The Seventh SlayerBy Kantayra
Chapter Twenty SixIsabelle let out a resigned sigh when she realized that, once again, she wasn’t strong enough to escape. I mean, wasn’t that the whole point of being a Slayer? That you weren’t helpless like this anymore?
She’d made a vain attack on West when he moved her into this temple. Unfortunately, her blows had just bounced off of the powerful magical field that protected him. And if there was one thing she had no ability to fight against, it was magic.
Hence, why this whole ritual thing had her so freaked out.
When she’d first entered the temple, all she’d been able to do was stare dumbly. She’d never expected anything this big. She and West had taken seemingly endless winding dirt tunnels down further and further into the earth to get here. She’d anticipated some little, dusty hole in the ground, not…this.
The underground chamber was shaped like a massive dome, rather reminiscent of many of those old Gothic churches she’d frequented back when she was in Spain. In fact, the dome was so high that Isabelle could have sworn she saw one ray of the sun shinning through the cracks of what looked to be a trapdoor of some kind in the ceiling.
How anyone could possibly use a trapdoor there was beyond her. Anyone coming through would fall over a hundred feet to their death.
The entire dome was so lavishly decorated that, for a second, Isabelle was convinced that Alex had lied to her and they were, in fact, back in old Europe. However, the nature of the designs…
Vines and rivers twisted around the figures that decorated the entire roof…figures Isabelle was all too familiar with. Demons of every form and shape she’d ever seen stared back at her with eyes incised with black onyx. The vast majority of the demons on the walls she’d hadn’t even managed to encounter during her short tenure as Slayer, but she recited the names of those she could in order to keep her mind from what was about to happen.
She spotted friends – Vampires, Veliks, D’voraks, Vengeance Demons, one of those butterfly women she’d seen, and even what looked to be a stray bean sidhe. These forms were encouraging to her. They reminded her that half the ‘monsters’ on those walls right now were out there looking for her, ready to take out every Watcher they needed to in order to save her.
Unfortunately, Alex’ words wrung clear in her mind: “No one would ever think to look for them back here…”
And there was no doubt in her mind now that this was a Hellmouth…or a former Hellmouth, at the very least. No other place on the planet could have produced a temple of this terrifying magnitude.
Several Watchers grabbed hold of her arms roughly and half-dragged her over to the altar at the direct center of the room. She realized with despair that these Watchers also had magical wards protecting them for her strength; someone sure was throwing a lot of magic around…and powerful magic, at that.
She’d ignored the proceedings on the ground level up till now, so absorbed was she in the vaulting ceiling. And, once she’d seen what was there, she wish she didn’t know.
The ‘altar’ looked more like some old Medieval torture device…what did they call it…? Oh, yeah. A rack. It was a flat, level table with manacles at the four corners to hold feet and hands in place as the victim was stretched off to the four corners.
Just to make the whole thing look extra cheery, the table legs were in the form of four skeletons, each of which had a maniacal, dead grin on its face and a razor-sharp knife in its upraised hand.
Painted on the floor beneath her now were ancient, mystical symbols. She had no idea what any of them meant – some looked Egyptian, others Celtic, some African, some Chinese, some she couldn’t even begin to guess at – but they all sent chills of terror deep into her bones…and strangely broke her will to struggle against her captors at the same time.
She just lay there numbly, resigned to her fate, as she was lifted up onto the altar and her hands and feet were locked in place.
The other Watchers left her then, all except West. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he watched her defeated form.
“You know,” he said at last, “you really should thank us.”
The sheer ridiculousness of that statement brought Isabelle out of the trance she’d been in. “Oh, yeah,” she retorted sarcastically, “’cause I just love being the sacrificial victim and all… Thank you so much, Mr. West!” she said in as falsely a saccharine tone as she could manage.
He scowled down at her. “Foolish little girl,” he hissed, “you have no idea what you’re about to become a part of!”
“Uh, let me guess,” Isabelle rolled her eyes, “you’re going to kill me. Fun for the whole family.”
“You’re about to save the world!” West retorted, infuriated that the Powers had ever thought to Choose this disrespectful little girl.
“Funny,” Isabelle retorted, “I didn’t even know it was in danger. In fact, the only danger I’ve seen is from you.”
“You haven’t seen the danger?” West scoffed. “You really are a silly, stupid thing then, aren’t you?”
Isabelle rattled against her bonds at this, desperate to get at his throat, but they held firm.
“The end has been all around you all along, and you’ve been too blinded by your selfishness to see it!” West accused bitterly.
“OK, I’ll bite,” Isabelle said, annoyed. “What ‘end’ have I been missing?”
He scoffed in disbelief. “She spends so much time befriending demons that she doesn’t even see them…”
“Hello?” Isabelle demanded. “Standing…er, lying right here! Talking about me in the third person incredibly impolite!”
“You don’t know the first thing about manners,” West insisted, “or duty. Adina…she would have given herself up willingly for this great cause.”
“If Adina’s so great,” Isabelle retorted, “then why is she dead?”
“She gave her life for the greater good,” West said matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“Ah,” Isabelle nodded. “Pardon my stupidity. You see, I didn’t realize that randomly killing innocent demons and then stabbing the Slayer that tries to save them qualifies as ‘good’…”
“ ‘Innocent demons’?” West scoffed. “Please, tell me you don’t actually believe that such a creature exists!”
“Well, not ‘innocent’ as in snowy white virgins,” Isabelle conceded. “But, let’s think here…experience in past few weeks… Number of times demons have saved my life: five. Number of times Watchers have tried to kill me: four. Yup, you’re right. Those demons sure are evil…”
“They have brainwashed you,” West hissed angrily. “You honestly think they’re your friends? All they ever do is kill and destroy. And they’ll turn on you in a heartbeat, my dear, when the moment’s right…”
“I see,” Isabelle said in disgust. “So, every single demon I’ve met is all in on this massive conspiracy to…what? Pretend to be good? Lull us poor, trusting humans into a false sense of security? And then they’re all going to rise up in unison one day to kill us off?”
“The end of the world,” West agreed.
Isabelle let out a bark of laughter. “Paranoid much?” she asked rhetorically. “I’ve just got to ask you… Have you ever known a demon?”
“I don’t consort with such filthy creatures!” West exclaimed in horror. “Never!”
“And this completely avoiding demons all together gives you better insight into their minds than their own friends?”
“I have not fallen for their tricks and lies!” West insisted vehemently.
“Oh yeah,” Isabelle said sarcastically, “you’re a paragon of the forces of good, all right…”
“I am pure,” West insisted. “I am right. The Powers support my cause!”
“Y’know,” Isabelle began, “I’ve been meaning to ask someone that. If the Powers are on the Watchers’ side and all, then why do they keep Choosing Slayers that will go against the Council?”
“Unfortunately, They could not stop the evil from entering your heart,” West hissed.
“Either that, or they realize that you’re all a bunch of nutcases and are trying to keep the Slayers as far away from you as is physically possible,” Isabelle countered.
“Even if they have turned against us,” West said in an icy voice, “the Slayers will still be ours.”
Isabelle frowned at that. “What are you talking about?” she asked, confused.
West gestured to the room around them. “All this,” he said, “what did you think it was for, silly girl? We’re going to rip the Slayer right out of you and put it into a girl of our choosing…”
Isabelle looked around and noticed for the first time that one lone girl stood in the far corner of the room, just standing there, waiting, almost unblinking, almost…dead.
“What?” Isabelle exclaimed in disbelief. “Her?”
“She is loyal,” West insisted. “She will never turn on us!”
“She’s not a Slayer!” Isabelle cried out. “She’s just a tool!”
“The Slayers are ours,” West said vehemently. “We have watched over them for millennia!”
“Then, maybe it’s time for a change,” Isabelle suggested.
“You don’t understand,” West said wearily. “You have been corrupted by the Dark.”
“Or maybe you have,” Isabelle pointed out. “That ever occur to you? Given that you’re about to kill a Slayer and all…”
“But you are a false Slayer,” he retorted, “a rogue. You are a blasphemy upon the name of ‘Slayer’ itself!”
“Either that, or you’re one upon the name of ‘Watcher’.”
With a final frustrated exclamation, West stalked away from her and back to the preparations, muttering about how the devil’s own words had entered Isabelle.
Isabelle herself rolled her eyes and tried desperately to come up with some means of escape. She was still secured, however. And now she was alone with nothing to think about except the fate that awaited her once the ritual began…
* * *
Ajaya shifted nervously in her seat as the jet set down in southern California. She didn’t know exactly why, but coming here had set practically everyone on edge. Even Buffy and Spike who had remained somewhat cheerful up to this point pulled away from each other now, fingers barely brushing and solemn expressions on their faces. Ajaya shivered at the discomfort in the air. This was a bad place.
The sun was still out. Fortunately, Nicolas had found a ring to borrow for their little trip. They would need the help now that Jeren’s team was left back at the mansion, getting the medical help they so desperately deserved.
The truth of the matter was that they were a bit short on help. SCBI’s resources had been stretched thin after the rapid succession of disasters as of late. Ajaya had been excited to see that Lily was back, and she hadn’t really met Melissa before, but…half-Vengeance Demon. Sounded good, right?
The team disembarked and headed into the small town. Ajaya raised an eyebrow at the sight before her. Bright California sun, palm trees and artificially-watered lawns, nice old houses and quaint little shops… It wasn’t exactly what she’d imagined a former Hellmouth to look like.
“Lily?” Buffy demanded, turning to the young Witch.
She frowned. “There’s a lot of energy here,” she began hesitantly. “It’s making it hard to track anything…and I’m pretty sure Isabelle’s essence is being magically covered up.”
“What ‘bout Alex’?” Spike inquired.
Lily shook her head. “It’s no good,” she sighed. “Something big’s going on…something powerful…”
“Can you track that?” Buffy demanded. “’Cause I’m willing to wager everything I’ve got that the Watchers are behind it…”
Lily closed her eyes for a second and centered herself. The wind that blew through her honey-brown hair seemed to come from nowhere, swirling about her as she summoned her power.
“It’s too scattered,” she finally said apologetically. “There’s still too much residual energy left over from the Hellmouth.”
“Then we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” Buffy nodded grimly. “Everyone fan out and ask about large groups of people wearing tweed. Trust me, they really stick out in a place like this. Ask the demons first. They tend to be more helpful and observant…”
* * *
Isabelle opened her eyes when the flurry of activity around her came to an abrupt halt. The room was eerily silent now, the symbols are drawn in their proper places and all non-essential personnel removing themselves from the site of the ritual.
One figure stood over her, and her eyes narrowed when she recognized Clifford Fitzpatrick. West stood off to the side of the room, obviously not a part of the ritual but wanting to witness it nonetheless.
Fitzpatrick saw that she was awake and gave her an icy smile before gesturing for the three Mages to begin.
Isabelle attempted to twist free of her bonds one last time when the three old Mages approached. Two men and one woman, all looking older than was physically possible as if only their magic itself held them together anymore. Their voices were dry and cracking when they spoke.
“Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos,” the head Mage, one of the two old men, spoke aloud from the head of the altar she was tied to, “Fates, Guardians of the Chosen Paths, we besiege you, grant out prayer and favor our Choice.”
The other two Mages had set themselves up at the two corners at her feet. When these last worlds were uttered, they each removed the knife from the hands of the skeletons at the corners and sunk the sharp blades each into her feet.
Isabelle screamed aloud at the pain, its blinding intensity more than any knife wound should be.
The Mage at the head of the altar took the remaining two knifes and continued to chant. “Remove that which is Dark,” he stuck one of the knifes through Isabelle’s left hand, “and replace is with the Light.” The second blade pierced her right hand, and she screamed out in pain once again.
Fighting against the blinding tears that stung in her eyes, Isabelle looked at the ceiling, desperate for anything to catch her attention.
The door in the center of the ceiling was open now, and one stream of light from the noonday sun formed a golden column that landed on the ground less than a dozen feet away from. Isabelle realized, as she watched it, that the patch of sunlight was slowly moving closer to her. She felt a nauseous sinking in her stomach when she thought about what would most likely happen when it finally reached her.
Her eyes shifted their focus, looking for something less dooming to gaze upon…and – somewhat surprisingly, she thought – settled on the carving of the Vengeance Demon. I could really use a good spot of vengeance right about now, she decided.
It didn’t come, of course. The lead Mage continued to chant in a strange, ancient dialogue that grated on Isabelle’s ears. He gestured to the other two Mages, and they all stepped away from her, mumbling that odd foreign language in unison as they did so.
It was then that the girl Isabelle had notice before came over, a small golden cup in her hands. Three other girls approached as well, and Isabelle blinked for a second, confident that she knew them. She’d never laid eyes on any of their faces before, but something instinctive deep inside her called out to them. The other Slayers, she realized numbly.
Instead of taking up positions at the four corners of the altar with the skeletons, the three Slayers and one wannabe Slayer stood at the sides of the table. At the head, a stern-faced girl of eastern European heritage, her eyes empty of the life that had been stolen from her. To her left, a tall girl with the shape of a bodybuilder, her hair completely shaved off and her posture that of full military attention. To the right, a small African girl with beautiful black hair. This Slayer, at least, had the decency to give Isabelle an apologetic little smile.
And, finally, at the foot, the not-yet-Slayer. She looked even more dead up close, her eyes staring vacantly, her skin pale and emaciated, the sharp angles of her bones protruding from her skin, her black hair hacked and limp. She looked upon Isabelle with no humanity or compassion at all.
“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle hissed angrily at her, “it’s a real wonder why the Powers didn’t Choose you.”
“Silence,” the girl ordered in a dull monotone. She held up the goblet before her. “I drink of Power,” she chanted from rote memory. “I drink of Life. I drink our Essences, brought together.” She took a deep sip out of the cup, and when she pulled back, she had blood on her lips.
Isabelle had been wondering when they were going to use the blood they’d taken from her… The spectacle before her made her shudder from the sheer unnaturalness of it. The girl looked like a vampire with the blood on her mouth like that, but rather than seeking life from it, she sought death…
As she set tossed the cup aside, the beam of sunlight moved forth another inch and bathed the dead girl in a golden glow, a mockery of a halo. The light continued to move forward, and the girl moved with it, climbing up onto the altar as she did so.
Isabelle began to thrash again the bonds and the knifes still embedded in her hands and feet as the dead girl crawled up her body, looking like the nightmare image of the ghoul from the Grimm’s Fairy Tales. The sunlight seemed to sear Isabelle’s skin even as the other girl’s body covered hers.
The girl’s face was over her chest now, and she took in a deep breath. Isabelle gasped in horror as she saw a stream of blue-gray smoke seep up out of her chest and into the other girl’s mouth. The more the other girl breathed in, the weaker Isabelle felt. She suddenly realized that she was dying, that it was her life, her essence – both mortal and Slayer – that the other girl was drinking up.
She looked up to the ceiling one last time to her place of comfort. The face of the Vengeance Demon seemed almost to be smiling down at her. Isabelle blinked. For a second, she would have sworn the statue moved. But then that tiny shred of strength that had kept her conscious thus far faded, and blackness overcame her…
* * *
The group from SCBI and the group of Watchers’ guards spotted each other at the exact same moment.
“Attack!” Buffy cried out, completely out of patience with the Watchers’ Council by now.
A vicious firefight broke out immediately, both sides really out for blood this time.
Buffy ducked behind a nearby tree and caught sight of what it was the Watchers were guarding so intently. In the middle of the field, there looked to be a trap door. Maybe five-by-five feet maximum. The sun shone down into it, illuminating the outline of what was obviously a room below.
Buffy’s eyes narrowed as the small door became her new sole objective in unlife. And, once she set her mind to getting something, absolutely nothing could stop her…not even twenty Watchers with laser rifles…
* * *
The newest Slayer breathed in deeply once more, feeling power beyond anything she’d ever imagined surge through her as she sucked in the last of Isabelle’s essence.
She leaned down to take one last breath to finish the traitor off…
And screamed when something tackled her hard from behind.
The Watchers, Mages, and even Slayers watched dumbly as Alex leapt from the carvings on the ceiling he’d been hanging on and crashed directly into their new replacement Slayer, interrupting the ritual.
Before anyone had time to react, he caught the only half-strong girl by the neck and broke it with an audible snap.
Back on the altar, Isabelle moaned as the strength returned back to her body slowly. She blinked her eyes open and didn’t seem surprised in the slightest to see Alex tossing the body of the dead girl aside and yanking the knifes from her feet and hands.
“They really are completely insane, aren’t they?” he asked her, his voice oddly casual in the stunned silence of the temple.
Isabelle managed to crack a small smile as Alex lifted her up into his arms. “You’re just figuring that out now?” she said with only a ghost of her usual sarcasm. She promptly passed out once more.
It was at that moment that Clifford Fitzpatrick seemed to realize that all his plans were ruined. His cold eyes turned to where Alex and Isabelle were still atop the altar and his voice was a low hiss: “Kill them. Destroy them both…”
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