Langtree. The little I know of her leads me to believe I’ll have my hands full. For starters, I have no idea where she is. Records show that she was placed in the care of the Council when she was seven years old, having spent her formative years in and out of children’s homes. We are unaware of the identity of her parents and they have made no attempt to contact her. Poor kid, no wonder she rebelled!

Apparently, she was given over to Quentin Travers when she arrived – why him I’ve no idea. It’s difficult to imagine a less suitable person for a young girl to take to. He’s overbearing and stern, and comes across as very ambitious. It won’t surprise me if he heads the Council one day, he doesn’t balk at trampling over people to get what he wants.

So, day in day out being ordered around by Travers – my little Slayer did a runner on a regular basis. She was always brought back though, after a few days. She never went far. I believe that Margaret Giles was responsible for calming her down a little and she remained settled under her care and influence up to her thirteenth birthday. That was when all hell let loose, or so I’m told.

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1975

The young girl crept into the bedroom, taking care not to wake its slumbering occupant. She’d search the room for her gift and then scoot, leaving Meg Giles none the wiser. Yeah, she knew she ought to wait until tomorrow but what would be the fun in that? The thrill of ‘breaking and entering’ added an extra zing to her already over-hyped state.

She searched through the wardrobe – no prize, the en suite bathroom…nothing. Under the bed…she got down on her stomach and slithered underneath, holding her breath when she knocked a cup and plate that spun and chinked. All quiet above so she resumed her search.

Slowly she became aware of something wet on her cheek. As she lay trying to work out why, she felt another drop splash her skin… and another. In a blur of movement she was out from under the bed and on her feet, in the gloom she could make out the huddled form of her friend and mentor shrouded in sheets. Sheets patterned along their white length with dark splotches. Jess shut her eyes and inhaled. There was a familiar copper tang to the air, unsettling in its intensity.

With a sudden clarity she realised what the tang evoked in her memories. Tentatively she inched forwards, holding her breath as she approached the bed. “Meg,” she whispered. “Meg - wake up!” – louder now with an edge of fear. She reached out tentatively and touched a shoulder that peeped from under the sheets.

She shook the shoulder, no reaction. Panic rising, Jess sank to her knees and shook the woman with both hands. “MEG! MEG!” She was almost screeching now and could hear the sound of doors opening along the corridor, then footsteps approached the room and stopped outside. The door opened, bathing the room in half-light, the figure on the bed outlined starkly. Red. The sheets were drenched with red.

“No!” Jess begged, “No…please no…” as she continued to shake the cooling body. A rough wrench and Margaret Giles’ unseeing eyes were turned towards her, dull in the sudden harsh light when the switch at the door was flicked on.

She backed off, falling over Meg’s discarded shoes as she went, landing on her ass with her bloodied hands covering her mouth. There was a rush of people into the room, gasps of horror as they caught sight of the butchered remains of their sister wrapped in a gory shroud.

Jess forced herself to her feet and pushed through the throng to stand at the side of the bed. Meg had been ripped open from sternum to groin, her innards spilling out to coil wetly against the stark white of the sheets. She didn’t cry; her eyes narrowed to points of vengeance as she swept them along her friend’s still form. Meg’s face was a white mask of terror and pain, eyes wide, mouth a dark cavern. Tentatively, Jess settled her hand on the cooling flesh, stroking lightly along the cheeks.

“Oh god, Meg…” She began to cry then, softly as she realised her loss. A hard masculine hand on her arm jolted her back from her reverie.

“Miss Langtree. Come away now. We need to clean things up, make things tidy.”

Jess turned with a snarl. “Things? Is that what she is to you now, a ‘thing’ to be swept under the carpet, made tidy? You’re a bastard, Travers! Do you even care who did this? That your precious Council couldn’t even protect one of its own? You make me sick…you’re pathetic and I won’t be part of this anymore. You hear me? No more!”

Shaking off the clammy fingers of the second in command, she ran from the room and out into the cool night air. It was the last time she would ever set foot inside Council Headquarters.

No explanation was ever forthcoming for the bloody slaughter of Meg Giles. It appeared a ritual killing, and the kidneys and lungs were missing from the corpse. But despite several attempts, no perpetrator was caught. As nothing seemed to be altered by her death and no threats were made to the Council, her demise was duly recorded, her body buried and her family recompensed. As Jess noted, she was to all intents and purposes – swept under the carpet.

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17 June 1977 – My Slayer’s been sighted, in London no less. It appears that the passing of Nikki Wood changed something in her and now she’s homing in on the Council, seeking answers. I wonder if she knows she’s been called as the next Chosen One. She hasn’t made a direct approach as yet but she’s been tracked in the vicinity over the last five days. I’m not sure what to do next. If I come on all heavy she’ll head for the hills. If I try to befriend her, she might think I’m just trying to use her. God! I don’t know what to do for the best. I suppose I’ll have to ask the Council for a directive, much as I resent having to do it. Most of them are stuck in the last century and it pisses me off to go crawling to them. Still, she’s my Slayer and she needs me. Truth be told, I need her. I’ll speak to them in the morning.

20 June 1977 – Well, I’ve spoken to Jessica Langtree. It didn’t go well, since she sees me as ‘the Council’; I understand that. But I am really not your typical Watcher. No tweed and pearls for a start! Sorry, inappropriate humour under stress. At least she’s agreed to meet me tomorrow. She won’t set foot inside Council headquarters so we’re meeting in a pub – fifteen years old and she has a local, can you believe it? I’ve no idea what she’s been up to for the last two years but I intend to find out. Tomorrow.

21 June 1977 – Where to start. Jess is so screwed up. It saddens me to be part of an organisation that can take a young girl and let her end up in this state. She mistrusts everyone, she’s fiercely independent and resents any inference that she might need help. I don’t know how to get through to her but I am not giving up. I like her. She’s strong inside, I see that. But under the hard-nosed attitude she is still a child. I see the little girl in her and I want to take her in my arms and hold her close. I didn’t expect that I would have feelings for her. It’s not unheard of in the Council but it isn’t encouraged. After all – the Council goes on, the Slayers change. And what way do the Slayers change? They are cut down doing their duty. Killed. And replaced. It’s supposed to help you maintain detachment. But I just can’t.

Took her to a club I sometimes go to in my off hours. She’s too young to get in really but she’s all punked-up makeup and wild hair and nobody challenged her. I thought she’d relax away from the stiff formality of the Council. Hell, I feel stifled by it at times so it’s no wonder she doesn’t want to know. We chatted, we drank a few beers, pogo-ed a little to the Sex Pistols, The Clash. We like the same music so that’s a start. I hope she’s begun to see me as opposed to Ms Watcher. Let’s hope it’s enough to get her trust.

She’s been living rough since she ran into the night two years or so ago. I daren’t ask how she’s been making money to live on. I just hope it was petty theft and nothing more intimate. She’s been all over the country, back to her hometown of Liverpool for six months when she first left then Scotland for a while. She travelled with a fairground for a time, helping out with the sideshows and such. I get the impression that she learned some pick pocketing skills, mostly involving relieving the careless of their wallets. And am I wrong to heave a sigh of relief if that is all she learned? I shudder when I think how youngsters living on the street can end up selling themselves to god knows what horror.

My heart aches for her.

4 July 1977 – well, I’ve moved out of Council headquarters and taken the lease on a small two-bedroom apartment. It’s the only way I’m going to get anywhere with Jess as she won’t even talk about coming to the Council building. She’s agreed to visit me this evening and I’m going to ask her to stay with me, try to earn her trust. I know that she’s having difficulty adapting to Slayer strength and also there’s the Slayer dreams she’s been having; just a little something she mentioned. I’ll write more later, hopefully while Jess is fast asleep in her room -I’ve had it decorated specially to please her.

4 July 1977 (11.38 pm) – she’s here. I’ve managed to persuade her to stay, but she hasn’t unpacked her rucksack and is sleeping on top of the covers fully dressed, curled up like a cat. I get a feeling she’s poised ready for flight but I’m praying she won’t. It’ll take some doing - getting close to this girl. I outlined for her the sort of training I think will be most useful to her. She is definitely unsure of how to handle her slayer strength. When I met her earlier she was sporting a black eye and bloodied knuckles; apparently Jess took exception to a comment from a bloke in the pub. I dread to think what kind of condition he woke up in. She is far too impulsive, not to say reckless, and needs to work on her control. Hopefully she’ll listen to me.

11 July 1977 – we started training today. Jess has finally unpacked her rucksack and even gets under the sheets so I think we’re making progress. There was a tense moment earlier when Travers arrived to check up on us. Jess freaked. I thought she was going to take off so I quickly got him out of the flat. I was adamant that he doesn’t visit again. If he doesn’t like it, too bad; there’s no way I’m going to risk the progress I’ve made by having him pollute the first home Jess has had in years. He knows that, so I think he’ll cooperate.

So, the training – nothing too strenuous until I’ve assessed her capabilities. She’s certainly agile, very able with the natural grace of an athlete. She did receive some training during her stay with the Council but hasn’t kept up any disciplines. We decided that she would work on stamina first and I will refresh her knowledge of a variety of martial arts. She’s keen to learn karate, being a huge fan of Bruce Lee’s films; it certainly would be good grounding for a Slayer’s repertoire. She is extremely wary of anything mystical, but I’ve assured her that it is necessary if she’s going to fight demons and the like. She isn’t convinced but I will continue to work with her.

18 July 1977 – We encountered our first vampires tonight! Completely unplanned; I’d hoped we could at least finish the first section of the Slayer Handbook before going ‘live’ as it were. We were out training on Hampstead Heath – large open space for Jess to run and continue her martial arts exercises. It went well, she is dealing with her Chi and can be remarkably focused when she wants to. As a treat, we were heading for coffee and cake (Jess is so grown up, apart from a giant sweet tooth) and we were almost out of the gate. It had gone dark, so it was about 10.00 pm or so.

Suddenly, she stopped dead in front of me, crouched, eyes wild. Something moved to my left but I couldn’t make anything out in the dark. Then Jess was off, running into the bushes. I yelled after her but she just kept running. When I caught up to her, she was engaged in a three-way fight. She was a blur of motion, kicking and turning, somersaulting overhead, and all with a wild banshee scream. She grabbed at a stick on the floor and it was only then that I realised she was fighting vampires! I’d thought they were muggers and she was being the hero. I have to say I was scared, never having encountered feral vampires before. I’d been present once when we had a drugged vampire in the Council but he just lay there as Mr Stevens demonstrated the fatal blow to the chest with an ornate wooden stake.

That was worlds away from what was happening before me. These vampires were definitely not drugged and I was terrified. “Jess!” I cried out, but she just snarled and grappled one of the vampires to the ground quickly ending its existence with a sharp downward blow. Without pause she back-flipped and kicking a second vampire in the temple, floored her. From behind the third screeched and rushed her but Jess, without turning stabbed backwards with both hands and connected perfectly with the heart. A shower of dust coated us in the moonlight. I was stunned. Jess turned to the remaining female vampire and beckoned to her with a Bruce Lee bring-it-on grin. Despite the danger, I couldn’t help but smile.

The vampire was on her feet and sprinting away before I could blink. Jess sighed, then hefting a long slender branch to her shoulder, released it javelin style. A thud told us it had connected and then the shimmer of dust that fell to the ground saw an end to the third vampire.

Jess was panting then, her eyes glittering with glee as she flicked the dust off herself.

“You all right, Sal?” she asked. I could only nod, the danger we’d been in made speaking a problem.

“Home?” she questioned. Home. Seemed that my little Slayer was finally settling down. She was taking the vampire encounter entirely in her stride, and I thought it best to let it go. After all, her life was destined to consist of that and little else. I decided not to make much of it although I yearned to praise her, ask her how she knew they were there, how she took on three at once, her feelings. Later. For now – home.

19 July 1977 – Jess slept like a baby last night. I looked in on her in the wee hours and she was sprawled out under the covers, face down, and snoring. I’d never seen her so relaxed. It would appear that fulfilling her destiny has somehow eased an ache inside her she no doubt had been unaware of.

I didn’t need to grill her about the encounter as Jess brought it up herself. I grabbed my notebook without thinking and wrote down some salient points. Huh! Might just make a Watcher after all.

Jess told me that she had an awareness of something off, right before she chased after the vampires. It was a feeling she’d had before while she was living rough, but never as strongly. I explained that it was probably due to the fact that she was only recently empowered with full Slayer strength. As a potential Slayer she would have the beginnings of Slayer powers, they’d have been a mere shadow of what she had now. She pondered on that then became agitated, pacing up and down, before finally sitting, slumped across the room from me.

“I suppose I must be the real Slayer, then.”

I nodded at her, waiting for her next move.

“I knew, I suppose, deep down -- but shit! This is it, isn’t it…my life now - death, destruction and showers of dust? Heeeee – I think I love it!”

Her impish face split into a huge grin, the childish glee completely at odds with the black eyeliner, piercings, and jet-black hair.

“Hey, Sal! I’m the frigging Slayer!”

I couldn’t help but laugh along with her, she’d never giggled before. Suddenly I had a lapful of fifteen-year old girl, hugging me fiercely. At a loss, I followed my instincts and hugged her back. Jess seemed to be happy where she was but I must confess I felt a little uncomfortable. I held her away slightly, giving her the opportunity to get to her feet. Instead she surprised me by leaning in, obviously seeking a kiss. I stopped her, placing both hands firmly on her shoulders. Jess turned her dark green eyes on me, full of confusion and pain.

It was then that I realised the only way Jess knew to show thanks, appreciation, was as she had learned on the street. All that she had to give was herself, her body; she was trying to show me that she cared.

“Jess,” I spoke softly. “I know…but there is no need. I am your Watcher. It is my calling to guide you, train you, make you the Slayer I know you can be.”

She recoiled from me as if I’d slapped her and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door. I was beside myself – hadn’t a clue how to handle the situation. Do I leave her alone or do I talk to her? I’ve always gone around with people older than me and only ever had my own teenage angst to deal with.

I had to speak to her; she must be so confused. Her short life had been tough and unsettled, and then she’d lost Meg, the only person she’d ever trusted, in the most brutal way imaginable. I couldn’t let her think that was happening again.

I knocked on her door, softly. No reply. I knocked again, harder. “Jess. Jess, let me in. Please.”

There was no reply so I turned the handle and nudged the door open. She’d gone, the open window betraying her exit route.

3 August 1977 – Just returned from my daily trek to the Council. There’s been no sign of my Slayer, or at least nothing solid. There have been reports of fights, apparent slaughters that left no corpse at the end of the battle, just a covering of dust. Eyewitnesses speak of a young girl dressed in black at the centre of every fray, a girl who moved with inhuman speed. Of course, the police are presuming the reports are a hoax as nobody has been reported missing and there is no evidence. I feel more optimistic about Jess today. All the reports are from within a three-mile radius of the Council headquarters, so it appears she hasn’t felt drawn to anywhere else. I shall try to find her tonight, and will continue to prowl the area until she appears. I will not give up on her.

Things are becoming fraught at the Council. There has been an urgent request from our field agent at Cleveland, Ohio to send the Slayer and her Watcher. There has been a massive increase in vampire activity and the situation is worsening. The Council are about to send in a retrieval team to track Jess, but of course that’s the last thing they should do. She already distrusts them; the first hint and she’d be off. That would finally see an end to any cooperation and the Council would be Slayerless, without purpose. That’s the tack I’ll take in convincing them to let me at least try to get through to her.

So, I’d better set about finding her.

5 August 1977 – I thought I’d spotted her tonight. I’ve been trawling the pubs and clubs around the areas where the fights have taken place. I went into one underground club, a real dive. I blended into the crowd, I was wearing my ‘civvies’ so the barman didn’t mind answering my questions too much. I slipped him a tenner so he was quite forthcoming. It seems that a girl that must be Jess goes in there most nights; but she hadn’t been seen for a couple of days. Still, it’s something. I’ll try again tomorrow.

6 August 1977 – Well, we’ve spoken. She’s collecting her stuff and returning to the flat. I ached to go along, to ensure that she does come but she needs to believe that I trust her; she has to trust me. I think she’ll come. I hope she will.

6 August 1977 – 9.30 pm. She came. I can hardly believe it. She’s in the bathroom. More later.

7 August 1977 – 4.40 am. We talked all night. She’s fast asleep now on the couch, I didn’t want to wake her so I covered her with her blankets. So innocent in sleep, this girl in who so much hope is invested. Seeing her like this I can hardly believe she fights the forces of evil – but I know she can and I know she must. And so does she.

I explained about my reaction to her…overtures…after her first slay. At first she wouldn’t meet my eyes but I kept talking, explaining that there was no need to give me affection of that type. God, I can’t even write about it - so immature when it comes to expressing emotion. I think I got through to her. She was shaking but relieved. She told me a sorry tale about how she was taken in by a woman in Liverpool, a friend she thought had taken pity on her and offered a meal when Jess had nowhere else to go. It appears this ‘friend’ regularly picked up young girls on the street – and Jess was barely thirteen at the time – to take them back to the dump she lived in with promises of easy money. In fact, the woman procured girls for her pimp and Jess was soon embroiled in a very dangerous situation. She was frightened and alone, the woman still came over as being a friend to Jess and the young girl she was responded to her, seeking comfort. Jess didn’t go into much detail but I can only imagine the horrors she went through. She was used and brutalised by men and women alike, her spirit and strength sapped so that she didn’t even think of escape. She feels particularly shamed that she just accepted things.

My heart bleeds for her. If I could keep her safe and loved I would, but despite the horrors she has already suffered, I know she has more to face. Now, I must prepare her to journey to a foreign country and to her eventual death. The date of that death isn’t known, but the fact that it will come, and soon, is. The life of a Slayer is never long. There are times I curse my family for being part of this treadmill of death and thus passing on the legacy to me. But without that, I would never have met Jess.

Eventually, she managed to summon up enough gumption to run. It was then that she went to Scotland – the furthest place she could think of. She speaks of that time as being calm, serene. She seems to have lived off the land for a short while before gaining casual employment on a farm as a picker during harvest. But she was restless, anxious to be near people again.

She returned to Liverpool and lingered in the area until she felt the pull of her calling. Uncertain what it meant, she was drawn to the Watchers Council in London but was wary due to her previous experiences the last time she’d been there. She’d flitted around the outskirts, anxious to find out what this newfound power meant but unable to reach past her self-imposed exile to do it. On top of that there’d been the Slayer-dreams, tumbling images of death, blood, slaughter, vengeance that reached back through time. Who could blame her for being so mixed up and mistrusting.

Then she’d met me.

As she reached the end of her telling, much of it delivered hesitantly, she fell into an exhausted sleep. And so here I sit, marking down her words. I must sleep. It’s been a gruelling day.

9 August 1977 – well, we’re going to America. I can’t believe this actually happened, but Jess ‘summoned’ the Council elders to meet with her in the flat, refusing point blank to go to the headquarters. I delivered her message to the assembly, fully expecting them to laugh in my face. To my surprise, but evidently not to hers, they followed me back to be met at the door by a self-assured young woman with a smug smile.

She listened to what they had to say, nodding appropriately but not speaking. As the last words were spoken an uncomfortable silence fell.

My admiration for this girl knows no bounds. She stood, holding court, and assented to their request to visit the Hellmouth in America. Or should I say ‘a’ hellmouth as it appears there is more than one. She insisted on no interference, no orders and no companion but myself. They agreed. Just like that. She correctly assumed that they were desperate to have a Slayer again and therefore would agree to almost anything to ensure she went along with them.

I think they were shell-shocked when she dismissed them and showed them the door. Men and women old enough to be her grandparents bowed their heads to her in respect as they left. She smiled benignly, as if giving them her blessing. Astounding.

Once they’d gone, she collapsed into giggles and my little Jess was just that again. Mine.

I am so proud of her. I am going to do my utmost to ensure that she is the longest-lived Slayer in history.

12 August 1977 – We fly to Cleveland tonight, departing from the Council airfield at 9.00 pm. I’m excited and nervous; it’s not just Jess’ first trip out of the country but mine too. I’ve been briefed but really don’t know what to expect, or what to pack! I suppose anything I don’t have I can buy, it’s not like we’re off to Outer Mongolia. I must get on. I’ll write on the ‘plane.

12 August 1977 – 10.15 pm. Well, we’re on our way. I don’t know how long the flight will be. I’ve suggested to Jess that she gets some sleep but she’s too excited. Truth be told, so am I. It’s my first time on a large ‘plane. I’ve been on one of the light aircraft the Council keeps and flown up to Scotland but it’s completely different. You’re hardly in the air five minutes before you have to brace yourself for landing. And this craft…wow! I know the Council is rich, but this is like something from a film. Jess is busying herself working her way through the bar. I tried to be all proper and told her no, but why spoil her fun. It’s not like she doesn’t drink. Hell, I think I’ll join her!

Ooops! I hope you can read this. I’ve just spilled a very large gin and tonic over the page. Jess was dancing in the lounge area and she nudged my arm. Hope there’s no surveillance on board or we’re both for the high jump!

It’s about time I let Jess know the parameters of our visit. Only it isn’t a visit. This will be home until she…until the next Slayer is called. Down to business.

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OUTLINE OF COUNCIL’S ORDERS

The Cleveland Hellmouth has been experiencing inordinate activity of late. There has been a notable increase in the numbers and ferocity of vampires, along with reports of other demonic manifestations. Our field agent, Mr Dominic Baxter, who is presently logging the activity on our behalf, has placed a request. Mr Baxter is a very experienced agent and if he feels the Hellmouth warrants a permanent Slayer then his word is to be believed.

The Slayer who died in New York was to have been transferred in accordance with Council Orders. As it has been a number of months since her demise, the situation is fast deteriorating. It is imperative that the Slayer reaches the Hellmouth and tackles the emergency with haste.

This is Council Directive #79/1977/A2. All resources are available to facilitate the Slayer’s mission. Accommodation has been secured, as has a local supply of weapons and research materials. Mr Baxter will be available to brief both the Slayer and her Watcher on arrival.

End.

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So, that’s the mission. Clear the Hellmouth -- sounds simple enough. However, when I read Baxter’s accounts of recent incidents in the area it appeared an impossible task. There were hundreds if not thousands of them! People disappearing off the streets, bodies ripped in two, body parts scattered. And yet the police do nothing. Amazing! Yet, what could the police do?

I am anxious to meet up with Mr Baxter…Dominic. I have met him previously, though I doubt he’ll remember me. He was a legend when I joined the Council at the age of 18. I must confess to more than a touch of hero-worship where he’s concerned. Although, hopefully, my maturity will win out and I won’t blush and make a fool of myself when we do meet.

Jess took the information in her stride. The photographs of mangled bodies were far from pleasant but she didn’t make a fuss. She viewed it all with the clinical detachment of the trained Slayer she is fast becoming. I could see her noting the various wounds, cataloguing the beheadings, the disembowelling, the bite marks on the necks of the victims. I am pleased to say that she managed to steel herself as she read the various reports. She is still so girlish at heart, yet appears so mature to my eyes.

The next thing I knew she was giving me orders! I am delighted! She took charge of the situation, advised me what she would need to carry out the task and trusted me to provide her with the correct weapons, backup, and knowledge. I think we’ve turned a corner.

I have a Slayer.

I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I have a good feeling about Cleveland.

I’m going to try and get some sleep now, so that I can arrive refreshed. Can you believe that this flying hotel has a room for each of us? Not sure how much sleep Jess will manage but I’ll try to persuade her, she is after all still a teenager. It’s just that tonight, I saw a glimpse of the strong, self-assured woman she will become. I just pray that she isn’t taken before then.

AMERICA

13 August 1977 – Touchdown. Cleveland is five hours behind the UK; I’m not sure exactly how that works. I should reset my watch, but will that confuse me even more? And although I know that it’s five hours earlier than the time at home, I still feel the same. Wonder how long it takes to adjust? Aren’t I just the seasoned traveller?

God, what a long flight. Managed to get some sleep so I don’t feel too bad. I haven’t seen Jess yet. Just jotting something down before waking her. I hope she slept; she’s going to need it. I don’t know how long we’ll have to become accustomed to the place before we go to work. Don’t imagine demons and vamps will be willing to let things go to till we’re over the jetlag.

I don’t think I can process this time difference thing, but maybe the pilot will be able to tell me what time it is locally. I’ll write more when I get a chance.

13 August 1977 – well, I’m told local time is 1.17 pm, so I’ll change my watch accordingly. Jess did sleep, like a log actually. She cursed me quite rudely when I woke her. She does look adorable and so very young when she’s just woken up. At least it’s daylight so we should be able to settle a little before any vampire attacks. Demons though…that could be an entirely different matter. That’s something else I’m excited about. Although my training makes me aware of demonology – killing methods and such – I’ve never actually faced one. I believe from Dominic’s report that demonic activity is rife in Cleveland. It will be interesting to see how Jess copes with having to differentiate between the two. Mind you, a stake in the heart will probably see off most beings. The only thing is, you need to know where the heart is!

Jess is whining at me to get a move on so I’ll close now and write more when we reach our lodgings.

13 August 1977 – 3.30 pm (local time). We’ve reached our new home. Not large, but sufficient. It’s a house too, so that will make it easier to come and go without nosy neighbours wanting to find out what makes a young girl and her slightly older companion walk the streets in the wee small hours. Dominic has done us proud; he’s even equipped the basement for us to train in, stacked to the rafters with weapons of every description. Also, and I write this with my little Watcher’s heart aflutter, there are hundreds of texts here on all kinds of subjects that we may need to refer to. The climate is agreeable too, very like home. It’s warm, but only as warm as you would get in London in the summer. I’m glad – one thing I can do without is too much heat.

Jess is beyond excited; she’s picking things up and saying, “This is just like I would get at home” like she’s on an alien planet or something! And her face when she saw the weaponry…I don’t suppose she’s ever received many gifts. She hefted a double-headed axe and caressed it with gentle hands that belied the strength that lay in her grip. She’s out on the back lawn now slashing and cutting at imaginary foes. She can’t wait to “get at them” as she puts it. She tires me out sometimes with her energy.

So…Dominic Baxter. He’s still a very handsome man. I’m reminded now why he made my cheeks flush. We were very professional but I have hopes that we can become friends rather than simply colleagues. He’s calling later to show us the areas that need to be patrolled. I must confess I am looking forward to it, to seeing him again and to going “live” at last - fighting the good fight.

Did that sound pompous? I try so hard not to come across as “holier than thou” but sometimes it just slips out. The Watchers Council is antiquated in its ways; I think some things I learned during my training are just too deeply seated for my naturally rebellious nature to oust. Maybe that’s why Jess and I get on so well. She’s not what the Council wanted in a Slayer, I know that. She’s supposed to be obedient and grateful to them but instead she detests them with a fierce loathing that’s quite frightening. She obeys their orders because it suits her to do so; I dread to think what would happen if she ever decided to turn against them. I think I know which side I would come down on.

And myself. I don’t follow orders so well either. Requests, I am better at. Sometimes. So maybe we’re a perfect match? Wonder how the Council allocates a Watcher to a Slayer? You only get to find out what happens if you’re called to sit on the main Committee. Can’t see that happening to me anytime soon. So I choose to believe that it was fate that paired us. I can’t wait to see what the future brings. I intend Jess to be the longest-lived Slayer in history.

More later, after patrol.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

12 September 1977 – this is difficult for me to write. It is only by chance that I happened across this journal. It was found amongst Miss Middlehurst’s effects along with some personal items and a photograph of the Slayer, Jessica Langtree. I should say the former Slayer. We’re still a little at a loss how to cope with the current situation but it is essential to record the events of this Slayer’s short reign, if only for instructing future girls called to serve.

I knew the watcher Sally Middlehurst very well. We are – were – the same age and joined the Council around the same time. I found her to be a delightful young woman, a little rebellious maybe, but refreshing amongst the dour ‘ twin set and pearls’ atmosphere pervading Council halls. I must confess she was the last person I expected to be assigned to a slayer. In my experience, any deviation from the traditional tweed and tea and you were relegated to research work in the bowels of Council headquarters whilst the world sped by above you.

But, in a surprise move to most of my colleagues, Sally was given a Slayer to train and instruct. I think she was as shocked as the rest of us! Actually, knowing the history of Jessica Langtree as I now do, she was the ideal choice.

The earlier entries in this journal will have acquainted the reader with both Sally and Jessica and with their meeting and subsequent movements. I will continue where Sally left off.

From the information gathered from papers left by Dominic Baxter, another sad loss to the Council, it appears that Sally and Jess met up with him as arranged and he showed them the areas of greatest demon activity. He took them to the cemeteries, the known demon haunts and finally the hellmouth itself. By his account, the patrol went well. They encountered a number of vampires that were summarily disposed of by Jess’s well-placed stake; she also beheaded an unknown demon with a double-headed battleaxe - no mean fete for a novice. Dominic records that he was impressed with the girl’s grace and stamina and that her technique whilst not flawless could only improve with practice. He commends Sally Middlehurst for her work with the Slayer and notes that he had met the Watcher previously although he does not go into detail.

Mr Baxter then records an inventory of weaponry that he left in the house he had secured for the Slayer and her Watcher. He closes with a reminder to contact the Council the next day to confirm that all is going as planned.

It is the next entry that reveals the horror to come. I quote verbatim:

“Miss Middlehurst and her charge were late to our arranged meeting. I waited for an hour then decided to go and fetch them. It was possible that being new to the area they had got lost so I made my way to their house. I encountered two vampires en route but managed to stake one and evade the other. I recognised the second one; I have battled with him before. I must investigate.

It’s amazing how resourceful one becomes when taken out of the comfort zone of the Council’s immediate vicinity. Before Cleveland I had only encountered vampires in controlled situations and behind glass. I am going to suggest to the Council that such preparation is poor substitute for reality. Maybe a Slayer who trains with a vampire would be the strongest Slayer yet - but I digress.

I reached the house to find it dark and empty. I was now becoming concerned. My trepidation increased when I noted a dark stain on the front steps, which on closer inspection turned out to be blood. I did not wish to jump to conclusions. The blood could belong to anyone…or anything. News of a Slayer’s arrival would have raced through the community, but from the little I’d seen of Jessica in action, I believed her capable of taking care of herself.

I entered the house gingerly. Nothing seemed disturbed. I noted that the remains of a meal had not been cleared. Jess had informed me with glee that she had enjoyed her first taste of American fare and described every item with gusto. Unless Miss Middlehurst had prepared the identical meal for two nights running, they were the same dishes. I was now extremely disturbed. Upstairs both beds hadn’t been slept in. Bags and suitcases were still on top of the covers, unpacked. I fled the house, running all the way back to my flat.

So, here I now sit, debating what to do next. I do not believe that Sally Middlehurst and Jessica Langtree ever returned to the house after we parted the night before. I must discover what has happened to them and quickly. I am reluctant to involve the Council at this point until I have more information. Once they know, they’ll take over and my involvement will become minimal.”

There is then a later entry:

“I have discovered what happened to Jessica, or rather, I know that she is dead. I don’t yet know how. I found her body behind the Hudson mausoleum. It was arranged, laid out with white rose petals placed around her. It was almost as if she was mourned by whoever or whatever killed her. Of course, I checked her body for puncture marks. She’s been bitten; I can only assume that she has been turned for I can see no other reason for the elaborate care paid to her body. Her passing saddens me. I know that a Slayer has a limited life span but this girl was so vibrant, had hardly begun to stretch herself. From the little I saw of her, she was destined to be a great fighter.

I found no trace of her Watcher, Sally Middlehurst. I fear the worst as Sally would never have abandoned her charge. She must be either dead or captured. I will continue my search.

But now I must sadly put an end to the remains of the Slayer, Jessica Langtree. I brought her back to the house she’d spent so little time in; it was the first thing she saw of America and it will be her last. I cannot afford to wait and see if she rises. I must act now then advise the Council of her fate. She will have to be decapitated.”

The next entry is blurred and written in an erratic hand.

“It is done. I cut off her head then set the corpse on fire for good measure. If she was turned she will not be rising. I am heartsick with sorrow and anger. Must contact the Council. I can write no more.”

There is no record of him having contacted the Council. We only found out that the Slayer was dead when an operative phoned from Australia. It seems that our next Chosen One is an unknown girl from the outback; she wasn’t previously noted as a Slayer-in-waiting as she had virtually no contact with people outside the small community she’d grown up in. She is on her way to Council headquarters where she will be assessed and given to her Watcher. The Council remains, the Slayer changes. It has always been and always will be that way.

Dominic Baxter’s mutilated body was recovered from the house rented by the Council for Sally and Jess. Shortly after his last entry it seems he was attacked and killed. We believed from the marks on his body it was a vampire but mercifully he was drained and not turned. We assumed that he was killed by the same vampire that attacked the Slayer. The reality was worse.

So what of Sally Middlehurst? After two weeks without contact, she turned up on the Council’s doorstep at night. She was bloodied, pale; her clothing was scruffy and unwashed. She refused entry, instead inviting such Council members who wished to hear her tale to come to her home nearby. Four senior Council members returned with her to her flat. Only one survived.

He is still in the sanatorium, his recollection of the slaughter that awaited the four still sketchy. It is hoped that he will be able to return to duty eventually.

I will be brief as the full report will be available in Council archives. Sally Middlehurst had fallen victim to the same vampire that attacked the Slayer.

Once her victims were locked inside her flat, she took great delight in describing the death of Jessica Langtree, the plans she’d had for the future with a turned vampire Slayer, and the revenge she was going to wreak on the Council for the loss of Jess. She was enraged, vicious, ripping the throat out of one Council member as the other three cowered in fear.

She gloated over the torture she had subjected Dominic Baxter to after discovering he had thwarted the plans laid by her Sire and herself. I prefer not to imagine the pain and agony the poor man endured before death released him. Two more members fell victim to her fatal fangs before the survivor, Daniel Scott, managed to impale her with a broken chair leg. He returned to the Council, bitten but not fatally and was immediately taken to be assessed and cared for.

A clean up team was sent to Miss Middlehurst’s abode to ensure that there would be no trace of the bloody slaughter that took place. The bodies of the Council members were retrieved, brought back to headquarters and cremated. Despite Scott’s assertions that they were merely killed and not turned it was decided to err on the side of caution. Their families were informed and pensions arranged as per Council policy.

The identity of the vampire who turned both Watcher and Slayer is not yet known. The Cleveland Hellmouth is currently unguarded until the new Slayer can be despatched. Until then, efforts will continue to track down and dispose of the vampire who inflicted such carnage on the Council.

THE END

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