If anyone had asked Xander, he would have said that being civil to Cordelia was a waste of time. But nobody asked him.
“Pictures of our exchange students,” was the answer to Buffy’s question. Cordelia showed Buffy the photo of Sven, who looked like your basic Norse deity. “Look. One hundred percent Swedish, one hundred percent gorgeous, one hundred percent staying at my house.”
They moved on into the South American relics area, which would take them to the special exhibit.
“So,” Cordelia asked Buffy, “how’s yours? Visually, I mean.”
Buffy shrugged. “I don’t know. Guy-like.”
Xander immediately went to red alert. In all Buffy’s moaning about the coming nightmare, the gender of the person never came up. “By ‘guy-like,’ we are talking big, beefy, guy-like girl, right?”
Again, Buffy shrugged. “I was just told, ‘guy.’ ”
Xander was incensed. He couldn’t believe that the Slayer, the Chosen One, the kicker of vampire butt, was just meekly accepting this wily, foreign, male intruder lying down.
“You didn’t look at him first?” Cordelia said, aghast. “He could be dogly.” She shook her head. “You live on the edge.”
Xander held up his hands. “Hold on a sec. This person who’s living with you for two weeks is a man? With man parts? This is a terrible idea!”
“What about the beautiful melding of two cultures?” Willow asked.
“There’s no melding, okay?” Xander said forcefully. “He better keep his parts to himself.”
Something caught Buffy’s attention. “What’s he doing?”
Xander followed her gaze to see that Rodney was leaning in too close to one of the exhibits. In fact, it looked like he was scraping it.
“That’s Rodney Munson,” Xander said as another student walked up to Rodney, who growled, baring his brace-filled teeth. The kid walked away. Rodney was the only person Xander ever knew who looked more intimidating with braces than without. “God’s gift to the bell curve,” Xander continued. “What he lacks in smarts, he makes up in lack of smarts.”
Willow said, in her usual philosophical way, “You just don’t like him ’cause of that time he beat you up every day for five years.”
“Yeah,” Xander said, “I’m irrational that way.”
Buffy started to move toward him. “I oughtta stop him before he gets in trouble.”
Willow interrupted, stopping Buffy. “I got it. The nonviolent approach is probably better.”
As she went off to soothe the savage breast, Buffy said defensively, “I wasn’t gonna use violence. I don’t always use violence.” She turned to Xander and added in a small voice, “Do I?”
Xander put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “The important thing is, you believe that.”
He saw Willow approach Rodney, who started another growl, then mellowed when he saw who it was.
“Wha’d you—Oh, Willow, hi.”
Shaking his head, Xander chuckled at that sudden change in attitude. While the snobby types like Cordelia tended to snub Will, she managed to ingratiate herself with a number of the school’s more CroMagnon enrollees by virtue of her tutoring talent.
“That’s probably not something you’re supposed to be doing,” Willow said, indicating Rodney’s hand. “You could get in trouble.”
Xander now saw that he was holding a penknife and was trying to scrape gold dust off one of the masks. Ooh, real classy there, Rod.
Shivering in mock horror, Rodney said, “Oh, no. And they might kick me out of school?”
Willow gamely laughed at that non-witticism, then said, “We still on for our Chem tutorial tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I think I got almost all fourteen natural elements memorized.”
“There are a hundred and three,” Willow pointed out.
“Oh. So I still got to learn . . . Uh . . .”
“We’ll do a touch-up on math, too,” Willow said with a smile.
“Thanks.”
Before this little exchange between Beauty and the Butt-Head could continue, a voice projected from the entrance to the Treasures of South America exhibit. “Welcome, students. We shall now proceed into the Incan burial chamber. The human sacrifice,” the red-jacketed guide added ominously, “is about to begin.”
The students all shuffled in. Willow rejoined Xander and Buffy, Rodney went off on his own. They entered a darker room, spotlights illuminating various artifacts. The centerpiece was a giant stone sarcophagus on a raised platform. The trio joined the queue of students lining up to see it.
“Typical museum trick,” Xander muttered. “Promise human sacrifice, deliver old pots and pans.”
The guide continued his spiel. “Five hundred years ago, the Incan people chose a beautiful teenage girl to become their princess.”
Willow whispered, “I hope this story ends with, ‘And she lived happily ever after.’ ”
When they reached the sarcophagus, Xander peered in to see a mummified corpse that looked like it was made of leather. The eye sockets were black, the jaw sunken, and the shriveled arms were holding something that looked like a particularly fancy platter. It reminded Xander of the seder plate Willow had.
“No,” Xander whispered back to Willow, “I think it ends with, ‘And she became a scary, discolored, shriveled mummy.’ ”
“The Incan people,” the guide continued, “sacrificed their princess to the mountain god Sebancaya. An offering, buried alive for eternity in this dark tomb.”
“They could have at least wrapped her in those nice white bandages, like in the movies,” Willow said.
The guide went on: “The princess remained there, protected only by a cursed seal, placed there as a warning to any who would wake her.”
Part of Xander thought the whole thing was kind of icky. But a much larger part of him was unimpressed. In the last year, he’d seen sights much more bizarre than a long-dead Incan princess ever could be.
Besides, he had other things on his mind.
“So, Buffy, when’s exchange-o boy making his appearance?”
“His name is Ampata. I’m meeting him at the bus station tomorrow night.”
“Ooh, Sunnydale bus depot. Classy. What a better way to introduce someone to our country than with the stench of urine?”
“Now, if you’ll follow me this way, please,” the guide said, indicating the way to other Incan treasures.
Rodney couldn’t believe how lame the security was in the Natural History Museum. It was like they were asking to get robbed.
The lighting in the South America exhibit was all directed, and the displays were set up on platforms and stuff, so there were tons of dark, shadowy places for Rodney to hide in.
He waited patiently for his fellow students to leave. Then for the museum to close. The only problem with waiting that long was that he was dying for a cigarette. He learned his lesson the last time, though. People noticed the smoke.
It occurred to him that someone might realize that he wasn’t on the bus. Then again, most people avoided him. Willow might miss him, but probably nobody else would even notice.
And if they did, who really cared? If that little twerp Snyder called him into his office—again—he’d just say he got lost.
When the doors were all locked, Rodney snuck out of his hiding place. Most of the stuff was behind glass and probably wired with alarms. But the jerks hadn’t done anything to protect the mummy.
Or her dish.
The moron in the suit had called it a cursed seal, whatever that meant. All Rodney knew was that it looked like something nice. He could probably sell it for some good cash.
“Cool,” he said as he reached into the coffin-thing and grabbed for the dish.
Unfortunately, the mummy babe had the dish in a death grip. Rodney pulled on it.
When it finally did come loose, Rodney lost his own hold on it, and it fell to the dais and shattered into a dozen pieces.
“Damn!”
Before Rodney could co
nsider what else he might steal, a wrinkled hand grabbed him by the throat.
It was the mummy. She was choking him.
And her hollow, dead eyes were open.
But that’s impossible, he thought.
It got harder and harder to breathe.
Then the mummy started to draw him closer.
Rodney didn’t have the ability to scream before the rotted lips met his.
CHAPTER 2
The next day after school, Xander had joined Buffy for her daily workout with Giles in the library. Today, that involved Giles holding one of those big orange pillowlike things that football players crashed into to practice their maiming skills and Buffy attacking it.
Since the moment they arrived, she had been trying to convince Giles to give her the following night off from her usual patrolling to go to the World Culture Dance at the Bronze.
“So,” Buffy said after explaining about the dance and how much fun it would be and all the wonderful new cultures she’d be exposed to, “can I go?” She then gave the pillow a good hard kick.
“I think not,” Giles said, stumbling with the impact.
Buffy punched the pillow. “How come?”
“Because you are the Chosen One.”
Another punch. “Just this once, I’d like to be the Overlooked One.” She punctuated this desire with a couple of kicks that made Xander wince.
“I’m afraid,” Giles, now wheezing, said, “that is simply not an option. You have responsibilities that other girls do not, and—”
“Oh,” Buffy interrupted, “I know this one! ‘Slaying entails certain sacrifices, blah blah bliddy-blah, I’m so stuffy, give me a scone.’ ”
Giles glared at her witheringly. “It’s as if you know me.” But Xander did notice the sheen of sweat on the Watcher’s brow. She continued to pummel the pillow with repeated kicks as he went on. “Your secret identity is going to be difficult enough to maintain while this exchange student is living with you.”
Xander rolled his eyes. “Not with her. In the same house as her. Am I the only one who’s objective enough to make that distinction?” He’d been trying to correct this tragic misapprehension all day.
“So then,” Buffy said, ignoring Xander in favor of continuing to work on Giles, “going to the dance like a normal person would be the best way to keep that secret.” Another kick.
“You’re twisting my words,” said Giles with a pained grunt.
“No, I’m just using them for good.” Another punch. “Giles, come on. Budge. No one likes a nonbudger.”
She raised her leg for another kick.
“Fine!” Giles said quickly, backing off from the kick and lowering the pillow. “Go.”
“Yay,” Buffy said with a smile. “I win.”
Dropping the orange pillow to the floor, Giles said, “I think I’ll go introduce my shoulder to an ice pack.”
As he stumbled off, Xander got up from the desk and said to Buffy, “So, I guess we’re dance bound. Cool. I think I can get Mom’s car, so I’m Wheel Man.”
“I thought you were taking Willow,” Buffy said.
“Well, yeah, I’m gonna take Willow, but I’m not gonna take Willow. In the sense of ‘take me.’ See, with you, we’re three and everybody’s safe. Without you, we’re two.”
“Ah,” Buffy said gravely, “and then we enter Dateville: romance, flowers . . .”
“Lips,” Xander added.
“Now, c’mon, in all the years you’ve known Willow, you’ve never thought about her lips?”
Xander sighed. This subject always made him uncomfortable. “Buffy, I love Willow, and she’s my best friend. Which makes her not the kind of girl who I think about her lips that much.” Ooh, that was coherent, he thought with an internal sigh. “She’s the kind of girl that I’m best friends with.”
A voice sounded from the library doors. “Hey, guys.”
It was Willow.
Xander panicked. He knew that Willow intellectually understood how Xander felt, but he also knew that emotionally she refused to believe it. It drove Xander nuts, but to pretend he felt otherwise about Willow would just make things worse.
Maybe she didn’t hear us.
“Willow, hi!” he said a little too loudly. “We were just talking about happy things. Like the three of us going to the dance. See? Happy.” Then he finally noticed the sour expression on her face. “Not happy?”
“No. Yes,” she quickly added, trying to brighten. Then she dimmed again. “No. Rodney’s missing.”
Giles walked in on those last two words, holding an icepack to his shoulder. “Trouble with Mr. Munson again?”
“His parents said he never came home last night. The police are still looking for him.”
Xander shook his head, relieved that Willow’s unhappiness was not because she overheard what he told Buffy. “ ‘Police are looking for Rodney Munson.’ There’s a phrase we’ll get used to.”
Buffy frowned. “You know, I don’t remember seeing Rodney on the bus back from the field trip.”
“I don’t, either,” Willow said. “I hope he didn’t get into trouble at the museum.”
Laughing, Xander said lightly, “Hey, maybe he awakened the mummy.”
“Right,” Willow said, returning the laugh, “and it rose from its tomb.”
Joining in, Buffy added, “And attacked him.”
Then they stopped laughing and looked at each other.
Four minds with but a single panic, the students and librarian quickly dashed out of the library, heading for Giles’s car, and the museum.
Field trips on the Hellmouth. Bad idea. Very bad idea.
They arrived within twenty minutes. It would’ve been sooner, but Giles’s car stalled twice. When they got there, the museum was still open, but the South America exhibit was closed. Luckily, Giles knew one of the curators—“fellow studier of boring, dead things,” was Buffy’s comment—and she let them in.
“According to Ms. Gilman,” Giles said, “the exhibit has been closed since the class left yesterday. It’s unlikely that Mr. Munson would have remained unnoticed.”
“On the other hand,” Willow said, trying to sound hopeful, “maybe Rodney just stepped out for a smoke.”
“For twenty-one hours?” Xander asked, his dubiousness muscles on full.
“It’s addictive, you know.” Giles said, “We’ll deal with that possibility when we’ve ruled out evil curses.”
“Some day,” Buffy said wistfully as she approached the sarcophagus, “I’m going to live in a town where evil curses are just generally ruled out without even saying.”
“Where was this seal?” Giles asked.
Just as Buffy reached the tomb, she said, “Right here. And it’s broken.”
Xander walked up to a large piece of the seal that lay on the floor, as well as a couple of shards next to it.
“Does that mean the mummy’s loose?” Willow asked.
Both Buffy and Xander peered into the coffin, but the mummy was still lying there, all nice and leathery.
“No,” she said. “Comfy as ever.”
Giles had, naturally, picked up the large seal fragment. “Look at this series of pictograms . . .”
Before Giles could go off on a no-doubt endless lecture on the pictograms in question, a man with a machete attacked.
It was a testament to Xander’s life these days that a large, scarred man dressed in a loose white shirt and wielding a machete didn’t even register as a surprise. The man swung the machete, which Xander ducked under.
The attacker then went for Buffy. Willow hid behind Giles. Buffy also ducked a swipe from the machete, and prepared for another attack.
Then the man looked down into the tomb—and just stopped. Xander took advantage of this opportunity to leap on the guy’s back and try to stop him.
The big man then shrugged, removing Xander from his back, and ran off.
“Okay, I just saved us, right?” Xander asked, again utilizing his dubiousness muscles.
“Something did,” Buffy said.
“We’ll fret about the details later,” Giles said. “Let’s just get out of here before he comes back.”
Xander joined Buffy and Giles in making quickly for the exit. As he did so, he heard Willow’s voice from the sarcophagus. “Giles, were the Incas very advanced?”
“Yes. Yes, very,” the librarian replied.
“Did they have orthodontists?”
Xander walked back over to the tomb. He looked down to see that, unlike the day before, the mummy had braces.
Rodney Munson’s braces.
“Rodney looked like he had been dead for five hundred years. How could that be?”
The ride back from the museum had been fairly silent. It wasn’t until they reconvened in the library that Willow asked the question that had been on everyone’s mind.
“Maybe,” Xander said, “we should ask that crazy man with the big ol’ knife.”
Buffy said, “I don’t think he seemed overly chatty.”
“The way he bolted when he saw Rodney,” Willow said, “I’d say he was as freaked as we were.”
Xander doubted that, but obviously Machete Man hadn’t expected Rodney to be in the coffin any more than they all did. He couldn’t believe it—Rodney was dead. While Xander had always expected Rodney to die young, he figured it would be in a convenience store holdup or something. Sometimes I really hate living here.
“My resources on this subject are extremely limited,” said Giles. “I gather that this particular mummy was from the Sebancaya region of eastern Peru. Very remote. If there’s an answer, then it’s locked—”
“In the seal,” Buffy finished.
Giles nodded. “It could take me weeks to translate these pictograms. Well, we’ll start tonight with—”
“Ampata!” Buffy cried suddenly, looking stricken.
THE XANDER YEARS, Vol. 1 Page 7
