I finally arrived back at the Hyperion, slipping in as if I were the resident ghost rather than my friend Dennis. My steps were soundless, leaving no footprints in their wake. At times even, I wondered if I had truly returned to the land of the living during the many revivals, I 'took part in' under Maggie's 'tender' care. The thoughts were always fleeting. I allowed them space in my head for the briefest moment then shook them free. Whatever I had become these past years, the skills I had gained were mine no matter their origin.
The basement Control Room called to me. It took every bit of my control to keep from running straight there. But, I had learned long ago that way led to foolishness, serious injury and many times death. Mostly mine. I was eager to set up the feed to see what was happening over at the Big House. It didn't stop me from taking the necessary precautions I always did when coming back into the Hyperion, or any building for that matter.
Rooms passed through. Doors opened. Body scanned. Passwords entered. I finally sat before the monitors with my fingers flexed at the ready. Racers on the mark, ready - go. The magicology blossomed into life before my eyes. There before me across the wall of computer screens flared the Regent's Capitol. Bingo.
Dennis disappeared and reappeared with coffee. He fussed about happy for the company and curious to see the inner workings of the evil castle. Even as a ghost, he had no inclination of getting too close to the Wicked Witch of the East. Dennis was far from helpless, but he wasn't stupid either.
I could tell he was dying (no pun intended) to know what had happened to Tara. The last time he saw her was when we left for Vegas. I had snuck back occasionally to check on him, and to get the latest news. It wouldn't do for anyone to track us back to the Hyperion and I knew how to lose myself in crowds. Tara had her magic, but it would only get her so far. Especially, if she wasn't sure when to use it.
She had surprised me the last few weeks. Tara had figured out how to bring our plans to fruition. Well, with some help from an unexpected friend. But, I'm getting a head of myself and we hadn't exactly pulled it off, not yet. The Herr Bitchmeister and Von Hellspawn still drew breath. I had promises to keep; promises more important than the ones I swore to Buffy Summers' spirit.
"I liked the blonde," Dennis commented, bringing me back from my musing.
"Men." I smiled at him. "You're all alike, whether you're ectoplasm or red blooded, it's always the blonde and boobs for you."
I couldn't help but laugh, watching my acerbic words cause my spectral friend to blush. Well, as much as any transparent, black and whitish ghost was able to blush. Dennis was the oldest twenty year-old virgin I'd ever known. Even after I'd freed him from the wall and his mother, he hadn't experienced as much of the world as I thought he would. His innocent remarks took me off guard at times. They were exactly what they appeared: innocent compliments or questions without overtone, malice or pretense. It was startling at times and as now embarrassing, because of course my mouth answered with its usual acid reflux, going for the jugular.
"Sorry, Dennis," I apologized.
He sent me one of his smiles, all bright and innocent to let me know he forgave me. Dennis forgave so easily, I often wondered how he came by his acceptance of others so easily. It took him almost fifty years to work up enough steam to go up against Mommy Dearest and she had sealed him into the wall.
I had arrived back at the Hyperion well ahead of the Regent's newest 'guests' for lack of a better term. The hummers loaded with the studio workers were just passing through the heavy gates. Their welcome would include such wonderful gift bag surprises such as strip searches, magic probes and that was before the doctors got their grubby hands on them.
Riley arrogantly had the limo pull up to the grand front entry. He wanted the political reporters who hung out there to get their photo op. Must keep the masses fat, dumb and happy. It turned out that politicians hadn't changed since Roman times. It was fun to watch GI Joyless simultaneously try to schmooze the press and rush the girls into the capitol. He definitely needed the teleprompter or Maggie Dearest whispering in his ear.
The girls had walked straight into the belly of the beast, and I wasn't sure how long Maggie would keep her hands to herself. Oh, CiCi had visited the Capital before. She had even interviewed the beast. Ha, I crack myself up sometimes. This time was different. She had seen behind the curtain. CiCi knew the great Oz was just some whacked out old man talking through an intercom. She had found out about the wire hangers, and Mommy Dearest wouldn't take that lying down, the gloves were about to come off.
My job was to keep the Wicked Witch of the East off-kilter enough that she let everyone in the land see the ugly beast behind the curtain. The hardest part about this was in carefully orchestrating it to occur in the specific manner I needed. Maggie had forced me through endless hours of strategic scenarios - the fool.
She had unknowingly shown me the inner workings of Maggie Walsh. The woman was ultra-intelligent, and used her background in psychology much the way soldiers used their weapons. She wielded it with deadly accuracy. I had to give the old girl her props, she went Doctor Mindbender on an entire nation, and they ate it up like jell-o. She was bigger than Madonna and Cher combined. Maggie used her weirding ways to train (read break) her personal staff. She ensured her hand remained firmly on the reins and never let her 'people' forget who brought them along on her zenith ride to the top.
The proverbial iron fist encased in the velvet glove described Maggie Walsh better than any other euphemism. Maggie feared one person: Quentin Travers. She felt that he was the only one capable of destroying her kingdom. Funnily enough, he felt the same way about his 'partner' in crime. They stood in the supreme standoff; both had their fingers on the trigger. But, neither dared shoot for fear of missing, or perhaps hitting the other.
Now, let's see how the hostess with the mostest liked the impromptu party we threw her. I watched Riley 'escort' CiCi and Stasha through the Capitol's main hallways. He graciously smiled at the staff, visitors, while he patently ignored the guards that snapped to attention. I almost fell out of my chair when they climbed the large formal staircase and there hanging front and center was Madam Regent's portrait, life-size no less. She even went the full Presidential route, with the dutiful Springer spaniel at her feet.
What a poser? Sheesh, she looked like she just smelled a fart. She who smelt it dealt it, I always say. It was childish and petty; I know, but do I care?
Riley paused to stare up at the portrait. My gag reflex started to kick in, but luckily, he moved on as he pointed the girls toward the bordering stairs that branched to the right. Whoo, that was close. I'm not sure I could have stopped myself from barfing if he had done something gross like bow, or salute, or kneel. Can I just say sycophant? Don't let the military garb fool ya; he's a brown-noser of the highest order!
They walked down an endless hallway of doors. It ended at the most grandiose door imaginable. The hugmungous door had me wondering what creepazoid mansion she had confiscated it from as her part of the booty.
I remembered the set up Angel had. He was lying low in the small backwater known as Sunnydale, and had still found one of the nicest houses to claim. I could only imagine what other demons and vampires had in the way of homes and potable riches. It put a different face on the fight to wipe demons off the face of the Earth. Especially, if you didn't want any left to tell others of the huge fortunes you were amassing. A fortune with no traceable ties to any government, transferable into any currency, and was essentially invisible to the outside world.
Oh, my, could someone with such ill-gotten gains stage and win a coup? Mmm. But, of course, it's for the good of the people, and what's best for the people is best for the country. Oh, my, goodness look, they're the same. And, low and behold - Maggie Walsh - the savior of the people.
Drum role please, as the people line up for their lobotomy. Shoot them now! It's kinder than the drawn out slow death these people had consigned themselves through ignorance and arrogance, and the inner fighting of their government.
Oh wait, here comes the fun part, I get to skip down memory lane as Maggie plays head games with CiCi and Stasha. Yay. Let's see if the old girl has learned anything new since our big break up.
Riley waved off the guard who started to open the door. He twisted the knob and all but shoved the girls through the small gap he created. It was as if he took some perverse thrill from forcing them to choose between hurting themselves against the edge of the door, or touching him.
He stepped away with a sullen pout when he heard his Mistress' sharp rebuke from the inner sanctum. CiCi and Stasha hurried inside happy to trade General Grabby for the Iron Maiden. The Major General started inside warning the attendants to keep their eyes forward and mouths shut.
The guards did exactly as ordered. It didn't stop them from sharing knowing glances with each other or the Regent's personal aide who had witnessed the entire incident. The three didn't give in to the urge to laugh, but their grins were uncannily similar. It wasn't the strangest thing they had seen on their watch, not by a long shot.
Maggie remained seated as CiCi and Stasha entered the room. She waited for Riley to quit his posturing, before she started talking.
"Ladies, please be seated."
She motioned toward the antique winged back chairs positioned in front of her massive desk. Speaking of her desk, it had an odd likeness to the President's desk. I had destroyed the one in the Oval Office. This was an impressive reproduction. Right?
"Thank you for agreeing to come here today. I feel so much better knowing you're safe within the Capitol's walls where we can see to you're safety."
Let me translate that for anyone who doesn't speak oileze. We want you where we can see you. That way we know you're not out there telling anyone what you saw. Should anything leak we'll have plenty of time to throw our sack 'o spin at it.
"CiCi," Maggie said, her voice softened.
It went down in register several chords. Maggie didn't do sickly sweet. She did however know how to pitch her voice to suggest intimacy.
"I can't tell you how happy I am to see that you came out of that ordeal unharmed."
Maggie sent the television reporter her patented smile. She paused, which was CiCi's cue to speak.
CiCi knew her part and played it perfectly. She sent Madam Regent her famous smile as she prepared to give the performance of her life.
"Thank you, Madam. I admit that when I realized exactly who was in the studio it terrified me," she said, with the slightest tremble in her voice. "Especially, when that horrible man, that V," she spat the name, "said such terrible things about you."
Her eyes went wide with terror as if she were reliving the events as she relayed them. CiCi brought her hand to her impressive chest. She pressed it against her heart, giving the impression it was beating out of control.
Maggie nodded her head, having gotten what she wanted from CiCi. She moved onto the fresh meat in the room, otherwise known as Stasha. I could almost see her licking her lips at the prospect of a new brain to pick.
"And you, my dear, how are you holding up after such a traumatic ordeal. I understand you and your cousin were close."
Aah, there it was the sly innuendo hidden within the sympathetic salutation. It wasn't obvious or overplayed, rather done with the delft hand of an artist. As much as I hated to admit it, Maggie had talent. Sitting here, with a front row seat, it was undeniable.
Stasha's large amber eyes became crystalline as they filled with tears. Her famous face turned heartbreakingly beautiful when she lowered long, lush lashes to mask her pain from the rabid audience. She caught the lower lip that men around the world dreamed about between pearly white teeth. It seemed as if she fought some inner battle, which she finally lost. Stasha's breath escaped in a soft exhale that drew every eye to her famous chest.
"Vinka was more than my cousin, yes," she said, softly, lifting those mesmerizing eyes to capture Maggie's cold, calculating blue ones.
She ignored the cruel smile that tilted up at the corner of Maggie's mouth. Her voice become heavy with emotion and her accent more pronounced.
"We are, were all the other ever had in this world. She was everything to me. Mother. Sister. Protector. Friend. So, yes, we were more, much more. And, now she's gone and I do not understand. Why?"
Well, it looks like my little witch learned more from her time in the old House of White than playing the beard. She learned to play the game too. Good girl, play it out, go slow and lead her where you want her to go. Ooh, you're such a naughty little witch. I may just have to spank you when I see you. Course, that's if I see you again.
Stasha shot up from her chair. Her long six-foot model's body towered over Maggie's desk. Riley ever the soldier reacted in kind. Maggie waived him off like the bothersome gnat he was. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers as she assessed the statuesque model. Her eyes quickly glanced over to the monitor on her desk. She did it so quickly only someone who was watching her every move would have caught it.
Luckily, I was just such a person. The added perspective I had didn't hurt either. Maggie's audience couldn't know that she was looking at the entire goings-on of the Capitol. She couldn't split her focus too much; even the great Maggie Walsh couldn't focus on the current conversation and over fifty or more camera feeds splattered across her screen. It did however give her an overview, feeding into her need to control everything within grasp.
An evil smile spread across my face as I continued to watch the screens, while Maggie went back to her mind games. Ah, yes, it was time for my own games to begin.
"My dear, please sit down. We are all friends here aren't we," Maggie said, pleasantly. The smile she sent Stasha was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat, and just as sincere. "
I watched the dead bodies arrive. Soldiers rolled them into some makeshift morgue, where mini Dr. Frankenstein waited for them. He even had the dark slicked back hair, and pale pasty skin.
The room was on the Capitol's lowest level tucked far from prying eyes. I watched the soldiers unceremoniously dump the bodies onto the waiting tables. Their people skills were below par when it came to the living. I guess the dead didn't even show up on their radar. An assistant appeared from the shadowed corner to help the good doctor extract the bodies from the black body bags. It was more than disconcerting to see Vinka's body revealed.
"Madam Regent wants us to proceed with the female's autopsy first. She wants to know if there is any sign of tampering, either magical or technical. We had better get started. Pull that table of instruments over here, align the lighting and start the camera," the doctor directed.
The assistant did as requested, while the doctor pulled on his gloves and picked up some surgical scissors. He started to cut away the clothes when a cacophony of noise exploded from just outside the doors. It surprised him so much that he jumped backward and dropped the scissors. His assistant wasn't quite so skittish. He ran outside to see what was going on in the hallway.
Here it comes, wait for it. Ooh, this should be fun.
BOOM!!....Thud
The sound of a heavy object slamming against the wall and then sliding down it came next. Silence reigned momentarily, before all hell broke loose, literally. The doors flew open as the poor assistant's body came flying back through to hit the back wall. He gave one shuttering whimper then passed out. The doctor looked from his battered assistant to the door as he backed away from the entrance. He nearly jumped out of his own skin when the phone rang.
I nearly fell off my chair laughing. This was more fun than late night TV. Now, back to our previously interrupted program.
"....all friends here aren't we," Maggie said, pleasantly. "Those are questions I am determined to find the answers to as well. My doctor will autopsy your cousin, of course, looking for those answers. Hopefully, we should have them by the end of the day. I have instructed him to start with dear Vinka first. He will look for any type of influence that fiend might have worked on her."
Stasha's face paled and she collapsed back into her chair, almost completely missing the piece of furniture. Her hand clutched at her throat as if the air had stopped midway in its travels.
"You, you can't do that. Please, you must stop him." Her normal whisky tinged voice came out strangled.
Before Maggie could remark on the heartfelt outcry, the doors burst open, shocking the Regent more than anything had in quite some time.
This time I did fall off my chair, unable to contain my laughter any longer. It was simply too much for me. Watching Maggie sitting there with her mouth flapping open sent me over the top. My God, this was fun, and I had to get my laughs in while I could.
David Nabbit at his geekiest had barged into the Regent's office surrounded by his ever-present bodyguards. He ignored the flabbergasted blonde behind the large desk to rush over to the pale brunette still collapsed in her chair. Ignoring the designer suit that cost more than most people earned, David knelt beside Stasha's chair to clasp her hands in his.
"Darling girl, I came as soon as I heard," he mumbled to the distraught model.
Maggie cleared her throat, trying to break up the moment without seeming rude. She didn't want to chance on alienating Mr. Nabbit. Maggie catered to few people, David Nabbit numbered among them. He had managed to keep control of his huge electronics company, personal wealth, and the intricate designs to several sensitive security systems. His products were readily available to anyone who had the available means, which she did. He kept his head down, was apolitical, and preferred his secluded fortress surrounded by his bodyguards rather than the spotlights. Maggie found it easier to leave the recluse alone than spend the endless hours trying the convince him to join the real world.
It's always fun to succeed where others have failed. I think it's the inner beast within us all, although most people deny it. Humans hem and hah about their placement atop the evolutionary ladder. They would postulate how they belong on the highest rung because of their intelligence, sentience, cognoscente, and various other traits. They never considered the idea any other species might have these same traits. And, all the while they ignored the most basic traits that made them no better than the animals they worked so hard to rise above. No matter how smart, strong, or fast you are, someone will eventually come along that is smarter, stronger or faster. I know my time will come, possibly sooner rather than later.
The couple ignored her as they continued to gaze into each other's eyes. They murmured softly while ears strained to hear. Everyone watched as David's back stiffened, while Stasha sniffled. He pivoted on his heel to stare at Maggie Walsh with open hostility.
I watched Maggie's pleasant smile fade as she carefully schooled her features. It was fascinating to watch her pull back from someone unsure how to step around the situation without burning her bridges.
"Stasha tells me you're going to autopsy Vinka," David accused.
"Yes, I started to exp...," Maggie said.
He interrupted her with an impatient wave of his hand. "You can't do that. Don't you know anything? Vinka is Orthodox. We must observe the rights for the next two days. You cannot desecrate her body before we see to her soul. I will not allow this travesty to happen!!"
Maggie glanced at her screen this time not bothering with stealthy attempts. She quickly reached for the phone, punching in several numbers.