Unseen #2: Door to Alternity

  Little King hesitated again.

  “What is it, man,” Nicky asked him.

  “Umm, Rosalie’s dead, Nicky.”

  Nicky felt the world fall away from beneath his feet. “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t really know. Like an accident or something.”

  Nicky knew Little King was lying. He also knew the man wouldn’t tell him anything more. He was done with Nicky—the Latin Cobras were done with Nicky.

  I did it for you, he thought. The whole Night of the Long Knives thing—his one night of magickally induced invulnerability—had been for the Cobras. He’d blown up Del DeSola’s Sunnydale oil fields to enlist Del’s help smuggling drugs on his ships, a partnership that would have made the gang millions.

  And it all blew up in his face. Rosalie dead. Salma missing. He, Nicky, a wanted man—wanted by the cops, by the Echo Park Band, by his own compadres in the Latin Cobras.

  How could it have all gone so wrong?

  He stumbled from the laundromat, blinded by tears of rage. Someone has to pay, he thought. Someone has to pay.

  Sunnydale

  “Are you sure about this, Buffy?” Riley asked her when they had arrived back at the park by Santa Ysabel Street. They looked at the portal, which had appeared again in the dark of night. It seemed to wink in and out of existence without notice, one moment not there at all, the next spanning the width of the roadway. As usual these days, the streets were virtually deserted, so its presence here didn’t really qualify as a threat to the passing motorist or pedestrian.

  Except that, in this case, the street was only devoid of humans.

  Monster-wise, it was an outright population explosion.

  They had turned onto Santa Ysabel four blocks away from where the portal had been seen before. Two blocks away from that, the monster throng began. It extended from there back to the portal itself, filling the street and overflowing onto the sidewalks. It looked like a creature convention, and more of them seemed to be emerging from the portal at every moment. They were unpleasant-looking beings of every description—large, small, tentacled, toothed, furred and finned—and every color imaginable, from pure white to deepest black to one of a beautiful iridescent blue, who seemed to be basically a seven-foot long centipede with as many fanged mouths as it had legs.

  Riley had stopped the car and killed the lights. They still sat in the dark, discussing the questionable wisdom of wading into that bevy of beasthood. Buffy thought Riley seemed unusually cautious.

  “Giles needs us to test it,” Buffy urged. “Reading about them in books is all well and good, but he says we need some hands on—or at least hands close by—information, about the portals, since it seems like they’re the focal point of all the activity.”

  Riley indicated the mass of monsters before them. “Yeah,” he said. “No kidding. But I don’t see how we’re going to get close to it with all those things in the way.”

  “On the other hand—” she began.

  “There’s another hand?”

  “Maybe a few. But this one says that we can’t exactly just walk off and leave all those things there to terrorize the populace.”

  “I suppose not. But can we take on that many demons?”

  Buffy looked at the two blocks of spookage before them. “We’ve faced worse odds.”

  Riley looked at her in the dim light of the car’s interior. “When?”

  Buffy shrugged uncertainly. “I think we have, anyway. Or, maybe not. But I don’t think we have any choice.”

  Riley shook his head. “We could use the Initiative here.”

  “That’d be handy,” Buffy agreed, “except that they’re scattered to the four corners. And we don’t know how many of them we could really trust, even if they were around.”

  “Well, there’s that.”

  “Anyway, we have to try to do something,” Buffy continued. “What if there’s some way of closing the door before more of those things get out? If there is, we need to find it. Fast.”

  “It could be dangerous,” Riley observed. “You wouldn’t just walk up on the Hellmouth without checking it out thoroughly first, would you?”

  “If there were demons gushing out of it like a broken hydrant, I might.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Riley said. “Well, we have stakes. Swords. An ax or two.”

  Buffy attempted a confident smile, knowing even as she did that it wasn’t coming off right. “On the bright side, it doesn’t look like they’re armed, really.”

  “Just teeth and fangs,” Riley agreed. “And sheer numbers.”

  “They got us there.”

  Buffy leaned over and kissed Riley. “Let’s do it,” she said. She opened her car door—right into the face of the vampire who stood outside, watching through the window.

  “Hey!” Spike shouted. “Have a care. That’s my nose you just slammed your door into. I might need it again someday.”

  “What are you doing there, Spike?” Buffy demanded without preamble.

  “I got back to Giles’s place and he told me you might be needin’ some assistance,” Spike said. He shrugged, in his usual black leather trenchcoat. “I may not be able to prey on humans, but there’s nothin’ says I can’t beat the snot out of a bunch of interdimensional uglies, or whatever that lot is. Lookin’ forward to it, in fact.”

  “We can use the help, Spike,” Riley said as he emerged from his side of the car.

  “I’m not doin’ this for you, soldier boy,” Spike said.

  “I don’t care why you’re doing it,” Buffy assured him. “Just that you’re here.”

  “What are we standin’ here jawin’ for?” Spike asked, bouncing a bit and shadowboxing. “We’re gonna do it, let’s do it.”

  Riley passed out weapons. Each of them tucked some stakes into handy spots in their clothing. Spike tried to refuse to have anything to do with stakes at first, but quickly saw the wisdom of carrying a few, just in case. He also took a double-headed battleax. Buffy and Riley both settled for swords with broad, flat blades, sharpened on both edges.

  “Let’s kill some,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I’m with you,” Spike offered. Riley was silent.

  The three of them started for the monsters.

  They had closed to within less than a block when one noticed them, a green, dripping thing that hopped rather than walked, on powerful hind legs not unlike a kangaroo’s. It let out a piercing squawk, pointing at them with its three skinny arms.

  “They’re onto us,” Riley observed, hefting the sword in his hand. “Here we go.”

  They braced for battle, and they heard someone behind them call out, “Guys! Hey guys! Buffy!”

  Buffy turned. Anya and Xander ran toward them. Anya had dressed for battle in a yellow floral sundress and sandals. Xander wasn’t much better prepared in his orange and white hockey jersey and khakis. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  As soon as Xander began his answer, she knew what he would say. “Giles thought maybe you could use some help.”

  “He was wrong,” Buffy insisted.

  “He was right,” Riley corrected. “Buffy, we can use every hand we can get.”

  “Riley, they’re—” She looked at Xander and Anya. Xander looked crestfallen at her ready dismissal of his usefulness. Anya wouldn’t care one way or another, but Xander really did mean well, she knew. And he had been helpful in the past, and brave, and very very loyal. He is, she thought, most of the Boy Scout oath rolled into one slightly accident-prone guy, excepting perhaps the reverent part. “Weapons are in the car!” she shouted. “It’s open!”

  Risking a glance over her shoulder, she saw Xander handing a crossbow to Anya and holding an ax for himself. She turned back, ready to do battle.

  By now, of course, the creatures had prepared for them. But they were caught off guard when Anya’s crossbow bolts began sailing over their heads into the creatures’ midst. A couple went down, and general alarm sounded in a variety of
monster tongues.

  Buffy steeled herself with the memory of the face she’d found on the street earlier, and the knowledge that these creatures wouldn’t think twice about killing all of Sunnydale if it suited them. They had shown no mercy, and they had terrorized her town, leaving dozens of corpses in their wake.

  They would die. Simple.

  She charged into them, blade swinging in a furious arc. It bit into creature flesh, and thick green blood spattered her forehead. The first monster, a gangly many-tentacled squid-looking thing, fell before her assault. As soon as it dropped, there were two more, snapping and reaching for her with clawed appendages. She lowered the sword blade and swung up, slicing one of those appendages off. It sailed backward, into the monstrous throng. Another grabbed at her, snagging her long-sleeved black tee with one of its claws. Buffy squirmed from its grasp and spun the sword around in her hand, bringing it up with an underhanded grip to slice the beast open from the bottom up.

  Over the top of a basically cat-shaped creature with battleship gray scaly skin, Buffy caught a glimpse of Riley. He swept his own sword at head-height, carving a swath around himself. Heads flew and monster blood jetted into the night air. On the other side of him, Spike worked with his ax like a carpenter driving nails, arm pistoning a steady rhythm. Something almost like a smile danced about his lips, but his eyes were hard.

  Buffy went back to paying attention to her own situation. A tall, powerfully built humanoid thing came at her, pushing away smaller creatures in its mad desire for what she could only assume was her blood. A line of spittle connected its upper teeth with its lower, and its mouth opened wide enough to swallow a football whole.

  She braced herself for its attack, holding the sword in both hands, against her side. When the beast came in range, she thrust it forward with all her might. The blade tore through its armored flesh.

  The creature stopped in its tracks, glared down at the sword that penetrated it, and grabbed the weapon by the blade. It tugged the sword from its body and threw it to the ground, then looked at Buffy, its yellow eyes gleaming.

  She didn’t like what she saw in them.

  Instead of letting it take the offensive, she took a double step forward and leaped into the air, lashing out with a strong right foot at its throat. It brought a hand up to block her, and managed to catch her heel and overturn her in midair. She hit the ground hard, on her shoulder. As it doubled over to reach for her, she shoved off, sending both feet directly into its chin. Taken by surprise this time, it wasn’t able to block her, and the blow sent it staggering backward. Buffy regained her balance and kept up the attack, with a swift combination of punches and kicks. Its razored teeth grazed her knuckle once, drawing blood, but she jerked her hand away and replaced it with a booted foot. She felt teeth crumple beneath her heel, and when she drew her foot away, blood ran from its nose and that huge mouth. It seemed unsteady on its feet now.

  But as she spent her time on it, other creatures were surrounding her. She felt hands grasping for her, heard their moans and grunts and growls close to her. She needed to finish this guy off in a hurry. She feinted another kick, and he fell back. She dove for the sword, still on the ground where he had thrown it. When she got her footing again, she feinted one more time, this time flicking the blade toward his gut. His arms went down to protect it, and she brought the blade up, driving it straight into his throat. It came out the other side, coated in his thick blood. Still, his strong hands clutched at the blade, so Buffy turned it forty-five degrees before she drew it out.

  At last, the monster fell. Buffy wasted no time swinging the blade in a semicircle around herself, and the other creatures fell back. A couple fell from bolts fired by Anya’s crossbow, and when she hazarded a glance back she saw Xander battling one with his ax. His opponent fell, and Xander unleashed a war whoop.

  Then she sensed Riley beside her, breathing heavily. With bits of monster stuck to his face and clothes, he smelled like an open sewer, but his presence there was comforting.

  Then a fresh swarm rushed them both, slamming them both to the ground. Buffy shouted, “Riley!” but she couldn’t see him past leathery legs and taloned feet. Something stepped on her back and something else stepped on both her hands. She was pinned.

  She gave herself a moment to collect her wits, then worked hard to push herself up. No good.

  A human shout of pain sent Slayer adrenaline to her Slayer muscles and she gritted her teeth together as she pushed up again.

  Then something grabbed her hair in its teeth and started yanking.

  She heard another human shout, and then gunshot.

  Whatever had her hair in its mouth toppled to the ground, landing beside her with a heavy thump.

  A hand gripped her upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

  “Slayer?” asked a good-looking guy she didn’t recognize. “Gunn.”

  She gave him a nod, and they got to work. Gunn was good, and it was clear he was on board with the fighting. They slammed and punched and kicked their way to Riley, got him free, and everybody got down tonight.

  Finally, there was a bit of a break, and Buffy found herself next to Riley with nothing to hit.

  “They’re on the run,” he panted.

  She looked up, and he was right. Their number had been decimated, and the survivors raced for whatever protection the portal might offer them. Spike, dripping with sweat and ichor, chased after them, ax swinging like a mad woodcutter chasing runaway timber.

  “Let’s go,” she said. She and Riley took off after Spike. He had made it almost to the portal itself when they caught him. Buffy risked the ax’s backswing to catch his shoulder, just before he jumped into the portal after a retreating reptilian-looking beastie.

  “Don’t do it, Spike,” she warned.

  He shook her hand off angrily, spinning around and raising the ax before he really focused on who was there. When he saw Buffy he relaxed, lowering the weapon to his side.

  “Guess I got a little carried away with the Conan bit,” he said. “Gotta say, it felt good to spill some blood again, even if most of it came in funny colors and stank like old cabbage.”

  Riley picked off a bit of brain that had adhered to his forehead. He examined it briefly, then threw it into the portal. “Yeah,” he agreed. “It’s a messy business, isn’t it?”

  “Guess that’s why Martha Stewart’s not a Slayer,” Buffy offered. She gestured to the newcomer in their midst. “This is Gunn.”

  He nodded. They nodded. Much with the nodding.

  Gunn said, “Is that a portal, like Jowls told Angel about?”

  Spike snickered. “Jowls,” he repeated. “So what now? We just leave ’em in there?”

  “Not much else we can do,” Buffy replied. “As long as they’re not making trouble for Sunnydale, they’re no concern of ours.”

  “Of yours, maybe,” Spike said, rubbing a triple-gash on his forearm. “One of them clawed me, and I never got a chance to rip his guts out.”

  “Chances are he’ll be back,” Riley suggested. “In the meantime, we have to do an experiment while the portal is still here.”

  “That’s right,” Buffy said. She dashed off into a nearby yard, and returned bearing a small branch with leaves on the end. “This ought to do.”

  “Giles said as long as it was organic,” Riley pointed out. “I think he was kidding about using a cat on a string.”

  “You can never be too sure with him,” Xander said. He and Anya approached from the direction of the car. Xander balanced the ax over his shoulder, and Anya still carried the crossbow, loaded, as if more monsters might appear at any time.

  Buffy held the branch at one end and pushed it through the portal. There was a moment’s resistance, almost like trying to pass through water, or maybe Jell-O. But once it crossed beyond that initial film, it went in easily, the part inside the portal disappearing the way Sleepy Ramos had when he went through, back in L.A. She held it there for a moment, then brought it back out.

>   It didn’t look like the same branch that had gone in. The leaves were gone, the wood splintered and smoldering. Something violent had happened to it on the other side, and Buffy, holding the end, hadn’t felt a thing.

  “Glad I didn’t go in there,” Spike said.

  “No kidding,” Anya agreed. “You’d look disgusting all chewed up and set on fire.”

  Spike gave her a look. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replied cheerfully.

  Gunn looked frustrated. “So, there’s no one going in, no one coming out, huh?”

  Buffy tossed the mangled branch away. “You care because?”

  “I got some people disappeared,” he said simply.

  “Did Angel send you here?” Riley asked. His voice was controlled, and probably no one but Buffy realized it cost him something—in pride, if nothing else—to ask.

  Gunn shook his head. “Man didn’t want me to bother. Looks like he might have been right.” He looked at Buffy. “What’s the plan?”

  “I guess we should go tell Giles. I wonder if that’s what he was expecting.” As they walked back toward the cars, Buffy glanced over her shoulder at the portal, which seemed to be fading from sight again. Like Spike, she was happy that she hadn’t had to go through.

  And that I kept Angel from doing it, she thought. Guess he owes me one.

  Chapter 11

  Los Angeles

  “TELL ME AGAIN WHAT WE’RE DOING HERE, ANGEL?” Cordelia asked. But, Angel thought, her asking sounds more like pleading. “I mean, I know this is the kind of place you hang out at night, but it’s not, you know, really my preferred sort of evening activity.” They were in downtown Los Angeles, walking up and down the streets of a neighborhood that was, according to the beat cops, controlled by the Russian Mafiya.

  “We’re looking for clues,” Angel said, trying to be patient with her. He knew she was afraid, but he wanted more than one set of eyes to be on the lookout, and Wesley was on research duty for a while—and anyway, there was always the likelihood that some people would rather talk to a pretty girl than to a vampire. Working with Buffy, that had proven true a number of times. He pushed that thought aside, though—he didn’t want to be thinking about Buffy right now. He wanted to be alert, ready for whatever might come up.