110 Days to Apocalypse
Cultist killer still at large
The article went on to describe the condition of Mary Collins’ body as it had been found chopped into small pieces and used to decorate her car. The only clue to the killer was a single mutated arm left at the scene and covered in her blood. According to the police, this was evidence of the activity of a cult they had been monitoring for some time. They believed this cult to be involved in the murder of two college students in a cemetery, the deaths thirty-some UC Sunnydale students at the Lowell House, and the disappearance of Father Paul. The police also recommended that all citizens not go out at night and keep a tight watch for suspect activities. Suspect activities included people who did not come out during the day, strange tattoos, and other ‘suspicious’ activities. The article went on to say that the police had been assured by other government authorities that they were prepared to take measures to protect the town from other incidents.
Somehow that did not reassure anyone in the mansion on Crawford Street at all. In fact, if they read the signs right, it was not good in the smallest way, and they had 110 days to do something about it.
“Okay, your turn to pick a name,” Judgment told Lover I.
“Why is it my turn?” Lover I complained, straightening his cards.
“Because I picked the last one,” Judgment flipped her hair over her shoulder.
Lover I sulked for a second, and finally pulled a piece of paper out of the coffee can. He unfolded it and read, “Joyce.”
They each pulled a card and set it on the table. The cards didn’t match. They tried again; still no match. The two started to slap the top card off their piles, much like a fast-paced version of war. Finally, around the twelfth card, they had a match. Judgment and Lover I stopped and looked expectantly at Tower.
“I see it. Joyce is Star,” Tower marked it on his clipboard. “Could you two hurry this up? We have other stuff we need to do, and I don’t see why this is taking so long. You two are seers.”
“This is bloody well your fault. It would be a lot shorter if we didn’t have to use the full Tarot card deck.” Lover I pointed out.
“Do I need to tell you how much I dislike you right now for this, Xander? Flipping cards to get code names for the last two hours wasn’t my idea of a really ‘fun’ time.”
“We could have gone the other way. I’m still partial to ‘Death Claw.’” Xander held up his hands in submission as Cordelia and Spike pelted him with their cards. “What?”
Three hours later, the newly named High Priestess announced, “I’ve bounced the signal off enough satellites that we should be okay. Who’s first?”
The Hanged Man picked up the phone, “I have it.”
*Ring*
“Hello?”
“Kate, this is Angel.”
She sighed, picking up her mail off her coffee table, “I heard you left town.”
“I did.”
“The ‘detective agency’ went under? Was it because you never got a license or did some other creature of the night run you out of town?” Kate had been like this to him ever since her father had been killed, though today there seemed to be an extra edge on her voice.
“Did you know Mary Collins?”
Kate froze in the middle of sorting her mail. “Yes, Mary was a friend.” She willed herself not to cry and let her voice harden, “And one of you killed her.” Kate had found out within the hour after Mary’s body had been found. Bad news travels fast, especially since Mary had just transferred back into Kate’s department. “I saw the coroner’s report,” she accused. “I saw what they did to her.”
“That was a fast report. So fast that they conveniently forgot to mention she was shot three times,” Angel stated.
The report Kate had gotten last night said nothing about gunshot wounds. “How do you know?”
“We have a witness,” Angel explained.
“One, undoubtedly, that can’t testify in court.”
“This one can,” Angel assured her. “But he’ll need protection and not just from the murderers.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come to Sunnydale and find out.”
Closing her eyes, Kate considered it for a second. If what Angel said was true, than someone in the Sunnydale Police Department was covering up the murder of a fellow officer, and nothing, not even vampires, made Kate Lockley’s blood boil like crooked cops. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too long. We don’t have the time here. If you do decide to come-” Angel gave her a location and a time to meet him at in three days.
“Please come.”
“I said I would think about it.” Kate looked down at her mail. Bills, bills, and . . .
She set the phone back in its cradle and stared at that envelope, postmarked in Sunnydale, California. With trembling fingers, Kate opened Mary Collins’s Sunnydale research and began to read.
“David Nabbit, please,” Judgment requested.
There was the sound of the line being connected elsewhere. “H-hello?”
“Hello, this is Cordelia Chase from Angel Investigations,” she said in her perkiest voice.
“Hello, C-Cordelia,” David brightened considerably. He loved hearing from them and their ‘life on the edge.’ “Why are you calling here? Did you do some monster fighting or something really exciting?”
“Actually, we wanted to know if you were interested in doing something exciting . . .”
The Hierophant dialed a number, “Hello. This is Ripper.”
“Really?” Ethan Rayne was intrigued. Ripper never called him, for any reason, which was understandable. On the other hand, he hadn’t done anything to Ripper, lately. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Disorder and chaos problems,” Giles told him. “I need your help.”
“You want my help? I seem to remember you threatening me with physical harm the last time I was in Sunnydale. Added to the fact that I don’t believe in stopping disorder or chaos.”
“Let me rephrase that. I’m inviting you to Sunnydale in order to create some chaos.”
“If you put it that way . . . when do you want me?”
“Brody Meat Lockers, Brody speaking.”
“Hello, I’m looking for a friend, the mistress of the house,” Angel requested.
“No one here like that,” The man answered shortly.
“This is Angel, and I need to speak to her. Now,” Angel growled.
The phone changed hands. “What is it you want?” an accented female voice asked.
“I need your help saving the world.”
“We have already discussed this. The answer remains 'no.' I cannot risk my people for your world,” Jheira replied.
“What if I cold promise you protection?” Angel went for the jugular on this one (or what ever an extra-dimensional demon had), “What if I could guarantee that the new ones would be able to control themselves completely within in a day of coming to Sunnydale?”
“Hey, Jonathan,” Lover II said cheerfully, “Want to help me save the world again?”
“Wolfram and Hart, how may I direct your call?” The receptionist answered.
“I’d like to speak to Lindsay McDonald or Lilah Morgan,” The Hanged Man handed the phone to Lover I.
“Hello, Lilah Morgan,” a new voice said.
“Hello, luv. I understand you blokes are a bit interested in Sunnydale now.”
“Excuse me, you must have the wrong number,” Lilah looked down to see where this call was coming from. Her board didn’t read a number or a place yet.
“I don’t think so,” Spike told her. “You see, I also thought you might have be wondering why one of your Las Vegas members was assaulted and marked with the words ‘El Boca de Inferno.’” Spike continued conversationally, “It might have also been bothering you that the last two representatives you sent to Sunnydale have not returned or communicated in any way with the firm today.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I see I got myself your attention. Would the firm be willing to discuss these matters in detail?”
“The Firm would be very interested. How could we arrange this?”
Spike glanced over his two newest web members, formerly employed by Wolfram and Heart. They had been rescued by Buffy and Pike that very morning from a pack of zombies by the border. “I would like to meet with you and Mr. McDonald. I’ll name the time and place, and believe me, you don’t want to try any tricks.”
“I want talk to Gunn,” Angel announced.
“Yo! Who’s this?” Gunn took the pay phone from one of his friends.
“Angel.”
Ignoring the fact that he had no clue how Angel had known where the gang had moved to, Gunn greeted him, “Hey, long time no hear. How’s the tan coming? I heard you left LA.”
“I need a favor.”
“Wait. I didn’t know we were trading favors. I ain’t no vamp lover.”
“You’ll like this one. It’s incredibly dangerous.”
“I’m listening.”
“Okay,” Tower handed out papers to High Priestess, Justice, and the Queen of Swords. “Here you go.”
“I have to call all these people?” The Queen asked, fluffing her blonde hair.
“They’re the surviving members of the Sunnydale High Class of 1999. Practically guaranteed to help us.” The Tower pointed out.
“I didn’t graduate,” Justice reminded him. “I did the smart thing and got out of town.”
“Believe me, the fact did not escape me, but you do know these people,” Xander told his girlfriend.
“I may break a nail,” The Queen complained.
“Harmony, you’re a vampire. It’ll grow back in an hour,” Willow said, frustrated.
“Really?”
“To the phones,” Xander reminded them.
Lover II lay her head on Lover I’s shoulder, “How long do we have to wait?”
“Three days.” He kissed her hair gently.
“So we’ll wait.”
“I hate waiting.”
“I know,” Buffy giggled.
“Hey, it’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Speaking of . . . I’m done patrolling for now, our bedroom’s empty, dinner’s not for a few hours, and we have three days.”
Spike gave her one more soft kiss, picked her up off the couch, carried her up the stairs to their room, and closed the door.
Judgment took a deep breath and shrugged to Willow who had also been in the living room, “At least he’s shielding, this time.”
Willow blushed, “This time.”