by Rob Sorenson

*************London's East End...March1975***********

Inge Steiner, for the moment, didn't have the enhanced skills of the Slayer. Once she walked in the door, however, something deep within her began to itch with unease. The home itself, while reasonably well appointed, gave the appearance that it hadn't been used for some time; dust had gathered on the Victorian style furniture. It seemed highly unlikely that the Council would ever tolerate such an untidy condition.

Her nervousness only deepened when the light switches yielded nothing. The darkness within the house was only alleviated by the smallest shafts of light peeking through boarded up windows, further enhancing Her discomfort. Feeling the sudden need to exit, and exit NOW, she turned back toward the front door. Just as she began to reach for the knob, she was frozen in place by a disembodied voice, filled with glee.

"Darling, you can't leave so soon. You just got here."

Vampire. No special senses required here. "Daylight. Get into the daylight", she said to herself, forcing herself to remain calm and simply exit the building. Whatever was going on, she was going to get herself out of harm's way. First rule of Slaying: don't die.

She turned the knob and pushed the door.

It wouldn't open. She pushed again. Nothing.

"I apologize for the door. We really must get that repaired. Apparently, when lovely young ladies enter this place, it seems to seal itself. Ah, well. This only gives us a chance to make conversation."

The unearthly chuckle that followed froze Inge's blood. She again tried the door, now slamming her body into it. Again, there was no give. She took a closer look and realized that the latch had been padlocked. There was nowhere to go.

Quickly, she tried to compose herself and come up with options. Bluffing seemed like a good one at the moment. Perhaps she could buy herself some time...she drew herself up to her full six feet and faced the room, speaking with a confidence that she didn't feel.

"Do you know who I am?"

"I know who you used to be."

Terror gripped her. <He knows. How could he possibly... > Suddenly it came to her with sickening clarity. The Watcher's Council had planned this. Breathing heavily now, she desperately sought to calm herself. She may not have her strength, but by God, she was still the Slayer. She could handle this. Like all good Slayers she went nowhere without a stake. Slipping the sharpened piece of wood out of her back pocket, she moved quickly to her right, putting her back to the wall so that she could see all possible avenues of attack.

"There is nowhere to run, sweet Inge. I've killed a Slayer before, but she was a simple peasant girl. The Ukraine is a miserable place, but to drink the wine of any Slayer at the great gates of Kiev is an experience that one cannot forget. You, on the other hand? You are a Goddess. A Valkyrie beyond compare. This is truly an honor."

She looked around her, looking for any possible advantage. Slowly she slid toward the cracks of imcoming light in the sealed windows. As she moved, the strains of Wagner's "Ride Of The Valkyries" began emanating softly from a record player somewhere in the house. Despite be such drama queens.

"Are we going to listen to music all night, or fight? I've never really liked Wagner."

"Lovely Inge, I'm disappointed in you. You have no appreciation for the moment. Considering that this is your last, I recommend you develop one quickly."

"It must be your choice of composers. Have you any ABBA?"

The vampire chuckled. "So brave, my darling. No, I'm afraid I have no Swedish pop music at the moment. Wagner will have to suffice."

Inge said nothing, hoping that he didn't notice her testing the strength of the board behind her. She'd found a softer spot. Now shewould wait for her chance. The vampire went on with his speech.

"From what I have heard, your Watcher desires a different sort of ride from you."

She froze in place at that. The vampire inhaled audibly through his nose. "Ah. In fact, you were considering giving him a lovely ride just a minute ago, yes? Only blood smells sweeter than your essence, my dear."

Her hand clenched hard around her stake, eyes transformed into slits. She spoke two simple words.

"Face me."

The vampire moaned, as if he were experiencing deep carnal pleasure.

"Mmmmmm. That's it. That's what I needed from you. Motivation...anger...passion. Thank you."

Like lightning the vampire sprang from the shadows toward her. Moving one step forward, she delivered a spinning heel kick directly into the slightly rotted wood. She felt the jolt all the way up to her hip, partially successful in making a larger hole. Her adversary slammed into her, knocking her to the ground. She landed directly on the hip she had just jarred with her kick into the boards, leaving her in agony.

The vampire had stepped directly into the shaft of sunlight. Screaming and smoking he jerked himself away. She had only seconds toforce herself off the floor and run into the kitchen she had seen from her vantage point at the window. Her eyes had become accustomed to the dark. It was her turn to be the unseen attacker.

Unfortunately there was no place to hide. She scanned the room desperately, to no avail. She lunged toward the counter and grabbed the first thing that resembled a weapon as her enraged stalker shot through the doorway and toward her. She threw the potato peeler as hard as she could. Through sheer luck she'd buried it in his eye. Again the demon screamed in pain, staggering back toward the refrigerator. She lurched toward him, blocking out the raging pain in her hip, and brought her stake toward his chest. He blocked her advance. For one moment their gazes held, his now even more grotesque considering his ruptured eyeball. He launched her into the air.

She landed hard on the kitchen table, banging her temple on the corner as she did so. Her hip screamed anew, and blood was pouring from her now ruptured forehead. She rolled helplessly off, suffering yet another impact on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Her eyes swam as unconsciousness threatened to come over her. Her assailant had yanked the kitchen appliance from his eye, leaving a jagged hole from which blood and moist tissue was still escaping. He approached more warily now. Once he saw Inge lying in a boneless heap, he knew his moment had come. He would drink his second Slayer. No other vampire that he knew of had ever achieved that up to this point.

Like an animal, he let out a demonic snarl and pounced toward his prize. He hadn't expected Inge to be concealing her stake beneath her. With a war cry of her own, she extended it as far from her body as she could. Seconds later, she was covered in ash. Her hand dropped to the floor in total exhaustion. The music was still playing in the

background.

"I hope you enjoyed your last ride, you son of a bitch."

Her arms, mercifully, were merely bruised. She dusted herself off and put her hand on the table, pulling herself upright. She was being careful to avoid putting any weight on her injured hip. Blood was still flowing freely from her wounded forehead; she needed to stem that before she passed out. Hopping awkwardly toward the sink, she located a towel and held it to herself. Stitching was most likely required, but it would do until she reached the hospital. Once that was taken care of, her next stop was Council Headquarters. Quentin Travers was going to have a few things to explain.

It struck her that Hans and Rupert could be in danger as well. She spied the telephone mounted against the wall. Carefully making her way over, she was not surprised to find the line dead, but she'd known she had to make the effort. Now if she could just find a way out of the house, she could get herself some attention and find answers. Gingerly she put a bit of weight on her injured hip, and found the pain, while intense, was bearable as long as she limped.

Finding a hammer in one of the kitchen drawers, she grimly set upon the task of making her way to the front door and pounding her way out.

She never reached her destination. Five vampires appeared before her in the living room as she lurched through the kitchen door. Before she had time to react, they descended upon her as one. She fought back with all she had, and amazingly had some success. In the end, though, the numbers were too great, and sheer will was not enough.

As she was drained, her last living thoughts were of the man she loved.

*****Council Headquarters---London--Mar 1975*****

Quentin Travers and Hans Katzenbach were seated in his spacious office. Young Giles had been banished to the library to do research on developing demonic activity in the United States. He'd been slightly miffed, yet determined to get back into Travers's good graces. There was work to be done. He'd decided to do all he could to regain the Council's favor.

It had been four hours since the test had begun, and Katzenbach was in state of panic. Of course, his face hadn't changed expression, but panic raged within him nonetheless. Where was Inge? Why had they heard nothing? He was certain that he'd put away a bottle of brandy by himself, yet felt no sense of calm.

At the precise moment that he was going to bolt out of that office and race to the test site, the telephone rang. The two men exchanged glances, letting it ring a second time. Katzenbach was reaching for the damned thing himself when Travers picked up the receiver.

"Travers. Yes......I understand. All is prepared then? Fine." He gave Katzenbach a look before concluding the conversation. "Send in my sons, please. Thank you."

Travers hung up the phone. Without preamble, he looked at Hans and said four words that would haunt him for the rest of his days. "Your Slayer has failed."

Time stopped. Hans later wondered what his first words were after hearing the news, but he remembered little. There was a vague notion of Travers's twin "sons," Peter and Paul, entering the room. That he seemed to recall. For the first minute or so, however, whatever Travers had to say was nothing more than white noise. His first clear memory was his supervisor's smile. This astonished him so much he snapped out of his fog.

"I'm--I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, Hans, you don't look well. Was it too much brandy, perhaps?"

Katzenbach simply stared. No words came to him. Travers nodded as if the German had answered in the negative.

"Ah. Well then, I can only conclude that you had an emotional attachment to your Slayer. Otherwise you would have already left my office and begun preparing a final draft of your Chronicles."

Now Hans's head tilted slightly, lips parted a bit. As if he wasn't properly understanding what his leader was telling him. Undaunted, Travers continued.

"Did you think we wouldn't find out? We have sources and eyes everywhere, Hans. You and your charge have shared inappropriate feelings for some time now. Clearly her poor performance today is a reflection of that. I hope your Chronicles will pass on this knowledge to a Watcher who won't allow his emotions to cloud his judgment. Your concern for your Slayer's welfare cost us a warrior with great potential. Do not despair, though. A new Slayer is being called as we speak. With luck she and her Watcher shall learn from your errors."

Katzenbach was out of his chair with outstretched hands before he had any conscious knowledge of it. Quickly his advance was blocked by Peter and Paul Travers. Each had an iron grip on one of his arms. Still Katzenbach thrashed wildly, desperately seeking the Chairman's throat.

Quentin Travers calmly opened his desk drawer and removed a silenced Walther. He turned it toward the German, causing the younger Watcher to freeze in place. Travers's voice was even colder than usual when he spoke.

"If you attempt to move against me again I will have no choice but to kill you. My sons could do it rather easily, of course, but I would make an exception in your case and do it myself. I never liked you German bastards very much to begin with. If you promise to behave yourself, however, I have something to show you. I'm certain that you will

find it quite important."

Katzenbach took a deep breath, totally at sea. He blinked several times and sagged, forcing the pair of Travers boys to hold him up. The Chairman shook his head in disgust.

"You are living proof of the necessity of the Cruciamentum. How many lives have we saved today because of your emotional attachment to this Slayer? One will never know."

In hindsight, Katzenbach often considered the possibility that the man had actually convinced himself he was doing the right thing. Probably so, he'd reasoned. The tyrant always believes he is doing what is in the best interest for all. The arrogance of power was personified in Quentin Travers.

Slowly, with the two young men still at each side, Hans moved behind Travers into a large room within the Council's headquarters that he'd never seen. In one corner there was a section that was enclosed in large steel bars. This cell contained a lone figure.

He stopped short when the figure turned around.

Inge. His Inge stood tall and proud within the cell, a huge smile on her face at the sight of her Watcher.

"Hans!! Thank God you're here!"

He fell to his knees. This time the Travers family backed away, allowing him this moment.

Tears were streaming down the normally controlled German's face.

"Darling...Mein Schatz....I thought you had left me. I'm so sorry. My duty..it was my duty. They said they would make me leave you. I could never leave you. Please forgive me. I love you so much..."

Inge's smile never wavered through his emotional outpouring. She squatted down to meet his eyes.

"Shhhh. Hans, my love, it's all right. I feel wonderful. I've never felt this good in my life."

In his immense relief, he'd completely neglected to register where she was. His eyes became slightly confused.

"But...why are you in.."

Inge went on as if he hadn't spoken.

"The only way I could possibly feel any better is if you finally fucked me. Can you do that, Hans? Can you finally get off your high horse and fuck me?"

He'd known. On some level, the moment he saw the reinforced bars, he'd known. He simply had no desire to believe what was plain to see. His voice came out in a strangled whisper:

"No. Oh, God, no. Inge...." Relentlessly, she continued.

"I mean, we aren't duty bound to avoid each other any more. Why fight it? You want me..."-she began to touch herself-"I want you......what do you say? Do you want this?"

Hans was struck dumb by what he was seeing. He had no words.

"Of course, if you don't want this...."

The woman formerly known as Inge Steiner, Vampire Slayer, displayed her demonic visage for the first time.

"You could at least provide me with dinner."

- End Chapter Thirteen -