Solstice

SOLSTICE
Part 8/10

We stayed at the mansion only long enough to get clothes for Aurelius and me. He’s pretty much my size, so my things fit him. Then, chasing the sunrise, we moved into my Sunnydale hotel; everybody, including Dawn, Xander, Giles and the witches. We don’t know what’s bugged, but knowing Wolfram and Hart, something will be, and the mansion is prime target. With builders working there, it would have been easy.

During my time… away, my household has considered this. Estevan contacted an elder childe of his sire’s begetting, a sibling in your terms, currently resident in London. The sibling, Julian, was willing to help. MI6 has some of the best technicians and instrumentation in the world. It isn’t hard for a lurking vampire to learn which one is the best of the best. Newly vamped, and accompanied by Julian, our technician gets here tomorrow, complete with his little bag of tricks. Willow has sought help from Adras, and one of the magic users will come, too. If there is any eavesdropping device, electronic or mystical, or a hybri the the two, they will find it. They’ll sweep the mansion, and everyone else’s homes, too, as well as the hotel, just to be sure. Then we’ll do all the L.A. premises.

We’re good for food. One of the things I own in Sunnydale now is the abattoir. We can have all the blood we need – hell, we’ve got enough to bathe in if we wanted to do anything so gross. We feel about that, by the way, much the same as you feel about humans sitting in a bath full of porridge, or baked beans, or jelly.

What we have here is good, everyday animal blood, fresh from the kill, without upsetting Buffy, but even she won’t expect me to entirely give up the good stuff, the human stuff, if I pick my victims carefully. Will she?

Both Aurelius and I are really juiced up on Hamilton’s blood. The effect will fade somewhat, but we both think that something will remain, although how much is hard to tell. The Wolf and the Ram must now both be my mortal enemies. I guess the Hart isn’t going to be so far behind, the way things are going, and that is making me think, as I lie here waiting for my love to finish in the bathroom. Why do women always take so long in the bathroom?

I am very impressed at what has happened. So is Aurelius. The clan followed the Slayer without a quibble. Buffy and Faith dreamed up a daring plan that was both desperate and dangerous, and they could take no chances that they might be overheard anywhere. Faith offered herself to the lions as bait. Willow, using the power of the Hellmouth, cast a spell on her that sank the better parts of her beneath the darkness of her recent deeds. Darkness calls to darkness. There was only enough of her other self left to make sure she didn’t give the game away, and that was how she passed the mind-reader test. She really was what she said. It lasted for 24 hours, just long enough.

She gave the appearance of teaming up with people whemedemed to be malcontents – who might reasonably be malcontents, taking Xander as an example – but who actually understand that even I am probably a better bet than three demigods from Hell. Can’t think why. And so the lie was born. I’m very cross with the pair of them – they might both have been lost to me. I’m going to have to introduce them to some of my favourite forms of punishment. Buffy in chains? Mmmph…

Lindsey? Gunn was absolutely right. There is definiteoingoing to be a spanking, although he was wrong about who is going to get spanked. Lindsey did exactly as I instructed. In the event of Wolfram and Hart getting to me, he was to go back; to pretend that he had only just managed to get away; to stay there as my mole. You see, the Soul understood him, but could never bring himself to act on that understanding. He kept preaching redemption to Lindsey, and how important it was to do the right thing. What Lindsey needed was to know his place, to have a secure future, to have a strong authority figure, not the weakling father of his childhood, and to be lovingly appreciated by the one that turns him on. Me. Like Faith, gotta get his mind right. Besides, Japheth is his sire, and he has very good blood. There’s no treachery there. If the Soul had done what I’ve done to Lindsey, a lot of things might have been very different. Family? You gotta love them.

Wolfram and Hart still don’t know that Lindsey isn’t here against his will, so that’s all to the good. Just in case.

Buffy didn’t know anything about that little stratagem, although she does now, and she is very cross, which is why, I think, she is spending so long in the bathroom. Like I said, a spanking may be in order. Can’t wait.

Everyone has been patched up now. The clan vampires have all had a shot of blood from Aurelius or me while Hamilton’s power is still running hot in our veins, to help them heal and, hopefully, to give them a bit more strength. That left us both a bit short for a time, but it was necessary. The Norags and the witches have worked together to patch and mend, and in some cases, to magic. We’re all still battered, but at least we’ve had no need for hospitals, and their unnecessary questions. Including the witches, my household now includes some really good field medics.

Sekhmet? Lilah was right. Until Aurelius was freed, no one found a way to break the magic that held her, and since we haven’t got the obol anymore, we just have to leave that one. She’s with Aurelius now. She won’t be parted from him. Neither will his childer, and there are some interesting activities in his suite. The others are comforting each other, celebrating continued life, and at this present moment, no one is alone. I can hear them all, faint, but there. Very interesting.

And that brings me back to what I’ve been thinking about. Buffy’s safety. Can I really involve her in all of this? These are powerful beings that I’ve taken on, but it’s impossible for me to stop now. She’ll be a target, too, if she’s with me. Should I let her go until things are safer? If I do, will I ever get her back? And I suppose there’s another question. After what has happened, will she still want me? Might she decide that I’m too much trouble to be around? I want what is best for her, and yet I know that means being with me. It has to do. I also know, if I’m honest with myself, that if I do let her go, for whatever reason, I will spend the rest of her life, if necessary, winning her back. I’m not above abduction, either. Listen, this is my *mate* that we are talking about here. Why am I getting schizophrenic about this?

Ah, and here she is. She has a full complement of bruises, and they are in such glorious colours, purples and mauves and pinks, and several colours that you can’t even see. They don’t detract from her beauty at all. In fact, in some ways they enhance it. Her cuts and scrapes are like red lace, just begging to be touched and caressed. My fingers itch to do that.

It isn’t my intention to make love to her; well, not fully, anyway. Her injuries may look magnificent, but she is moving stiffly, and is still in pain. To tell the truth, my own aren’t so comfortable yet. They are scabbed over, but the healing has yet to proceed further than that, and there are some in very interesting places that will hurt like holy water if I let things get too far. I can, and will, make her forget her pain for a little e, be, but I don’t want to cause her any more.

I hold back the sheet for her, and she pauses for a moment before sliding in beside me. She was looking at me. Really looking at me. Head to, well, not quite toe, because of the sheet. She probably got as far as groin, and back. Does she like what she sees? Apart from the angry red wounds, that is. No human could like those. A vampire would, though.

I wrap my arms around her to pull her close to me, but she stops me, holding me a little away. Her gaze continues to rake me. Three weeks’ starvation isn’t so much, but I have lost a little weight. No, it isn’t that so much, as lost substance, lost a little of my solidity, my reality. I feel greyer. Do you understand? No? Well, I can’t explain it any bet

Then, she looks me in the face, and her fingers come up to the wounds in my neck, my throat and my cheek. That tendril came through my throat and tongue, leaving speech – and other things – painful, and my voice gruff, just for now.

She strokes my cold skin, running her warm finger round those reddened circles, and her eyes fill with emotion.

“You are so beautiful,” she whispers, “so beautiful, even hurt like this. I love you so much. I almost lost you, and I couldn’t have borne that.”

Then she starts to kiss all my wounds, so gently that they take no hurt from her lips, only comfort. I let her do as she wills, as she roams over every inch of my flesh. By the time she has caressed each and every hurt, all my good intentions have flown. I reach for her hand and pull her back up my body, turning her so that she lies on her back beneath me. Her arms are flung over her head, leaving her completely open and submissive to me, as I have been to her. No vampire could resist that. Such warm and human beauty, a beloved mate, a powerful Slayer; choose any of them and it wouldn’t matter. At this moment, I am no different to any other vampire, no matter how I try, and I feel myself swollen with urgent need. The pain of the damage caused by those tendrils burns through my engorged sex, but it really doesn’t matter. My need is greater. My need to please her is greater. I can never let her go.

I caress each everevery one of her hurts as she has caressed mine, turning her when I must. She seems to understand that I don’t want her to do anything here; I just want her to stay still, to remain as submissive to my wishes as she began, and she does. My fingers trace the exquisite lines of her body, and I revel in the feel of her, the softness of silk over the steel of Slayer. So beautiful. I taste her bruises and lap gently at her cuts, and then the vampire in me demands more. I won’t suppress it. She needs to know me better than she thinks she does.

I let down my fangs and run therpesrpest over a partially healed gash in the centre of a purpling bruise on her hip, opening up the wound again. She doesn’t even flinch. A thin trickle of blood wells up from the cut, sharp and sweet on my tongue. I suck, gently at first, then harder, savouring the taste of the wound, so different to unhurt flesh. Then I look up at her. Her lids are half lowered, her expression utterly given over to pleasure. She’s so human, and yet so in tune with my own desires. It is that moment, and that look on her face, that spurs me to do what I do next. Will she hate me for it? I have to know.

Still in demon face, I open and taste each and every one of her hurts, as my hands caress every inch of unblemished skin. When I have touched and tasted all of her, when I have suckled and licked and aroused, I cover her with my body and gently enter. Her heat scalds my intimate wounds, but I don’t care, because the pain of her will only add to the already infinite pleasure. There is comfort in that age-old rhythm, comfort for both of us. There is something about life-threatening situations, about the near-certainty of loss that we have just survived, something that brings out our more primitive instincts, and mine are spread over my face for her to see in the planes and angles and fangs of a demon. I am at my most primi, mo, most elemental, and there is something I need to do; something she hasn’t seen before, probably hasn’t heard of before. Demons are creatures born of magic, and there is magic in us. It’s in my bite, in my blood, and in other things, whenever I choose. She should know this, and I choose.

Her legs are wrapped around my waist as she struggles to get closer now, ever closer to the source of her yearned-for fulfilment. Her arms are still above her head, held there by my hands clasped tight around her wrists. My lips, my harsh demon lips, reach for her soft and yielding mouth, moist against mine, and I press my claim to everything that she is, drinking down her very breath, gifting her with some from my own dead lungs in exchange. Breath and saliva, traded between the dead and the living.

I pull a little away, still not breaking my rhythm, and I see that she is crying, just a little. She isn’bbinbbing, there is simply a tiny trail of salt tears from the outer corners of her eyes, an expression of joy at our delivery from the gates of hell, that we are alive and able to affirm our love here, in this bed, today. At the sight of those silvery tracks, I feel the sting of salt in my own eyes, such a foreign feeling to the face I wear. I lick her tears away gently, savouring this different essence of Buffy, and then I press my cheekbone against her mouth, letting her taste my own chill waters. She suckles eagerly on the bony ridge, and when I close my eyes she delicately runs her tongue over first one and then the other, licking off every salty trace. Breath and saliva and tears.

Now, I feel her body start to stiffen, as her climax approaches. Mine, too, is close. Not like this, though, even though this is as near to Heaven as I am ever likely to get. This time, I want something else. I pull out of her, before it is too late. Her cry of disappointment almost makes me return to that haven of ultimate delight, but I roll a little away, and let her see what I do next. I take her hand and wrap it tightly around the base of my sex, holding it there with my own. With my other hand I swipe a claw swiftly over the head, these claws that are so like human finger nails but as strong as an eagle’s talon, drawing a thin trail of blood. Not too much, Angelus, you must be careful here. I do not want her in thrall to me, at least, no more than I am in thrall to her. A few drops of my blood, even, would be too much for a normal human, would leave them as my creature, without any will of their own, but for a mate and a Slayer? Ah, that is different. Still, I must be careful.

The slash of my claw, as pain flashes through me, almost brings me on the spot, but I clench her fingers tighter, and that swell of fulfilment recedes a little. Then I turn, kneeling over her so that I am presented to her just as she is presented to me, ready for the final exchange, if she is willing. I might pray a little at this point, pray that she will understand. She does.

As I feel her lips enfold me, taking my offering of blood and searching for the final fluid of exchange, I press my mouth to her other lips, to complete what I have started. With lips and tongue, I bring her back to the peak that I would not let her ascend a few moments ago, just as she does with me. And, as we both begin that fall from the precipice, I bite down into the tiny knot of nerves that rules her pleasure and suckle on her powerful Slayer blood and her honeyeicesices, each taste mingling and separating in my mouth, as she bucks against me, in the first throes of rapture. She, in her turn, suckles on my own dead seed and my dangerous, demonic ichor as she draws me inexorably into my own climax. As we drink each other’s blood and juices down, I impress into my mind and into my body my love and desire and absoluted fed for her, passions that pass to her in those few drops of blood, and in my own sterile semen, as they have in my breath and saliva and tears, and I know that she does the same, because suddenly the link, the mating bond between us, bursts into life and sings through us both, a glorious reverberating paean, an echo of the magic of the Universe itself.

Breath and saliva and tears, sexual fluids and blood, we have exchanged them all, and we have invoked the bond. This is a rite about the flesh, not the spirit.

The soaring song of our mating pushes our climax beyond any pleasure or pain that human or demon can sustain. It is as if there were only one body here, not two, as if we were conjoined beyond any possibility of separation ever again, in an explosion of animal gratification that is almost excruciating in its intensity. I can’t bear it, and I can’t bear to ever let it go, as it sweeps through every cell of my being, every muscle, every bone, every vein. The aubade in my blood, telling me each day of the rising sun, is swept away by this fantasia of splendour, and I would not move if dawn’s light were to burn me to ash on the spot. The thrilling rhapsody of our link tells me that she is just as transfixed by this glory of the flesh. The moment goes on and on, the pain of this pleasure burning through us with a white-hot flame, leaving something different in its wake. Then, when we can truly bear it no longer, everng fng fades as we sink into the welcoming oblivion of la petite mort.

When I return to myself, we are curled, head to tail, around each other. I take a moment to savour the reflection, the echo, of that utter nirvana, and then I turn, and curl up behind her, pulling the sheets over us both, waiting for her to come back to me. What we did was something rare and special for a vampire, an action so private that even a hedonistic one such as I, with my taste for exhibitionism, would never allow any other to witness such a joining with my mate. How will she feel, though? Will she be disgusted at my vampiric tastes? Will she realise that she cannot live with the things I shall ask her to do? I must know.

When she wakes, I am gripping the back of her neck in my fangs, gently so as not to break the skin. She stiffens a little, but is careful not to move, and I am sure that she is remembering other times when I have done this to her. It was right back at the start, when I thought she was my greatest enemy – and in a strange sort of way, I might have been right about that – when I took both pleasure and vengeance by raping her with the body of her erstwhile lover, and then when I almost killed her for loving him more than I thought she loved me. My arms are wrapped around her, my palms pressed against her, one enfolding a tender breast, the other her sex. placplaces her hands over mine, and presses down.

“I love you so much.”

I don’t need to breathe, but when she says that, I realise that I have been holding the breath that I don’t need. When I let it out it is shaky; like me. I let go of her nape and lick it gently. Now has to be the time.

“Are you sure that you want to go through with this? That you want to bind yourself to me in every way?”

There is no hesitation.

“Yes.”

“I will hurt you.”

“I know that demons like pain.”

“That, too.”

“Oh.”

“I caner ger give you children.”

My grip on her breast and her sex becomes firmer, although I hadn’t intended that.

“I know. I’ve thought about that. There’s always the sperm bank…”

“NO!”

Allow another man’s seed inside her? Never.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you and I.”

“It might matter in days to come. I will do things that you hate. I will ask you to do things that you hate.”

“No. You won’t.”

I exhale another shaky breath.

“You didn’te wte what I just made you do?”

“You didn’t make me. Will you want me to do that again?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That was… I… good…”

I have to smile a little. There are no human words for what we felt. There aren’t even any vampire words.

“Will you want to taste my wounds again, like that?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to. I liked it.”

My heart is full with love for this woman, full to overflowing. She hesitates, and I know she has more to say.

“I… I know you have stuff down in the cellars that you haven’t shown me. Will you want to… you know… hurt me with that?”

The thought of what I could do to her sends a line of fire through my groin. My fingers flex a little as my imagination savours the feel of bruised and torn flesh. But I want to say no; I want to be different than I am; or to hide what I am from her. Shame on you, Angelus.

“Yes.”

“Will you do it more than I can bear?”

“Yes… probably. No… No. Not more than you can bear.”

“I can bear a lot.”

“I’m afraid of that.”

“Will you want me to hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you trying to break off this engagement, because that’s actionable breach of promise, you know?”

I have to smile at the sharpness in her tone.

“Buffy, I am a demon. My appetites are such that you cannot begin to imagine them. If you are disgusted by them, you will start to hate me.”

There is an infinitesimal pause, and when she speaks, it is in a small, shy voice.

“I don’t think any of your appetites would disgust me. Except killing people, and stuff like that. But anything that might happen between you and me? Never. I… I think maybe Slayers are too like vampires for that to ever happen.”

Predator and prey, too much alike. Perhaps it’s so. I crush her to me, lost for the moment in the force of my feelings.

“Buffy, there’s something else.”

“You want to share me around the family?” That, too, is said in a very small voice that makes my still heart clench. I remember that Harris tried to frighten her off with that idea and, all over again, I want to kill him for it. She has remembered, and worried, and she has said nothing to me. My poor Slayer. At least I can lay her fears to rest here, and my response is instant and emphatic.

“NO! No one has you but me. No one would dare.”

“Aurelius?”

“He and I have an understanding. No, he won’t call for you. This other thing, it isn’t to do with that. Buffy, I’m a danger to you. I have stirred up two demigods and the third will be along soon, I’m sure. I don’t want you to get hurt, to die perhaps, because of me.”

She is silent and still. I’m about to speak again when she turns over. I’m still in demon face, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She takes that harsh, uncompromising face between her hands and pulls me down into a kiss, deliberately cutting her lips and tongue on my fangs. I’d like to change back to my human form, but the blood in my mouth stops me. So does a sense of honesty. She needs to be reminded what she is dealing with.

When she pulls back, she looks deep into me, weighing everything that these amber eyes can tell her.

“Will you love me, as I love you, with everything that you are?”

“More than life itself.”

“Will you trust me as I trust you, treat me as your equal, even when you hur, ev, even when we fight about things?”

“Probably not, but I will try, and when I fail, you will show me the error of my ways.”

She smiles at that.

“Like you trusted me about Lindsey?”

“That was...wrong of me. I’m sorry.”

My injured voice is gruff and harsh, but even I can hear the whine in it as I plead for clemency. She hits me on the chest, catching one of the wounds, and then hugs me better.

“Do *you* wto bto back out? Need the money back on the ring?”

I smile at her and take her hand, fingering that ring of diamonds and rubies and black onyx. In demon face even the softest smile looks more like a predatory smirk, but I’m sure she understands.

“Not if my life depended on it. And you?”

She hesitates for a second, but not in doubt. She is finding the right words.

“In peace and in war, I will love you and cleave to you. You are mine to protect, as I am yours.”

I don’t know where she got those words, but I know that she means them. I gather her to me, and we both throw our hurts to the winds and consummate our love once again. The rite that we used before is too intense, too dangerous to her, to use often, so we do it more traditionally this time. It’s still perfect.

***************


It is time for my contingent and I to leave for Angelus’ ceremonies. Japheth, as Keeper of my clan, has remained in Sunnydale since our escape from Los Angeles, assisting with preparations. This will be an important event.

The senior mes ofs of Clan Aurelius will be there, of course, together with our own families. This is a time of celebration for all. We will not be obvious by our presence because Angelus has learned that you can feed an almost infinite amount of vampires, in an everyday way, by simply owning the abattoir. All the tankfuls of blood that would otherwise be thrown away or, at best, sprayed onto the fields, can be put to a better use, and will be fresher than any obtained from curious butchers. This lessens our need for human blood, and makes possible both these gatherings longlong term residence in one place.

Other vampires will be there, too. He has invited the representatives of other powerful clans, and somans ans that show promise. None are as powerful as Clan Aurelius, and so all are flattered to be noticed in this way. They may not all be our friends, but they really don’t want to be our enemies.

There will also be demons. He has reviewed the tribes rac races, and has invited those who might be useful to him in the long term. or aor amongst them, Haraeth, King of Hylek, will be there, and several of the magic users from Adras. There are no kinr qur queens or chieftains in Adras, but the magic users are the most senior of the chieftains they don’t have. Some of the werewolves will, of course, be there since he is now their leader, almost their god. He has sought my advice in some of this, and I have been pleased to give it. As my beta, the alliances he forms affect the clan as much as they affect him.

He thought long and hard about the humans. Those in his own household or that of the Slayer must, of course, be there. But what of others? He has settled on the mayor and the state governor, both of whom know him now for what he is, and are his creatures; and senior members of the Wiccan community. He has also invited a few humans and demons that Angel met and cared about. That has surprised me, but shows extremely good sense. s ins intent on building an empire, and he has clearly learned to use occasions such as this to help him forge alliances both large and small.

How will I feel if this adopted childe of mine, my beta, becomes more powerful than I am? This has never been done before, so we are all making it up as we go along. I don’t think that will happen, although if it does I don’t expect I’ll mind. His kudos will rub off on me, although I do still have sufficient of my own. Besides, he is adding a great deal of interest in my life, a life that has lasted long enough to occasionally grow dull. You saw him give his oath not to challenge me for the nhundhundred years, and after that, well, we shall see. And I can still command him, should it ever come to that.

Ah, I almost forgot. He has invited Lilah, the new CEO of Wolfram and Hart, and she dare not refuse. There has been no new assault from the demigods, although we all know that they will come at him again, in time. That is the importance of the alliances he must forge. They will be with those clans and races and species that have not bowed down to the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart and whose members prefer earthly existence to apocalypse. There are many of them.

Now that the invitations have gone out, the news that a powerful vampire is to master the line of Slayers (please don’t put it to Buffy that way) has spread like wildfire across the world. The mystical significance of it cannot be overstated. At the very least, all are curious enough to want to actually *see*.

Only the couple’s closest friends and family, and most powerful members of the various clans and races will be able to be present in the mansion for the ceremonies, and even they will fill the place to bursting point. More will be accommodated in the hotel, and other of his properties, to join in the festivities, which will go on for many nights. Far fewer, one only from each clan or race, may be present at the ceremony that will see them recognised as eternal mates, but that, too will be more of a crowd than even this rare ritual usually gets. The ritual will be at its most formal, because of the standing of these two. They haven’t told you yet? Ah. I wonder how they both feel about it?

You must not misunderstand what is happening here. You will not meet vampires and demons around every corner or in every city. These come from around the world. We are few in number, and often at each other’s throats when we do meet. A gathering like this, in these numbers, with this variety, has never been held before. Our world is changing. Whether that is a good or bad thing, only time will tell.

It has to be said that, in a few days time, one medium-sized bomb dropped on Sunnydale would wipe out the senior members of half the demon tribes and vampire clans ie woe world. Whether you would consider that a good thing, again only time will tell.

Oh, yes. I should mention that surveillance devices were found, of what you might call types spiritual and types temporal, and many hybrids in between. They are gone now, and Lilah has been warned in the strongest terms to do no more. I think she understands the consequences if even one little bug is found. I suspect that she will take it on herself to make sure that no one else is planting surveillance equipment in Angelus’ patch, in caseis mis mistaken for hers.

That has to be a good result.

***************

In all but the tiniest universes, galaxies are like grains of sand on the beach, almost numberless. Almost. But, for those with enough time and enough patience, even the grains of sand may be counted. Grains and galaxies are not infinite in number. The loss of one diminishes the many. The loss of many may be a tragedy beyond counting.

Galaxies are beautiful things, made of stars and gas and dust. Most seem to take a spiral form, with arms trailing elegantly around a brilliant central core. It is believed that many of these galaxies twist around a mighty black hole, inexorably losing their substance into these points of no return. No one knows how these black holes came to be, if indeed they actually exist at all. No one knows how long they have been there, sucking at the life stuff of the solar systems around them. No one knows what happens to the matter and energy trapped within, although some believe that, when the universe eventually dies, these black holes will meet, and merge and form a point singularity that will recreate, in one Big Bang, what has previously been destroyed. If this is to be, then it is so far in the future that it need not concern us, yet we would be comforted by the knowledge that, like the phoenix, each universe can arise from its own ashes. If it is allowed to, that is.

From their home dimension, somewhere beyond the furthest reaches of this universe, yet only inches away, a myriad of tendrils have latched onto a myriad of galaxies. Unseen by humanity’s most sophisticated instruments, the parasite universe drains energy from our own, energy that will sustain it for ages yet to come. For this particular parasite, it has been aeons since the last feed, and it is still ravenous. It wishes to devour everything. Each tendril ss wis with one of those black holes, a ripe plum for the picking at the centre of so many galaxies. As that engine of destruction and creation, that duality, is sucked dry, there is no force left to command the motion of the attendant stars, and the mighty ronde that they have performed in the firmament ceases, a galactic solstice, if you will.

The tendrils pick delicately at the rest of the carcass, sucking at star stuff, life stuff and soul stuff, leaving nothing behind, not even dust. Then they move on to their next victim.

The Lady and her consorts understand the dire warnings that have been given by prophecy. They have seen what is happening in the deepest regions of space. They have seen the darkness that threatens to engulf all life, and spare none. They have made such preparation as they are able, and would give their very essences, if it would stop the annihilation. It would not, of course, and in any event, they have their own fate to fulfil. This much they know. How it may be accomplished is less clear, but will involve the Master Vampire and the Slayer, and the tormented Soul. This much is also known.

The three of them are still in their own private pleasure garden, their Eden, which, for a brief instant of time, they deigned to share with the vampire and his slayer as those two dreamed away the days of healing in the House of Aurelius. From here, they can still reach out and touch the lives of those who will stand against the darkness. They do, although no more than necessary.

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To Chapter 9