Author: Elsa Frohman
Rating: R
Feedback: elsa@frohman.net
Summary: A trip down memory lane. Just what was Spike up to in 1925, and why did it earn him a curse?
Note on this chapter's soundtrack: "Hellzapoppin'" falls a bit out of the era I've been using for the songs that go along with this story. I went with it here because it fits. The song was written for the '30s musical of the same name. There was a '40s movie, then Louis Armstrong recorded this version in 1965.
Hellzapoppin'
(Marian Grudeff / Raymond Jessel for the musical "Hellzapoppin',"
1938.)
Recorded by Louis Armstrong, 1965
Hold your hats, the roof is 'bout to tumble in
Holy cats, the walls and floors are crumblin'
Hellzapoppin', hellzapoppin', hellzapoppin'
The whole gang's whoopin' up the whoop-de-doo
Me-oh-my, it's gonna be uproarious
We'll fly high, tonight we'll be notorious
Hellzapoppin', hellzapoppin', hellzapoppin'
And you're invited to the party too
Better look out, ain't no cook-out
We're playin' this one by ear
We're throwin' the book out
It's a bash, the signs are unmistakable
What a smash, we're breakin' all that's breakable
There's no stoppin', hellzapoppin', why not drop in
We won't stop until the night is through
We won't tire, we'll fly higher
We'll be hotter than floor, a-than a floor on fire
Raise your glass, the party will be riotous
What a gas, the cops will never quiet us
There's no toppin', hellzapoppin', hellzapoppin'
We'll be hellzapoppin' till the night is through
Algernon stepped into the grand entrance hall of the Council
headquarters and paused to look around. He set down the battered
leather valise he was carrying.
It was all going exactly the way he had imagined. He was here,
inside the very heart of the Watchers' home ground. It was a moment
to savor. Before the sun rose, he would have his vengeance. The
Watchers would be utterly destroyed. "For you, Winifred," he said
bitterly.
Gannon watched him expectantly.
"I have done as you asked, sir," the butler said. "I hope you will keep
your part of the bargain."
Algernon snapped around to look at Gannon, as if he'd all ready
forgotten the man was there.
"When my plans are complete, I will tell you where your daughter is
being held," he said. "For now, return to the door. There are many
others waiting for your invitation."
"As you wish, sir."
Algernon opened the valise and started taking out a variety of ritual
objects: five thick pillar candles, several packets of herbs, a thick
piece of chalk to draw the pentagram, a vial of oil and a large, gold
pendant with a blood-red stone and a silver-bladed knife with a
carved ivory handle. Last of all, he drew a parchment scroll from the
bag and untied the black ribbon that held it secure.
As he worked, the hall filled with vampires as each received an
invitation and entered. They gathered in a loose circle around their
leader working in the center of the entrance hall.
"We are assembled and ready," said Rudolf, stepping up next to
Algernon.
The gaunt vampire nodded, his attention focused on the scroll as he
reviewed the ritual one last time.
"You know your task. Engage the Watchers. Make certain they do
not interrupt my work here. When the ritual is complete, there will
be no one left alive in this place."
"Good thing that's not a problem for us," Rudolf said with a nasty
laugh. He motioned to the other vampires. "Follow me. Remember,
push them back. Kill if necessary, but don't waste time on it. They're
all dead anyway. Just don't let them by. We want to force them to the
upper floors."
The gypsy vampire bounded up the staircase two steps at a time, his
minions following.
Algernon watched them go, then set about arranging his supplies for
the ritual. First, the pentagram, drawn out in chalk with an arcane
symbol inside each point of the star on the polished marble floor;
then a candle at each point; then the containing circle around the
entire figure. He worked quickly but carefully, checking each step
against the parchment as he proceeded. A bowl went in the center of
the pattern, and the vampire filled it with herbs and oil.
With the preparations complete, he stood up straight and looked over
his work. He looked over at the butler, who watched him with
detached contempt. Should he tell the man to go now? In a few
minutes the man would be dead if he stayed this close to the ritual.
But what did he care? The foolish human probably thought he was
going to keep his promise about releasing the girl. If the fool died, it
wouldn't be an issue. Algernon smiled and turned back to his work,
finding his place on the parchment and starting to read aloud in
archaic Latin.
Alvin Fetters stepped out of one of the first-story reading rooms into
the corridor rubbing his eyes. It had been a long day, then evening,
of research. It had been like every other day, really. He couldn't
remember the last time he'd gone home to read the evening paper
and listen to the radio or read a book. Just as well, he told himself.
You're an old bachelor. Going home just means supper by yourself
and a lonely evening.
It didn't stop him from resenting another day taken from his life with
nothing in it he could call his own. He was Sir Edmund's right-hand
man. Lackey was more like it, he thought bitterly. He'd never be
anything else.
Fetters' glanced up as he thought of what was going on two floors
above. Sir Edmund was reaping the rewards of a life spent respecting
no one but himself. His daughter had found a uniquely poignant
revenge to wreak on the father who never gave her a second thought.
Word had spread through headquarters like wildfire when they
brought her back. Clara Morrington had resisted when her brother
and his colleagues came to rescue her. She was with the vampire of
her own free will.
That had to be a bitter pill for the old bastard to swallow. To tell the
truth, Fetters was more than a little sympathetic to Clara's situation.
When she'd disappeared, he'd secretly hoped she would turn up a few
weeks later, having eloped with some nice young man with a future.
Just about anything would be better than the life she faced in this
place.
But not a future with a vampire. Fetters had devoted his entire adult
life to supporting the Council's war on the undead. He wasn't ready
to give Clara over to one of them -- as grim as her prospects
otherwise might have been. He'd watched her grow up from the
sweet, curious toddler she'd been when Sir Edmund took the
chairmanship and moved his family into the headquarters, to the
attractive if somewhat naive young woman she had become. She
wasn't for the likes of William the Bloody.
A vampire -- it turned his stomach. How could she even think of
letting an animated corpse touch her? But then, what opportunity had
Clara ever had to meet a nice young man? Maybe when this had all
blown over, he could do something about that. His sister's boy, Colin
Davies, might be a reasonable prospect. He was a smart young man
with a kind heart, and best of all, he had no connection with the
Council. He was training as an insurance underwriter. It was looking
like he had quite a future with Lloyd's.
Fetters' ruminations were interrupted by the sound of feet pounding
up the grand staircase. He stepped back into the doorway he'd just
come out of just in time to avoid being seen by the gang of vampires
charging into the corridor.
Jesus! What the hell was going on? He risked a glance into the
corridor in time to see Fred Naylor step out of another reading room
and all but run head-on into the lead vampire -- a short, dark bearded
creature in a Russian military coat. Fred tried to defend himself, but
he was overwhelmed in less time than it took for Fetters to duck
back into the reading room. He ran to the weapons chest that every
room in the Watchers' headquarters held. Not that anything in that
chest was going to keep him safe from the number of vampires in the
hall. But he needed something, if only to brace his courage to go
back out there and raise an alarm. He chose a crossbow.
He moved back out into the corridor, thankfully behind the intruders.
There were Watchers at work in the headquarters around the clock.
Most would be in the offices a floor above. There was little he could
do for anyone else caught in the reading rooms on this corridor.
Fetters sprinted for the stairs, almost immediately attracting the
attention of the vampires. Two at the rear of the pack split off and
came after him. Fetters paused on the landing and knocked an arrow
in the bow. There was no time to take careful aim, and truth be told,
he'd never been much of a marksman. His shot went wide and struck
one of the vampires in the shoulder.
There was no time to knock another arrow. Fetters ran up the stairs
and barreled out into the second-story corridor. The two vampires
were close behind him, one roaring with the pain of the arrow
through his shoulder. Fretters scrambled down the hall, pounding on
doors, shouting. "We're under attack! Vampires! In the building!"
A hand grabbed him from behind. He was spun around and slammed
up against the wall, glittering yellow eyes glaring directly into his
own. The arrow embedded in the creature's shoulder poked him as he
was crushed against the mahogany paneling.
"How did you get in here?" Fetters sputtered.
The vampire sneered. "Your butler is a friendly chap -- inviting us
in, one and all."
The fangs snapped towards Fetters' neck -- only to explode into dust
a split second before they made contact. He found himself looking at
Melvin Colby, holding the stake he had just withdrawn from the
vampire's back high.
"Get Sir Edmund," Colby snapped. "We'll form a line here." More
Watchers were pouring out of the offices now, well armed and ready
to fight. The second vampire was already dust but others were
coming up from below now.
"Push them back!" Colby shouted to the others. "If we can get them
back down to the great hall, we'll have enough space to get them in a
crossfire!"
Fetters bounded up the next flight of stairs, his heart pounding and
his lungs burning. He'd been desk bound for more than 15 years, and
while he practiced close-quarters defense as all Watchers did, he was
far from fit enough for this sort of stress.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he was greeted by Sir Edmund's
voice: "Fetters! Raise the alarm!" the chairman barked.
Sir Edmund was standing slightly ahead of a pale, sandy-haired man
in a blue pinstriped suit. Behind them was Clara, a Negro woman,
four Negro men -- one sporting a badly bruised face -- and Stephen
Morrington. There was a brief shock of recognition as he realized
who the one nearest Sir Edmund was.
"Raised already, sir," Fetters panted. There are fifteen or twenty of
them. They got to Gannon somehow. He's letting them in."
"What?" Sir Edmund sputtered.
"Told you so," Spike said with an air of smug satisfaction.
Spike let go of Sir Edmund's arm and pushed him away. A hostage
was the last thing he needed now. Algernon's minions were between
them and the way out. They weren't going to let him pass with Clara.
"Your minions will die here. Just because you're inside doesn't mean
you've won. You'll find we put up more resistance than you've
counted on," Sir Edmund said.
"They're not my minions," Spike replied angrily. "They're not going
to let me walk out of here any more than they'll let you pass. They've
come to kill you and all yours, you moron. They'll kill me because I
won't let them have Clara."
"You expect me to believe..."
"I expect you to shut up, you pathetic git. Let me think of a way out
of this."
"We have a number of men on the second floor," Fetters offered.
"The vampires will be engaged. Colby is organizing the
counterattack. Morrison, Vale, Beeson and Smythe are with him. I
believe McCrory and Mason have joined the fray as well."
"You say fifteen or twenty?" Spike asked.
"I didn't stop to count."
Stephen stepped up to join the discussion. "They'll be trying to split
up the pack. Colby's a good strategist. He'll be trying to isolate and
overcome. And he'll be trying to push them back down toward the
entrance hall. At least, that's what I would be doing."
Spike nodded. He motioned for the band to gather around.
"What we've got to do is push through the middle of it. With any
luck, the Watchers will have most of the vampires busy. Stay close
together. Keep the women to the center of the group. The vamps will
be trying to split people off and attack them alone. Don't let them do
it. And try not to fight if you don't have to. If you have to, team up.
It's your best chance. One fights from the front to distract, another
comes around to stake from behind. Remember that you have to hit
the heart for the stake to be effective. From behind, that's just to the
left of center."
He turned to Stephen. "Do you have stakes for my people?"
"There's a chest in the conference room."
"We are not going to arm this fiend and his minions!" Sir Edmund
roared.
"Father, shut up. Just shut up."
Stephen went back into the conference room and returned with a
variety of weapons: stakes, a battle-axe, a crossbow and several
swords. Big Dave took the axe and made several practice swings.
"Remember, don't fight except to defend," Spike said, looking at him
pointedly. "If you're going to use that thing, you have to behead the
vampire to do any real harm. So swing at shoulder height."
Sir Edmund turned back to face his daughter. "You stay here. I
forbid you to..."
"Shut up, Father," Clara said decisively, moving to her lover's side.
"I'm going with Spike."
Spike took the crossbow. He started toward the stairs then stopped.
"One more thing. Don't fight fair. They won't. They are stronger and
faster than you are. Your only chance is to take any advantage you
can get. There is no honor in fighting vampires."
Stephen handed his father a stake, and the old man whirled and
launched himself at Spike, who dodged and disarmed him easily,
hitting him hard in the face with the butt of the crossbow.
"You're getting slow, old man," he sneered. "And stupid. Don't you
realize that you're the primary one they want to kill? You and your
boy here. You're the ones who killed Algernon's lover.
"My easiest way out of here would be to toss you down the stairs.
While they were busy tearing you apart, I could sail out of here like a
frigate on a steady breeze. But instead ..."
A vampire streaked up the stairs from below, hurtling off the stairs to
hit Spike squarely in the middle of his back. Spike stumbled forward
from the impact and twisted to face the new enemy. The vampire
was ready and leapt at him again, driving him back against the
corridor wall with a heavy thud.
The creature snarled and snapped at him as he tried to hold it away
from his neck. Spike was strong, but the vampire was deep in
bloodlust. It probably hadn't even registered that he wasn't human.
Spike went game face with a roar, and flung the vampire back away
from himself. He was about to pounce on it when it exploded in a
shower of dust as Stephen staked it.
"Two against one," Stephen said. "Does the job."
Spike nodded. "Let's get going. Big Dave, bring up the rear. Beemer
with me. You," he said, looking at Stephen, "take the flank with
Steam Engine on the other side. You," he continued, looking at
Fetters, "stay at this landing and watch us from above. If you can
shoot that thing at all," he said, indicating Fetters' crossbow, "pick
off anyone who gets around behind us." Then looking back to
Stephen, "Keep the old git, Cheater and the women in the center."
Stephen nodded. "And when we get outside -- what then?"
"Me and mine take off. You do whatever you want."
"And do you consider Clara yours?"
"What do you think, mate? You heard what she said."
"We'll talk about this again when we get outside."
"Like hell," Spike said to himself, turning to lead the group down the
stairs.
The second floor corridor was littered with bodies and dust, but there
were several skirmishes still raging. Ahead of them and below,
Colby was wrestling with the gypsy vampire. They careened back
and forth between the banisters, stumbling down a step or two then
climbing back up as they contended, locked together in a tight
embrace.
Spike motioned for the group to stop and he moved down slowly
until he was close to the pair. They were moving around too much
for him to use the crossbow effectively. He wait a moment and was
rewarded as Colby drove the vampire back toward him. Spike,
standing a step higher, brought his knee up suddenly and slammed it
into the back of the dark vampire's head.
Rudolf let out a sudden cry of surprise and pitched forward holding
his head. Spike was on him before he recovered his balance and they
toppled forward and down the stairs, rolling over as they went. Spike
dropped the crossbow as he tumbled, to have both hands on his foe.
Colby watched in confusion, wondering who the newcomer was. He
looked up and saw the odd group Spike had been leading and his
puzzlement increased.
Spike and Rudolf rolled to a stop on the first floor landing. Spike got
the upper hand and smashed the other vampire's head against the
floor several times. He got up, hauling Rudolf with him and
slammed his adversary against the wall.
To Colby's further confusion, when Spike stood up, he was in game
face.
"A stake," Spike roared. "I could use a stake about now."
Beemer responded, rushing down the stairs to press the weapon into
Spike's raised hand.
"Wait," Rudolf screamed. "Stake me now, and you'll never know
where the girl is."
"I've already got the girl, pillock," Spike sneered, cocking back the
stake to plunge it into Rudolf's chest.
"Not that girl. The other one."
Spike had Rudolf by the neck. He tightened his hand until a choking
sound came out of the vampire's mouth.
"Nothing to me," Spike replied, as he started to swing the stake
forward.
Stephen caught his wrist.
"What other girl?" the young watcher asked.
"The butler's daughter," Rudolf choked out as Spike's hand tightened
on his neck.
"Let him go," Stephen said. He'd picked up the crossbow as he'd
come down the steps, and now he pointed it at Rudolf's chest. Spike
backed off.
"We can't let him go. He'll be back to fighting us as soon as you
lower the weapon."
"Where is she?" Stephen asked.
"The abandoned underground station under Mayfair," Rudolf
replied, rubbing his bruised neck. "Utility closet."
Then, with speed only a vampire could achieve, Rudolf dived away
and disappeared -- into the thick cloud of gray-green mist that was
rising up the stairwell from below.
"Damn!" Stephen exclaimed and started to follow, but Spike caught
his arm.
"Don't go into the mist. It's poison."
Stephen gave him a questioning look. "You know what it is?"
"I know what it smells like. One good breath of that and you'll be
deader than me."
"Gray-green, poisonous mist," Giles said slowly. "Algernon had
raised a Grall'nakled? That would explain a lot."
Spike nodded. "Poison gas that permeates everything. And once the
thing spawns, it's larvae get into the walls and the crawl spaces. If
Algernon had finished what he was doing, the building would have
been a total loss. You'd have had to burn it to the ground, if there
was anyone left alive to do the burning."
Giles smiled. "The account I read didn't say what the disaster had
been, but they did talk about replacing all the ground and first-story
furnishings, and stripping out all carpets, floor tiles and paneling.
Apparently, there was considerable damage. I thought it must have
been a fire. But a Grall'nakled ..." He shook his head.
"Yeah, I should have scarpered and let them deal with it. Not that
they could have."
"But you didn't..." Willow said.
"Yeah, sometimes I can be a bleedin' idiot."