by Nancy Holder
“Okay.” She took a breath. Then she swung out and started moving hand over hand along the makeshift suspension bridge. The crowd beneath howled. It would take them no time to shinny up and either grab Xander or loosen the rope. So she redoubled her efforts.
The building was blazing, but she found a few redhot bricks to lean against while she took her weight off the rope. Urgently she gestured for Xander to get a hustle on; the natives were beyond restless.
He took longer than she did, but not as long as she might have expected. In short order, he was standing beside her, cringing as flames shot through a broken window and nearly singed them both.
“Yow.” He flinched and pulled his elbows in. Sweat poured down his face. "Now what?”
She looked down. “We could jump.”
He stared at her. “Ha ha. You’re such a kidder.”
“We could burn to death.”
“I’m still laughing like a hyena.” His voice was rising. He was getting scared.
“Look.” She pointed to a jagged section of the roof that wasn’t on fire. "Let’s try that, get to the roof, run across and look for a way down.”
“Sounds like a plan. Or not,” Xander said gamely.
Willow slowly staggered along. She was tired and she hurt.
He’s going to die, and it’s going to be my fault, she thought miserably. They were a long way from the school, and no matter how badly she wanted to keep going, she was going to have to stop.
“Where are we going?” Mark demanded. “We should have stayed with Buffy.”
“It’ll be okay,” she said.
Then a car screeched up behind them, and Willow took off, dragging him behind her.
“Will!”
It was Xander. And Buffy. In the Jag.
In no time at all, they reached the school. The four bolted inside the main building and careened down the corridors to the library.
Buffy skidded to a stop, the others tumbling in after her. There was no one there. Books were piled in huge, leaning-Pisa stacks and the computer was beeping plaintively. Other than that, the place was tomblike.
And thanks to her tenure on the Hellmouth, Buffy knew from tombs.
The double doors swung open, shut, and Giles walked into the library, an enormous book lying in his arms. He was muttering to himself in Latin, if Buffy knew her dead languages.
Which I don’t.
“Hey,” she said, stepping into the light. The others followed suit.
“Buffy. Willow.” He nodded at Xander and Mark, then looked back at Willow. “Your parents are worried sick.”
She reached for the phone, then stopped. “My mother won’t ever let me out of the house again.”
Giles sighed. “And frankly, I’ve sore need of you. But it is your decision.”
“I can’t call,” she said tightly. “I can’t let them get in the way.”
“Unfortunately, I concur,” Giles said. “Too much is at stake.”
He surveyed the group. “Where’s Angel?”
“Yeah,” Xander said. “Where’s Dead Boy?”
Buffy swallowed hard and said nothing.
Giles shrugged. “Well, I’m sure he will along momentarily.”
Mark stepped forward. “I’m sorry I hit you, Mr. Giles. And stole your car.”
“Thank you. Apology accepted.”
The boy hung his head. “I put the . . . the stuff in the reservoir.”
“Yes,” Giles said, but there was an edge to his voice. “So Buffy told me. But where did you get it?”
He said softly, “I was mad at Brian. He took a ring of mine to pay for some drugs. He told me Jordan said they’d make him study better. I got really ticked. I found the little bottle in his room and I hid it.
“I was going with friends up to the reservoir. We were going to wait until it closed, and then we were going to camp out.” He looked embarrassed. "We were trying to spot Sunni. So we could take pictures and be really famous. I threw the bottle in. I didn’t open it or anything. But it must have come uncapped.”
He added dejectedly, “There was hardly anything in it.”
“I guess it was enough,” Xander put in.
“Xander,” Willow reproved.
Mark started to cry. “I killed them.”
Giles said, “Are you speaking of the sacrifice?”
Mark moved closer to Willow, and she put a protective arm around him. "What are you talking about?”
“It appears that to activate the Madness Potion — which is the drug that Mark put into the reservoir, one must offer up a blood sacrifice,” Giles elaborated. “A human sacrifice.”
Buffy, Willow, and Xander stared in horror at the boy, whose face went chalk white. He swayed a little and said, “In the reservoir?
Giles watched him closely. “Yes.”
“I didn’t do anything like that.” He looked as if he were ready to bolt. Giles’s glance ticked toward Willow and she gave the boy a reassuring pat.
The boy nodded. “I would never . . . I didn’t kill people the way my broth — ” He bit off his words and stared down at his hands.
“All right, then,” Giles said. “Willow, please access the police files. I’m sure there’s been an unsolved murder or accident, which occurred that day near the reservoir.”
“Which could be considered the sacrifice,” Buffy said slowly.
“This might take a while,” Willow said, pulling out the chair. “I’ll need to sort through all the recent murders to find one you like.”
She began typing.
Then she said, “What about missing persons? Here’s someone reported missing. Her husband works at the reservoir.”
“What’s her name?” Buffy asked.
“Ida Bitterman.”
“I saw him up there,” Buffy said, remembering the man who had told her to get a raincoat and a weapon.
“Make a note,” Giles said.
Rome, A.D. 40
They were alone. Helen sat transfixed on the floor, watching Diana’s shallow breaths. The torches flickered and began to smoke, casting shadows over her pale face. Her cheeks were large hollows; her eyes were sunken. Death was slowly embracing her; Helen felt his cold, menacing presence and wrapped her arms around herself.
Diana groaned softly. Her chest rose; unconsciously, Helen took a breath and held it along with her. She began to feel dizzy. Still Diana’s chest did not fall.
Helen gave a little cry and leaned forward, touching the blanket over Diana’s chest. Then she flattened her palm and pushed down very gently. Diana exhaled with a gasp.
Helen kept her hand on her chest, wet with blood, and waited for the next breath. When it didn’t come, she leaned over Diana and whispered, "Breathe, damn you.”
“She is dead, and you have waited too long,” Julian said behind her.
“No,” Helen wailed, shuddering.
Julian unlocked the cell and walked in. He squatted on the other side of the Slayer and pressed his fingertips to her neck.
Diana stirred uneasily and took a sharp, deep breath.
He took Helen’s hand in his and turned it over, caressing it with his fingertips. His touch was incredibly gentle; she had not expected that in him. He trailed slowly up her arm, moving silkily, and she looked away. In all this grief and fury, she would not be moved by his touch.
“Say the word, Helen. She’s almost dead. I will be the most ardent lover. I will be faithful to you forever. Can you expect that of any mortal? More to the point, will you ever taste love with one? You’ll die here like an animal.
“But I’ll hand you the world, and you shall be its queen.”
She raised her chin and tried to save herself. “I have tasted love.”
“Demetrius? But, little Helen, he was the one who told us about Diana.”
She went numb. “That cannot be true.”
“It is. He was in the employ of the emperor. And you saw how he was repaid.”
Beneath their hands, Diana groaned again an
d whispered, “Helen.”
“Her thoughts, as she is dying, are of you,” Julian said. “I give you her life, if you wish it.”
He took Helen’s other hand and slowly stood, easing her up. Advancing slowly, he circled around Diana’s body, turning Helen toward him.
“It’s time,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes. Diana, Patroness of the Hunt, she prayed. Though I take on evil form, preserve my soul. Preserve my innocence.
But she had no innocence. She had told Demetrius exactly what this monster wanted to know. The gods had paid her back for betraying Diana’s secret.
The soldiers had taken Helen in her stead.
Julian growled like a wild beast. Eyes still shut, Helen whispered, "No.”
Sharp daggers pierced her neck.
With a gasp Helen came to life, jerking awake. Julian stood over her, a torch in his hand. He wore his true face.
His beautiful face.
“Oh,” she said, reaching a hand to him.
He helped her stand. Caressed her hair, her shoulders, her face. Languorously, she let her head fall back.
“How is it with you, beloved?” he asked.
“I hunger.” She was ravenous. She opened her mouth to bite him and he laughed, wagging a finger at her.
“Your first blood must be of the living,” he said.
His hands on her shoulders, he turned her around and pointed to the body on the floor.
“I gave you her life in return for your change,” he reminded her.
Helen laughed and fell to her knees beside the Slayer. “Then I’ll take her life,” she said gleefully.
Her face changed, and she drank.
Rapturously.
“According to legend, they kept the capture and death of the Slayer a secret,” Giles said. “Helen’s transformation as well.”
Willow had found no murders at the reservoir within the last year, never mind the last month. However, Mr. Bitterman’s wife had not been found.
“Keep trying,” Giles urged her, as Mark, Buffy, and Xander followed him back into the chemistry lab.
Mark looked awed as Giles mixed and stirred.
“The next evening, Julian arranged a banquet. He announced that Helen would battle a new assailant as entertainment.”
He raised a test tube and pushed up his glasses and he judged the color of the contents, which were a very pale blue.
“It was a sham. The demon she was to fight was a confederate of Julian’s. At a prearranged signal, Helen transformed and together they attacked the emperor. He managed to elude them, but they hunted him down and drowned him in the Roman aqueduct. Julian instructed that his body be burned and he intended to keep the ashes, believing them to be possessed of magickal energy. Which apparently, they are. By using them in the ritual to raise Meter, Julian fully intended to become emperor of a demonic empire.”
“But he didn’t,” Willow said, “unless we got abridged textbooks for ancient history.”
“He didn’t,” Giles concurred. “They didn’t know then that when a Slayer dies, a new one is called.” He cleared his throat, and glanced at Buffy. “The new Slayer attacked almost immediately. In the ensuing confusion, the ashes went missing. I can only conjecture that Julian and Helen are here because the Urn of Caligula made it here to the Hellmouth. Perhaps Willow will be able to trace their rediscovery.”
“That might be really useful,” Xander said. “I’ll go tell her to do that.”
“Good idea,” Giles said. “Take Mark with you.”
“No,” the boy protested. “I want to watch you.”
“It may become dangerous. I am not precisely sure of what I’m doing,” Giles said.
The two left. Giles looked at Buffy and said, “I know you’re worried about Angel.”
“No time now,” she murmured. “Keep talking. Tell me everything you know.”
He regarded her for a moment, then resumed mixing and pouring. “Almost overnight, the chaos which had reigned supreme over the Empire evaporated. The new emperor, Claudius, routed out the vampires and demons. They were nearly eliminated, all but a few.”
“It evaporated, why?”
“An excellent question, and one whose answer is appalling, I’m afraid.” Giles was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “My source material indicates that to reverse the effects of the Madness Potion, two components are needed. One is an actual antidote, which I am trying to create here.”
“And?” Buffy prodded.
Giles looked down for a moment. Then he took a deep breath.
“The author believes that killing the emperor in the aqueduct served as a sacrifice, which the gods accepted as worthy. They then reversed the curse.”
Buffy stared back at him. “So someone has to die.”
There was a long silence. “Yes. To be more precise, the person who instigated the curse.”
A beat. “Whoever poured the potion in the reservoir in the first place,” Buffy whispered.
They stared at one another.
Chapter 17
IN THE LIBRARY, WILLOW SAID TO XANDER, “NO MYSTERY with the urn. It was unearthed during an archeaological dig. An Italian antiquities expert said it was of no particular historical value, so they decided to donate it to a charity auction. Some guy bought it for the equivalent of a hundred dollars.
“Later on, another antiquities expert decided it was priceless.”
Xander snorted. “Experts. You gotta love ’em.”
Willow continued, reading off the screen, “It became part of a traveling collection up for sale on consignment, which is how it came here.”
“Helen and Julian must have gone all crazy when they heard about it,” Xander said. “Figured this was their lucky century.”
Willow nodded. Then she looked around. “Hey, where’s Mark?”
* * *
Buffy said to Giles, “So we have an antidote.” She gestured to the test tube. “Nice blue.”
Giles angled the test tube. “Chamomile, believe it or not.”
“Like the tea?” She wrinkled her forehead.
He tapped the tube. “This Madness Potion is not a poison in the strictest sense of the word. It’s a synergist blend of various herbs and oils which stimulate one’s mental and psychic states.”
He thought for a moment. “Upon occasion, we seem to have run into some of these components. I had chamomile tea bags. There’s also a small amount of rose in the mix. I broke a bottle of rose water in my kitchen. Either they stimulated us to anger, or they calmed us down, depending upon their strength.”
Buffy picked up a gas mask and gestured to the urn. “Well, you’re proof positive that this stuff calms people down.”
Buffy had worn the mask while Giles uncorked the urn and went berserk. Then she’d waved the tube in front of his nose, he calmed down enough to drink some of it, and then he reverted completely back to his calm and collected Giles self.
However, he was still infected. He had cut himself and let the fresh drops of blood spill into a beaker. They had still hissed and shown the black dots.
“Because there’s also a curse involved,” Giles had explained. “It’s not simply a physical thing.”
It made sense to Buffy. He and Willow used wards and spells against physical manifestations of the supernatural all the time. But that didn’t mean they had contained the source.
Which leads us back to the matter of the sacrifice, she thought.
“I can’t kill a little boy,” she blurted, “and neither can you.”
The chem lab door opened and Willow and Xander ran in. “Mark’s gone,” Willow said. “We can’t find him anywhere. He must have wigged.”
“And now our previous discussion is moot,” Giles murmured.
Xander walked along the lab bench with all its elaborate equipment. “Any progress?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said slowly. “Giles found the antidote.”
“I see. Good show,” Xander returned, imitating Giles’s accent.
“So, were you going to make more of that stuff, or are you setting up for a rousing round of Mousetrap?”
“I’m truly surprised that such a tiny amount of the stuff could create such astonishing effects,” Giles said, clearing his throat. “But I shall prepare some more antidote. We’ll take it to the reservoir and pour it in. That will ameliorate the effects.”
Xander said, “Not to mention calming everybody down, at least temporarily.”
“That was the jist of what I said,” Giles murmured.
“I knew that.” Xander rubbed his hands. “Okay, Dr. Frank N Furter. Just tell me what to do.”
Buffy sat huddled on her lab stool as Giles went through the elaborate process of creating more of the antidote. Angel still did not show. Her mind kept repeating the terrible sound of the staking, a sound that usually brought a smile to her lips. She remembered the cold hand on her shoulder. The sound of his voice, so near.
“All right,” Giles said finally. “I think I’ve mixed a sufficient quantity. We need to get to the reservoir. Perhaps we should take the urn, too.”
“But if we get attacked, Helen and Julian may snag it,” Buffy pointed out. “We don’t know if there’s still power in it or not.”
“They may somehow already know we have it,” Buffy told him. She looked at Giles. “And vampires can come into the high school without an official invitation, if you get my drift.”
“So we take the urn,” Xander said, raising a finger. “New topic: transportation. The Jag —”
“Buffy’s mother dropped off their car,” Giles cut in. “She’s gone to stay with the Rosenbergs.”
“Oh.” Willow made a face.
“We’re finished here. We’ve got to get going,” Buffy said.
They left the building. In the faculty lot, Buffy thought she saw a shadow against the chain-link fence. Mark? Her heart leapt. Angel?
“The Jag’s gone,” Xander said. Then he said guiltily, “I think maybe I left the keys in it.”
“Maybe Mark took it,” Willow ventured.
“Well, I hope he can handle it. It’s a big boy’s car.” He flushed as Buffy and Willow gave him a look. “Person’s car. A big person’s car. But not as in large.”
