The Seventh Slayer

By Kantayra

Chapter Eleven

It was dark.

She spun around slowly, trying to figure out where she was. Ever so slowly, the outlines of cold, stone crosses came into focus, the unnatural blackness still causing them to fade slowly in and out of view.

The strange tingles at the back of her neck were by far the scariest part, though. She knew what that sixth sense of hers indicated. Danger. And it was close.

She instantly dropped into a fighting stance, crouched and ready for her opponent – whoever, or whatever, it was.

The figure that finally stepped out of the shadows caught her completely off-guard.

“Hello, Isabelle,” Mr. West said, a cold, murderous smile on his face.

Suddenly, she felt a stabbing pain in her side. She looked down in disbelief to see the bolt of a crossbow sticking right out of her stomach.

“H-How did you—?” she stuttered.

“You never see it coming.” West shook his head in that way he had always done when she’d failed in her training. “You never see me coming…”

And then, as she watched on in horror, the figure before her changed in form. It seemed to almost hollow out until all that was left was a billowing cloak. The cloak changed as well. It took on a deep navy blue tint, and something glimmered gold on the front of it, fading in and out of existence.

Isabelle found all her attention centered upon the strange symbol, trying to decipher it…

She was jerked back when the cloth billowed outwards, taking on a strangely humanoid shape. One of the arms reached out and caught her by the throat, and she found herself lifted high up off of the ground. She hadn’t realized before just how large the thing was. She dangled helplessly over fifty feet above the ground, the air slowly receding from her lungs.

“Slayers were meant to die young…” it hissed in a strange, gravelly voice.

And then it dropped her. She plunged down and down and down, all the while looking up at her ghostly attacker.

And that was when the golden symbol finally came into clear focus.

A circle with four letters in the middle. Letters she had seen all too frequently as of late…

It was only then that she screamed…

“Wake up!”

Isabelle’s eyes flew open when someone roughly shook her shoulders. Instinctively, she lashed off, sending her attacker halfway across the room.

“Oof!” Ajaya complained, rising to her feet almost instantly. “Watch it, will you?” she said, obviously annoyed. “I was just trying to help…”

Isabelle shook her head, and her consciousness fully took control over her body once again. “Sorry,” she said wearily, rubbing her temples lightly and trying to rid herself of the headache she’d suddenly developed. “I had a bad dream…”

“I gathered,” Ajaya sat back down on her own bed across from Isabelle’s. “You were screaming up a storm.”

“Yeah, well…” Isabelle shrugged and trailed off.

“You want to talk about it?” Ajaya asked, concerned.

“Nah,” Isabelle brushed her off. “It was just a stupid dream: villains, monsters, typical Slayer stuff… It’s no big.”

“You’re sure?” Ajaya pressed.

“Look, I’m fine,” Isabelle insisted, getting up. “And it’s late. Shouldn’t we be training or something?”

“We’re not scheduled until noon,” Ajaya answered.

“What about breakfast?” Isabelle was enthusiastically tossing on her sweats now.

“There’s this kind of brunch buffet thing in the dinning room,” Ajaya answered, slipping back into her role as tour guide.

“Let’s go eat then. I’m famished.” Isabelle flashed her a broad grin.

“OK,” Ajaya got up as well, and they headed out. “You’re sure you’re all right, though?” she asked once last time. “You just kept screaming…”

“What?” Isabelle asked nonchalantly when Ajaya trailed off.

“You were screaming ‘SCBI’,” Ajaya finally admitted.

“Hmm, weird.” Isabelle shrugged again, heading off down the hall. And trying to erase the image of those four letters embossed on the front of the creature that had attacked her. S. C. B. I…

* * *

“How’s Lily doing this morning?” Monica was asking Willow when Ajaya and Isabelle finally sat down at the table with their breakfasts.

The old Witch’s brow furrowed. “Not too good, actually,” she admitted. “She’s got a bit of a fever now…can’t even get out of bed…”

“She was drained that badly?” Ajaya said in surprise. “She seemed pretty much all right at the time.”

“Yeah,” Willow nodded. “She seems to be getting worse, though.” Then she shook her head. “It’s probably just a little flu bug that’s taken hold now that she’s weak,” she decided a bit more cheerily.

“It might be a good idea to give her a bit of a magical check-up,” Fletcher suggested, sipping at his cup of tea, “just to make sure the Council didn’t find a way to attack her while her defenses were down.”

“Aida and I will work on it this afternoon,” Willow agreed. “Never can be too careful, after all…”

“And how are you two doing this fine, snowy morning?” Monica asked the two Slayers that were scarfing down their food in that way that only Slayers who’ve been out killing nasties can.

“Hungry,” Isabelle joked, taking a bite of her toast.

“Bad dreams,” Ajaya added.

“What?” Fletcher instantly looked up, alert. “You’ve been having nightmares?” he demanded of Ajaya.

“Not me,” Ajaya shook her head, gesturing to Isabelle.

The redheaded Slayer practically choked on her coffee and began hacking incessantly.

Fletcher frowned at waited for her to calm down. “What did you dream about?” he asked when she was finally able to breathe again.

“Nothing,” Isabelle insisted. “Fighting badies, dark stuff, nothing unusual.” She flashed him the same everything’s-OK smile she’d used on Ajaya earlier.

If anything, Fletcher looked less convinced than Ajaya had. “You are aware that Slayer dreams can be prophetic?” He looked at her sternly. “Anything at all you can remember could be very important.”

“Then it’s too bad I don’t remember anything,” Isabelle countered, her fingers nervously fingering the napkin on her lap.

Only Ajaya beside her was able to see her fidgeting.

Fletcher sighed. “In the future, I would advise you – both of you,” he added, including Ajaya, “to keep journals of any dreams you may have. At times like these, any clue we can gather concerning things to come could mean the difference between life and death…”

“My old Watcher,” Isabelle said softly and a bit sheepishly.

Everyone turned a curious eye in her direction, except for Xeris who was staring intently at what looked like a Jell-O mold that was continuously changing colors. Isabelle kept her eyes on the spectacle of the midnight blue demon, not wanting to have to face those around her. His tongue flicked out right as the Jell-O-like thing turned bright green, and a hole burned into the structure where his tongue had been. Isabelle frowned slightly, actually becoming a bit curious as to what he was doing…

“Your Watcher?” Fletcher interrupted her moment of self-imposed oblivion.

“He said I wouldn’t see him coming,” Isabelle shut her eyes and finally decided to ‘fess up, “and then there was this crossbow bolt sticking out of my chest.”

She took another quick sip from her coffee and turned her attention back to Xeris. His horns were now flashing bright orange.

“The context of this scene?” Fletcher continued to press her.

“It was dark. We were in a cemetery. I couldn’t see anything, then he stepped out, and it went down like I told you,” Isabelle replied, somewhat irritated.

“I see.” Fletcher was now cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. “I suppose that could be taken literally or metaphorically then,” he muttered to himself, obviously somewhat concerned by this turn of events. “Was that all?” he asked Isabelle.

“Yup,” she said a bit too hastily.

Luckily for her, Fletcher was too busy trying to interpret her dream to notice. “It would seem to be a warning that the Watchers are coming after us, in some way, shape, or form,” he commented. “Of course, we don’t know whether they’ll come just for Isabelle…or if it’s just her Watcher…” He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need more information. Ajaya, did you have any dreams last night?”

“No, sorry,” the Bengali woman shook her head apologetically.

“I suppose I should ask Buffy as well…” Fletcher decided. “Has anyone seen her this morning?”

“No, but I heard her all night,” an irritated voice exclaimed from the doorway. They all looked up to see a very pissed off looking Alex storm into the room. “Nicky and I had to camp out in the drawing room just to get some sleep,” he complained. “And then, of course, I discover that he snores. I mean, who ever heard of a vampire snoring? He doesn’t even need to breathe, let alone snore…” He poured himself a large cup of coffee and collapsed into the seat beside Ajaya grumpily.

“Well, now you know why your parents complained about living under them for so long…” Willow began, before trailing off abruptly at the pained look on his face.

“Yeah, they did…” he said so softly that they almost couldn’t hear him.

There was a long, awful silence in the room.

Isabelle watched everybody return to their food nervously, except Xeris who had never left it…if that weird thing was food, that was…

“So, what’s the deal with your parents?” she finally demanded of Alex, the awkward silence finally driving her crazy.

Several spit takes followed her question, and Alex gave her what could only be called the Evil Glare of Death.

“They’re dead,” he informed her icily.

“How?” she asked curiously, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Magic.” If looks could kill, his would have.

Isabelle shrugged. “Sorry ‘bout that…” She took another bite of her waffles.

“Sorry?!” Alex exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re sorry?!”

“Yeah,” she gave him a mildly annoyed look. “Why not?”

“How about because you have absolutely no idea who or what you’re talking about?!” He was practically sputtering in indignation now. “My mother was immortal! She should have stayed with me forever, but no! Magic had to take her away from me.”

“Jeez,” Isabelle’s eyes widened, “I said I was sorry. What’s your problem?”

“My problem?!” he hissed, leaning over Ajaya to glare at her. The Indian Slayer suddenly felt very uncomfortably in the way. “My problem is Slayers that don’t know anything opening their fat mouths about things that don’t concern them.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “So, you lost your parents. I’m sorry but chewing me out’s not going to make you feel better, and you’re not using me as your punching bag, either.”

Alex’s face turned an interesting shade of purple, and he was so furious he couldn’t force the words from his mouth.

“And,” Isabelle added, yawning, “if you’re going to spit all over the place, can you do it somewhere else? I’m trying to eat here, and it’s very unappetizing.”

That finally did the trick.

Alex slammed his fist down on the table before stomping out of the room, enraged. At the door, Buffy and Spike had the misfortune of colliding with him.

“Don’t you two ever sleep?” he grumbled, shoving his way past them. There was a loud crash as the door shut behind him.

“Uh…what was that all about then?” Spike asked, wide-eyed.

“Overreact much?” Isabelle snorted derisively and rolled her eyes at Alex’s behavior. “He was just throwing a hissy fit because I refused to molly coddle him…” She trailed off abruptly when she got a good look at the vampire.

Her mouth dropped open, and he shrugged and ran a hand sheepishly through he newly re-bleached hair.

“And I thought ‘yum’ before…” Isabelle licked her lips, saw that Buffy was giving Spike the exact same look she was, and sighed disappointedly. “Oh well, at least we can eat in peace without General Bringdown in the way,” she shrugged, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it.

Everyone – including Xeris – was now staring at her with a mix of wide-eyed horror and awe.

“I-Isabelle,” Willow began nervously, “you really shouldn’t provoke him like that…”

“Why not?” she retorted. “He started it. I was just asking an innocent question, and then boom! Mt. Krakatoa.”

“He’s just lost both his parents and his fiancée,” Monica supplied. “He’s rather…delicate at the moment.”

“He didn’t seem all that delicate to me,” Isabelle shrugged. “He seemed like he needed someone to give him a good, hard slap of reality.”

Spike flashed her a broad smile and gave her a little wink of agreement when he sat down beside her.

At the end of the table, Fletcher stifled a laugh.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “You just reminded me of someone there for a second…”

Isabelle shrugged and turned back to her food.

“Well, no harm, no foul, I guess.” Monica shrugged as well. “Just try not to provoke him in the future.”

“No problem,” Isabelle smiled slyly, “as long as you tell him not to provoke me.”

And, at this, everyone desperately began trying to make pleasant small talk to erase the incident from their minds.

“Hey, Isabelle,” Ajaya gave her a conspiratorial smile.

“What?” Isabelle turned to look at her.

“Next time I have to train with Alex,” she grinned evilly, “you’re coming with me.”

Isabelle smiled as well. “I take it he’s not much more pleasant then?”

“Nope,” Ajaya frowned slightly. Then her expression brightened again. “And I can’t yell anywhere near as loud as you.”

The two Slayers both laughed at that, their own conversation drifting away from serious matters once more.

Which was why everyone was caught completely off guard when an explosion rocked the building…

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