Here Be Monsters, page 3
“You go ahead, Mom,” she said now, trying to determine what had really caused her reaction by casing the walkway around them in a way that she hoped wasn’t too obvious. “I’ll just sort of stay out here and do the teen thing. You know, loiter.”
Joyce’s forehead creased. “Is anything wrong, Buffy?”
“No, no,” Buffy said, giving her mother her perkiest smile. Her Slayer’s baddie beacon was busy homing in on a figure staring into the display window a couple of stores down. Gotcha, Buffy thought. Nobody who wore that much leather could possibly be into bean-bag dolls.
Oh yeah. Something was definitely going on.
Buffy didn’t think it was vamp action. It was the middle of the day, after all. But vamps weren’t the only monsters who liked to show their ugly mugs in Sunny-dale, a fact that, as the Slayer, Buffy knew all too well and to her cost.
“You go ahead, Mom, really,” she urged. “I don’t mind waiting out here, but I don’t think I can handle going in. I just don’t feel all that warm and fuzzy right now.”
“Well, all right,” Joyce agreed, her tone reluctant. “If you say so. I’ll only be a minute, sweetheart. By the way,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, “that girl down there—the one making the rather unfortunate fashion choices? She’s been following us ever since we left the food court.”
Impressed, Buffy gave her mother’s arm another pat, this time an approving one. “Way to use your Spidey senses, Mom. Not to worry, however. Situation under control. Run along now.”
Her mother hesitated for another moment, her eyes fixed on Buffy. Buffy could almost read her thoughts. Feel her reluctance to leave her only daughter in anything that might resemble danger—her desire to take a stand beside her, protect her at all costs.
She also knew the exact moment her mother changed her mind.
Joyce’s mouth twisted wryly, the corners pulling down. And just want did you think you’d be able to do? that mouth said. You’re only the mother of the Slayer, after all.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Buffy felt her heart squeeze just once. And answered the question her mom had decided not to ask.
“I promise I’ll be careful, Mom.”
The corners of Joyce’s mouth turned up, ever so slightly. Then she turned and walked into the store. Buffy waited until her mom had disappeared behind a display of cookie tins with angel teddy bears on them before she went into action. She sprinted to the far end of the corridor.
There was a set of bathrooms back there, if she had her mall geography right, and she was pretty sure she did. The only place she’d ever had occasion to use what few geography skills she actually possessed was at the mall.
She whipped around the corner, relieved to find the short hallway by the bathrooms empty, and cast a quick glance above her. Overhead was a very large light. The mall had undergone a remodel recently, due to that unfortunate incident with a rocket launcher. As a result, all the light fixtures were new. This one was a sort of retro chandelier.
Perfect, Buffy thought. Without hesitation, she bent her knees and jumped. She’d just finished swinging her legs up out of the way when a figure in black leather hurtled around the corner, then stopped short. She looked back over her shoulder once, then headed straight for the women’s bathroom, smacking both palms against the door.
Buffy felt her bicep muscles tighten as she counted to about a hundred. That’s how long it took for the other girl to come bursting back out the door. She skidded to an abrupt stop, staring at the door to the guy’s bathroom. Buffy gave it an even fifty-fifty.
She waited until the girl had actually turned, plainly having decided to enter the inner sanctum, before she let herself drop to the floor. If this girl wanted Buffy badly enough and was willing to go into a guy’s bathroom to find her, it was definitely time to find out why.
“Looking for someone?” asked the Slayer.
Dropping into a fighting crouch, the girl spun around. Instantly, Buffy went into a defensive posture, weight balanced over the balls of her feet. There was a charged silence, as the two girls stared at one another. Buffy did a quick catalog.
The girl before her was definitely dressed to intimidate. She was wearing enough leather to guarantee a Hall of Fame spot on the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals hit list. A silver stud sprouted from the right side of her nose. Another protruded from the middle of her lower lip.
Heavy silver rings wrapped almost every finger. Who needed brass knuckles when you could make fashion choices like those? About the only part of her that didn’t have some piece of metal wrapped around it or protruding from it were her ears, somewhat to Buffy’s surprise.
The other surprise was that, now that she’d gotten a good look at her, Buffy realized that she knew who this was.
It was a girl from school named Suz Tompkins. Suz ran with the toughest crowd there was at Sunnydale High. Actually, about half of Suz’s friends no longer bothered to come to classes. They just showed up on campus to look bad and hang out.
Finding Suz Tompkins at the Sunnydale Mall on a Saturday was strange, to say the least. About as likely as . . . finding Buffy Summers there with her mom.
Buffy straightened up. “You skipped ear piercing, Suz.”
Noting the change in Buffy’s posture, Suz Tompkins straightened up, too. She gave Buffy a wolfish smile.
“I’m thinking of having my lobes stretched,” she answered.
“Tribal,” Buffy replied. She cocked her head, as if considering. “I don’t know, though. Could be a liability in close quarters. Perfect thing to grab onto in a fight.”
“Good point,” Suz conceded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” Her eyes watched Buffy for a moment. “I’ve heard you’re good in a fight,” she went on.
Her tone of voice was so deliberately neutral that Buffy knew she’d just been given the answer to at least part of the reason Suz Tompkins had gone to so much trouble to find her. The question was, did she want to ask for Buffy’s help, or did she want to try to take her down? A sort of Sunnydale version of gunslinger syndrome. Buffy’d encountered it from time to time.
She knew her Slayer strength and skills would give her a definite edge, but she still felt a second shiver ease down her spine. In spite of her tough tone, Suz wasn’t acting like somebody about to issue a challenge. That was just the way she sounded all the time.
But if Suz wanted Buffy’s help, the situation must be major. Buffy couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to tangle with Suz Tompkins. At least, nobody in their right mind.
The guy’s bathroom door swung open, whacking Suz Tompkins in the back, before Buffy could ask what was going on. Instantly, Suz shifted so that she could see who was coming out at the same time she kept an eye on Buffy. Buffy noticed the way the other girl kept her back to the wall. Suz Tompkins wasn’t taking any chances, not even in the middle of the day at the Sunnydale Mall.
And if that wasn’t an interesting little factoid, Buffy Summers didn’t know what was.
“What are you looking at?” Suz snarled.
The guy emerging from the bathroom looked like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. And looking at Suz Tompkins was making him swallow a lot.
“N-nothing,” he stammered, as he scooted between Suz and Buffy. He scurried to the end of the corridor, then vanished around the corner. Buffy could practically see his little white tail disappearing down the rabbit hole.
“That’s quite a way with people you’ve got,” she observed.
“It’s a gift,” Suz Tompkins said shortly. “Look, Buffy, I—I’m sorry about the stalker bit, but I really need to talk to you about something.”
“I’m all ears,” Buffy said.
But Suz Tompkins was already shaking her head. “Not here. All this swimming in the mainstream is making me sick to my stomach.”
“Where, then?” Buffy asked. “And when?”
“Tonight,” Suz Tompkins answered. “I’ll meet you at the Bronze.”
CHAPTER 3
“Tell me why we’re doing this again?” Willow shouted.
It was about nine o’clock on Saturday night, and things were just starting to heat up at the Bronze.
Bodies gyrated wildly on the dance floor to the sounds of Dingoes Ate My Baby. Because the noise level was loud enough to make conversation difficult, Willow had spent most of her evening staring adoringly at Oz. Xander’d kept an eagle-eye on the door watching for Cordelia, in spite of the fact that her arrival was only likely to make him miserable.
Just another Sunnydale Saturday night.
Buffy had divided her time between doing her best to convince herself she’d chosen to sit at one of the tables with the tall stools because it would be easier for Suz Tompkins to spot her—it had nothing to do with the fact that she was hoping to spot Angel—and trying not to stress over what was happening between her and her mom.
Joyce had accepted Buffy’s explanation of the girl in black leather as a schoolmate in trouble without comment, almost as if she’d made a promise to herself not to interfere while she’d been shopping in that card store. Instead of pumping Buffy for information, she’d talked enthusiastically about the scrapbook project all the way home from the mall.
She’d given Buffy her own space for the rest of the day, not even asking her to set the table for dinner, which they’d had together. She’d been happily pasting pictures of Buffy at about age ten into the scrapbook and watching a Cary Grant movie on TV when Buffy departed for the Bronze.
Things were so good that Buffy was starting to worry. Could the fact that she and her mom were getting along so well actually be an indication that something was terribly wrong? Not seeing eye-to-eye with your parents was supposed to be what being a teenager was all about, wasn’t it?
Buffy wasn’t obsessing about this, was she?
Oh, no. Definitely not.
“What did you say?” she shouted back at Willow.
“I said—” Willow began. A resounding crash of cymbals from the Dingoes Ate My Baby drummer drowned her out completely. “—tell me why we’re doing this again,” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
Heads turned all over the Bronze.
The cymbal crash had marked the end of the Dingoes’ set. Willow’s sense of social timing defied description. Par for the course. Every single person in the Bronze had heard her shouted question.
As she realized what had happened, Willow’s face turned a shade that Buffy was sure the fashion consultants for Young Miss magazine would feel obliged to point out did not go well with the color of Willow’s hair. Redheads weren’t supposed to wear red, after all. Fortunately for her, Xander was prepared to be her knight in shining armor.
If there was anyone who knew what it felt like to be embarrassed in public, it was Xander Harris.
He stood up, blocking Willow from as much view as he could.
“Pay no attention to the woman behind the green corduroy.”
The faces that went with the heads smirked, then turned away. Willow’s twenty seconds of fame were over.
“Dug the set, huh?” Oz said as he materialized beside her.
“Oz, no!” Willow stuttered, her head appearing over the top of Xander’s shoulder. “It was nothing like that. I promise.”
“You might want to consider a retake on that one, Will,” Buffy advised.
Xander sat back down. Now that Oz was here, he could take over knight duty. There was a certain hierarchy to teen relationships, after all.
“But, wait,” Willow choked out. “Time out. Start over. Set good. Timing bad.”
Oz nodded. “That’s cool,” he said.
“Cleared things up for me,” Buffy put in.
“So—what is this thing we’re doing?” Oz asked.
Oz’s ability to focus under virtually every circumstance was one of the things Buffy liked best about him. That and his hair, of course.
“We’re waiting for Suz Tompkins.”
Oz’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Suz Tompkins. Major.”
“There!” Willow said, as if Oz had just proved her point.
“Majorly major,” Xander seconded. “Which is why the Scooby Gang has been called in.” Without missing a beat, he launched into the theme song. “Scooby Dooby Do, I see—whoa—big trouble in little Sunnydale.”
“Xander,” Willow protested. “That’s not the way it goes.”
“No, I mean it,” Xander said. “And it’s headed straight for us.”
Quickly, Buffy looked toward the entrance to the Bronze. The crowd was busy parting like the Red Sea to reveal Cordelia, with Suz Tompkins looking like she was permanently attached to one arm. The look on Cordelia’s face would have curdled fresh milk.
While it was still inside the cow.
“Now that is definitely a sight you don’t see every day,” Oz observed.
“Suz Tompkins looks kind of funny,” Willow commented.
“I think the word you’re looking for is terrified, Will,” Buffy said.
“Wouldn’t you be?” asked Oz.
Like a battleship under full steam, Cordelia plowed her way through the Bronze. When she reached Buffy’s table, she gave her arm an angry shake.
“All right, we’re here. Now do you mind?”
Suz Tompkins let go of Cordelia’s arm. The second she was free of the other girl’s grasp, Cordelia immediately began to inspect the sleeve of her silk blouse.
“If your grubby youth-at-risk paws have ruined this, you’re buying me a new one,” she informed Suz Tompkins.
Now that she was actually standing at Buffy’s table, Suz Tompkins appeared to have recovered somewhat. She no longer looked white with terror, just green around the gills. Though Buffy had to admit that could just be the lighting in the Bronze.
“Blue light special at K-Mart, right?” Suz asked.
“In your wildest dreams,” Cordelia answered. “Don’t confuse my shopping habits with your own. Oh, my God, I think that’s a sweat mark.” She held her arm up for the rest of the table to examine. “Do you see what that candidate for being tried as an adult has done?”
Xander slid off his stool, determined to head off trouble. “Cordelia, why don’t you let me get you something?”
“What a truly fabulous idea,” Cordelia said. “How about a tetanus shot?”
Xander grabbed for her hand. Cordelia yanked it back.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me in public?” she said. But she followed Xander toward the bar.
Suz watched them go, her expression stony. “And you guys put up with that because . . . ?”
Right, Buffy thought. Dissing my friends is so the best way to ask for my help.
“I think it’s something called friendship,” she said quietly. “Ring any bells?”
Suz Tompkins sucked in a breath, and changed right before Buffy’s astonished eyes.
Suz’s face crumpled, as if she was in pain. Her shoulders slumped. Tears filled her heavily-lined eyes. Plainly, Buffy’s words had gone in deep.
“Drink?” Oz asked Willow softly.
Willow slid from her stool, her hand in his. The two slipped into the crowd, leaving Buffy and Suz Tompkins alone. Suz hesitated, as if uncertain what to do next. Buffy nodded toward Willow’s empty stool.
“Sit down.”
Suz eased herself onto the stool, still obviously struggling for control. Buffy considered the best way to get the ball rolling, wishing she didn’t feel quite so much like a guidance counselor. This was not the sort of reaching out and touching someone at which she excelled.
“So, Suz,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“It’s about my friends,” Suz started, then broke off. She pressed her lips together tightly, as if she was afraid that she’d start to sob right there in the middle of the Bronze.
Okay, Buffy thought. She could play twenty questions if that’s what it took. She liked questions. Questions were good. As long as they weren’t of the math-test variety.
“You think they’re in trouble?” she prompted.
This time, Suz Tompkins really did sob. Just once. A harsh, desperate, lonely sound. In the next instant, she’d pulled in a deep breath, gotten herself back under control.
“You could say that,” she said, her tortured eyes meeting Buffy’s across the table. “I think they’re dying.”
CHAPTER 4
In the big white house that sat alone on the hill above the town, Webster and Percy were preparing to be naughty little vampire boys.
Their Mama had warned them about their wilder tendencies. She’d advised her sons not to give in to them. They’d been brought up better than that, after all. One of the marks of a true gentleman was that he never let his baser instincts control him.
But Mama was also the first to admit that Webster and Percy’s sudden impulses to disobey her were only natural. It was something to do with how old they’d been when they’d been changed. How old—or young—they’d always be. Fifteen. An age swayed by surging hormones.
Webster and Percy weren’t all that sure they really had hormones anymore, whatever those were. But if they knew anything, they knew that there were times when it was better not to argue with their mama.
Mama had warned them about something else, too, just that night. She’d warned them not to hunt again too soon. Things were good in Sunnydale, the best they’d been in a long time. There was no sense being greedy and spoiling it all.
Webster and Percy had nodded, to show they understood. But even as they’d done so, they’d been making plans of their own. They’d already found their next victim. In fact, they’d been stalking her for almost a week now. They’d even let her catch a glimpse of them, once or twice. Not enough to get a really good look. Just enough so that she’d know this feeling that somebody was out to get her was the real thing. That her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. Something else was.
Percy and Webster had come to enjoy the way the girl had started to look over her shoulder. The way they’d made her afraid to walk the streets alone. They figured she’d run long and fast, fueled by her own fear. All they could think about was finishing things off, hunting her down.
