Part 10 Kittens, once again you may have seen it before.. in a different form... I keep saying that fics are the last of the set-ups... but this one really is. Once this is done then you don't know where I am going... aside from me saying it is a good place. Which it is.
Enjoy Kittens...
Katharyn
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Title:
The Sidestep Chronicle - The Interview (Part 10)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome.
katharynrosser@hotmail.comSpoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe though reference is made to events that occur in both realities.
Summary: Before, during and after Tara's interview with The Mayor.
Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories.
Rating: 15
Couples: Not yet but moving ever closer.
Notes: The original version of this fic was posted as part 29 of The Beginnings Cycle. This version is worth reading even if you read that though as changes have been made, including removal of the 'Prime Reality' W/T stuff as well as modifications to Tara's characterisation - she had too much of a harsh edge in that version for this point in the larger story that is now being told. If you think she is cold now… you should compare that to the original BC version.
Thanks To: Whoever it was I stole the line “She wasn't exactly Dracula's sister” from. It isn't mine and I can't remember whose it was (though it was a published work of fiction) - but it seemed to good a line to pass up for a vampire related tale.
The Sidestep Chronicle
The Interview
By
Katharyn Rosser
Tara tossed in her sleep, the bed was crumpled, sheets pulled away from the mattress at one corner by compulsive grasping. Limbs flung out, covers in disarray. Occasionally she made some little noise, or a word emerged from the dream and into the outside world. Meanwhile the small knife chipped at the increasingly shaped piece of wood… held aloft by the unconscious power of her mind.
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She wasn't alone. She never had to be alone.
She had… someone. She couldn't for the life of her remember the name of the person she was lying with though. By the Goddess how embarrassing was that? To find yourself next to someone and not have any idea who they were. To have to ask them when they woke up… sorry we shared a bed and had smoochies but I still have no idea who you are. Or perhaps to stay quiet and hope that they would let it spill themselves. She had no idea what to do about that lack of a name - other than ask. It was not a situation she knew how to handle.
The woman she lay in the bed with was hidden by the quilt, given away just by the shock of red hair that lay beside her face on the pillow. They lay close together, each lying on their side so that their forms fitted tightly together like two spoons in a drawer. The other woman was curled in her embrace, her flesh warm beneath her touch. Nightclothes had seemed so unimportant last night, after they had fed each other here in this bed. What had they eaten?
And where was this bed?
She didn't recognise the room, though she instinctively knew it was hers. Possessions that she had not seen in three years littered it. Photographs. One with her bed mate in it as well. Another with the two of them together. She ran her hands over the flesh of that woman, appreciating the soft warmth of her body and knowing that she knew it far more intimately than the lack of a name would suggest to anyone.
Eventually her almost subconscious motions stirred the other woman.
What was her name? The woman shifted in the bed, under her hands she moved and Tara was afraid that she had woken her. Afraid and hoping… but she kept the hands on her as the other one moved beneath them, exploring new areas that she somehow already knew. The woman murmured at her as an alarm clock started to chime somewhere… “Morning Tara, my love.”
Love? My love?
Her love?
She knows me, Tara thought. She knows me so well. And I know her. But I have no idea what her name is… I need to know her name. And then she was saying it. She was returning the greeting as somewhere else a telephone rang. She was about to name the person. She knew the name but could not remember it. Her subconscious was about to tell her. “Morning-”
She awoke with a start and found herself all alone, clasped against the pillow, the telephone ringing and the details of the dream were gone. All that remained was a desperate desire to find out a name.
That name.
She knows me and I don't know her.
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This was weird.
She wasn't alone in her bed. She was always alone in her bed. That was what beds were for. She had never played in it. Beds were for sleeping and whiling away the long daylight hours when there was nothing to tease or make fun of in the shadows.
Willow felt herself being held. Not tied down or being held by superior strength, just held. Who had dared to put themselves here? With her? Xander might have tried it once or twice, before she broke his extremities and cooled his ardour. But no one else. Not the Master… and every other vampire was scared of her. She had seen to that as the first order of business when she returned to his court - to a not exactly ecstatic welcome from Luke who was ruling in the Master's stead until his return from… somewhere else.
So who was holding her?
An arm around her bare midriff and she had the delicious feeling that she had been… but she hadn't. Not since she came back. She hadn't found anyone suitable for
that sort of playtime. What she had played with had not… survived. But somehow she knew that last night, the night before waking to find herself held like this, she had been playing - just not her usual games.
Who was it?
She had to see, she twisted under the loosely draped, yet still possessive hands. It was good to feel that possessiveness - though if anyone tried it she would probably snap that arm off and beat them around the head with it. See how possessive they were then.
She found herself speaking… “Morning…” what was the name? What was the name? “My love.”
My love?
Love?
Uggh.
Her bedmate was at least of the right sex for her persuasions. If she hadn't been Willow might have had to get immediately bloody. She still might… but at least she could relax here a little first and soak up the other woman.
Other woman… woman… human.
Oh damn I'm human!Intellectually it was not a good thing. She hated the memory of her human self - all the more because she had actually met her in that weird place. But right now… in this woman's arms it didn't seem to matter as much as it should. She could feel her heart beat. She could hear it pound in her ears as the other woman spoke to her. She recognised the voice, she recognised the face… the hair. She just didn't know who it was. “Morning Willow,” the human said to her.
She knows me and I don't know her.Then she was awake. Alone. And still very, very dead.
Thankfully.
She got out of bed and went off in search of a morning snack… maybe she would take it back to bed with her. At least on her diet she didn't have to worry about crumbs in the bed.
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Tara was only mildly disappointed to find that the alarm call she had requested was three minutes late. A great deal more disappointed to be pulled out of that dream. Had she been close to getting a name?
Despite the effects of the frustratingly wonderful dream she had swung her legs out of the comfort of the bed within ten seconds of the call coming through. It was the part of her day that required the greatest discipline of her. Each and every day she swore that one day it would kill her. But away from the discomfort of getting up she knew far, far better what would actually account for her life. Even sleeping on a cold concrete floor covered only by a coat she'd had troubles getting up - though it had been a while since she had failed to find a bed. After today it would be longer still. Or her next bed would be her grave… Possibly a spot of her own where her body could rot in the basement of the Master's lair.
Had she been here on any day other than this one she would have gone for her customary run or walk and used the opportunity to spy the lay of the land - and the options it presented to her. But not today. Today was too important. She needed to prepare for the interview and not risk the possibility of being 'distracted' whilst out there. It didn't matter that her explorations were so far limited to maps and the journey from the airport. Whilst maps never gave you the full story she would either have days to find her bearings or it wouldn't matter anyway.
No… she thought, be positive. Today she had to be positive. Sure about what she was doing - because there can be no regrets later. She either did this… or she didn't.
Don't have the inner debate, Tara.If talking to yourself was the first sign of madness then at least she wasn't actually speaking out loud. That would just be weird.
She knelt before the dresser having noticed the shavings there. Fresh… her dream had furthered the representation of the woman in the wood. Young woman - sometimes she looked no more than a girl. Sometimes she was a woman. Sometimes they were even old ladies together… somewhere. But it was still her…
She swept up the wood shavings and examined the sculpture created by her mind… It was taking shape. She could recognise the shape of the face - that was perfect. The details were still a little lacking. Whatever process was creating it wasn't working logically. It was doing little bits here and there. Another one another time, leaving some things unfinished. But it had been obvious for some time now just who it was.
She could and would explore later when she had been confirmed in the position that really was necessary to see justice done - finally. When she knew that she had a reason for knowing anything other than where her enemy was located - and that fact was already firmly established in her mind. It was in the warehouse district, she had heard from Allan that it was an old club. Besides she would only need to follow the stench of death if the time came - the trails of vampires were clear enough if you knew what records to look though, which news reports. Or you could just follow them - they were usually too arrogant to take precautions against being found. They would never believe that something was hunting them - especially not a human. Even the Slayer was just a myth to most of them.
She would be a total surprise to them all.
And she would kill them all.
Instead of walking or running she went into a cycle of callisthenics designed to bring the practitioner to a state of bodily readiness. It wasn't like she was muscle-bound fighting gal or anything like that - she relied on her crafts to achieve her objectives, not her body - but without a reasonably healthy body there was a limit to what the mind could achieve. And she couldn't afford to be limited. Not now. Not here.
The exercises had been recommended to her by Mr Zabuto and though she despised the necessity to practice them, she recognised it. The year of poverty and hunger she had endured immediately after leaving home had taken its toll. Before she had figured out that people actually wanted magical services - if you knew where to look - that period had starved her of some of her more womanly curves and she almost despised the toning that the exercise had added to that. Though slightly easier living since then had got rid of the slightly emaciated look that she had developed, she still didn't quite recognise herself in the mirror. She had been more than happy with her appearance no matter what others had sniggered and commented about, but now she felt like some cheerleader fighting to keep her weight down. But weight wasn't the issue at all. The magic took a calorific toll as well as a mental one and she was so reliant on the magic to do what she had to do, that she couldn't put weight on if she tried. That always made her smile. The high school princesses who had tortured her during her school days would have killed for her metabolism.
Course now she knew far more interesting forms of torture. A little holy water, not too much of course, and the judicious use of a religious symbol - the only times that she would actually work with articles of faith… And for twisted reasons. Those were just the classics for dealing with vampires, but she had quickly found out that the creatures of the night were as susceptible to other methods as any human was. As a guy in New York had told her just after her arrival, 'Kick 'em in the nuts. A lot. It works for me.' And it did. What was that? Eighteen months ago? He'd been dead for sixteen of those. Always assuming they had nuts… And so she had learned those methods too… by trial and error. Worst case, if she had to actually physically fight… she knew enough just to surprise them, hurt them and give herself chance to either get away or to bring her crafts to bear.
Torture though… that was something different. She had become quite sophisticated at that too - though she never let herself come to enjoy it. She saw vampires as animals, beasts. Unnatural - but with a place in the world. Like a lot of animals they had to be controlled - put down. She would kill them all if she ever could… but you didn't torture animals. She would only ever do that to a vampire to get information… information that had led her here, to Sunnydale. It had taken a long time, which was probably a good thing really - allowing her to prepare, but… it had surprised her that vampires were just as ignorant of their world as humans were of theirs. She had assumed that they might have known the secrets. They didn't even know where their next meal was coming from most of the time.
Just like Tara herself.
Unfortunately some of them, also like her, had learned to plan and research. She had learned by being on the receiving end of attempts to extract information. She knew that she could break a human as easily as she could a vampire… though she had never tried and no desire to start.
She knew because she had been broken by them. And it had cost lives. Not tortured precisely. More tricked into revealing things by some sort of mental suggestion - though there had been pain too. There was always pain. Only Kendra's timely arrival had stopped her mission from ending right there. And it ultimately got the Slayer killed.
But that was by the by. She wouldn't allow herself to care. If she started to care then she would falter. And if she faltered…
If she faltered she would die.
And she couldn't die until she had accomplished the only thing that mattered.
Justice.
With such thoughts boiling through her head she hardly noticed the passage of the routine and, sweating lightly after half an hour of exertion, she showered quickly and rang down for breakfast - a meal more substantial than the sandwich she had selected the night before. She might need her strength before the morning was out as it would be best to make the, final, move during daylight hours should she fail the interview. That way there might still be a way out.
Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Tara. Yes sir it is. Especially for her. She was out in the night… using magic which drained her. She needed to eat when she got up. Yes Sir. He had been right about that too.
Funny, she had never heard Daddy tell that to her mother… who had eaten like a bird in the morning. Cooking up those huge breakfasts… and then just having a bowl of cereal herself. But Daddy had let Mommy do a lot of things that he would never have allowed otherwise. Including setting his daughter on the path.
Had Mommy known? She'd had the sight… a much greater talent than Tara in that regard. Could she have known?
No… Mommy would have said something. She wouldn't have let them die… wouldn't have let her daughter live like this.
Tara was unconcerned as the waiter ogled her in her underwear as he made his delivery. Poor guy must be younger than she was and already stuck in a job like this - is that why people went to school? But she had done jobs to survive too. When his eyes lingered on her body she didn't appreciate it, but she understood it. She knew she wasn't exactly Dracula's sister - had exploited the fact a little on more than one occasion when there had been no other way to achieve her goals. It didn't make her feel good to do that - but if that was the extent of it, not feeling good, then she had no concerns about the tactic. And that was all it was - a tactic just like any other. Just enough diversion to get her where she needed to be - something to distract the eyes of those who watched. Not such a high price.
Actually, she had it on pretty good authority that Dracula didn't have a sister - at least not one who had joined him in unlife. Now, there was a vampire she would like to actually meet. To converse with, to find out what lay behind the legend. To match his reputed 'parlour tricks' against her own skills. Pretty much all she had known about vampires three years ago had been movies about the 'dark prince.' And now… here she was looking forward to killing him.
He was a relatively low body-count bloodsucker by all accounts and not interested in world domination or anything much besides his own games and pleasures. She could tolerate that long enough to learn what made him so successful. The psychological aspect of the hunt still fascinated her - though her own methods were usually more direct. But she wanted to learn and he would be a special case. It was like… he was Dracula… what else was there to say?
Then she would dust him like the rest.
Just like the Master… Ideally she would study him too. From afar. Just so that she could make sure she killed him - when the time came. That was why she needed the job she was going for. If she didn't get it then she would just have to attack. And die.
Maybe one day Dracula might come to visit this Hellmouth and its town. If she had survived her mission of revenge… no… justice… it was always to be justice… then she would continue her work with him - and every other vampire that was unfortunate enough to cross her path. She would not fail. You didn't have to be a Slayer to deal with vampires… indeed it was said that one Slayer had already been outmatched by the Master. Another one who required her brand of justice. She would deliver for that one too. What was that? Two Slayers, one Watcher, countless people who had helped her and paid the price. Thousands of people who had become meals. Her family… She owed it to all of them to succeed. She owed it to all of them to get the job.
And then to do it.
The reputation of the vampire involved meant little to her - except in as much as they were dangerous and long lived enough to have one at all. Dracula, the Master - even those Slayers… none of them. If she had been impressed by reputations then she would have accepted the death of her family and never chosen to seek justice beyond those vampires immediately responsible. She would never have imagined the death of the self-styled 'Master' at her hand. She would never have dared contemplating working for the person who she was now going to try and impress into employing her.
She hated showing off, or putting herself into the spotlight. It was against her basic nature and once she had been so painfully shy, but she could barely remember that girl. She was a stranger to the person she had become - even if she didn't quite know all about her either. The girl was like someone that she had heard about maybe, but whom she couldn't believe had ever really existed. To get by in the shadowy world that she and her enemies occupied you had to make your own reputation. It defined who you were and what you could do. She had been forced to overcome that disinclination to display her capabilities. You couldn't do this and be shy, retiring and withdrawn - that had faded along with her innocence, as her brother and father lay bloodless in that barn. As her mother had rested upon that mortuary slab and she had held the cold hand, that was the key moment, Tara thought. She had done many things before an audience that she would once have never dared to even attempt in private. And now she would have to do so again. Show off. She just needed the tools and the 'volunteer.' She had thought about it long and hard, considering her options. And really she had very few.
It would be for a cause… the magic would be more powerful than she liked to use but as long as she stayed away from the dark, operated without hate in her heart when she did it. Then that should be okay. She was sure she would be able to impress. They had probably never seen anything quite like her. No one had really seen anything quite like her for hundreds of years - at least as far as she could tell.
She had that confidence in her abilities, even if her interviewing skills had never been tested and the idea of talking someone into giving her something inspired a unique fear that she had not experienced for so long. She might not be shy any more… but she wasn't an extrovert either… nor could she rely on her voice.
But once she had the job then she would be able go back to her usual methods. Less talking, much more silence and just deadly to the vampires of this town. Unless there was a message to be sent…
The only message she was interested in sending though was to The Master.
His time was almost up. She was coming for him. One day soon.
Not like this though. First she had to get dressed and get herself a job.
The nerves were back once more, fluttering around in her stomach like moths. That would never do. She ate the grapefruit, cereal and toast - drained the orange juice and then sat, still unclothed, in the middle of the floor. Closing her eyes and accepting the thoughts that rushed through her mind. Some might have regarded it as meditation if they had seen her doing that, but she knew different. It was just preparation for the day that was to come. Plans, possibilities, contingencies. The ideal, the worst case. Incantations and silent commands that had to be precisely recited and thought out if they were to work. The present and the future. Burning memories of the past.
And a fleeting memory of that dream that lingered with her. One in which she was not alone. In which she had been holding the woman with flame red hair once more. Whose name she still could not remember. Now was not the time to get sentimental… but what was the name? In her dreams she often came so close, often seemed about to say it, as if she had known… but it was gone.
It always left her, that knowledge, and she looked at the carving on the dresser once more. It was taking its form. So close, so close to the face in her dreams that she could not be sure she was accurately remembering. She wasn't sure what the carving still needed to be perfect - not consciously at least - but she knew it was heading in the right direction.
Again she was distracting herself, so she put that all aside and continued with her mental preparations - this morning adding in her responses to the likely questions that would be asked of her. Easy enough when you were murmuring to yourself and your voice wasn't going to fail you, harder to articulate to another living person. She was certain that she would be let down by her voice. And there would not just be questions. It was almost certain there would be a practical - there had to be. He couldn't hire her on her word alone could he? Fortunately she had one planned. One that was suitably impressive but would not overly tax her abilities - substantial as they were. It skirted the dangerous territory… but her motives were pure this time. In fact she would be earning the chance to help an entire town.
Five hundred heartbeats after closing them she opened her eyes and stood up. Put on the carefully laid out jacket, skirt and blouse and packed her few possessions, slipping the by now diminutive carving into her jacket pocket - not so worried about the slight bulge that spoilt the lines as she was about carefully protecting the photographs by putting them in the pockets of her case. The last thing she did was to pull the protective emblems from the walls. She would not be back here tonight - whatever else happened. Once she stepped inside City Hall her future would be changed. When she crossed that threshold she would be labelled by those she already counted as her enemies. Whether or not she succeeded in the interview - they would know who she was. They would have to be watching City Hall… surely? And if she failed then it would be time to meet her fate anyway.
Funny really. That didn't scare her. Not the prospect of failing the interview. Not her intention to take the fight to her enemy to try and deliver justice - even if she had to do it alone. Nor the very definite likelihood that it would cost her life - and maybe not quickly either. It could be drawn out for days - weeks even. What scared her was the interview itself. She'd had lots of 'jobs' but never been interviewed. She'd undertaken many tasks and functions for people - and things that weren't people in any sense at all - but never actually had to smarten up and present herself like this. What was scaring her now though was the prospect of interacting with someone else - working with them in an office environment. Lots of other people. Being pleasant. Being convincing and being confident. She could kill vampires all night long… but she didn't have to make small talk with those things. She couldn't even pun.
Finally she pulled the solitary seat around and sat facing the door waiting. She had fifteen minutes still to wait for Deputy-Mayor Allan Finch. Fancy title given what he appeared to be doing for his boss. She could be patient though. She was very good at that. She had waited. She had bided her time. She had taken the time to learn what she needed to. She had carried out tasks that would once have made her feel less than human to support her development and her monetary needs. But then she wasn't fully human was she? Time was just an asset like any other. And she avoided wasting any of it. She lived her life as she had to. To her life was a fatal disease. Death could come at any moment. She intended to make use of the last moments of her life… whenever they happened to actually be. Even if that 'death' came with the end of her humanity in a few months time.
She sensed Allan's approach even before she heard his footsteps, which pleased her. Sunnydale wasn't like a big city; there wasn't a lot of mental pollution getting in the way of her senses. But it was still easier than it should have been. Spill over from the Hellmouth? Perhaps… She would have to watch out for that, not get sucked into using magics that she shouldn't - just because she could. Just because it was easier here. Because it whispered to her and told her things.
Without that mental clutter though Allan's mind was a swirling mass of fears immediately recognisable. He even sounded nervous as he came to her door, hesitated - maybe at the fact that the curtains were still closed - and then knocked. It was a timid knock too. In the Sunnydale hierarchy he was supposed to be number two. That just went to show that what she had heard about the boss was probably not that inflated and exaggerated and that there was a big gap between number two and number one.
She picked up her case, the bag, swept her eyes over the room to ensure she had not missed anything then opened the door and swept by him. “M-Morning Allan,” was her cheery concession to civility. She didn't comment on his excellent punctuality.
Tara, punctuality isn't to be praised. It was to be expected. Yes sir. That was her Daddy talking. But it was so long since he had said a word.
“Morning Miss Maclay. Ready?”
The respect. The fear was still there as it had been last night. Her hard earned reputation may well have preceded her. But to inspire fear… that was never something she had looked for, or wanted. At least not amongst humans.
The impression that she had tried to give, had it become distorted by word of mouth and false reporting? Perhaps he has just seen a long list of candidates for this post… perhaps they were scary individuals and he expected her, all of them, to be the same… perhaps the distortion makes him think that she was the same.
Or maybe not… she thought to herself as she passed Allan who held the door for her. Maybe it was her that had been distorted. Maybe she
had gone too far down some paths. Maybe she was going even farther now.
But perhaps too far was just far enough. There was no turning back. Not now. She was in Sunnydale and if she had any chance of surviving that fact - or even more remotely succeeding in her desire for justice she needed help. She needed this job.
She let herself into the back of the limo and waited for Allan to drive her to their destination, once again engaging in polite small talk whilst her brain was elsewhere. Eventually though he seemed to realise he did not have her attention and gradually - without chopping the conversation off - he shut up. And if that was to be the deciding factor in her interview - failing to talk to Allan - then she didn't even want the job. But she
did want it. She needed it. They would have to allow for the fact that she would be nervous though. Some people just didn't interview well. She was grateful for his silence though as she examined the route they were taking and the signs of the decay in this town. Award winning - or so said the entry in the 1985 guidebook she had checked on the flight - Sunnydale showed little sign today of its more beautiful and peaceful past.
Every window, at least those that were not smashed, had heavy metal shutters, some of which were just being rolled back by intrepid shopkeepers. The pattern was clear. Essential stores, hardware, food and… funeral homes. Still in business. Others, like video stores, cinemas, long since boarded up and closed. Barely a car on the street at what should have been a busy time. It seemed like every other wall was daubed, if not with graffiti then with the evidence of violence. Dried blood, police markers and tape, missing persons' posters and here and there even bullet holes. Maybe she would be doing the people a service when she inflicted her own brand of justice on their problems. The living would benefit as - what should have been - the dead were allowed to truly rest without being desecrated by the demons that possessed them. Maybe.
They slowed and parked directly in front of the doors to City Hall. This time she allowed the Deputy Mayor to open the door for her. This time she wanted to create the right impression on anyone who might be watching - and she seriously doubted that it would be just her prospective employer who would be doing the observing. Let them think she stood on ceremony. Let them think that manners mattered to her. Let them think that she felt she was superior and worthy of his good manners.
Let them underestimate me, she thought.
Perhaps at the end will they get the true measure of Tara Maclay? Their end. Or hers.
It was with a rush of disgust that she realised that the security in the lobby was a vampire - not even bothering to disguise his nature from her - or anyone else who walked in. It might be wearing a suit but it was a bloodsucker nonetheless - active even in the daytime. The pendant itched furiously. It had tickled as they sped past certain parts of town - vampires lying up out of the sun or in the sewers maybe - but here? But then why would the nature of the security be hidden? In Sunnydale everyone knew what was going on - at least they did now that it was too late, when awareness could no longer help them much. It was working for the Mayor, perhaps it had offended the Master - or the Mayor simply paid better. But it would not survive her interview for this job - either in this post or in unlife. Of that she was certain. And it wouldn't have to step over the conspicuous point on the carpet that would mark the furthest progression of sunlight into the building to get dusted. She would deal with it all with no effort on its part. She had found her volunteer and fixed its location in her mind.
For later reference.
Allan took her right up to the destination floor where a joiner was fitting some impressive, and probably expensive, replacement doors to a frame. Leaning against an opposite wall was the reason. Someone had not bothered to try to manipulate the lock to access the office - instead choosing to go right through the door to get into the room - which, as she was led inside without a customary knock by Allan, bore no other sign of a struggle or a disturbance. She smiled at the elderly joiner when he gave her a small, patient, twitch of his lips. He probably knew better than to smile properly.
“Mr Mayor - sir?” Allan said to the figure facing away from his desk in a swivelling chair. The figure did not turn around from his newspaper. Allan hesitated. The fear was back and it was far, far, greater now. She didn't have to stretch out to read that… now it was flowing from the Deputy Mayor. And it was not at all of her. “Mr Mayor, this is Miss Maclay.”
The figure in the chair spun around and was not at all what Tara had expected. The man's - was he a man? - reputation did of course precede him and she had seen him on television but this...? With the rising of the Master, Mayor Wilkins had been forced to reveal himself as a force to be reckoned with in Sunnydale just to survive and people gossiped - so did demons and she had spoken to several about him - only some of which had survived the conversation. The expansive smile though, that was plastered over his face was disarming, pleasant and seemed entirely genuine. Of course it could all be for effect. What she had heard about this man did not bear repeating in most, human, company and the most pleasant description she could recall having heard was 'snake oil salesman.'
But then how often did she talk to humans anyway? Who was she going to tell?
“Miss Maclay welcome to Sunnydale! Can I call you Tara? I think it so important that we get off on the right foot here - after all you may be joining our merry little band of minstrels and I like a first name basis in office, right Allan?”
“Oh absolutely sir,” the deputy replied, not at all suggesting that he would dream of calling this man Richard - let alone Dick.
If he was even still a man. His aura was dark and like trying to read a book through muddy water. The words were all there but the pages were soggy and moving in the current and even then there was no telling what they were. The Mayor looked around as if he could feel her trying to sense him, considered it. Then the smile was back again broader than before, as if that effort had pleased him. She might not be able to read him - but he seemed to approve of the attempt, so she decided not to hold anything back in her dealings with him.
Make or break time Tara. Do your best. Yes sir.
She tried to smile back and knew she just came off as nervous - she couldn't lapse into timidity. Not now, not so close. There was too much at stake. The Mayor waved Allan out of the office and also motioned to the joiner.
“Gerry, would you excuse Tara and I - we have some sensitive business to discuss. Mint?” he asked her as the elderly joiner packed up his tools without looking at her again.
“N-no thank y-you Mr Mayor.” She replied, cringing as her nervousness affected her voice - making the first appearance of what she guessed would be many in his presence.
“You have a bit of a speech problem there?” he asked as if just curious but clearly measuring her all the same. It was just a question though - she got no sense of what that made him think of her. A totally non-judgemental question.
“When-n I'm n-nervous. A b-bit” Tara replied, wondering if she could get over it. “I thought it w-was better.” And she had. She hadn't stammered this badly for a long, long time. She'd just missed the occasional word for so long it had seemed like nothing. Well over two years now, and here it was back again when she needed her voice the most.
“Hey then, just don't be nervous,” he told her.
He made it sound so simple. If it were that simple then she wouldn't even have to worry about it would she?
“You're young - starting out on a whole new portion of your life here in Sunnydale - which I can promise you will be
very, very exciting.” She could not doubt either his sincerity or the assurance of excitement. It was easy to describe what she did as exciting when you were not out there actually doing it.
“But p-possibly short?” she asked him pointedly. Hold nothing back, she told herself, you have just one chance at this - and there can be no misunderstanding. When she had to… she could be direct.
He smiled that disarming smile again and made no attempt to conceal the truth about himself. “Tara, I remember when I went for my first job. This is your first interview right?” She nodded. “Actually it was with Gerry's great-grandfather - that man taught me the fundamental principles of building. Strong foundations and the best materials.” She did not miss his reference to her strength - or potential lack of it. “If you have the right materials you can build something that will last oh - a hundred years. But that's why we are here isn't it - to see what you are made of?” Then he changed tack, abruptly. “So what do you think of my town?” he asked her, again sounding more curious than trying to get her to say 'the right thing.'
So she obliged. “Very n-nice. At least it would have been five years ago. Before someone came to try and take it away from you - or should I say came back?” Bold. That was the impression she wanted to create. Which would work great if she could keep her voice under control now that that it was sort of cooperating a little more.
Her implied insult didn't seem to phase him - though he did stop, looking at her like a hawk at a pigeon. Considering. “The very fact that you took the news that Gerry's great-grandfather taught me my first trade so calmly tells me that you either think I am aging well or something strange is going on. And you know what? You'd be right either way.” He laughed again. “But obviously you are aware of at least some of my problems. Sure you wouldn't like a mint - I promise it isn't a test I won't consider it rude, look.” He showed her the mint on his own tongue he had been sucking between sentences and laughed again.
This time she really had to smile, sticking his tongue out in an interview was just a bit absurd and it had broken some of that ice. She could feel herself relaxing - but knew that she should never relax around him. “No thank you.” He was charming she had to give him that. With only a few words and a stuck out tongue he had calmed her - and some of the words… some of which might be considered a threat, or at least a promise of bad things to come if she took this job. He wasn't using the arts on her, at least nothing she could recognise. She would have felt any mystical effects - even though she could not read him at all through that muddied aura. She was always very careful to be aware of the magic being used around her. She knew just what it could do… what she could do if she was less restrained.
“Ok then - take one for later. Win, lose or draw you might as well have something to take out of here. Besides my goodwill.” He pushed the bowl forward, refusing to take no for an answer. “'Go on.”
She took a mint.
“Take two. Go on. One calorie between them I promise - go on,” he insisted with all the menace of her grandfather offering her toffee.
She did take them. Though she had no intention of losing and didn't know what a draw would mean. Perhaps that she would fail the interview but keep her life. At least until this afternoon.
“Good girl.”
She looked at him, surprised at his phrasing.
“Sorry. Sorry. Young lady. You know that is one of the things I have the most problems with. The latest terminology. Sometimes I just lapse into my old bad habits - when I am excited for example. And I am excited by the way. Very much so. Your application was quite impressive and your… ah… references were impeccable. You could be exactly what I am looking for. But I guess the question really is what can you do for me?” Right down to business with the drop of a hat.
Which was strange. Her application had simply been a positive response and brief summary of her history. Her references had been non-existent. Most who could have given her one were dead and she didn't associate very much with people who would care to. He had been researching her - which implied he knew much more than she had put on that faxed sheet of paper.
It also implied that there was someone out there, still alive, that knew something about her. Enough to write a 'very impressive' reference.
“I'm h-here to help you solve some of your problems. B-blood-sucking problems.” She replied glad to be able to address the issue - it was her strength after all. Her determination. Her abilities. Her will. All were devoted to that end - and the justice that would bring. Finally.
“And I'm guessing, well actually hoping, you don't mean mosquitoes young lady - we got rid of those when we drained the swampland part of the town is built on,” he came and sat on the edge of his desk before her seat.
“No. Vampires… one particular vampire really but vampires generally,” she replied pleased that her determination had filtered into the quality of her voice.
“You know about that so called Master?” he asked her, obviously slightly impressed - probably by the distance she had travelled to be here. But she had come much further than any research he could have on her would suggest. She had been east long before she had come back west. And even that was not was not the extent of her journey from the girl she had been to the young lady - as he called her - she was today.
“I'd be stupid to come here not knowing - to a mystical convergence. Or not knowing the rumours about why you built this town and how the Master is interfering with those plans.” She said, trying to conceal the venom in her voice as she mentioned that vampire's name.
Cards on the table Tara. Yes sir.
Time to broach the most obvious problem. “I-I well I un-understand he cost you your Ascension.” There. It was out in the open. That she knew what he was and was still willing to join his fight. To further her own. To get justice she would support even him… for a time at least.
The mayor didn't rise to the bait and instead continued to focus on her, his mouth curling upwards in a tiny smile. Fair enough - it was his interview. “You really don't like him do you? It's personal? Not just what you do?” It was a rhetorical question as it was plain to see in her. “But personal grudges aren't going to get this done Tara. You won't see me obsessing about him. It's like wearing blinkers - do you ride Tara?”
She nodded, remembering the horse she had once had, now looked after by Uncle Bret… she imagined Beth riding him. Hoped he was okay. Back to the moment young lady.
Yes sir Daddy.
He continued. “If you're wearing blinkers then you can't see the entire picture. Avoiding distractions is good Tara, but sometimes you need to see the whole picture. This is not a one-task job - the things you might be asked to do as my assistant are many and varied - and sometimes I think you will find that they are not very pleasant - I admit that. It will not be all about that 'Master.' If that is all you can think about then you should leave now and take your mints with my blessing - but I hope you don't because, gosh, I like you already.” He was grinning like the Cheshire cat now. “I have a feeling about you Tara. A good one. I think we'll work great together.” He smiled again. “And the perks are pretty good too.”
“Such as?” Tara asked, sensitive to just how narrow her focus was, how well he was managing to read her. Whilst she had no interest in perks it would be better to show that she was... interested in something else. She could carry everything she wanted or needed in the world but she would hear his offer. It was more than just polite. And if he really suspected how narrow her focus truly was he might worry about how well she would perform.
“Easy but varied hours, a nice place to live, assisting me in reaching the next opportunity for my ascension, helping kill that so-called Master and make Sunnydale a place where people can walk the streets at night without fear of being bitten - by vampires at least.” He laughed again. “And most importantly a friend. I'm guessing you haven't had a friend in a long time. That's the life that you've had to lead to get where you are today - well no longer! I think that we could be friends - I try to be friends with all my team. All my constituents too.”
“Assuming I get the job.” And that last… about her not having had a friend. How true was that? Maybe he had a touch of the empathic ability she had always been able to use to great effect around people. It would be beneficial for a politician.
She wasn't sure that she had any interest in being his friend. But if he wanted to be hers then she would have to let that happen and she would use it to help accomplish both of their aims. If he wanted to be a demon then that was just fine. She was already on that path herself and she didn't have to wait thirty-seven years to do it. That was when the next alignment of the planets and the mystical forces that he required would occur. She'd made sure to look that up when she heard about the failed ascension. What would Sunnydale look like by then?
It wouldn't be run by vampires… not if she had any say. If she survived though, would she still be here? Could he? Was there no limit on how long you could be Mayor for? And if there wasn't… when would people notice that he wasn't getting any older. He had probably been Mayor before though… and just dropped out of the limelight for a generation or two. He had come back for his ascension, missed out on it and now he had to try and recover the situation.
You have to make the best of a bad lot Tara. Yes Sir.
He needed her… he couldn't leave office with Sunnydale as it was. And he couldn't stay in office too long… or come back to office whilst there were still people who would remember him. He needed her… or at least someone. And that gave her power.
“Assuming you get the job, yes,” he confirmed. “But I have a good feeling. You'll do fine.” He grinned. “When you do whatever it is that you do.”
Tara mused on all of those thoughts as the Mayor reached into his drawer and pulled out a stake, which was clearly freshly carved. He'd probably been whittling. He looked like a closet whittler and she should know, she had found it to be relaxing herself at times during the last few years. Of course it was also good for developing close, precise control - whittling without using your hands that was. And somehow she was even doing it her sleep - though that was less whittling than carving. Best not to mention that here as she had no idea what was causing it… let alone what it meant.
“So young lady, why don't you show me just what it is that you can do for me?” All business. No fun or jokes in his voice now. He placed the stake on the desk in front of her. With no volunteer provided he was clearly challenging her to locate and deliver one herself. His research couldn't have suggested that she could do that though - she had only done it once, what she was about to attempt, and she had shied away from it since. For very good reasons that she would have to violate now.
The least of them was that it had drained her, physically and mentally. She had almost passed out that last time. And it had hurt. Hurt her head. The pain was a warning - that was what pain was for and that worried her. But back then… she had not been practising. The magic was still something new. Now it was a vital weapon that she used most days. She had gotten used to the strain and the drain… and her capacity was greater… especially here on the Hellmouth where the magic was so close to the surface and whispering to her all the louder. That worried her too.
There were things that she suspected that she should not do. Better a thousand little tricks than one large spell and this was a large spell. But it was not wrong in itself… only intent could make it wrong and here her intent was clear enough. Okay so it was to impress someone - not something she would ever consider to be a 'good' thing - but with this job she could… she could do real good here in Sunnydale.
Couldn't she?
There were still doubts that she had to overcome. Now.
Despite the inner turmoil Tara looked him in the eyes and never wavered from that gaze as she incanted under her breath. She didn't even turn to look behind her as the vampire from the lobby materialized, landing from his two-inch fall to the floor with a slight thud. She didn't have to check that she had got the right 'person.' The pendant burned with its proximity to her. Her senses crawled with the black emptiness that washed over her from where its soul should have been.
“What-” was all it managed to say.
The stake flew off the top of the desk and over her shoulder angling upwards. The next thing she heard was the pained whoosh of the vampire's combustion. The explosion at the end she felt on the back of her neck, which she brushed at trying to look casual but more determined not to let any of that filth drop down her collar. Their eyes, hers and the Mayor's, still hadn't left each other's. Not until he reacted and gave her a brief round of applause, grinning that enormously happy grin that seemed familiar to her already. Did he ever stop smiling?
“Very, very good. Excellent. But was that really necessary? I just had this carpet cleaned. At least you could have warned me - I would have laid down plastic.” The Mayor asked, seeming impressed in spite of himself. His reference to the cleaning was no doubt a joke as it had been his challenge anyway. If it hadn't been a vampire things might have been bloody and some demon blood, she knew very well, would never, ever wash out. Then she noticed that there was in fact a roll of plastic in the corner, but before she could start to apologise he waved her concerns away.
“H-have I got the job?” Tara asked by way of reply then again incanted, cleansing the carpet speck by speck - a steady stream filling the empty glass on his desk - and his eyes lit up as she did that.
The Mayor rounded his desk and squatted behind her chair, licked a finger and dabbed it to the carpet and found nothing to betray her thoroughness. He stood and came back around Tara and pulled out a moist towelette and cleaned his finger before neatly and carefully folding the disposable paper and placing it in the bin. He picked up the glass and studied it. “Very impressive - shows a lot of control to lift the fine particles of dust like that. I could keep you around just to do the cleaning.” He laughed. “And yes the demonstration itself was also very impressive. You are exactly as advertised. But I take it you have other talents too?”
“Yes.” Perhaps she should just have poured a bag of flour on the carpet… it had seemed to impress him more than the teleportation or the staking.
“Good, good. We'll explore them later, right now I have an appointment with Vice-Principal Snyder of the High School, but I would love to have brunch with you… if you would like to wait for me? I don't believe I see a need to see any further candidates. Welcome to the team. The winning team Tara.
Our team.” He shook her hand and he was as warm as a human should be. “You and me Tara, we're going to take on that so-called Master and see some vengeance gets done for you.” He was her employer - but he wasn't her motivation. Revenge couldn't be her motivation, but let him think it drove her if he liked. It was simply justice, whatever the price was for that.
It couldn't be just revenge.
Not just that.
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by Sassette » Mon Apr 01, 2002 12:16 pm 
Helps make the work day easier...
