大象传媒

大象传媒 Cult - Printer Friendly Version
New Order - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer novella

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Chapter One

The overwhelming aroma of the two Parisian women made the demon's mouth salivate uncontrollably. Nykos of the Lothgar brought the sleeve of his dark brown overcoat up to his mouth and wiped thick drool from the coarse hair upon his chin.

He pulled his collar closer about his neck, adjusted the old fedora upon his misshapen head and continued to follow the scent. The women had been shopping and one had bought perfume. Nykos could smell the powerful odour of lilacs beneath the redolence of their sweet young flesh. It made his flared nostrils twitch in eager anticipation.

They were twins, and he wondered if there would be any discernable difference in the taste of the meat. His stomach gurgled. It was well over a week since he last fed and he was anxious to consume this latest prey. The monster followed them through the streets at dusk as the lamps began to gleam and the city of lights came to life. But even as lovers and business-suited men and tourists flowed along the boulevards, across the bridges that spanned the Seine, through food and flower markets and past shops and bakeries... even then, the alleys remained dark, travelled only by those who knew the intricacies of the city's shadows, or who dared not to fear them.

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The twins turned abruptly into one such alley but Nykos was too slow to reach its mouth and the alley too short. He followed as quickly as he could without being seen and picked up their trail on another boulevard beyond the alley. The girls stopped before a tiny café, perusing the menu in the window before they entered. The demon cursed beneath his breath and stepped back into the shadows thrown by one of the aged, stone-carved buildings of the Latin Quarter. If he wanted these two, he would have to wait.

What was it that his father had said? Patience is as much a predator's skill as strength and speed, tooth and claw.

The demon smiled. He had not thought of his sire in ages, since challenging him to a battle of dominance where he tore the flesh from the old demon's throat and ended his life.

His father had been a most excellent hunter and teacher.

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Hours quickly passed and at last Nykos was stirred from his thoughts by the scent of the women. The two had emerged from the café smelling of wine and poultry heavy with garlic. The alcohol coursing through their young veins would surely enhance the taste of their flesh, he mused. Nykos watched them wave goodbye to the waiter through the window of the café. They giggled as they proceeded up the street and leaned on one another for support, obviously feeling the effects of their dinner libations.

The demon detached himself from the shadows and followed. It always amused him how oblivious humans were to the dangers that existed around them in the darkness - but then again, it was to his advantage that they remained ignorant.

There was a sharp chill in the air but Nykos barely noticed. The thick fur that covered his muscular body afforded him ample protection against the elements. He couldn't wait to shed the coat and hat before taking down his prey, couldn't wait to see the look in their eyes as they gazed upon his monstrousness.

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The twins made their way toward the Sorbonne and Nykos realised they must be students - that would explain their arrogant confidence in their own safety. They knew the area, but only a little, and yet felt a sense of propriety only students ever felt. The minds of the Latin Quarter were not so brilliant as they had been in Peter Abelard's day. The girls turned down Rue Patrice Duvic, a narrow, winding cobblestone path that would lead, perhaps, to their flat, but was devoid of life.

Nykos growled with pleasure as he removed his hat. If they progressed any further they would be too close to the Sorbonne and more likely to encounter other students of the great Paris University. No, this narrow rue would be the end of their journey. journey. It amused him to think that once upon a time he might have feared to tread these streets, but the gargoyles that had been placed atop Parisian architecture to frighten demons away had long since lost their power.

The Lothgar demon shrugged off his heavy coat, allowing it to fall to the ground and began to gracefully bound toward the women. Their scent grew stronger in his nose and he quickened his pace. He would take them with ease, rip open their soft throats to immobilize them and feed upon their succulent meat. Then, sated, he would return to his den deep within the sewers of Paris to rest and digest, until hunger and the need to hunt roused him once again.

Two figures disconnected from the shadows in front of the twins and stopped them. Again Nykos cursed beneath his breath and pressed himself flat into the deepest darkness against the side of a building. His stomach rumbled with the expectation of food.

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The demon peered up the street at the humans now numbering four, the twins, a man and another woman. He listened. One of the twins was apologising for not having matches. The man responded in English, his voice thick with a British accent.Nykos snarled. Of all the places he had hunted, England had been the least to his liking. The food there was all so bland, he recalled.

He wrinkled his nose with distaste as he continued to watch the four chattering, blissfully unaware of how close they were to danger. The demon smiled again. If he attacked now, he would have more than enough meat to sate the hunger that gnawed at his gut and still have some to take back to his lair to snack on later.

Spurred to action by this thought, Nykos began to move stealthily up the cobblestoned street toward the small herd of prey. His heart raced as he quickened his pace and he felt his body begin to change. The claws at the end of each long finger began to extend, the hair on his back and arms stood on end and a thick digestive fluid pooled in the hollows of his mouth.

The demon was almost upon the four and could clearly see the details of their appearance. In the eyes of a human being, he imagined the twins would have been considered quite desirable, but to Nykos, the two were only food. It was the man and woman who intrigued him. There was an air about them, a scent that did not seem quite right. What was it that caused his primeval senses to suddenly sharpen?

The male ran a hand through his slicked back, white-blond hair and the demon's question was abruptly answered as he watched the man grip one of the twins at the shoulders. Both the man and his female changed suddenly, their faces growing monstrous, their teeth elongating.

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Vampires. And they were stealing his meal. The female vampire with her hair like black silk threw the other twin savagely to the ground.

"No!" Nykos roared as he leapt through the air to land in a crouch before the feeding vampires. "This meat belongs to me."

The white-haired vampire slowly removed his mouth from the ravaged throat of one of the women and glared at him, scarlet staining his mouth. "To you? Sorry, mate, but I think there's been a bit of misunderstanding. Or p'raps you've never heard that old saying? Finders, keepers. Losers get lost!"

Nykos tensed as the female vampire languidly removed herself from atop the other twin. She wiped blood from around her mouth with the sleeve of her black velvet dress and smiled. "Oh look at the teddy bear, Spike," she cooed, madness in her wild eyes. Then she frowned as if her feelings had been hurt. "Is the circus in town? You never take me to the circus."

The woman held out an alabaster pale hand as if she wanted Nykos to sniff it, like he was some frightened dog in the street.

"Don't think he's from the circus, Dru," Spike replied. "Looks like a Lothgar demon. What's more, he bloody smells like one. You don't forget a stench like that. How they manage to be catch any prey at all, rank as they are, I'll never know." The vampire ran his tongue over his bloody lips. "Seems the stink oughta screw up the stealth bit, yeah?"

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The demon was furious and insulted, but mostly he was perplexed. He had never known a vampire not to fear him. Lothgar ferocity was well known throughout the myriad demon races. They were not to be trifled with.

The one called Dru continued to move slowly toward him, hand still held out before her.

"Hello, my dancing bear," she said in a sing-song voice. "Oh, my, you're a precious one, aren't you? Not a teddy at all but a strapping grizzly." As she said these words she clawed at the air.

Nykos had had more than enough of the vampire scavengers' insolence. He tensed the thick muscles in his legs, bared his rows of sharp teeth and sprang.

Spike reared up to meet the attack, faster than Nykos would have expected. The ferocity of the vampire was startling as they collided in mid-leap and tumbled to the street, tangled with the beautiful, unconscious girls. The demon rolled and quickly leapt to his feet, ready to battle for his right of prey. They were not dead yet. They were his.

Spike held up a hand to stave off further attack. "Hang on there, Pigpen. Sorry we sniggered yer meal, but we did get here first. How about I buy yer a pint and we'll call it even?"

The female moved up beside her mate and clung to him, but her mad eyes stayed on Nykos. There was something both infuriating and seductive about her ethereal madness.

"Oh, yes, pet. What a wonderful idea. We'll be great friends, shall we?" She clapped her hands together happily. "Just think of all the clever tricks we could teach him."

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Infuriated, the Lothgar lunged again, his claws raking through the air in search of flesh to rend and tear - but they fell upon nothing. Nykos staggered and snorted fetid breath into the alley. How could they move so swiftly?

Nykos whirled to face them. They simply stood there, seemingly oblivious to his ferocity. Spike had produced a cigarette as if by sleight of hand and it dangled from his lips. Even as Nykos fumed and advanced once more, a lighter appeared in the vampire's hand and he set the tip of his smoke ablaze. When he spoke again, the words were mumbled around the butt of the cigarette.

"Yeah, he's a tricky one all right. But if he knows what's good for 'im, he'll take his furry little ass out of here and find another pair of French tarts to nibble on."

In all his five hundred years, Nykos of the Lothgar had never encountered anything quite like these two. Yes, he'd had battles over prey before but never had he encountered adversaries filled with such - indifference.

Spike stared, his eyes intense. "There's a good boy," he smiled showing off his pointed incisors. "It's nice to know that not all the rot I hear about Lothgars is true."

The vampires then did the intolerable. They turned their backs on him and began to leave.

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Nykos was torn as he watched the two stroll arm in arm up the street, deeper into the Latin Quarter. His stomach was still empty and they were leaving behind the meat that he could very easily put to use - the twins still breathed and the scent of their delicate flesh and rich blood tantalized him - but could he allow these vampires to walk off unscathed? Even worse, what would the others in his clan think if they learned that he had taken the scraps of a hunt from lowly blood drinkers?

On all fours, the Lothgar demon bounded toward the vampires, a roar of rage exploding from his mouth. They would learn not to turn their backs on him, to toss him scraps as if he were a lowly mongrel. The vampires would feel his rage as he tore them asunder. Their ashes would rain upon his naked body as they exploded to dust in death.

Nykos leapt, the most fearful predator of all.

It happened so fast. He was expecting Spike to act but it was the female, Dru, who met his attack. She turned quickly, eyes a vivid yellow. She lashed out at him as he landed in a crouch mere inches from them. Nykos tried to laugh at her pathetic attempt to fight - but the laughter would not come. In fact, he was finding it rather difficult to breathe.

He stepped back, brought a hand to his throat. It had been slashed open and his life stuff was spilling from the gaping wound to stain the fur that covered his chest.

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"Not a teddy at all," said Dru as she licked her fingers with a long, pointed tongue. "Not a bear but a stinky ape. A naughty little monkey. Bad monkey!"

Spike flicked ash off the end of his cigarette, his face shifting back to its smooth, human aspect. "Not to worry, love. We'll get you something cuddly to play with."

The stunned Nykos tried to retreat but stumbled over the cooling carcasses of the twins and fell to the ground. As his blood pooled on the cobblestones, he tried to rise, tried to return to his den in the sewers beneath the city of lights, but he was too weak. He lay on the ground, the scent of death and cigarettes all around him. The world began to darken and he could hear the vampires talking.

"That was a very bad monkey, wasn't it, Spike?"

"Yes it was, pet," Spike responded. "Very bad."

Their voices grew softer, more distant.

"Spike, what do you think bad monkeys eat?" Dru asked intently.

The vampire was silent for what seemed a very long time, as if he had to put much thought into the question before he answered. When his response came, it was as though he had been struck with an epiphany.

"Why, rotten bananas of course."

Then the darkness gathered about Nykos and he heard the voices no more.

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Paris was a gigantic carnival of the macabre in Drusilla's eyes. The beautiful, stone bridge that arched over the river Seine appeared to her to be made entirely out of disembodied human heads, each of their mouths open in a mournful wail of sorrow.

Drusilla brought a hand to her ear and cupped it, listening to the plaintive cries that drifted across the river of blood.

"Mmm, Spike," she said turning to gaze at her lover, "the chorus is brilliant. What a wonderfully wretched harmony. I wish I had a record of it to play for my dollies. Can we get one, do you think?"

Spike lit up a fresh cigarette and looked out at the bridge and the few boats that slowly passed beneath it. "A little jaunt to gay Paree is just what the doctor ordered for us, love. Help us restore our priorities, it will."

She moved closer and snuggled her head against his neck. "You're not still cross for what I did with Angel, are you?"

"How could I stay mad at you?" he asked as he pulled her closer.

He looked at her then and she saw something in his eyes that she had never noticed before. Hurt. There was hurt in his gaze and it danced about and waved its spidery arms and gnashed its horrible teeth before fleeing to hide somewhere in the dark recesses of his skull.

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The hurt was gone from his eyes, but Drusilla knew it was still there. She couldn't bear that and would do anything to make Spike trust her, to make him belong to her completely again.

The screaming bridge was suddenly eerily quiet, then began a new, more mournful dirge. Drusilla pulled away from Spike and listened.

"Do you hear it, Spike?" she asked as she began to spin in a delicate pirouette. "They're singing our song, the heads are."

She watched him as she danced. Spike did not seem as enthralled by the song as she, but Drusilla suspected there were often times her man did not quite see things the way she did. She was just about to call to him, to promise on the stars above that had grown plump with blood, that she would be forever his when a voice called her name.

"Drusilla," said a sibilant whisper in her ear.

She stopped her dance and turned to peer into the shadows of an alcove away from the river.

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"Come to me," it cajoled. "Come to me and a world of blood and pain will be yours for the taking."

Drusilla smiled hungrily. "Oh, I would certainly fancy that," she said as she moved away from Spike and the river's edge toward the alcove, which revealed itself upon closer inspection to be a narrow gap between two buildings. She felt her features begin to transform, her teeth growing sharp with expectation.

Dru heard her lover call to her but she did not stop. A world of blood and pain was something special, the perfect gift to prove to Spike that she loved him most of all. She would share this special world with him and they would be happy in it together forever and ever.

The gap between the buildings was utterly dark.

"Come," said the voice from the perfect shadows.

"With pleasure," Drusilla replied as she entered the darkness - and the darkness entered her.

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Spike sucked the last bit from his cigarette and flicked the remains toward the Seine.

"Drusilla," he called again as he watched her wander off in the direction of two old buildings - more specifically, a swath of deep darkness between the two. Then he muttered under his breath. "Oh, what the bloody hell has gotten into her head now?" A list of possible distractions went through his mind, ranging from a stray cat to starlight reflecting off the foil of a gum wrapper.

"What is it, Dru?" Spike asked as he started to follow her. "What's caught your fancy?"

He heard her speaking softly, but knew it was not to him. Again he peered into the darkness that seemed to be her destination. All he could see was inky black. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Spike was startled by the frisson of fear that raced through him and he paused uncertainly. Drusilla was about to reach the patch of shadows.

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"Dru, stop!" Spike warned.

His lover ignored him and he began to run to catch up with her. But he was too late. She was lost within the shifting darkness, the shadows that now seemed to coil in that gap between buildings.

To all his senses she was gone. He could no longer see, hear or smell her presence in the cool Parisian air. Spike began to panic, his features taking on a more ferocious countenance. Something had happened to the creature he held most dear in his undead life; it didn't matter that most of the time she was completely insane or that her faithfulness to him was often in question, he belonged to Drusilla alone. She had made him what he was and there was nothing short of a final death that could ever sunder their bond.

Spike lunged at the undulating shadows - as Drusilla staggered out and into his arms. He wouldn't have imagined that he was still capable of experiencing the kind of overwhelming emotion that he felt as he gazed upon the China doll features of his lady love once more.

He gripped her shoulders and squeezed her, stared into her eyes. "There you are, pet. Gave the Big Bad a bit of a start with your disappearing act."

Drusilla was uncharacteristically silent, and that was when he noticed the strange black mark on her forehead.

"Got a bit of a smudge here." He moved to lovingly wipe the stain of dirt from her cool pale skin.

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Drusilla struck him, the force of the blow hurling him backward to the street. He recovered quickly and sprang to his feet, staring at her in bewilderment. They liked it rough, the both of them. But the way she'd hit him... this wasn't a game.

"That wasn't nice now, was it?" he growled.

Then he noticed the look in her eyes and the way she held her body, so stiff and unyielding. Spike frowned. There was an intelligence glittering in her gaze that had none of her lunacy. Whoever looked back at him with those eyes, it was not Drusilla.

"You've got about three seconds to give her back to me," he snarled.

The symbol in the centre of his lover's forehead seemed to glow as a murderous grin, not her own, broke across her face. She began to speak in a jagged-worded, guttural language that he recognized as one of the ancient tongues, but he had no understanding of it.

"Why not try that again in the King's English," he said, stalking closer. Drusilla's face twisted in disgust before she spoke again. This time, the alien voice responded in a language he understood.

"Is this what you prefer, vampire?" it asked. "The language of animals?" Spike glared. "It's not opera, but it beats that gargling with razor blades you call a voice. What do you want?"

"So full of fire and bluster," said the monstrous voice with genuine amusement, even fondness. "You shall serve Laibach well."