Cliffhanger Warning: Danger ahead! This part ends on a cliffhanger.
Title:
The Dark Rose - Chapter 8a (His Master's Ghost: The Shadow of Death)Author: Dark Magic Willow
Email:
darkmagickwillow@yahoo.comRating: R, mostly for violence, no explicit sex
Pairing: W/T
Spoilers: All episodes through the end of season 6 though this story takes
place 18-19 years after the end of season 6.
Feedback: Yes! Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Summary: A dark spectre arises and attacks the slayer and her companions.
Magic Note: Magic, even dark magic, is not addictive in my universe, so there
are no withdrawal symptoms and no dark magic dealers. Here Rack was a dark
magic teacher who used his students, not a dealer. However, you can use too
much magic and you can be corrupted by the power it gives you.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the copyrights or anything else
associated with BtVS. All rights lie with the production company,
writers etc.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to my betas, Amanda and Juli, for getting chapters
back to me this hectic week. Holidays and moving, not a good combination.
The Dark Rose
Chapter 8a: His Master's Ghost: The Shadow of DeathDeep beneath Sunnydale in a tenebrous cavern dimly lit by flickering candles,
the Master sat on his throne of stone, wearing a thick gold chain around his
neck on which hung a large uncut stone pulsing with a cold emerald light. The
gem's radiance waxed and waned like the slow beating of an unholy heart,
expanding to flood the cavern with emerald brilliance then contracting to mere
embers of an evil green fire deep within the stone.
The cavern was freezing, too cold for a place deep beneath the ground, and
while the vampire did not feel it, his companion was dressed in heavy wool
robes. Amy's brown hair was heavily streaked with grey and she looked tired
and old. Even the Master, a vampire of few years, looked aged and his face was
beginning to take on the aspect of the demon even while in human form.
"You simply call on the spirit you wish to summon while holding the Heart," Amy
instructed the Master. "It's that simple." She was having a difficult time
convincing him to cast the spell though it had been his idea in the beginning.
The young fool had gained some caution since his failure with the weather
spell.
Amy knew he was right to be cautious with this spell. Fell spirits such as the
one he wanted to call would be as happy to destroy their summoner as they would
be to destroy his enemies.
"But I don't know his true name," the Master argued. "How can I summon
something when I don't know who it is? Calling on the Master could bring one
of any number of demons that have called themselves that instead of the one I
want."
"It doesn't matter," Amy replied. "The Heart will sense your intention and
bring the right spirit to you." She thought that was what the book said, but
she hadn't the experience with ancient languages to be certain. Anyway, it was
best that this one bear the risks of experimentation so that she would know how
to use the power of the Heart when she took it from him.
"But how can you be sure?" the Master asked querulously.
"I've read it in the Books of Leng," Amy said, sighing inwardly. She held up
the ancient leather-bound tome that she held in her hand and pointed at the
open page, saying, "It says so right here."
"You know I can't read that!" the Master snarled at her. He wanted the spell,
but he was exasperated with this witch and her arguments. If she didn't
produce the results he wanted, he would kill her and find another witch.
Amy knew she had to come up with another argument since her appeal to magical
authority had failed. The Master was always confident in his power to destroy
his enemies directly so she appealed to his pride. "If you summon something
else, then you can send it back or destroy it with the Heart's raw power.
There's no risk to you."
The Master paused as her argument struck a chord within him. She was right.
With the Heart in hand, he could destroy whatever he summoned, no matter what
it was. "Very well," he answered in a steady tone. "I will try the summoning,
but if the wrong spirit answers my call, you will pay the price."
"Of course, Master," Amy answered. "Do you want to begin now? It's after
sundown above."
The Master tightly grasped the Heart in his fist. As he did so, Amy could see
the bones of his hand illuminated by its emerald light like an X-ray image.
Cold emerald fire burned in the air like an aura around him as he drew on the
power of the Heart. "Come!" he called. "Spirit of the Master, you must obey
my call. Death can hold you no longer. Come to me now!"
Emerald fire flared brightly around the vampire as he called the one he knew
could destroy the slayer. The old slayer had been lucky. This time, the new
slayer would be destroyed by the vampire as natural order demanded. As he
finished the call, a deeper cold filled the cavern and the air suddenly smelled
old and dead as if it had come from an ancient sealed tomb.
A spectre appeared before him, outlined in unholy emerald light. The
translucent figure was that of an ancient vampire, its face permanently drawn
into the hunting visage of the demon inside. Its eyes glowed with a hateful
green light as it looked at him. Walking towards him, the spectre dripped
beads of steaming emerald radiance onto the cavern floor with each step.
The Master was ecstatic. He had succeeded in bringing back the old Master.
Now he would send the spectre to destroy the slayer, paving the way for him to
rule Sunnydale as he was meant to. His thoughts broke off as he felt freezing
hands grasp his throat and begin twisting with a strength far beyond his own.
Amy watched as the spectre attempted to kill the Master. She made no attempt
to help him. His fate didn't matter to her. If the unholy spirit destroyed
the vampire, she would have the Heart that much sooner. In any case, she
wasn't going to risk herself by fighting that terrible ghost.
The Master desperately squeezed the Heart harder, drawing on its seemingly
endless reservoirs of dark power. "Stop, get back!" he gasped. "I command you
by the power of the Heart."
The spectre unwillingly backed away from the vampire, glaring at him with
glowing emerald eyes. "Young one!" it said. "How dare you take my name as
your own? I will..."
"You will do nothing," the Master interrupted. "I am the Master now and you
are but a shade I summoned to do my bidding." The evil green eyes of the old
Master bore into the young vampire, but the spectre did not deny his statement
or attempt to attack him again. Assured of his control, the younger vampire
said, "Now I command you: go and kill the vampire slayer!"
The spectral vampire disappeared from the cavern with a final glare at his
summoner. After it departed, the tomblike atmosphere and sub-freezing
temperatures of the chamber produced by its presence subsided.
The Master turned to Amy and smiled cruelly. "I think that will do for the
slayer."
Amy nodded, having been impressed by the power of the spectre. "He will kill
her," she said. "But even if he doesn't, we will still have the advantage.
The fools above will think that they've destroyed the Master and that the
threat is over. Then we will have all the time we need to learn how to use the
Heart to full effect."
The Master hadn't thought about that. He liked the idea of winning no matter
what outcome occurred in the fight above, but he didn't mention his pleasure to
the witch. She was simply there to do his bidding. "Now send a minion to
watch the school for the slayer, then return to your books," he said. "I want
a spell of real power for my ascent to the world above."
* * * * * * Tara was supposed to be helping Mr. Giles research in the school library. He
was still quite excited by Spirit's discovery of a heap of demolished
motorcycles in the cemetery even though more than a week had passed. Giles was
sure it meant that the Master was up to something, if only establishing his
dominance over the other demons of Sunnydale.
Tara knew better, but she couldn't say anything without giving away her secret
so she was daydreaming as she flipped pages, recalling her evening meetings
with Willow. After the one time, they hadn't been interrupted by demons or
vampires. She could almost forget the dark power Willow had exhibited in that
terrible confrontation.
Her nights were wonderful. First she'd patrol with Spirit, then she would make
her excuses and go to find Willow or Willow would find her once she left the
company of the vampire slayer. They could always find each other.
She was learning more about her friend, encountering tantalizing hints about
her past life in their conversations, but she knew not to press Willow too
closely. That led to uncomfortable silences as each of them tried to find a
more neutral subject of conversation. There weren't too many of those times
though, as she could usually sense what was safe to ask about and what was
not. She was still puzzled by one thing Willow had hinted at last night
though.
Tara was walking with Willow on the network of paths that wove
through the forested areas of the university campus. The only illumination was
that of the moon, but she felt safe here with Willow. Beside the path, she saw
the faint shadows of herself and Willow walking beside each other. The two
figures were connected by a slender thread of shadow cast by their arms
reaching towards each other to hold hands.
She turned away and wrinkled her nose as she thought again about the riddle
Willow had posed for her. "I don't get it," she said. "I don't see how you
can get any part of Willow Rosenberg to rhyme with Tara Lucas. The names don't
have anything in common."
"Think about Rosenberg again, where the name came from," Willow suggested,
turning to look at her with eyes hidden behind polarized lenses.
Tara's ponytail swished back and forth as she shook her head. "It's a Jewish
name, but I still don't see ... why don't you just tell me?"
"I can't tell you," Willow said, managing to look mysterious even with the hood
of her cloak thrown back, revealing her face and the brilliant waterfall of red
hair that fell to her waist. "Names have power, and you never know who might
be listening in the night."
Frustrated, Tara gave Willow an exasperated look, but she knew from past
experience that she wasn't going to get anything more from her. "What about
friends?" she asked, accepting the necessity of changing the topic more or less
gracefully. "Do any of your friends still live here?"
"No, there's just me," Willow said. Her expression was melancholy and her eyes
avoided meeting Tara's. "I haven't stayed long enough in any one place to make
any friends since I left Sunnydale."
"Hey," Tara interrupted with a squeeze of Willow's hand. "You've got me."
Willow turned to Tara with brilliant smile that lit up her face. "I do, don't
I?" she said softly.
Tara realized with Willow's response that despite how strong Willow seemed to
be, she was fragile in other ways. Willow rarely talked about friends and
family, and when she did, it was never in the present tense. Instead, she
talked about the spells she'd learned, places she'd been, and warlocks whom
she'd met briefly. While Willow might have all the power she would ever need
to fight vampires or demons, she was missing so much else in life.
There had been such joy on Willow's face at her simple promise of friendship.
Willow was so alone, even more lonely than Tara had been after her mother's
death. She didn't have to be alone any more. Neither of them did. They had
each other.
Tara's smile at that thought ended up as a yawn. Her long nights were having
an effect on the rest of her life. Willow usually walked Tara home just before
dawn. They'd only stayed up to watch the sunrise once, but when she kept awake
until sunrise it always felt to her like she was seeing it from the wrong
direction. She'd been afraid Willow would laugh or just not grasp what she
meant, but Willow had simply told her that she understood and had seemed oddly
happy about the whole thing.
Still, she needed to get more sleep. She usually napped at this time of day
until it was time to patrol, but Giles had insisted on her help with the
research as he wasn't getting anywhere on his own and wanted a fresh pair of
eyes to look at the problem.
She sighed, shifting in her seat, knowing that even if her eyes were fresh it
wouldn't help because the Master wasn't behind the motorcycle incident. That
had been Willow, albeit a frightening and powerful version of her friend that
she hadn't seen since that night. Would she have done the same to defend her
friend if she had that kind of power?
Tara knew she wouldn't. She could fight and even kill demons if she had too,
but it didn't make her feel good and under no circumstances would she resort to
calling on dark powers. She would have found a way to defend herself or flee
instead of confronting them directly. She wished that she had the courage to
ask Willow to never use that kind of dark magic again.
Tara looked up, startled, as Spirit asked her, "Find anything?" She hadn't
heard the slayer return from her training session with Giles and wondered how
long she had been looking down at the same page with her friend looking on.
Tara shook her head. "No," she admitted. "There doesn't seem to be much in
this book about demons and motorcycles. There doesn't seem to be anything
about that kind of thing in any of books here."
"You did seem to be stuck on that one page for the last five minutes," Spirit
said.
Tara blushed. "I ... I was..." She felt embarrassed that she'd been caught
daydreaming by her younger friend, and she certainly didn't want to explain who
she'd been thinking about while she'd stared blindly at the book in front of
her.
"It's okay," Spirit reassured her. "I do that sometimes too. After a while,
all these demons and creatures start looking the same and you just drift off."
Tara was glad that Spirit didn't seem interested in what she had been thinking.
She was about to reply when the warm comfortable ambiance of the familiar
library changed. The room suddenly felt like a sepulcher as the temperature
dropped precipitously.
A horrifying spectre rose up from the solid floor of the library. It was the
translucent figure of an ancient vampire lambent with a sickly green radiance.
Its face was a hideous demonic visage with glowing green eyes. The spectre
began walking towards the table where they sat, shedding immaterial droplets of
phosphorescent green light that hissed as they struck the floor.
Tara jumped up from her chair and began backing away from the approaching
ghost. Spirit took an involuntary step or two back as well before remembering
that she was the slayer. A determined looked came across her face as she
grabbed a stake from the table and prepared to deal with this vampire, ghostly
or not.
Tara felt guilty for staying back, but she didn't think stakes would help
against a ghost. "Mr. Giles," she called out, her voice tremulous with the
fear that she couldn't completely suppress. She'd faced vampires before, but
she'd never seen anything like this. She racked her brain, trying to think of
spells that would stop a ghost, forcing herself to ignore the little voice in
the back of her mind that told her to run.
The spectre leered at Spirit, displaying long fangs, as she ran towards it. It
was utterly silent as it unhurriedly walked towards her save for the hissing
sound of beads of luminous emerald ill falling from its translucent form to the
floor.
Giles emerged from his office and broke the unnerving silence. "Dear lord,
it's the Master," he said in an unbelieving voice. He stood stock still,
stunned at this impossible resurrection.
Spirit plunged her stake through the center of the spectre's chest, but her
weapon swung through the insubstantial spirit without touching it. Her arm
burned with cold where it had touched the ghost. The spectre sneered at her
futile attempt to harm it and struck her with an open-handed blow that smashed
her across the room into a bookcase. "This time," it prophesied in a deep,
hollow voice. "The slayer will die."
Giles rummaged frantically through the supply cabinets of the library's front
desk. He wasn't going to lose another slayer to the Master. Finding what he
was looking for, he tossed one vial of holy water to Tara and grabbed a larger
jar of the stuff for himself. Standing up, he challenged the dark spirit,
attempting to divert it from Spirit and Tara. "We beat you last time," he
said. "We'll do it again."
Tara caught the thrown vial of holy water, understanding Giles' thinking
immediately. The efficacy of holy water wasn't limited to vampires; it was
supposed to affect all undead.
She would have to put it to the test.
She was the only one standing between the spectre and Spirit's fallen form.
Tara was terrified, but she couldn't abandon her friend. Her hands shook as
she opened the vial and got ready to throw it.
The spectre of the Master turned its head to glare at Giles with its unholy
green orbs, answering him coldly, "Your time will come." Then the dark spirit
attacked Tara with the preternatural speed of a master vampire, reaching her
before she could react. It plunged its translucent hand deep into her chest,
reaching for her heart.
Tara gasped as the icy hand of the spectre clutched her heart, still beating in
her chest, and began to squeeze. She fell to her knees, shivering with the icy
cold of the deadly contact.
--
"Omnia mutantur, nihil interit." -- "Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost."
Edited by: darkmagicwillow at: 11/25/02 9:57:35 am