Well here it part 29 and the second of the two Sidestep stories. Rather less humourous than the attempt I made at the fanfic challenge (the stories in that thread should cheer you up after I depress you mightily) though I have included some smoochies (and more) for relief...Katharyn
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Title: The Beginnings Cycle – Sidestep II – The Interview (Currently Part 29)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: More so than ever. This time I really want to know if anyone wants to see more of the Sidestep. If you do/don’t like it and don’t want to post anything on the board please e-mail me. katharynrosser@hotmail.com I really want to know.
Spoiler Warning: Limited spoilers for events up to and including “Restless.” Reference to the heritage that Tara believes is his her birthright, ultimately revealed in “Family.”
Summary: Following Sidestep Part I we actually get to the interview(s) and what follows them. You need to have read part I for this and therefore it will be no big surprise that this involves Tara’s interview for a summer temp job at the magic box and another Tara’s interview with someone else…
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: PG13 – but with non-explicit sexual activity (mainly by implication and reference.)
Couples: W/T as always.
Notes: This is officially now the longest part of a fic I have ever written. A real monster I hope you manage to make it through it. Back to Willow next I promise. She had been lacking lately! As mentioned in the endnotes to Sidestep I the whole Sidestep concept is my attempt at: a) playing around with characters I always wanted to and b) to setup a spin-off fic for after the Beginning Cycle is complete (the aftermath of Family.) I kind of like the concept and have several idea’s but am committed to completing The Beginning Cycle first. This is your chance to have your say. Willow will return to Sidestep if I pursue it rest assured of that – in fact it is critical to that Tara’s “redemption.” There will be virtually no crossover with the standard Buffyverse as in these teaser parts, it will be self contained (apart from the continuing dream theme) – but do you want to see more? (Bearing in mind there are only so many hours in the day and eventually I want to deal with the rest of Season 5 (post-Family) and the S5/S6 hiatus in another series, not to mention a W/T future – cripes I had never seen how much I intend to do written down before… aaah! I need to win the lottery and write full time!)
Thanks To: Anyone who can and bothers to make it right through this monster. 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. Kerry for some very astute observations that have been proved right about these two parts and L who isn’t Dracula’s sister either. Far from it.
The Beginnings Cycle
Sidestep II – The Interview
By
Katharyn Rosser.
INSTEP
She was alone. She was all alone.
She had never had… anyone. She had been close once though. Hadn’t she? Back before… Before what? What had happened to her? She knew it was important. She knew that it had altered her life beyond all measure. That people had been hurt and died. People she cared about. But she couldn’t remember who. She couldn’t remember what had happened and why she was so alone.
She was clutching a pillow to herself in a cruel parody of the embrace that she might give to a lover. Running her hands across the cotton case as if it were a person’s skin. The substitute love of a pillow. If it was supposed to be a comfort then all it really could be was a reminder of what she didn’t have. She thought that she might have been talking to it at one point… how lonely and sad did that make her? To be so alone that you talked to fluffy inanimate object.
And where was she anyway? It looked like a hotel room, but she couldn’t remember where it was. Or why she was here.
Whatever it was that had brought her to the room, it was a terrible purpose. She knew that she had accepted that she might never sleep in a bed again. And she didn’t care. Why should she? She had nothing to live for except… what?
What was that purpose? What was her driving force? The overwhelming passion that had brought her here? That had made her happy to make the ultimate sacrifice?
She didn’t know.
A telephone rang and somewhere there was an alarm clock and over them, with them… a voice. Soft, gentle. Loving. Welcoming someone to the day but the phone she had to get the phone -
Tara awoke with a start to the alarm and found herself still embracing Willow as the love of her life murmured good morning to her. The dream was gone… except for a terrible sadness for anyone that could feel… whatever it had been that the dream person had been feeling.
SIDESTEP
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. 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.
The woman she lay in the bed with was hidden by the quilt, given away on by the shock of red hair that lay beside her face on the pillow. They were in spoons, the other woman curled up in her embrace her hands on the woman’s soft flesh, their night clothes not seeming important 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. 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.
Eventually her almost subconscious motions stirred the other woman. What was her name? The woman shifted in the bed, under her hands but she kept the hands on her as the other one moved beneath them, exploring new area’s that she already knew. The woman murmured at her as an alarm clock started to chime somewhere… ‘Morning Tara love.’
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.
INSTEP
Tara was awake. She had set the alarm to go off early, but knew that she didn’t need to get up yet. That way would lead to pacing and worn carpets. Besides how could she rush off and abandon her love to a lonely bed. She owed it to Willow to either get her up too, or to stay here with her in comfort for a little while longer. There really was no competition… the idea of anyone being alone in a bed seemed too horrible right now. Besides she was stiff with that overlong walk yesterday, which had been Willow’s fault.
So they lay there together and Tara knew that she would settle for this. Waking up with Willow in the mornings and falling asleep with her at night. That was what was important. That and knowing that they were in love. It was a wonderful positive in a day that had long threatened to be a bad one.
The interview.
But think of the benefits, she told herself. A couple of weeks work and she would be free for the entire rest of the vacation to be with Willow. That kind of had its attractions. After all she should treasure these days. She had, what, two more summer vacations to be with Willow before real life intruded. There would never be such a large amount of free time again in their lives. Not till they were old and grey anyway… and even that kind of had its attractions too.
Always assuming she made it past her next birthday able to face her love, but she was looking forward. She was seeing possibilities and they were good. That would probably change the nearer the birthday came. She would have a good long time to worry about that. But that was another day’s worries. This day had it’s own.
‘You should get up baby,’ Willow told her. ‘You need to get ready.’
Tara looked at the clock, it was still only twenty past the hour. Plenty of time yet. She said so.
Willow, though, got that grin on her face. The kind that promised… ‘I was kinda hoping I could take a shower with you… now that the dorm is empty.’
And suddenly Tara had to agree that she did need to get up, urgently, after all you had to be really clean to go to an interview. Didn’t you? Well you did now…
Possibly cleaner than she had ever been she arrived back in her room with Willow chasing her from the bathrooms in a fit of giggles. Good job that nearly everyone had gone home she thought as they collapsed to the bed, tickling, stroking and hugging in almost equal measure. Eventually though they did split and Willow lay atop the rumpled and now slightly damp covers watching her move around the room as naked as the day she had been born. As naked as Willow herself was.
First thing was the hair; get it into something resembling a shape rather than a Willow-tangled bundle stuck to her head. As she combed it through she looked in the mirror at Willow and knew that the lovely woman was not the only reason she was struggling to stay in Sunnydale.
It had never been said that she was expected to go home in the long summer vacation but it was almost a given, accepted as fact by everyone when she had left. Because of what was coming and the possibility it might come early. Besides it cost money for her to stay away from her family. Money they could not really afford.
Maybe without Willow she would not have fought it, but there was another reason not to go home. She might not be able to come back. At least if she stayed here then she would have the chance. And the time…
And so the job.
It was freedom. It was independence. What she chose to do with that freedom and independence was to stay here with Willow. She could not fail. Not with all that at stake. And thinking of that did not help nerves one jot.
She was lost in the mirror for that time, during those thoughts. Her hand suspended in mid-stroke in her long hair and suddenly Willow was no longer on the bed. She was stood behind her, her face hidden as it disappeared out the top of the mirror’s reflection. The brush was taken from her and Willow worked it through for her. Long, slow, strokes that sent a tiny spark of electricity through her every time the brush returned to make another motion. Only two people had ever brushed her hair for her and she didn’t want to lose the second one.
‘You look you are about to fall into the mirror, Nervous?’ Willow asked as she brushed.
‘Yes.’
‘You’ll be great,’ Willow reassured her as she finished with hair and sank down behind Tara to kiss her back, teasing there as if writing with her fingers – sending shudders through her. ‘And now you have to get ready,’ Willow continued briefly resting her chin on Tara’s shoulder before kissing her ear.
‘Yes.’
The journey to the shop passed by as if in a blur and Tara was relieved to see that she had actually beaten My Bogarty to the shop as well. When he pulled up in his car a few minutes after she arrived he commented on her punctuality and apologised for his own late arrival.
‘So Tara… have you ever interviewed for a job before?’ he asked her as he helped himself to a glass of fruit juice.
Though he offered her one she declined and immediately regretted it. Everyone had told her… accept the drink, even if you don’t want it. Classic interview faux pas. Oh dear, great start Tara… well done.
‘N-No’ she replied not sure if that was a good thing or not and she had known that her voice was going to let her down. It was a given really. He seemed not to pay any attention however. He knew her of old. Of pre-Willow days and she had been much worse then.
‘Me neither. Well I have never done an interview… there has never been a job before. This has always been a strictly one-man band. I was actually hoping you could tell me what to do. Last interview I was involved in was 1964 out at the old Jobson’s plant. Course that was before I got the lease on this place.’ He waved his hands around expressively at the dark shop. For some reason the place never seemed to be well lit – even when all the lights were on. It was tough to read the labels some times.
‘Sorry,’ she smiled at the problem. There she had been reading up on interview technique and he had less of a clue than she did.
‘That’s ok. Well I guess we should do something. I read you application again last night – want to know a secret?’ he asked.
‘If you w-want to tell me Mr Bogarty.’
‘You’re the only applicant – well the only one who has even stuck her nose through that door before the advert went out. What do you think of that?’ he asked a mischievous glint in his eyes.
‘W-well err - ’ She didn’t know what to think or say to that. It was almost saying that…
‘You’d have to screw up pretty badly not to get this job Tara. Especially as I know that you know your way around the shop. But the shop isn’t the problem. I know what is in the shop. Come with me.’ She followed as he led her out back into a room as large as the shop itself. Along all four walls stood banks of old shelf units. Tables, chests and boxes filled the centre of the room. ‘This is my problem. And I hope to make it yours. What do you think?’
What she thought was that she would have done this for free. To be let lose amongst all this… great stuff. She stepped from beside him and to the nearest table. A box of books, she opened the lid a little and top of the pile “Jancis’s Codex.” A famous, if a little obtuse, text that she hadn’t seen since her mother’s copy had been removed from the Maclay house following her death.
The box next to it. Tack – if she was any judge. Tourist and New Ager fodder. She dismissed it and pulled another box closer and came across a box of amulets that were all tangled – but each beautifully carved from bone – reeking of charms, spells, focus and magicks.
‘Straight to the good stuff eh?’ Mr Bogarty asked her.
She smiled. ‘You have some… wonderful things here. But even with all this – I am not sure it will take two full weeks.’
‘You shouldn’t try to talk yourself out of a pay day Tara. The job is yours, if you want it. But I think that it will take you all that time. I think you might end up spending a lot of time reading…?’ he asked.
‘Oh no -’
He cut her off. ‘Oh yes. And I don’t mind at all. I’ll even give you a staff discount – say 10% - on anything you dig out and want. There is two weeks pay for you – pretty good money if I say so myself. If you finish in less then you still get it. If it takes you a month then it’s still just the same money. Ok?
‘Oh yes… thank you… boss.’
He laughed at that. ‘Worked in that plant for thirty plus years and no one called me boss… I like it. Start tomorrow?’
‘Yes boss.’
SIDESTEP
Tara was only mildly disappointed to find that the alarm call she had requested was three minutes late, but despite the effects of that 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 requested 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 and it would, after today, be longer still. Or her next bed would be her grave… Possibly a spot where her body could rot in the basement of the Master’s lair.
Had she been here any day other than this one she would have gone for her accustomed run 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 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.
She would explore later when she had been confirmed in the position necessary to see justice done - finally. When she knew 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 it was an old club. Besides she would only need to follow the stench of death if the time came.
Instead 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 – she relied on her craft 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. The exercises had been recommended to her by 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 starved her of some of her more womanly curves and she despised the toning that the exercise had added to that. She had been more than happy with her appearance, now she felt like some cheerleader fighting to keep her weight down. But weight wasn’t the issue. The magick took a calorific toll as well as a mental one and she was so reliant on it 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. Those were the classics for dealing with vampires, but she had quickly found out that they were as susceptible to other methods as any human was. As a New York gang leader had told her “Kick ‘em in the nuts. It works for me.” What was that? Eighteen months ago? Dead for sixteen of those. Always assuming they had nuts… And so she had learned those methods too… by trial and error. She had become quite sophisticated though she never let herself enjoy it.
She had also 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. And it had cost lives.
But that was by the by. She wouldn’t allow herself to care. If she cared 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.
She was unconcerned as the waiter ogled her in her underwear making his delivery. Poor guy must be younger than she was and already stuck in a job like this. But she had done jobs to survive. 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 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.
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. All she had known about vampires three years ago had been movies about the “dark prince.” And now…
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 fascinated her – though her own methods were more direct. But she wanted to learn.
Then she would dust him like the rest.
Maybe one day he would come to visit this Hellmouth and it’s town. If she had survived her mission of revenge… no… justice… it was 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 overmatched by the Master. Another one who required 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.
Reputation meant little to her. Dracula’s, the Master’s, those slayer’s… none of them. If it had made any impression on her then she would have accepted the death of her family and never chosen to seek her brand of 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 contemplated working for the person who she was now going to try and impress into employing her.
She hated showing off. It was against her basic nature and once she had been painfully shy, but she could barely remember that girl. She was a stranger to the person she was now. Someone she had heard about maybe, but who 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 family lay bloodless in that barn. 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. She just needed the tools and the “volunteer.” She was sure she would impress. They had never seen anything quite like her. No one had seen anything quite like her for hundreds of years.
And once she had the job then she would go back to her usual methods. Silent, stealthy and deadly. 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.
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, 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. The present and the future Burning memories of the past.
And a fleeting memory of that dream she had endured. One in which she was not alone. In which she had been held by a woman with flame red hair. Whose name she could not remember. Now was not the time to get sentimental… but what was the name. In her dream she might have been about to say it, as if she had known… but it was gone.
She put that aside and continued with her mental preparations – adding in her responses to the likely questions that would be asked of her. And not just questions. It was certain there would be a practical. Fortunately she had one planned. One that was suitably impressive but would not overly tax her abilities – substantial as they were.
Five hundred heartbeats later she opened her eyes and stood. Put on the carefully laid out jacket, skirt and blouse and packed her few possessions, carefully protecting the photographs in the pockets of her case, then finally pulled 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 she succeeded or not in the interview – they would know who she was. And if she failed then it would be time to meet her fate.
Funny really. That didn’t scare her. Not the prospect of failure. 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. 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. That was what was scaring her now.
Finally she pulled a seat around and sat facing the door. She had fifteen minutes still to wait for Deputy-Mayor Allan Finch. Fancy title, but seemingly his bosses errand boy. 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.
She sensed Allan’s approach even before she heard his footsteps. His mind was a swirling mass of fears immediately recognisable here where there were few others to clutter her perceptions. He even sounded nervous as he came to her door, hesitated – no doubt at the still closed curtains – and then knocked.
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. ‘Morning Allan,’ was her concession to civility. She didn’t comment on his excellent punctuality. That was not something to be praised. It should be expected.
‘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, it had become distorted.
Or maybe not… she thought to herself as she swept passed Allan. Maybe I have been distorted. Maybe I have gone too far. Maybe I am going too far.
But maybe too far, was just far enough. There was no turning back. Not now.
She let herself into the back of the limo and waited for Allan to drive her to their destination, once again engaging in small talk whilst her brain was elsewhere. Eventually though he seemed to realise he did not have her attention and shut up. She was almost grateful as she examined the route they were taking and the signs of the decay of this town. Award winning – or so said the entry in the 1985 guidebook she had checked on the flight – Sunnydale showed little sign of it’s more beautiful and peaceful past.
Every window had heavy metal shutters. 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 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 the dead were allowed to rest. 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.
Let them underestimate me, she thought. Only at the end will they get the true measure of Tara Maclay.
It was with a rush of disgust that she realised that the security in the lobby was a vampires – 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 blood-sucker nonetheless. But 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. 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. She had found her volunteer and fixed it’s location in her mind.
For later reference.
Allan took her right up to the destination floor where a joiner was fitting 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.
‘Mr Mayor – sir?’ Allan said to the figure facing away from his desk in a swivelling chair. The figure did not turn around. Allan hesitated. The fear was back and it was far, far, greater now. And it was not 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 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 be reveal himself as a force to be reckoned with 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 company and the most pleasant description she could recall having heard was “snake.”
‘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 band 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 book through muddy water. The words were there but there was no telling what they were. The mayor looked around as if he could feel her trying to sense him. Then the smile was back again.
Tara tried to smile back and knew she just came off as nervous – she couldn’t lapse into timidity. Not now, not so close. The Mayor waved Allan out of the office and also motioned to the joiner.
‘Gerry, would you excuse me and Tara – we have some sensitive business to discuss. Mint?’ he asked her as the elderly joiner packed his tools without looking at her.
‘N-no thank y-you Mr Mayor.’ She replied, cringing as her stammer made its first appearance since the months after the death of her family.
‘You have a bit of a speech problem there?’ he asked as if just curious but clearly measuring her all the same.
‘When-n I’m n-nervous. A b-bit’ Tara replied. ‘I thought it w-was better.’ And she had. She hadn’t stammered for a long, long time. Well over two years now, and here it was back again.
‘Don’t be nervous, your young – starting out on a whole new portion of your life – which I can promise you will be very, very exciting.’ She could not doubt his sincerity or the assurance.
‘But p-possibly short?’ she asked him pointedly.
He smiled that disarming smile again and made no attempt to conceal the truth about himself. ‘I remember when I went for my first job. 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. So what do you think of my town?’ he asked her.
‘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.
Her implied insult didn’t seem to phase him – though he did stop, looking at her like a hawk a pigeon. Considering. ‘The very fact that you took the fact 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. 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.
‘No thank you.’ He was charming she had to give him that. With only a few words he had calmed her – and with nothing but the words… some of which might be considered a threat. She would have felt any mystical effects – though she could not read him at all through that muddied aura.
‘Ok then – take one for later. Win, lose or draw you might as well have something to take out of here.’ He pushed the bowl forward, refusing to take no for an answer. ‘Go on.’
She took a mint.
‘Take two. Go on. One calorie – 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.
‘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. And I am excited by the way. Your application was quite impressive and your… ah… references were impeccable. But I guess the question really is what can you do for me?’ Right down to business with the drop of a hat.
‘I’m here to help you solve some of your problems. 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,’ he came and sat on the edge of his desk before her seat.
‘No. Vampires… one particular vampire really but vampires generally,’ she replied.
‘You know about that so called Master?’ he asked, obviously slightly impressed probably by the distance she had travelled to be here. But she had come much further than her résumé suggested. 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 woman she was today.
‘I would be a fool 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 vampires name. ‘I understand he cost you your Ascension.’
The mayor didn’t rise to the bait and instead continued to focus on her. 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. You don’t see me obsessing about him. It’s like wearing blinkers – do you ride Tara?’
She nodded, remembering the horse she had once had. Before…
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 Tara – the things you might be asked to do as my assistant are many and varied – and sometimes 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. I have a feeling about you Tara. A good one.’ He smiled again. ‘And the perks are great.’
‘Such as?’ Tara asked, sensitive to just how narrow her focus was, how he was reading her. She had no interest in perks. She could carry everything she wanted or needed in the world but she would hear his offer. It was only polite. And if he suspected how narrow her focus really was…
‘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.’
And that last… How true was that? Maybe he had a touch of the empathic ability she had always used to great effect. Though she wasn’t sure she had any interest in being his friend. But if he wanted to be hers then she would let that happen and she would use him to 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 when the next alignment of the planets and the mystical forces occurred. What would Sunnydale look like then?
Tara mused on that thought as the Mayor reached into his draw and pulled out a stake clearly freshly carved. He’d probably been whittling. He looked like a closet whittler and she had found it to be relaxing herself at times during the last few years. Course it was also good for developing close, precise control – whittling without using your hands.
‘So young lady, show me what 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 – as her reputation no doubt suggested she could.
Tara looked him in the eyes and never wavered from that gaze as she incanted under her breath. She didn’t 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.
‘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 vampire combust and turn to dust. Their eyes still hadn’t left each others. Not until he reacted and gave her a brief round of applause.
‘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.
‘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 the desk.
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, 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 you do have other talents I take it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, good. We’ll explore them later, right now I have an appointed with Principal Snyder of the High School, but I would love to have brunch with you… if you would like to wait for me. I can see no need to see any further candidates. Welcome to the team. The winning team Tara. Our team. You and me Tara were going to take on that so-called Master and see some vengeance gets done.’ He came around and shook her hand and she let him. 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.
INSTEP
‘Mmmmmn,’ Willow moved up against her lover and her actions promised snuggles in celebration. If not more after what had been a good day.
Tara wasn’t so sure though. ‘I have work tomorrow love.’
‘So you keep saying, and I know why. I’m so proud of you baby,’ Willow told her, tightening the embrace around her torso even as a hand started to wander into interesting places. ‘I just want to show you how proud I am,’ she continued with mischief in her voice. And not a little promise.
‘I have to get my beauty sleep, I want to be rested tomorrow when I start in my new job.’ Tara was mocking herself now. She had been on cloud nine since she had got the job – even if it hadn’t been a classic interview. And, initially through pride and excitement, she had been mentioning the job every time she could get it into a sentence – or so it had seemed. But now… now she was just teasing.
And being teased. Hands in very interesting places.
‘Your beautiful enough for me Tara,’ Willow told her, continuing her caresses. ‘And besides you turned me down last night as well…’ Willow looked up pouting. ‘If I were suspicious I would think that you didn’t want me anymore… now you got your new job and all.’
Tara rose to the teasing. ‘I’ll always want you. Always. Besides I seem to remember a shower this morning…’
‘Moments snatched…’ Willow dismissed the encounter.
And Tara raised her eyebrows at the phrasing before Willow continued.
‘This is what I want… always this.’ Willow pulled herself closer still and it seemed that their whole bodies were connected. Which was no bad thing.
‘Always?’ Tara asked, knowing the answer.
‘Always.’
SIDESTEP
She had the job and she had celebrated with the last few dollars that she had – at least until tomorrow. A Chinese takeout – she hadn’t had one since New York. And now she was going to bed. What else was there to do? Her new employer had left her in this apartment and she hoped that she had given the impression that she liked it. He had seemed enthusiastic during and after their brunch together – even if that little toad of a school principal had been along for the first half an hour. Snyder had probed, scathingly it had seemed, into her educational background and she had lied claiming to have finished high school but not revealing where.
It didn’t matter that she had lied. The Mayor already knew the truth and Snyder was so far under her employer’s thumb that he could be a map pin. He wouldn’t make waves or try and check on her – and if he did then there were ways to convince him that he shouldn’t further pursue the matter without involving her employer. If she had a problem she would solve it herself. That was her function. To solve problems – not to create them – and Snyder was hardly worthy of the description. The Mayor though had let him ask his questions – seemingly to find out whether she would buckle. Whether she could evade convincingly. Employed she might be but not yet trusted – not totally.
That might not have been it. It wasn’t a question of trust. The Mayor seemed to trust her in as much as he knew that should she prove unworthy of that trust that he would remove her from employment. Anyone’s employment. He knew that. She knew it. That allowed trust to build – of a kind. No he was just measuring her. It was a kind of probation and she could understand that. In this “business” you couldn’t afford to trust reputations. You relied on results. That was all that mattered. And she had yet to show any. Fair enough.
He was very… nice. Enthusiastic, supportive and generous. But knowing what he was made that seem hollow and she knew that she would have to watch her step in the next few weeks. She would have to maintain the flashy shows of her abilities that she had shown in the interview rather than using the basic tried and trusted methods she had developed over the last few years. Tried and trusted they might be – but they were not exactly “showy” or convincing. They were simple and effective. That was all that mattered to her, but that would not quite be enough in the first few weeks here. First he had to respect her abilities. Then she would show him results.
Though she didn’t start her job until tomorrow – with added responsibility for the Mayor’s security after she had dusted one of his more able vampiric lieutenants – the perks had already commenced. The apartment was already registered in her name as was a city hall credit card, the invitation to another lunch with him tomorrow – her duties allowing. He wasn’t trying to buy her, that was clear. He was just trying to make her comfortable. But that was entirely the wrong tactic for either of them. All she cared about was in her cases and she had not fully unpacked them. Would not unpack them even if she started to feel safe. Because in Sunnydale she could not be safe. She could not feel comfortable. No one could. To feel those things would just be an illusion that could get her killed before her task was complete.
She would probably stay in this place. After all it had everything she needed and no less than two acceptable alternative exit points should things go wrong. You always had a spare if circumstances allowed. “Where things are in doubt ensure you have a way out.” Who had told her that? She couldn’t remember… but suspected it was someone in Chicago. So many people who had helped her in return for her services. And nearly all of them were dead.
She was not the only person who could think of contingencies though. Hence the spare. She had already tested both. The bathroom window that had a strong waste water pipe alongside it that went down to a ledge that could followed to a low roof and the alley. And was the obvious escape route. No doubt that would be blocked by any group with half a brain between them. But the sheer drop from the flat roof outside the main living area… For most people such a fall would be dangerous, if not lethal, but with her abilities it offered a clear exit to the main street that might restrain pursuers and it was a way that few could follow and fewer still would anticipate.
She had scouted out the area surrounding the apartment and was generally pleased with what she found. The alleyways offered excellent prospects for both evading pursuit and for luring the typical brainless bloodsucker to its fate with her ‘weak little lady’ act. And all within shouting distance of where she was staying. It was within four minutes run of City Hall and her duties. Tactically there was little she could do surpass it with the main road that ran out front being also on the most direct route of her enemies from their lair into town.
But it was no more home than last nights hotel room. No more home than the whore filled hotels of Chicago, than the concrete floor of the abandoned office building in LA, than the sewers and the park benches of New York. No more home than the empty shell of what had once had that title – now that her family was not there.
She had no home.
Home was where someone was waiting for you.
And she was alone. There was no one waiting. Never had been. Never would be.
Always alone.
Always.
She curled herself up against a new pillow. She could not sleep now without that comfort. She needed something and a pillow was all she had. Maybe she would dream – maybe in the dreams she might have something else in her life other than justice and serving one evil to overcome another.
Maybe in her dreams she would find love.
Maybe in her dreams she would find that woman with the red hair.
IN AND OUT OF STEP
They awoke at the same moment in the early morning hours, separated by more than distance, but not by time. And both started to cry.
One for what her dreams had shown her she was missing – what might have been.
One for what her dreams had shown her she might not have had – also what might have been.
One had someone there to comfort her, to ask her what was wrong and rock her back to sleep when she could not explain it.
One just had a pillow to cling to and dampen with her tears and the feeling that it wasn’t fair that in one dream there was more happiness than she had ever known.
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She's my always
