tarnished -- part two -- trekker |
Chapter Three | |
Into the Breach |
His sister had said that she and the children were safely tucked away in a hotel room. Robson and Nora had stayed behind just long enough to get the rest of their things together and close up the house. But by the time he reached London and called them again, Robson and Nora were still gone.
The slightly ajar front door was more damning evidence than a pool of blood, and Giles felt, for a moment, just tired. He felt as though he had a quota of bloody bodies and that he'd reached it already that morning. But there was nothing to do but climb the steps and push the door open and call, "Robson?"
He found them in Robson's office. First Nora, clearly dead, and then Robson. He knelt, his mind racing with denial, with shock, with the horrible questions of what would he tell Maureen, of how Bri and Morgan were going to grow up without their father.
"God, not you too," he whispered. So many dead. So many, so quickly.
Then Robson gasped and grabbed his arm, and said, "It's started. Gather them."
"I know. I under--" and then, mid-word, he heard a small sound, and something--instinct, panic, paranoia--made him turn, and suddenly the hilt of an ax hit his hand with bruising force, and he grabbed it, yanked it from his unsuspecting foe's hands and swung it, and his mind finally caught up to his body's conditioned reaction about the time the Bringer's head hit the floor instead of his own.
More blood.
He was shaking all over as he sank to his knees beside his brother-in-law again. Robson's eyes were open and staring, and Giles' heart sank. He passed his hand gently over Robson's eyes, shutting them, and then sat back on his heels.
He should go. There would be more of them, no doubt, and they'd be happy to add another Watcher to their list. This numbness he was feeling would only get him killed. But it was hard to shake, as the implications began to sink in. This was happening. What they'd feared for so long, an attack on the Watchers and the Slayer line. What was worse was it was already in motion, and they'd never seen it coming. The First had caught them all off-guard, and it would take Giles days if not weeks to convince the Council of the true nature of the threat and get them to do what was necessary. He'd have to start working alone, but even that would take far too long.
It was paralyzing. There were hundreds of Potential Slayers around the world, and that was when one only counted those who had been recognized and had been assigned Watchers. There were no doubt many, many more who were hidden, and he had no way of knowing whether the First would be more adept at finding them than he was.
He shut his eyes and bowed his head, taking a moment of silence, then he squeezed Robson's shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry, old chap. I'll keep an eye on them for you."
He stood, stiffly, feeling every ache in his bones, feeling old. Even the old, healed breaks in his fingers seemed to throb as he picked up Robson's desk phone and called for an ambulance, then he slipped out before they could arrive, leaving them to make their own assumptions about the dead Bringer. It wasn't ideal, but it was all he could do on short notice.
He had a feeling he would be settling for things not ideal for quite a long time to come.
***
"You know," Ethan said, "Seeing as you're trying to avoid a force of darkness who wants to kill you, you may want to look into setting up some wards to prevent a simple locator spell from finding you."
He leaned against the doorframe of Giles' hotel room in London and prepared to smile in the face of Giles' glower.
But the glare never came. Giles just looked tired.
"Come in," he said.
Ethan followed him in and found maps and books spread out over one of the beds, with places marked in red.
"What's all this?"
Giles didn't answer, but he turned to him, and said, "I need your help. If you're willing to give it."
Things must have been as bad as they seemed, then, if Giles was asking him for help.
"Tell me what's going on, first," Ethan said. That was why he was there, after all. He had a bad feeling about this one.
Giles sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled his glasses off and rubbed his forehead, then looked up. Ethan noticed for the first time how red his eyes were.
"From what I know, I can conjecture that the First is trying to rise. And to facilitate that, it's trying to destroy the entire Slayer line, as well as the Watcher's Council. And it has, unfortunately, already begun making impressive strides towards accomplishing that."
"Ah. And why, exactly, should I help you save the Watcher's Council?'
"This isn't about the Watcher's Council, Ethan. This is about the world. We protect the world. The Slayer protects the world. Without us, without her, the world is all but defenseless. Evil can come in and... god know what it will do."
Ethan sat down on the other bed, visions of apocalypses dancing in his head. "Hell on earth, then?"
Giles nodded. "And torture and death for every human left alive after the war."
"Not really a pleasant thought," Ethan said, "I can see why I may want to prevent that."
"You're seeing reason? I'll have to mark this occasion in my day planner."
"Nice to see your sense of sarcasm is still firmly in place."
Although, actually, Giles was not up to his usual razor-edged-wit standards.
"What happened today?" Ethan asked.
"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Giles said, standing, and slipping his glasses back on. "So, will you help me, or not?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Find a girl, and bring her back to me, alive."
"Sounds easy enough."
"Yes, well, the eyeless men with knives may present a slight complication."
Ethan raised his brow.
tarnished -- part two -- trekker |