My hotel room was everything I had expected. Only the best for someone visiting the Regent; name dropping had its perks. I needed to set the stage down to the last detail, since I expected my guest to arrive at any moment. Champagne, compliments of the hotel, chilled nicely by the settee. He had to work for his supper, and then some, but he didn't know that, yet. I peeled off my jacket, leaving me in a barely there silk camisole as I toed off one four-inch stiletto while I kept one to dangle from my highly polished fake nails. The staging had to fool more than a thrill seeker. I scanned the room for anything I might have overlooked. Nope, everything was set. The soft knock at the door announced that it was showtime. Running my hands through my hair, I flipped it over my shoulders to give it the expected mussed look. With shoe in hand, I walked to the door and opened it without peering through the peephole.
The man from the train stood there with a bouquet and lust glazed eyes. "I prayed that this was your room. Searched three other hotels before coming here; throw a desperate man a bone, let me in?" he asked with a mixed tone of sexiness as he tried to hide the pleading note.
I let my eyes slowly wander over his tall frame, watching him squirm ever so slightly. Turning around without a word, slinging the shoe over my shoulder, I walked back into the room. He stared at me then the open door unsure what to do without a verbal invitation. Call me old fashioned, I still remembered the rules. I hadn't seen a vampire in a long time that didn't mean there weren't any. With Maggie out there playing Shake 'n Bake with the world's DNA, I wouldn't put it past her to try for some hybrids. He was a hottie, but he still had to come through the door on his own. If he didn't pass the test, then I had to come up with another solution - fast. I mentally sighed when I heard his footsteps cross the threshold.
"Open the champagne while I change my clothes."
It was an order that he quickly obeyed. A small smiled played at my lips, this was always my favorite part. Slipping into the bathroom, I started to prepare for the night. Fifteen minutes later I stepped out dressed to kill, literally. My date lay passed out on the settee. Aw, poor baby, he couldn't hold his liquor; guess that little extra oomph I added was more than he could handle. I carried him to the bed where I carefully undressed him. A naughty imp had me patting a very firm rear before reluctantly covering it.
"Sleep tight, studly; I'll be back later. Who knows? If things go well I may even feel like a tumble."
I'm sure that if he woke up and saw who was talking to him, he would run screaming from the room. Lucky for me, he didn't.
The Regent's office had graciously sent over a packet with a badge that provided me with the highest security clearance. Must send Mags a big ole thank you. I left the room, making my way to the stairs down the hall. I climbed to the roof where I had earlier hidden a bag filled with weapons and equipment.
My fingers dug inside quickly pulling out the necessary pieces. They started assembling a specially made crossbow. Within minutes, it lay at my feet ready, to shoot across the wide expanse between my target and me. I loaded a heavy shaft into it that had a hook with a rope attached. I carefully aimed, then pulled the trigger. A soft whiz passed beside my ear as the shaft shot through the darkness to grab onto the capitol building. I walked backward until the rope extended out from the roof's edge about twenty feet and sank it into the roof with a specially made anchor. Going back to the bag to get a small pulley whose direction would toggle with the flip of a lever. My ride was ready. I checked my weapons; knives were in place on my vest and various places about my body, along with guns hung low on my hips and a rifle on my back. Here I go, about to take out the first true target. The one that would signal the others that the game had truly started.
Gloved hands wrapped around a cool, metal bar before a small body swung free from the building. If the guards had looked up, they would have seen a shadow slide across the moonlight night. But, this world lived in a curfew-induced state where people didn't enjoy the night air or late night dates. They remained locked behind closed doors, praying that no one came knocking to drag them from their homes, or worse to enter them. I landed on the opposite roof with a soft thud. The cat burglar stuff added excitement to the hunt.
The top floor held the Regent's personal rooms. He lived there with the current Slayer, a girl named Faith, rumored to be his lover, the resident Watcher, and of course, the Council appointed witch. This little group was quite chummy with each other, lots of internal fraternization from what I was able to find. Robin Wood, the Regent, was the son of a Slayer that Spike killed in 1977. It really was a small world. What blew my mind was that his mother was very much like me. She went against the rules, had a child, had an unconventional Watcher and was a good Slayer, but the Council didn't approve of her. Yet, her son now represented one quarter of the power that had stripped the Slayers of any rights they had and treated them and humanity worse than slaves.
Faith became the Slayer after Kendra, who I learned died the year that I escaped. Irony at its best. This new Slayer came from a troubled background, which gave her a wild streak. I'm sure the Council loved that. Georgia had some rebellion problems that she came to resolve them and never left. Lucky for her, she didn't have the gene that Maggie needed. She wouldn't have known such freedom, or anything else. The Council still owned the Slayer, and demanded that they always had an active one available to them.
The Watcher, Wesley Windham-Pryce, was involved with the witch, Winifred Burkle. They were a strange pair. He was a stick in the mud, by the books man, and she was a shy girl with a brilliant mind who allowed a professor to brainwash her into using said mind for magic. The Council found her and decided that they wanted that mind for their own purposes. They seemed to work together well and were always assigned as a team. I'm sure the Council never even considered that the two had it in them to carry on an illicit affair, breaking strict Council rules. Naughty, naughty, I could almost admire them for it; if it weren't for their strict policy to keep every other rule to the letter.
I disabled the alarms and picked the lock before opening the roof door. Moving quietly inside, I relocked and rearmed it. I used a specially made transmitter to freeze the cameras, unfreezing them as I cleared each place unseen. I knew that guards stood in every stairwell and went about taking care of them first. Then, moving on to the guards at each doorway, the numbers added up, until fifty bodies lay in quiet repose. Their deaths were quick. I didn't plan to waste my time with them. It may sound cruel to you, I know, but I warned you about what I am and what I planned to do. I don't lie to myself or to you. This was my life as I had lived it. Be it harsh in all its black and white and red, it was what it was. I make no apologies or excuses.
The Watcher's rooms set directly across from the witch's, with the Slayer's down the hall, closer to the Regent's, not too close mind you, wouldn't want to cause rumors. I listened at his door, hearing no sound from inside, I moved onto her door. Soft whispers came through the thick wood, along with shuffling feet. This should prove interesting; the doorknob turned without the slightest sound. Their heartbeats didn't increase, telling me that they had no idea that anyone else was in the room.
"Are you sure that no one saw you?" Fred asked, staring up at her lover with worry filled eyes.
"Yes, Winifred, I'm sure." He kissed her lips softly as he unbuttoned her shirt.
I leaned against the door, watching them. They were so tender with each other, yet still carried out the harshest Council edicts.
"Wouldn't be quite so sure about that, Watcher," I said, keeping my place by the door.
They turned toward me in shock. Fred pulled her shirt closed; her eyes seemed to fill her face, while Wesley's narrowed in anger.
"How dare you enter this room? Leave at once, and I won't call the guards, or suffer the consequences." His back went ramrod straight and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
I couldn't stop myself from laughing which made him even angrier. "You mean that you don't want everyone to know that you snuck in here to get groiny with your little witch?" Their mouths gaped for several minutes before they recovered. "Ooh, did I say something I shouldn't? Did you two really think that people don't know? Not sure about your precious Council, although their heads are up their asses most days; as for most others in the know, you're old news."
"How dare you speak of the Council that way? I'll have your head for this, whoever you are." He took a step toward the phone when he stopped, gasping in pain. A silver stiletto swayed where it had struck true, pinning his foot to the floor.
Fred turned to me, her shy, sweet face changed from the one she showed the world. I saw what the Council saw in her. The cold, logical mind that loved the power of magic married into a world of rules. Her large eyes turned an icy, blue with the power she gathered around her. She brought her hands up to cast it out at me when her power and life faded. A black handle stood out from an almost childish chest. She stayed upright for bare seconds before crumpling to the floor.
I told you that I had come prepared. No, I don't know magic. Oh, I could cast glamours that changed my appearance and hid my death mask. That was about the sum total, and it had taken me two years after my escape to learn that. Through exhausting hours of research, I had learned that an athamé with a lead blade and a rowan wood stock soaked in sea salts from full moon to full moon, then blessed by a holy man could kill a magic caster. There was a hitch, though. Wasn't there always? The person wielding the blade couldn't use it if the caster had ever used their magic against them. Lucky for me, I had never met Miss Burkle. People don't realize that the elements loan magic to its wielders until their death, then it melts back into the original source, waiting for another worthy wielder. The elements were volatile and fickle, which was where the unpredictability seen in its users came from. Fred's power wouldn't return to its source. The ceremony ensured that it couldn't pass from the plane that housed it. In this case, Fred's body and her magic died at the exact same moment.
Wesley stared at her, then back at me, as if he didn't understand what he had just witnessed. I'm not sure that he did, comprehend that is. He turned to me and asked in a faraway voice, "Why? How? Who?" He seemed incapable of creating full sentences.
"See before you the creation of your precious Council." I stepped forward, allowing the light to hit my death mask. "You followed them blindly, never asking questions, performing atrocities that even you with your limited experiences knew were wrong. You, Wesley Windham-Pryce, are guilty of apathy. Sitting here above it all as long as you don't share in the pain and degradation, you once did as the Council's whipping boy. A father's influence bought you this station and you hung onto it and the Council's edicts, knowing it was wrong." He started to protest. "Don't even try to deny it. They might not have told you everything when you came here. You can't deny that it didn't take you long to learn what they left out."
"You know nothing about me or my life. The Council and Regents are doing good things. You're too blind to see it. You fanatics are all alike. You want a better world, but aren't willing to do what it takes to get it." He glared at me, but his heart really wasn't in it. It lay dead at his feet. He wasn't a major player, just another piece shoved about the board to hide the real hands on the gears.
"If you knew the real price, Mr. Pryce, you wouldn't say that. Too bad you never bothered to learn." My sword stopped any further arguments as I ended his life, allowing him to fall beside the woman he loved.
I had left them where they lay, knowing that their bodies would be discovered. I was quickly running out of the only commodity that I guarded and measured stingily - time. I pushed an office door open to find an attractive black man sitting behind a desk. He looked up, startled that anyone would dare to interrupt him. When he stood, his body towered over the desk, showing a well-toned physique, while his baldhead gave him a debonair appearance.
"Excuse me; just who do you think you are?" His voice had a mellow, deep tone.
"You're Robin Wood, right? Mother, Nikki, Slayer for New York, killed in 1977 by a vampire named Spike." I kept my face in the shadows, as I stepped forward.
"Who the hell are you? My mother is hardly your business." Robin came around the desk, ready to defend her memory. "I'm not sure how you got in here, but the guards will escort you out when they arrive."
A dark-haired woman, hardly more than a girl, entered the room. She quickly took in the situation and bounded over the desk straight at me. I caught her midair with my hand about her neck. She gasped for air, struggling to release my grip, legs kicking, while I studied her face. It was an interesting face. She wore too much makeup, but the beauty was there underneath. Her large, dark eyes lifted up to stare into mine. When she saw what she fought against, her entire body stiffened with fear. Her pupils dilated and her breaths came out in short little puffs against my hand. It was almost funny to watch this brazen creature go from fight to fright - almost.
"Sit down and don't say a word," I hissed at her. She shook her head and without looking, I tossed her across the room. Landing in a tangled heap of limbs, she silently righted herself. Nodding my approval, I turned back to the man in charge. "Why don't we have a nice friendly chat? Your guards are a little tied up at the moment. There are a few things I'd like to know, and I'm sure that you're just the man to tell me." I gave him a small smile that looked quite sinister behind my death mask.
"I'm sure that I don't know what you mean," Robin answered, narrowing his eyes at me as if that would intimidate me in some way.
I rolled my eyes at him, wondering what I looked making such a childish gesture with a painted face. Probably just as stupid. "Now, don't sell yourself short, Robin; you don't mind if I call you, Robin, do you? You're a Regent; Controller of everything within the mighty Georgia region." I pointed my gun at Faith's head, before they knew I had even drawn a weapon.
"Leave her out of this; she has nothing to do with it. You obviously have something against the Watcher's Council and me. She's just a girl that had no say in her destiny. You have no right to take your problems out on her," he all but growled at me.
I couldn't help but laugh. I'm sorry he was just too hilarious. Here stood the son of a Slayer. How could he not know what the Council put his mother through, and there he stood pontificating for them?
"Did she ever question that destiny, ever wonder why things were the way they were? Did she ever wonder what she was doing here watching over soldiers instead of fighting the vampires and demons her very destiny came into existence for?"
Faith couldn't remain quiet any longer. "There aren't any vampires or demons left. This is my duty, what I was born for." She shivered, stepping back when my white face and the fierce blue eyes turned to her.
"What makes you so sure? Who told you? Have you ever even patrolled, searched for them? Have you tried, or do you just do what you're told?" My words lashed out at her, knowing that she had no other choice; this truth was the only one she knew, the only one she understood. I still wondered why I had questioned it when I was thrown into a world so different from the one I had known.
"How do you know about this? Its classified information." Robin pushed off from his desk, trying to use his height to his advantage.
"Uh huh, I'm asking questions here. What is the base synthetic for the drug? Where are the potentials held? Why would you, of all people, join an organization that tried to kill you own mother?" I watched as the last question slammed into him.
"How dare you? My mother's Watcher raised me after she died. Why would he do that if the Council tried to kill her? You're a lunatic that doesn't know a thing." He started to walk toward me with menace in his eyes.
I spoke softly, letting him know the truth before I killed him. "He raised you because you're his son." He stopped in his tracks. "Bernard Crawley found Nikki before she became the Slayer. They fell in love and she had you. Li was just a friend that covered for them. The Council already didn't approve of her keeping you and had tried to take you on two separate occasions. If they found out about Crawley, he and you would've disappeared. So, yes, do tell me about your wonderful Council. Didn't you ever wonder how Spike knew where to find her? Especially since, no one knew that he was in town. Not his style, he likes to make with the grand announcement, make sure that everyone knows; more to the point, he likes to make sure the Slayer he's after knows. I remember something about it spicing up the blood." I watched his color pale before anger quickly replaced it. My gun never wavered from Faith's head. "Oh, wait you haven't heard the best part. Did you know that good ole Maggie records every move you and your little pet Slayer make, then watches them herself? Kinda perverse if you ask me. Never leave your personal security in someone else's hands. People today, they're always willing to let others take care of things these days. Pity, you can learn so much if you're willing to do a little legwork."
He was about to break any minute. I was ready for him. The Slayer was the wild card, which raised the fun factor. She squirmed in her seat, muscles tensed, waiting for an opportunity to do something, anything. His body tensed, hands opening and closing, before he flew into motion. "No," Robin shouted, rushing forward. Faith tried to stop him, already seeing the way this little tableau would play out, knowing that her lover didn't stand a chance. She screamed as I coldly, slowly shifted the gun from her to him and swiftly shot Nikki Wood's son repeatedly, creating my calling card with hot bullets.
"Why? What did he ever do to you? He was a good man. Better than most men, I'd ever known. What is your damage? Somehow, someway, I'll make you pay for this." She ran to him, clutching him to her chest, while her eyes searched the room frantically for a weapon.
"You're too late. I've already paid; I'm only returning the favor in kind. Hate me all you want, but wake up to the world around you, before it's too late. I don't want to kill you that doesn't mean that I won't." I turned to leave, stopping at the door. "Hear California's nice this time of year; you might want to check it out, never know what you might learn."
Bowing my head, I exited the room walking slowly toward the opposite way I had entered. I knew that her shock wouldn't last long. As I rounded a corner, I slipped into a bathroom and pulled on a low bustier to match the low-slung leather pants I wore. Each floor I passed through, using my special badge, I placed a high-powered explosive in places intended to have the most impact. I set their timers and casually walked from the Capitol building straight across the street to hotel. There was no doubt in my mind that the guards had noticed my exit. I could still feel their eyes on my ass.
I moved into the shadows, walking next to the hotel until I rounded the corner. Increasing my pace, I ran to the fire escape and started the long haul up to the roof. Alarms sounded as police and ambulances raced down the street. Military units weren't far behind, filling the street with milling bodies. Reporters started showing up, adding to the wonderful state of chaos. Standing on the roof, peering down at it, I couldn't stop the satisfied smile.
Time to get back to my date. I cut the rope, pulled it from its anchor and ensured that I had everything in my bag. I rushed back to the room without anyone seeing me. The air conditioner unit's cover popped off and provided the perfect place to hide my weapons bag. Higher-end hotels placed fake facades on them to give the illusion that they're furniture. My guest slept soundly, which allowed me the time to change and arrange myself in the bed. I cuddled close, whispering in his ear when a heavy fist banged on the door. He roused to look at me with sleepy eyes; too bad I wouldn't get to sample the wares. I slipped from the bed, storming to the door and threw it open, barely dodging the still pounding fist.
"Who the hell are you to wake me up in the middle of the night? Do you know who I am? I insist that you call the Regent this instant! Heads will role for this," I threatened, huffing angrily to ensure that my breasts all but spilled from the low-cut negligee.
It was a toss up what startled the soldiers more my words or the nipple that popped free. The leader finally found his voice and said, "Step aside; we've the proper authority and paperwork to search your room and person if necessary." He pushed through the doorway.
I stepped back, allowing him and his little troop inside where my guest sat propped up in bed. His wide, muscular chest was bare to the audience, which had me wondering if I couldn't find enough time to explore that yumminess. What? A person had needs, not to mention with what happened next, I couldn't have set it up better myself.
"Exactly what are you looking for Sgt. Steages?"
I turned when I heard my 'date' call the soldier by his rank and title. Had he set me up, somehow? Did he know who I am? I slapped myself mentally to get a handle on my imagination. Best thing to do in a situation like this, when you have no idea who knew what and who the enemy might be - bluff. That's right jiggle, wiggle, rave, dominate, seduce, threaten, whatever the situation called for that would carry you through. I did the absolute hardest bluff in the world - nothing. No, I'm not a loon. I slapped a small smile on my face, as if what was happening didn't bother me in the least and sashayed my pert ass back to bed where I climbed in next to my 'guest'. I had sent the ball back over the net. Would he return it or would I get the point?
The soldier swallowed visibly before answering. "Sir, I, err we didn't realize that you were here. Several witnesses saw this woman leave the Capitol tonight, and I'm sorry to notify you that the Regent, along with several others are dead. We are here to bring her in for questioning and possibly charge her for those deaths."
Pouting prettily at my bed buddy, I said, "That would really put a damper on the whole round, um." I playfully counted on my fingers. "I think it's four."
He stared at me, then back at the soldiers that practically circled the bed. A heavy sigh escaped his generous mouth. "I'm sorry." He leaned forward in bed and I shifted ever so slightly, reaching for the daggers hidden under my pillow. "Sergeant, this lovely lady and I haven't left each other's side since I arrived tonight at eight." He leaned over to kiss my shoulder. "Unfortunately, your news brings our evening to an end." Giving the soldiers a stern look, they left the room to wait outside the door.
"Do you really have to go? I was hoping that we could call for some chocolate," I said with a wicked gleam in my eyes. Our lips met in a long passionate kiss, which I could still taste when I left Atlanta two days later.
I climbed aboard a train headed for Montgomery, Alabama. It might appear as if I'm backtracking and it's true. The dark-haired Slayer crossed my mind as I glanced at my watch with Atlanta no longer in sight. I waited patiently for the minute hand to stand straight at attention, upright declaring the time midnight - the witching hour. An old song came to mind when the night glowed brightly over the old Southern town, something about lights, and justice; rather appropriate in my mind.
The panic that hit the media kept anyone from noticing that the voluptuous red head that boarded the train didn't exit it. In her place, a rather rough-looking woman with shoulder-length dark hair encased in leather startled the railway workers by roaring off the train on a powerful motorcycle.
I rode hard and fast for Falkville to meet with some special people. I'm sure you're wondering what a small town with a population of a little over a thousand people had done to me. The answer was simple, nothing. This may sound strange to you; it had to me. Before I left on this journey, I started dreaming again, Slayer dreams. I had laughed at the thought. I no longer consider myself a Slayer, not anymore; actually, I'm not sure what I am. The dreams came to me in strange flashes, unlike those of my former life. They didn't show my impending death, instead they showed me places. At first, I wasn't sure what was happening. I saw beautiful barren desserts, rocky mountains, small lakeside acreage and even rattletrap trailers. Each place had distinctive markings that gave me the needed clue to find their proper location. I had already visited several and this one was just another on the bread crumb trail that my dreams led me. Each visit had left its mark.
I'm sure that you're thinking that the PTB were trying to let me know that they hadn't abandoned me. I no longer had the wherewithal to believe it. I chose to believe that my own inherent powers had evolved and the dreams were the result. It was my belief and I was sticking to it. My path led forward and the Slayer only led to the past and pain. I had had enough of both and wouldn't allow myself to start looking over my shoulder at this late date.
The motorcycle engine roared down the country roads. This part of the country still appeared untouched. There wasn't a Super Soldier in sight for roughly fifty miles or more. You might wonder why and how this miracle had happened. It was ironic in its simplicity. A real laugh on the white man you might say. Native American Indians and their lands were left completely alone. They weren't considered a threat; of course, a drugged-out former Slayer wasn't either.
Before your mind goes off on a tangent, no, I'm not trying to start the next Indian uprising. My dreams had led me to some untapped resources. They had a relationship with this country that had long been overlooked and I aimed to call on it. It shocked me to learn that a Cherokee tribe lived in Alabama. They had gathered the scattered groups from nearby and even renamed themselves back in 1990 to "ECHOTA," choosing the Phoenix as their tribal symbol. This particular tribe called to me more than any other.
Their medicine man stood at a lake's shoreline shaking a ceremonial rattle. He called to the winds as he cast seeds onto the water. The small, golden grains burst into white flames that danced across the still lake before they sank. I saw the glow as it settled on the muddy bottom. It seemed to flicker for an instant, and then everything went dark. The water turned black, as did the sky. Suddenly, my feet touched the lake's bottom as the water embraced me while the flames arched around my body in a swirling display that didn't burn. The flames continued their journey straight into a starless night sky. They swept a path that in turn had my head thrown upward to gaze at the myriad panorama of reds, pinks, purples and blues.
Sweat poured from my body as a hissing sound filled the small enclosure. I wasn't sure what this had to do with anything, but afterward my skin always looked great. Had to say that John 'Running Deer, the Medicine Man, threw a great sweat lodge party. I had described my vision to him and waited for him to translate it.