"I swear if the kid turns out to be a boy, you can go find another replacement," Spike complained as he dumped the bassinet, complete with wailing baby girl on the table. His face, now decorated with rapidly healing scratches, was a picture of unhappiness at the role he’d been allocated. "Her mother fought like a wild cat. Hells, maybe she was a wild cat. With my luck the bloody thing will turn out to be a were-wolf or something." He paused and frowned, looking thoughtful. "Do they even exist?"
The women, one human, one vampire, ignored him and homed in on the newborn. Christine proved to be a dab hand at handling babies and quickly had it stripped off, washed and wrapped in the linen shawl she and Drusilla had found in an upstairs cupboard. The diaper proved more problematic and they had to resort to a length of flannelling from the kitchen. Surprisingly to Spike, who found the clean warm smell enticing, Drusilla didn’t make a single move towards eating the infant, perhaps all the children she’d fed on since arriving in Paris had fulfilled her appetite for veal.
Finally Christine placed the baby back in the basket, turned to the two vampires and announced, "That is all the preparations we can make. The only thing left to do is the switch."
"Right," Spike answered feeling less convinced by their plan as the seconds ticked past. "So I just walk into a house crammed with demon expert types and their super-strong glowy-eyed enforcer and play ‘find the lady’ with the brats. Nothing to it, I’m sure."
Christine smiled sympathetically, once again struck by how human her monstrous gaoler was, and said, "You won’t be entirely alone. Let us not forget your secret weapon."
***
"At the last count there were ten but that may well be an underestimate."
"Does that include the demon Darla and her nest?"
"Well, sir." The young Watcher shifted uncomfortably and stared at his shoes. "The thing is, as it turns out, we aren’t entirely confident about how many vampires are currently part of her nest. She has certainly been seen in the company of a male vampire, probably Angelus, here as well as in London during the last year, but there have also been mentions of a dark haired female and more recently another male. So there could be two of them or four or possibly more."
"Hmph!" Pryce’s chair creaked as he leaned back and glared at his junior assistant. "Tell me, Beecham, what do they teach you in the academy these days about the Order of Aurelius and more specifically Darla?"
"Erm, not much, sir. I know they are an old and venerated sect of vampires, almost all related to the head of the order, whom they refer to as The Master. He is believed to be one Heinrich Nest…" Beecham stood in front of the desk, his hands clasped behind him, eyes closed and chin up as though reading from the backs of his eyelids.
Pryce interrupted before the ‘begats’ began. "I don’t want to hear the textbook recited, boy! I want to hear what you know."
Thrown off his stride by the interruption, Beecham continued for a couple of seconds and then fell silent. The senior Watcher took pity on him and decided to fill in the blanks, however he wasn’t about to do it twice. He glanced at the clock - eight p.m. - as good a time as any for the long delayed debriefing.
"Call the Slayer and Grainger. It is about time they were informed about recent the goings on, they are, after all, the ones who will have to clean it up. Oh, and please request that Bartleby join us. It is just possible he has managed to glean more information from the Langtry woman."
There was a slight delay while the relevant parties were located and settled into Pryce’s office, and he took a good look around before starting. The current Slayer, Sondra Panos, new to her calling though raised by the Council and a well-trained warrior. Franklyn Grainger, her Watcher, last in an old respected family who could trace their connection to the Council back for over two hundred years. Midshipman Bartleby, personal friend of Prince Louis of Battenburg, the putative father of the infant they were protecting. And of course, young Beecham, the nephew of Pryce’s sister-in-law, six months out of the academy and with all the enthusiasm of an untrained spaniel.
"As some of you may know," Pryce nodded at Grainger who offered a weak smile in return, "The vampire Darla was sired by The Master and was his favourite for over a century, staying close to him until she joined up with Angelus. She may have made Angelus a vampire; it is thought likely, as he has been known to visit The Master’s court and the Order of Aurelius does not like outsiders. Those are the only two you have to worry about; they are particularly vicious and devious. The other male is most probably Penn, something of a let down to the line, repetitive and obsessive even by vampiric standards and just over a century old. The female I cannot identify though she could be unrelated, a minion of some sort…"
Pryce paused in the middle of his lecture, cocking his head and frowning. "Is that singing I can hear?"
They all listened intently. At the edge of their hearing was the sweetest voice they had ever heard. The lullaby grew slowly louder, sweeping away all their worries and concerns. Beatific smiles spread over five faces and a roomful of eyelids drooped.
Pryce came to with a jerk, quickly trying to remember what he’d been saying before he allowed himself be distracted. "I think that about sums up that cadre. Beecham, which others are here?"
The younger watcher retrieved his notes from the floor and consulted them, covering a discrete yawn with his hand. "Excluding Darla’s nest, eight individuals have been identified. One led by a large heavy set male vampire tentatively identified as Luke." He looked to his superior for further information.
"A long time follower of The Master’s," Pryce confirmed with a nod. "Not renowned for his intelligence but an remarkable fighter."
"His five companions are thought to be lower minions of the Order."
"An entourage. Presumably this group are the official representatives of The Master in the city. Have they been seen entering the catacombs?"
"Yes, sir. And sources confirm that La Mort Déchaînée has acknowledged them and given his consent to their presence here."
There was a short succinct exchange between the Slayer and her Watcher, and Grainger asked, "This mort déchaînée, who is he?"
"The incumbent Master of Paris. A vampire of little note, who will not cross us if he knows what is good for him." Nodding to Beecham to continue, Pryce settled back to hear the details of the final nest.
Taking a deep breath the junior Watcher continued, "The final pair appear to be residing in the opera house and it is from them that we have received communication." He waved a small batch of letters in the air, not looking up from his notebook. "Whether they are renegades from the Master’s court is unknown, however they have killed publicly and viciously, and have promised to wreak havoc in the city if their demands are not met. The city’s gendarmerie have requested our help ridding them of this particular menace as two of their men were victims."
"And those demands are?" Grainger asked, sitting forward in his seat.
It was Pryce that answered. "That the Slayer is brought to Paris, though for what reason they were unclear."
"Why would they want Sondra in Paris when they wish to steal this child?"
"It is strange, sir." Beecham commented, allying himself with Grainger. "I would have thought they would have wanted the Slayer as far away as possible."
"Perhaps the two things are unrelated."
All the males turned to the single woman in the room in surprise, Pryce more than most. He wasn’t used to having a female, and certainly not the Slayer, speak her mind. In his experience women should be seen and not heard, they rarely had anything useful to contribute to a discussion.
Bartleby flashed the Slayer a winning smile and said, "What a fascinating thought. Why do you say that?"
"I think it could be unwise to assume they belong to the same faction. Just because they are all demons does not mean they have the same agenda."
"Demons have only one agenda, death and mayhem," Pryce injected censoriously. "As the Slayer, my dear girl, you should know this. In regards to your question however, I will answer in my capacity as the Head of the Watcher’s Council in France. It is the simple fact that the Master of Paris has not seen fit to clear this nest from the opera house that tells me that they are part of the Aurelian faction."
Sondra opened her mouth to speak again but Pryce pre-empted her by rising to his feet. "I think we have said enough for one night. It is past time for the Slayer to retire," he glanced at the clock and did a double take. It read ten forty five. "My goodness, it is indeed late," he exclaimed and turned to the rest of the room. "Gentlemen would you care to join me for a brandy after the young lady has left us?"
***
Meanwhile in other parts of the house…
"Does the wax work?" Christine whispered as Spike surreptitiously checked the rear entrance of the Watcher’s house for obvious guards.
No answer.
She grabbed his arm and he glared round at her. "I said, does the wax work?" she repeated and then smiled when he frowned and stared at her lips, confusion clouding his yellow eyes. "As you can’t hear a word I’m saying, I would have to suppose it does."
"I can’t hear a word you’re saying, love." Spike said, his voice a tad louder than it would normally be. "These ear plugs work brilliantly." Changing the subject, he added, "No guards outside. You ready for the off?"
Christine nodded, hiding her amusement behind her hand. It wouldn’t do for Spike to think she was laughing at him, something told her he would not respond well. She handed him the bassinet and moved to stand in front of him, composing herself for her performance. Closing her eyes, the singer centred herself, conjuring up the pure state of mind she hoped would bring forth the results she desired. She inhaled, breathing from her diaphragm, filling her lungs and when the first phrases of the fais do do tumbled from her lips Christine knew it would work. Tendrils of music filled the air, wrapping around her and she began to walk forwards carrying the song with her, gathering everyone within earshot into its arms and rocking them seductively to sleep.
Spike followed, bemused, the baby in the cradle slung over one arm. At the door, he waited for Christine to enter and coax a Watcher to his feet. The drowsy human staggered to the door and stared wearily at him, too enervated to do more.
"Invite me in." Spike requested, keeping his voice pitched low as per Christine’s instructions. The befuddled Watcher said something, waved him forwards and then ambled back to the table, his head resting on his arms before his backside was on its seat. Hesitantly Spike reached out with his hand to test for the barrier he couldn’t be sure wasn’t there. Did being unable to hear the invitation nullify its power? Seemingly not. His hand met no resistance and neither did his feet.
Walking through this strange silent world was akin to venturing into Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Comatose figures littered the rooms, the stairs, dropped in their tracks and mid task. Here, a relaxed mouth agape, a tumbled cup spilling hot tea. There, pebble glasses askew and a crossbow dangling from twitching fingers. Stepping over, around and past, Spike made his way through the house scenting the air for a taste of infant other than the one he carried.
One door in particular drew him, though not for the child. He hesitated outside, intoxicated by the luscious smell wafting out to meet him, powerful and female with just a hint of dark power. Perhaps it was this Slayer creature Drusilla had told him about. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Spike pressed on, now was not the time for distractions, he could think about what it meant later.
After a good hour of searching he found Lily in a suite on the third floor, mother and baby asleep together on the bed and guarded by a Watcher in the hallway and an uniformed man snoring on the couch in the small sitting room. The bedroom reeked of antiseptic overpowering the scents of old birthing blood and milk still lingering on the air. Working quickly, Spike removed the infant from its mother’s arms, stripped off its elaborate gown and swapped the garment on to the child he had brought with him. Once that was done, he placed the changeling back in the bed, moved the real baby into the bassinet and headed back downstairs, his task accomplished.
For several minutes after Spike left nothing moved in the room except for the rhythmic rise and fall of sleeping chests. Then, between one heartbeat and the next, even that stopped, as though someone had placed a finger against the measure of time and caused it to pause. A swirling light appeared in the corner of the room, expanding from a pinprick to a doorway in a rush of displaced air, which sent clothes and hair fluttering.
Li Hua hobbled painfully through the vortex, muttering under her breath about prophecies and vampires and how the two were the bane of her existence. In her arms she clutched a baby girl, still as naked as when it was born and bawling fretfully until they entered the room when it fell silent and into a strange lifeless state, no longer breathing or moving. The sorcerer glanced around, checking that none had escaped her spell, and then proceeded to remove the clothing from the child on the bed and dress its replacement.
The whole task took no more than five minutes, at which point Li Hua took the stolen babe in her arms, tottered backwards across the room and reversed into the portal. It closed after her with a sucking pop and silent stillness reigned once more.
***
A baby’s wailing cry resonating around the house was the first indication Darla and Angelus had that the sorcerer had completed her magics.
"Damnation," Darla leapt from the bed and dragged on her chemise, running her fingers through her knotted hair. "I wished to be present when Li Hua snatched the child. It may have been our only opportunity to rid ourselves of the woman. She would have been vulnerable when she exited the portal."
Angelus, sated from their many hours of play, watched her frantic attempts at repairing her dishabille with an amused smirk. "Relax, lover. It’s done now and any counter-attack will have to wait." He patted the eiderdown next to him. "Come back to bed and sleep a while. Let the witch deal with the squalling brat."
She smiled at him, tempted as always to throw caution to the wind and do as he asked and then forced herself back on track. "No, Angelus. This is important and it will not wait. We need to dispose of her before she has a chance to leave and inform someone of our treachery."
With a long suffering sigh Angelus complied, sliding to the edge of the bed and using his toes to pick up his trousers. "What do we do with the brat now we’ve got it?"
"I have a place ready for it." Darla stood in front of him, waiting for her dress to be buttoned. "And someone who is prepared to make the delivery. After we have disposed of Li Hua, I will make the appropriate arrangements and then go to Luke."
Angelus’ hands paused over her back. "Luke?" he questioned, the old insecurities regarding Darla and her sire raising their heads again. "Why?"
She turned to face him. "What did you think, Angelus? The Master expects me to deliver a baby to him and deliver one I must. Luke has arranged to pull the same switch we did, thinking that he is stealing the right child and all we can hope is that when my sire’s seers read its future they will see that it isn’t the child from the prophecy." He looked so miserable at her words she leaned into him and put her arms around his neck. "And when they do I will argue that I must be allowed back into the world to track the correct one down. With any luck that search will last for an eternity."
He returned her embrace, quashing his fears and focusing on her promise. An eternity with Darla, it sounded like fun and Angelus couldn’t imagine them ever being parted.
***
Li Hua gazed studiously into the eyes of the baby on her lap, one hand clamped around its small head keeping its eyelids open. Though not a seer by any useful definition, as a worker of magics the sorcerer was more sensitive to power than most humans and the eyes were the windows to the soul. Somewhere, hidden behind obvious pupil and retina, membrane and aqueous humor, the child’s destiny was hiding. If it had one that was touched by fate, that was. Contrary to popular opinion, the vast majority of people were not. They lived small lives and had precious little impact on the rest of the world or the greater scheme of things. Those that were touched tended to show it.
The elderly sorcerer broke eye contact and slumped back in her chair, sighing loudly. If this was a child of prophecy then she was a Granog demon’s courtesan. There was not so much as a hint of fate carried in her eyes. The question now became, should she tell Darla?
And speaking of the devil. Or the demon in this case.
"Grandmother," Darla swept into the room, the queen of all she surveyed and carrying an aura of danger with her. The only traces of the boisterous activities that had distracted Li Hua during the long day and night she had been the vampires’ guest were a slight bruising on Darla’s pale wrists and unhealed bite marks at her throat. "You have my baby. How will I ever repay you?" Darla turned to her lover who slunk in behind her, "Angelus, send Bethan for Drusilla. She may now return home." He nodded and left the room.
Ignoring the child, Darla sat on the couch to the sorcerer’s left side, a broad smile that went nowhere near her eyes spread over her face. "Did you encounter any difficulties?" she asked brightly.
Li Hua shivered and closed her eyes. She didn’t need any magical ability to read the implied promise of the vampire’s behaviour. As she had expected, Darla had no intention of letting her leave the lair alive.
***
Bethan returned a couple of hours later and went directly to the sitting room where Darla and her guest, the creepy Chinese witch, were still talking. She bobbed a curtsey and then said, "I told Drusilla to come on home, mistress. Spike was there too and the human he brought round the other night."
"Excellent. He got her." Angelus appeared in the doorway behind her and Bethan stepped aside to let him in.
"A human woman?" Darla frowned at her lover. "What is he doing with a human woman, Angelus?"
"Nothing for you to worry about, sweetness," he covered. "I’m sure she’s just a snack he picked up off the streets."
Darla studied him suspiciously for a moment and then held nothing back from her disturbingly accurate accusation. "It’s that soprano isn’t it, the mousy one from Faust. All these weeks, while I’ve been worrying about prophecies and politics, you’ve been going behind my back with one of your ridiculous obsessions."
She was working up to an enthusiastic rant and Angelus backed away as she advanced on him, her finger wagging under his nose. "He has been sitting outside the opera house for weeks, hasn’t he. You wanted the girl the first time you saw her and when I needed you to help me, you ordered him to snatch her for you."
As the furious interchange played out before her, Li Hua watched carefully, this was exactly what she’d been hoping for, enough of a distraction to allow her to escape. She stood up and hobbled around the chair, holding the baby in the crook of one arm. Leaning heavily she began to chant under her breath, her eyes beginning to glow.
Angelus shook his head and Darla’s eyes hardened. "Don’t try to deny it, Angelus. I know how your mind works." She caught his lapel in her fist and held him fast. "I distinctly remember telling you to leave her alone. It is too dangerous to hunt such a high profile figure and now the Slayer is here. Do you think Spike’s actions will have gone unnoticed? Do you think he is clever enough not have drawn attention to himself while he watched her? You are a fool, Angelus, an arrogant short-sighted fool." Releasing him with a shove, Darla spun away and finished, "And you will bring death and destruction down on all of us."
"And betraying your sire won’t?" Angelus reacted angrily. "If he ever found out we would all be dust and you know it."
"Mistress!" Bethan yelped and the elder vampires swung round to face her. The minion was pointing at the Li Hua, or more specifically the blue/white aura that surrounded the sorcerer.
"She’s getting away!" shrieked Darla and then, noticing that the old woman was still holding the child, added, "And she is stealing my baby. Stop her!" She pushed a reluctant Angelus towards the growing portal.
He staggered a few steps and then lunged, falling to his knees and Li Hua danced away from him with unsuspected agility, her eyes a lively green rather than the milky white they had been before.
"Think you’re clever, don’t you vampire," she quipped, landing a hard kick to the side of his head, driving it up and back. "Not clever enough."
In a burst of speed Li Hua tossed the baby to Darla and dashed for the portal. Behind her Bethan threw herself at the departing sorcerer’s back, her demon face to the fore. In the split second before Li Hua vanished, Bethan’s hands made contact with the sorcerer’s shoulders and both were frozen, trapped in the swirling vortex. The minion began to scream as power infused her body and, not designed to accommodate it, she burned, flames shooting from her mouth as she threw her head back, her spine arching in pain. The agonised sound reverberated around the room, rattling the chandelier and then she was gone, nothing more than a cloud of ash drifting to the floor.
Darla and Angelus stared in mute horror, realising with a sudden chill how easily it could have been one of them falling to dust.
***
"Come on, love. Take a sip of this. It’ll help."
Christine parted her lips allowing some of the fiery liquid into her mouth, swallowed and choked as it burned its way past the lacerations in her throat. Strong hands pulled her upright and held her steady and she coughed and gasped, blinking to clear the streams of tears from her eyes.
"What is it?" she tried to ask but all that came out was a croaking "Wha…"
"Finest cognac. Just the thing to perk up yer vocal chords after a performance like that."
The singer rubbed at her face, the memories seeping back into her mind like spilled ink into a blotting pad. In the background she could hear a baby wailing and then Drusilla’s petulant voice, "She won’t shut up, Spike. I told her she should be happy that we rescued her from the nasty Watchers but she just cries and cries."
Next to her Spike cursed under his breath and moved away, and a few seconds later the wailing ceased. Christine forced herself to raise her head and look around. They were back in the house across the road, in the kitchen with its huge cold range and racks of gleaming copper pans. The glass of cognac sat on the scrubbed table in front of her and she grasped it, raising it shakily to her lips and downing the contents in a single gulp. It made her cough again, but it did seem to ease her throat.
Across the room Spike was holding the baby, an expression of pure disgust on his face. When he saw her looking at him he asked hopefully, "The bloody thing stinks. Don’t suppose you feel up to some house-wifely duties?"
He continued to hold the child as the singer gathered what she needed and then chatted while she washed and changed it.
"You keeled over like a dead horse when we got out of the house. Had to carry you back. You over one shoulder, the kid in the other. It’s a bloody good job no one saw me ‘cos there wasn’t a hand free to snap any necks."
Why did he have to do that? The cold-hearted way he spoke of murdering people never failed to tie her stomach in nervous knots and then at other times the gentleness and consideration he showed seem to belie everything she had witnessed. It left her confused, not knowing whether to trust him or run screaming.
"Next stop home, I reckon," Spike announced as Christine put the now quieter baby back into its cradle.
"Home?"
"Yeah. Angelus is expecting us. Sent Bethan with a missive while you were still getting over your singsong. Seems like Darla’s lost interest or something." He grabbed his coat and slipped it on, fishing in his pocket for a cigarette. Drusilla appeared in the doorway already dressed and carrying Christine’s cloak, which she slipped round the singer’s shoulders.
Rather than move away, the vampire remained behind her, stroking Christine’s hair and singing quietly in her ear. "I love little pussy, her coat is so warm…" Christine froze, the instinct of a rabbit caught in the jaws of the fox, as hands slipped around her body and over her breasts. The eerie voice buzzed against her skin, "And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm." They closed tightly gripping her flesh through her bodice, pinching her nipples against the whalebone of her corset. "So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away," and then plunged down delving harshly between her legs, "But pussy and I, very gently will play."
Spike leered at the women around his cigarette but saved his comments for Christine. "Quite a skill you’ve got there, pet, knocking out the entire household. Know Dru appreciates it. ‘S almost a pity Angelus is hung up on torturing you to death. Could’ve been useful having you around."