H.A.T. by Deacon Rayne, Book Two: Midnight, Chapter 9 - Ashmedai
Summary: Like a stopper pulled, the retrieval of the Everstone has set loose a maelstrom of powers. Things not dared been mentioned in all the ages of the world, stir and awaken within their putrescent hives in answer to the Hellmouth’s call. Clawing their way free from the poisoned earth, they are driven towards a single goal - the capture of the Key and the destruction of all the world.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Timeline: Immediately follows Book 1: Dusk
Rating: TV-14 (nothing worse than on the show)
Pairing/Characters: Buffy/Spike, Willow/Dusk(OC), Xander/Anya, Giles/Marlena(OC), Dawn, Faith, Angel, Dracula
Book One: Dusk (all chapters)
Previous chapter of Midnight
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Hellmouth Ascendant Trilogy: Revamped Edition
Book Two:
Midnight
Chapter 9
Ashmedai
It was like a vision from Dante. Huge and powerful muscles, dark skin looking as though it had been blasted in fire. Large talons easily capable of gutting a man, a powerfully muscled chest, thick neck, and a large head complete with a mouth full of sharp pointy teeth and an impressive set of horns tapered to glistening point,
“Wow,” Spike said, impressed. Giles simply nodded as the creature stepped off the balcony it had been perched upon and landed surprisingly gracefully before them, blocking the exit. Its clawed feet dug into the stone floor with the crunching sound of grinding rock.
Up close, and no longer backlit, the pair could examine the creature more completely. It appeared to be a patchwork creation. Several different skin tones were stitched together expertly, creating a latticework of bone, sinew and flesh. Even the pupils of the eye seemed to be a composite, stitches running through the sclera, creating a bizarre multicolored look to the eyes. It made Adam from last year look like a Tinker Toy.
“Well, I guess that answers whether or not the rabbi made something,” Spike quipped dryly in the face of the patchwork colossus. Where its body wasn’t stitched together, bizarre symbols seemed to be burned into its flesh, which looked like it had been blasted red and hard in a furnace,
“Yes, yes so it would seem um…hello,” Giles addressed the creature, “Can you umm...speak?”
“Better than you it would appear,” the creature replied in a smooth, calm voice, startling them both.
“Oh! Well…hello there!” Giles said stuttering slightly at being able to converse with this creature,
“You spoke of Rabbi Mesha. He is dead. Are you responsible?” The creature asked them directly, Giles shook his head,
“No, no we are not. We believe a creature called a ‘Dahaka’ or a ‘fleshdancer’ was responsible for murdering the rabbi and then assuming his identity in an attempt to murder my son and others,” The creature considered this then nodded,
“Yes, that follows with what I witnessed of the creature before I left,” the creature responded. Giles frowned,
‘You encountered the fleshdancer?” he asked puzzled. The creature nodded,
“Yes I did,” he confirmed for the confused pair.
“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly blend in; how did you and for that matter, what were you doing spying on the rabbi and goo-boy?” Spike asked. The creature turned to address the shorter man,
“I was not spying. I lived here. This was my home,” Giles gaped, a terrible thought occurring to him,
“Who are you?” Giles asked. The creature turned,
“My name was Kohen. I was the Rabbi’s student; before I became his experiment. Now you may call me Ashmedai,”
“The Jewish King of Demons,” Giles breathed. Ashmedai bowed sardonically,
“In the piecemeal flesh, so to speak,” he replied bitterly. Spike looked back and forth,
“Hold up, how did you go from nice Jewish boy to Frankenstein with wings?” he asked. Ashmedai chuckled, a sound like stone on glass,
“That is a long story,” he replied. Giles cleared his throat, appalled at what had been done to this young man.
“We have time, and we believe it may be important,” Giles replied. The creature nodded,
“Follow me please,” he instructed simply then turned, “First I must ask, what is the nature of your interest?”
“There is a great evil rising in the west, in our home. We seek the elements necessary to combat it,” Giles replied, “For the sake of our families and our homes,” To his surprise, Ashmedai smiled, a little sadly,
“How noble. Oddly enough, it is that sentiment that gave rise to the golem of Prague all those years ago,” The creature led them up some stairs and opened a trapdoor into what had once been the temple attic and had now been converted into a semi-comfortable living space and probably the only room in the temple aside from the main foyer that Ashmedai’s horns and wing tips did not scrape the ceilings.
He gestured with a clawed hand to the floor, “Forgive the lack of furniture” he explained, “I do not entertain often,” he quipped, smiling slightly as he took the only chair, a battered recliner that had deep gouges torn into it from the creature wings,
“Looking like a gargoyle will do that,” Spike commented, squatting on the floor next to Giles.
Giles frowned at the other man’s rudeness before turning to Ashmedai,
“It’s quite all right, earlier you mentioned the Golem of Prague. To confirm, you yourself are in fact a golem, are you not?” Ashmedai nodded,
“What gave it away? I’ve got everything but bolts in my neck,” he spat bitterly before sighing, getting his rage under control, “Yes, yes I am a golem, created in the image of the demon king, to inspire ‘righteous fear’ in his flock,”
“Hold up, you were created to scare all the other Jews in the area? Why?” Spike asked, Giles answer for him,
“Because a religious leader who can manifest ‘demons’ at a moment’s notice can cultivate a lot of obedience from his flock,” he replied. Ashmedai nodded,
“His sin runs deeper than you know. Using me as his tool of fear and majesty, Rabbi Mesha extended his hand into politics, finance, local businesses, utilizing his position as spiritual leader to cultivate resource and influence in the local community,” Spike shrugged,
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, local holy men dipping into the town well for a little extra bread, it’s been done. I’m not impressed,” Giles sighed taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose,
“Spike, Try to understand this. Say you have an entire congregation of very devoted, deeply religions people. Now say one of them has a good deal of money, you can tell them it’s their religious obligation to tithe some of that to the temple and if they refuse, you send a demon to their house to scare them into doing it. Or say someone in your congregation is running for office and you want to make them more pliable to your wishes using a generous campaign contribution from money that you’ve extorted out of your own flock, followed by a demonic visit should your candidate not tow the line you want him to. It is a pretty powerful incentive. Faith and fear in combination make a powerful ally”
“Faith. Fear. Cut from the same bloody tree if you ask me; bunch of bleedin’ people cowering in sodding mansions of stone and wood begging some old man on up high for a better life; waste of time if you ask me,” Spike snorted derisively.
“Spoken like a man who’s lost his faith. Becoming a vampire wouldn’t have something to do with that would it?” Ashmedai asked.
“Don’t know. Would becoming a freak have something to do with you losing yours?” Spike replied testily.
“My faith has endured, vampire, how has yours fared?” the golem replied. Spike snarled at him,
“Fag off! I’m not going to be lectured at by someone’s bloody cross-stitch project!” Spike roared getting to his feet, fist clenched.
“Enough!” Giles yelled. “Sit down Spike!” Spike glared daggers into them both, and then settled back down upon the floor, arms crossed. Giles sighed and turned to Ashmedai,
“I apologize, Spike is…” Giles struggled for the word, “He’s sort of…he’s an idiot,” Ashmedai chuckled,
“Perhaps, but a brave idiot. If he brawls as well as he brags, he must be useful,”
“I have my moments,” Spike replied evenly, getting himself under control.
“You mentioned that his sin ran deeper than we knew. What exactly did you mean?” Giles asked. Ashmedai’s inhuman face turned grim,
“Let me show you,” he answered.
Willow awoke with a start. She rubbed her eyes and stared at her watch, the little glowing numbers told it was nearly quarter to ten.
And then it hit her.
Alec was gone.
Frantically, she bolted up right and whirled around.
Alec was there, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring into the dark.
Sighing in relief, Willow crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him, her hands clasping against his bare chest, she placed a warm kiss on the skin upon his back, trying to ignore the wounds that were still healing.
“Hey you,” she whispered then smiled when she felt his hands come over hers and press together,
“Does the sun still shine, Willow? I’m having trouble seeing it,” he whispered. Willow frowned,
“Well its night time, also we’re underground,” she replied, there was something in this tone she didn’t like. It reminded her of someone she had heard before. She heard the smile in his reply
“Yes, it’s night. It’s always night here. Always dark. And we all linger here, under the cold earth. Buried alive. Screaming for release,” Alec replied. Willow shuttered at his words, thick with despair.
“Hey…” she whispered turning him towards her, he didn’t resist, his legs dangling behind him, “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” she whispered soothingly, pulling his head to her breast and rocking him. She realized then who he sounded like, speaking in that stilted broken tone of voice: Drusilla, Spike’s mad paramour.
“Yes, you’re here. And it’s here. I can feel it. It’s waiting for me, there, in the darkness. I can feel it under my skin, behind my eyes, clogging my lungs, strangling me,” Alec whispered, his voice full of dread. Willow frowned kissing his forehead,
“What is Alec? What’s waiting for you?”
“The hungry dark,” he replied in quiet terror and despair. Willow nodded then looked up and gasped.
Daenna was standing in front of them both. Her skin was a bloated blue, her flesh hung from her body like soiled clothes, soaked to the bone. Her eyes were a milky dead white, wide and staring right at her. The corpse opened its mouth and a thick black ooze leaked out, dribbling down the front of what had once been a pretty dress,
“Death cannot save you from the evil that you have brought! Beware!” The old woman threw her head back, black ooze spewing out like a geyser, choking and gurgling. And then her head fell off her body and rolled away.
Willow screamed in terror and brought her hands over her eyes shuddering in horror. Then she felt warm arms wrap around her,
“Shhh love, it’s all right. I have you,” she heard Alec whisper to her, resting his cheek on her red hair. She cried then, partially in horror, partially in grief but also in joy and relief: he was the strong, tender man she had fallen in love with once more, in spirit at least if not yet in body.
“Alec…” she choked clutching to her love. He smiled and kissed her head over and over,
“It’s me, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.
“I’m so afraid,” she whispered. He nodded and turned to peer down into the dark tunnels, where he could feel the darkness looking back at him,
“So am I, Willow. So am I.”
“Hey! He lives!” Buffy exclaimed joyfully as Willow helped carry Alec into Buffy’s bedroom which had served as the impromptu place of hanging out for the last few days,
“Alec!” Dawn whispered before running over full speed and plowing into him hard, Willow struggled to keep them both aloft as Dawn squeezed him tightly, Alec hugging her back,
“Hey petite, miss me?” he quipped. She nodded vigorously,
“I thought I’d lost you,” Alec smiled,
“Never in a million years, love,”
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining as Alec leaned over, careful not to throw either girl off balance and kissed her gently upon her forehead. Xander walked over,
“Hey man, welcome back to the world, thought you’d taken one hit too many,” he cracked gesturing at the still bandaged young man. Alec shook his head,
“Still here, ready to fight the good fight,” The boy replied cockily. Suddenly a rush of vertigo hit him and he swooned, Willow and Dawn both braced him but he continued to topple,
Until strong arms grabbed him from behind,
“Perhaps you should fight the good fight from a sitting position,” Angel commented dryly. Alec nodded and chuckled looking up into the vampire’s face,
“Sounds like a good idea brother,” Angel hoisted the young man to his feet and helped carry him to the bed as Buffy cleared a space. As Angel set the young man down, his hand brushed against Buffy’s. For a moment, time stood still as Buffy and Angel made eye contact that seemed to last forever in their own private world.
Alec’s eyes flicked between the two then he scowled privately to himself before settling against the mattress. Buffy padded over to her brother and wrapped her arms around him squeezing him tightly and rocking him back and forth,
“Oooh! I am so glad you are not dead or crazy or anything,” Buffy commented, kissing her brothers cheek.
“Yes, we are all glad you have not gone murderously insane,” Anya commented, “We are also quite pleased that we will not have to toss you into a hole in the ground and bury you,”
The room fell silent as everyone regarded Anya with mixed expressions. Anya beamed,
“Yes, very glad,” she reiterated before settling back down next to Xander. Alec chuckled,
“Thank you…I think,” he turned to Angel, “How you holding up, mate?” Angel opened his shirt revealing several indentions from the bullet wounds he had suffered,
“If I can go a while without getting shot or stabbed I ought to be alright,” the vampire commented.
“Heard that one before,” Buffy replied smiling at him. Angel returned it gently then chuckled looking down at his healed wounds,
“It kind of itches a little,” Angel observed. Alec chuckled and removed the bandage from his shoulder, exposing a similar scar,
“The hell you say,” Alec replied grinning. Willow walked over to her lover, placing a kiss on his head and settling in next to him, brushing the white lock of hair from her face. Alec looked around and frowned,
“Where’s dad and Spike?” he asked.
“They went to go check out that temple again,” Buffy commented with a shudder. Alec’s eyes widened,
“Hell, I better get out there,” he pushed himself off the bed and nearly collapsed as his legs gave way.
“Damn it!” he cursed as Willow helped him back onto the bed, “I’m useless!”
“Don’t say that!” Dawn cried out to him. Everyone whirled to face her, astonished at the small girl’s vehemence, it was nearly staggering. Dawn herself looked a little taken aback as well as she stammered “You can still…help with research, you do have the Giles uber-smart gene,” she commented. There were a few chuckles as Willow turned to face Alec,
“She’s right, besides, if we want to make you combat capable all we need to do is stick you in a wheelchair, put some armor on you, have you grow a lance from your arm do-hickie and we can roll you into the enemy,” she cracked. Alec smiled despite himself,
“That’s not funny,” he admonished though he was chuckling quietly as were the others.
“So what’s next?” Alec asked after the laughter had died down.
“Next we strip your bandages, get you cleaned up and put some fresh clothes on you,” Willow informed him. There were a lot of “ooh’s” at this, though Dawn looked stricken a moment before sighing and looking away, unnoticed. Alec nodded,
“Yeah that’d be good actually,” the young man replied as Xander helped him to his feet.
“Whew!” the younger man gasped, waving his hand in front of his face in mock disgust, “You are ripe!” Alec chuckled,
“Anyone tell you its bad karma to pick on the wounded?” Willow punched Xander in the shoulder,
“Ow!”
“See?” Alec grinned then kissed Willow, “Thank you love,”
“Anytime dear,” she smiled prettily at Xander who scowled.
“Yeah you call it ‘karma’ I call it a ‘double cross’”, he replied.
“Now Xander don’t be bitter,” Alec admonished as Willow led him away.
Alec was propped up against the shower stall wall; it was a large open-air shower room, meant to accommodate several men; probably the sewer workers who first worked here. Alec ducked his head under the steaming water, cursing that, now crippled, he couldn’t even stand under a shower or adjust freely to keep from getting water in his face. The steam washed over him, cleaning him. Alec brought a wet hand across his bare torso, touching the rapidly healing scars that his regenerative factor had finally gotten around to tending to.
(If I was human, I would be dead) Alec thought to himself…then started when a peal of deep laughter boomed throughout the confines of the shower.
“What makes you think you are not?” it asked. Alec whirled around trying to see,
“Where are you?!” he demanded.
“What makes you think you are not dead and this is Hell?” the voice asked, sounding closer now. Alec tried to struggle to his feet but it was of no use and the strength in his arms left him, causing him to slump against the wall in impotent anger, exhaling hard and fast out of his mouth,
“Isn’t that where murderers of little boys go…Alec?” The voice asked. Alec brought his fists up to his ears,
“You can’t block me out Alec, I know you. That splash of blood, the screams, that look in their eyes as their life slowly fades out of them. You love it, you live for it,”
“NO!” Alec yelled and lurched wildly, he fell, face first into the tile floor, his nose re-breaking with a crunch. He bit his lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out from the pain and lifted himself up peering into the water pooled on the floor,
There, just behind him, a huge shape loomed dark and evil and overpowering.
“You love it!” it whispered. And with a scream of rage Alec whirled around a blade in his hand springing from his flesh…
…and connected with nothing. The only sound in the shower room was water on tile and the steady flat ‘drip drip drip’ of blood hitting the floor. Alec turned around to peer back into the water on the floor. Tentatively, Alec blew his nose hard, causing a jet of blood to spray out and then gripping his nose firmly he twisted it and with a loud crack of straightening cartilage, he put it back into place.
There was a low chuckle,
“See you soon, Alec,” it promised in a velvet voice, full of evil.
Ashmedai led Spike and Giles down into the bowels of the temple. Since neither he nor Spike required light to see in the darkness, they kept Giles between them so as not to lose him,
“Ow!” Giles cried out as he tripped in the pitch black corridor, colliding into Ashmedai. He felt hard, leather-like skin against his face, a flutter of wing and then he felt strong hands carefully hold him up,
“Thank you,” Giles said into the oppressive dark,
“You are welcome,” the golem replied before continuing on. They progressed perhaps 20 meters or so then turned left down another passage,
“I am stopping now,” Ashmedai warned the blind man. Giles got the hint and slowed then stopped, Spike doing the same.
“A blind watcher, you have to appreciate the irony,” Spike quipped,
“Thrilled beyond words at your satirical acumen, Spike,” Giles replied.
“Eh?”
“It means ‘shut up’,”
Spike chuckled, “Ah, okay then mate, why didn’t you say so?”
There was the sound of a heavy lock being undone and an even heavier door being pushed open. A rush of cold air spilled into the black, Giles shivered as the taste of something metallic entered his mouth. He could smell, now above the musty scent of the stone corridor, antiseptic and metal.
“Step forward please, and brace yourself,” Ashmedai warned before moving off to the side. For a moment, Giles was alone in the dark, panic set in,
“Spike!” Giles called out. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeeze reassuringly
“Steady on mate, he’s just stepping to the side to get the light,” Spike assured him. Giles nodded,
“Yes. Thank you,” Spike snorted,
“Besides I can’t wait to tell Alec how you’re scared of the dark, yet more irony,” Spike put in. Giles sighed and smiled in the dark,
“Step forward now please,” Ashmedai’s voice rang out. Giles took a step forward as the light from a small wall mounted lantern ignited
Revealing a full scale laboratory.
“Now all this place needs is a hunchback,” Spike observed and Giles could hardly disagree.
Metal hooks hung from the ceiling. A large metal bed was suspended as well. Several books lined the walls with titles like “Gray’s Anatomy” and “Morticians Desk Reference”. Vials filled with blood and other less savory fluids bubbled. A vat of fat cooked on a small burner, tallow burned away at the surface of several half-formed candles. Prints of Da Vinci’s works on anatomy including a life-size “Vitruvian Man” hung on the walls with handwritten notes scrawled upon them. Giles peered at them, then shuddered: blood stains and bits of flesh and hair also clung to the sketches. It was cold in this room, no doubt for tissue preservation and Giles rubbed his hands up and down his arms to stay warm.
“Oy! What’s this do?” Spike asked gesturing at a lever.
“No! Wait, Spike, don’t!” Giles cried out but it was far too late. Spike pulled down the lever and with the sound of metal squealing, gears spun crazily, chains rattled and with a crash, the metal rack that hung upon the ceiling plunged down crashing to a stop at waist height suspended by gory chains. A wave of decay rose up from it and crashed upon Giles; he bent in half choking and heaving at the scent of death and rot that hung from the blood-soaked apparatus. Spike whistled at the sight,
“Bloody Hell. Someone was busy on this thing,” he turned to Giles who was still coughing up bile, “You all right mate?” Giles waved him away as Spike approached the rack,
“Gods,” he whispered in awe and not a little of his own horror. It consisted of two parts, a metal rack, shaped roughly like a sarcophagus and a second part which fit atop it, the ‘lid’ Spike thought.
The rack was lined with barbed hooks, no doubt they dug into the flesh of the person put in there to keep them on their back and still. Leather straps at the wrists, chest, waist, knees and feet further immobilized the subject while some kind of two-piece metal clasp came out from the underside of the bed to lock the throat down. Then the lid probably came down and that was that.
Spike leaned over and sniffed, “It’s old blood,” he confirmed.
“Yes,” Ashmedai added, “It is,” Spike turned to the patchwork beast.
“Yours?” Spike asked though he already knew the answer. Ashmedai nodded, “You will, I trust excuse me. Being here is unpleasant,” Spike waved him away,
“Yeah, sure, bugger off, no worries,” he replied. Spike turned, “You on your feet yet?” Spike asked as Ashmedai padded away, his massive horns scrapping the doorframe. Giles nodded,
“Yes, thank you,” Giles replied, he was leaning heavily on one hand palm against the wall his other hand holding his glasses limply at his waist, swallowing deep breaths of air and trying not to heave from the smell coming from the gory rack. When he looked up he frowned suddenly, focusing on something upon the wall,
“What you got there, mate?” Spike asked. Giles frowned and ran his finger over a spot on the wall; something about it bothered him. It took a moment but he got it: it was the only portion of the wall that wasn’t stained with blood or dust.
“I’m not sure,” Giles replied putting his glasses on and peering at it, frowning. Gently he pressed in with his thumb. And with an audible click, the portion of wall over his thumb depressed and the wall slide away. Giles stumbled backwards in surprise, Spike catching him before they both peered at the newly-revealed room.
A desk with some books, a chair, a trunk, really not much more than an oversized closet converted into a study. Giles had to step sideways to get to the desk. Lying upon it was an old leather-bound book, roughly the size of a paperback. Giles picked it up and opened it, examining it,
“A diary,” Giles confirmed, opening it and peering inside,
“What’s it say?” Spike asked. Giles frowned,
“I’m not sure, it appears to be written in Hebrew. Let me see here,” he sounded out a few words, Spike looked at him curiously,
“You bringing something up mate?” he asked. Giles sighed,
“It’s an Aramaic base as opposed to Anglo-Saxon which is Latin,” he pointed to some numbers, “These are dates, which is what revealed that it was, in fact, a diary,” Giles turned the pages from right to left, something that Spike found odd, Giles caught the look,
“It’s a language that’s read from right to left, backwards in contrast to most Western languages,” Spike nodded,
“Yeah, all right so what’s it say already?” He asked impatiently. Giles frowned at a single line of Hebrew written in black ink stark against the white inside cover,
“ ‘Ata Bra Golem Devuk Hakhomer VeTigzar Zedim Chevel Torfe Yisroel,’” Giles sounded out.
“And what the Hell does that mean?” Spike demanded. Giles frowned in thought,
“It’s a line of text from that story regarding the Golem of Prague. It’s what God supposedly said to the Rabbi who was responsible for the Golem,” Giles gestured at the text, translating “ ‘Make a Golem of clay and you will destroy the entire Jew-baiting company,’” Giles explained, “It’s considered the catch mark phrase of the myth of the Golem,”
“Better amend ‘myth’ to ‘fact’ mate, horn boy over yonder didn’t claw his way out of his mum’s womb looking like that,” Spike put in,
“So it would seem,” Giles responded as he continued to examine the diary further, “This is the diary of the rabbi. It seems to be dated back a few years. The beginning entry…” Giles voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Spike queried.
“My God,” Giles whispered to himself.
“And for those of us who are not bloody psychic?!” Spike yelled. Giles looked up,
“The first entry discusses the death of his eight year old son, heart failure,” Giles replied, “I believe that’s why the rabbi began delving into necromancy and reanimation, he wanted to bring his son back,” Giles gestured to a passage, “Look here, ‘Each cell burns with a new life which apparently lends an unnatural capacity to the body as a whole. This tensile strength may in part aid the body in trapping or retaining an appropriate animating spirit or essence,’” Giles looked up at Spike, “He was trying to bring his son back from the dead,”
“Yeesh, that’s pretty…psychotic,” Spike commented,
“Become a father first, then judge,” Giles retorted. Spike sighed and nodded,
“Yeah all right point, so what happened next?” He asked eager to change the subject, Giles kept reading,
“It talks here about first working with stone, apparently the rabbi at this point in time wasn’t willing to cast off all of his religions teachings about necromancy and kosher behavior yet,” Giles frowned, “It reads that the stone creature he created was ‘three widths of a man and nearly ten feet tall’” Giles brow furrowed deeper with concern, “It doesn’t say whether or not he was successful in animating the stone golem, all it reads is a quote from Shelley “ ‘Power; like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanical automaton,” Spike stared,
“What’s that from?”
“Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab, III,” Giles replied before turning the page, “Here it begins discussing…oh,” Giles trailed off looking downcast,
“What?”
“It’s discussing the murder and reassembling of Kohen,”
“Right. Okay. Bad. Let’s skip that then, shall we?” Giles nodded and continued on,
“Good lord,” Giles whispered. Spike didn’t even bother, simply glaring at the other man. Giles looked up,
“The last entry, speaks of encountering a strange creature who could ‘fashion flesh as clay,’” Spike gaped,
“That Dahaka thing Alec tangled with?”
“It’s certainly very likely. Apparently the rabbi entered a partnership with it in the hopes of using its fleshcrafting to create a better golem or possibly repair his son,”
“Yeah, instead, ol’ Moses had his skull scooped up and his face used like a discount Halloween mask,” Giles nodded,
“It would certainly appear that way,” Giles tucked the diary in his pocket, “This bears further-“he stopped. Spike frowned,
“What is it?” he asked. Giles shook his head,
“I’m not sure…something,” he sniffed a few times then peered at the trunk.
“Spike would you please drag this out?” he asked. Spike nodded,
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” taking hold of it he dragged it into the laboratory. Spike winced, “Smells like someone who shall remain lifeless has forgotten to do his laundry,”
“I don’t think its dirty clothes, Spike,” Giles gestured at a heavy padlock on the latch, “Can you handle that?” Spike took it and twisted, the latch ripped away from the wood, nearly dropping him on his backside. Dumbfounded, Spike stared at the intact lock then back to the ruined latch,
“Ummm, yeah, no problem,”
Giles stepped over the vampire and opened the chest then gasped.
Inside was the perfectly preserved body of a small eight year old boy. So perfectly tended was his body that it looked like he was merely sleeping,
“The rabbi’s son,” Giles breathed, “But that’s impossible, this body is in perfect condition, yet it must be several years old,” Giles leaned over the body, peering at the inside of the lid, “No refrigeration equipment-“
And without warning the child opened its eyes, a hideous bright pink and hissed at Giles. Giles tried to stumble away but the child lashed out with unholy speed, its child’s hands no longer ending in fingers but ten whip-like tentacles that wrapped around Giles’ head and dragged him closer.
“SPIKE!” Giles screamed out from underneath the greasy folds of grasping skin.
“Holy Christ!” Spike yelled and came running over trying to pull Giles away from the hideous monster. The child creature turned its head towards Spike, glittering pink eyes filled with bestial hatred as its lower jaw split into two portions, left and right, his soft palate folded up over his nose revealing a trilateral jaw filled with teeth and snaking out a long black tongue that opened at the middle and hissed at them,
“Bugger off!” Spike snarled lashing out at the creatures malformed face with his fingers. The creature howled in pain and brought his tentacles over his now ruined eye socket. Spike dragged Giles away and looked at the pink goo on his fingers in disgust,
“Bloody hell,” he muttered then turned at the hissing sound that came from the trunk.
The creature, its head split open and filled with teeth, ruining the appearance of the sleeping child hissed at them, perched precariously on the rim of the trunk,
“COME ON!” Spike roared and charged the creature. The thing leapt at Spike with its unreal speed and collided into him, lashing its tentacles around Spikes head and trying to drag the vampire’s skull into its massive jaws.
And with a bestial cry, Ashmedai charged into the room. He tore the creature from Spike, hoisted it into the air, and brought the writhing abomination’s spine down hard against its unyielding knee. There was a sickening crack as the creature’s spine shattered. The hissing became a mewling whimper as Ashmedai tossed it to the floor and helped Spike to his feet,
“What is this…horror?” Ashmedai asked.
“A parting gift from the Dahaka, same bloke that murdered your rabbi,” Spike informed the golem. The creature on the floor crawled to look up at them, its face resealing once again now resembling a wounded child with a bleeding eye socket and shattered spine. It clawed at Ashemedai’s clawed foot, mewling piteously,
“Sorry mate, not this time, do the honors,” he told Ashmedai. Ashmedai looked down at the lie of innocence and the horror which lay underneath. He brought a single huge foot up and then down, hard. The creature beneath his heel spasmed once then lay slack.
“Yes well, that was probably right up there with me own mum hitting on me as far as most horrible thing to happen to me as of late,” Spike commented. Giles nodded,
“This Dahaka must be stopped,”
“Yes,” Ashmedai concurred,
“Too bloody right,” Spike chimed in then peered at the broken body of the creature at their feet. Giles frowned,
“What is it?” Spike gestured and Giles turned to look. The blood running from its gaping maw trickled onto the floor and between the cracks upon the stone floor. A steady drip could be heard as it dripped through the crack to something beneath.
“Hey Dante, give me a hand with this,” Spike told Ashmedai. Giles gingerly dragged the dead body away, a touch fearful that the hideous child-beast would reanimate and seek once again to devour his head, as Ashmedai and Spike worked their fingers into the cracks between the stone and heaved up and out, tossing the stone back upon the floor.
Spike stuck his head in, “Looks clear,” he observed.
“I cannot fit in such a space,” Ashmedai informed them, “I will lower you both down,” Spike nodded and gripping the golem’s forearms was lowered down into the sub-basement. Giles followed, taking a lantern which Ashmedai handed down to him,
“What do you see?” the golem asked. Spike and Giles looked about the chamber. Some carving tools, a table, a chisel, a few ladders and something else. A glint of metal shined against one wall. Human and vampire examined closer then slowly craned their heads up,
“Oh…bollocks!” Spike whispered.
A shrill electronic ring made them both jump. Giles jerked his hand down to his jacket pocket, removing a cell phone, jerking it open and mashing it to his ear,
“Hello?” he spoke and was rewarded with a burst of static; reception being poor so far underground.
“G-Man, that you?” Xander’s voice crackled and hissed, cutting in and out over the tiny speaker. Giles slapped a hand over his other ear to hear better,
“Yes, I’m here. We have some rather alarming news,”
“We got you beat, you better get back here. Some weird creature is trashing the neighborhood near you. It’s bizarre-
“A statue perhaps? Roughly ten feet tall and three or four feet in width,”
There was a static filled silence then,
“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?” a confused Xander asked.
“Oh…” Giles looked back at the wall where a ten foot tall, three foot wide indention was carved into the stone, several chains now snapped and broken lay at the base,
“Call it a hunch.”
(To be continued in Chapter 10)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Timeline: Immediately follows Book 1: Dusk
Rating: TV-14 (nothing worse than on the show)
Pairing/Characters: Buffy/Spike, Willow/Dusk(OC), Xander/Anya, Giles/Marlena(OC), Dawn, Faith, Angel, Dracula
Book One: Dusk (all chapters)
Previous chapter of Midnight
Banner created by edgehead73.
Hellmouth Ascendant Trilogy: Revamped Edition
Book Two:
Midnight
Chapter 9
Ashmedai
It was like a vision from Dante. Huge and powerful muscles, dark skin looking as though it had been blasted in fire. Large talons easily capable of gutting a man, a powerfully muscled chest, thick neck, and a large head complete with a mouth full of sharp pointy teeth and an impressive set of horns tapered to glistening point,
“Wow,” Spike said, impressed. Giles simply nodded as the creature stepped off the balcony it had been perched upon and landed surprisingly gracefully before them, blocking the exit. Its clawed feet dug into the stone floor with the crunching sound of grinding rock.
Up close, and no longer backlit, the pair could examine the creature more completely. It appeared to be a patchwork creation. Several different skin tones were stitched together expertly, creating a latticework of bone, sinew and flesh. Even the pupils of the eye seemed to be a composite, stitches running through the sclera, creating a bizarre multicolored look to the eyes. It made Adam from last year look like a Tinker Toy.
“Well, I guess that answers whether or not the rabbi made something,” Spike quipped dryly in the face of the patchwork colossus. Where its body wasn’t stitched together, bizarre symbols seemed to be burned into its flesh, which looked like it had been blasted red and hard in a furnace,
“Yes, yes so it would seem um…hello,” Giles addressed the creature, “Can you umm...speak?”
“Better than you it would appear,” the creature replied in a smooth, calm voice, startling them both.
“Oh! Well…hello there!” Giles said stuttering slightly at being able to converse with this creature,
“You spoke of Rabbi Mesha. He is dead. Are you responsible?” The creature asked them directly, Giles shook his head,
“No, no we are not. We believe a creature called a ‘Dahaka’ or a ‘fleshdancer’ was responsible for murdering the rabbi and then assuming his identity in an attempt to murder my son and others,” The creature considered this then nodded,
“Yes, that follows with what I witnessed of the creature before I left,” the creature responded. Giles frowned,
‘You encountered the fleshdancer?” he asked puzzled. The creature nodded,
“Yes I did,” he confirmed for the confused pair.
“No offense mate, but you don’t exactly blend in; how did you and for that matter, what were you doing spying on the rabbi and goo-boy?” Spike asked. The creature turned to address the shorter man,
“I was not spying. I lived here. This was my home,” Giles gaped, a terrible thought occurring to him,
“Who are you?” Giles asked. The creature turned,
“My name was Kohen. I was the Rabbi’s student; before I became his experiment. Now you may call me Ashmedai,”
“The Jewish King of Demons,” Giles breathed. Ashmedai bowed sardonically,
“In the piecemeal flesh, so to speak,” he replied bitterly. Spike looked back and forth,
“Hold up, how did you go from nice Jewish boy to Frankenstein with wings?” he asked. Ashmedai chuckled, a sound like stone on glass,
“That is a long story,” he replied. Giles cleared his throat, appalled at what had been done to this young man.
“We have time, and we believe it may be important,” Giles replied. The creature nodded,
“Follow me please,” he instructed simply then turned, “First I must ask, what is the nature of your interest?”
“There is a great evil rising in the west, in our home. We seek the elements necessary to combat it,” Giles replied, “For the sake of our families and our homes,” To his surprise, Ashmedai smiled, a little sadly,
“How noble. Oddly enough, it is that sentiment that gave rise to the golem of Prague all those years ago,” The creature led them up some stairs and opened a trapdoor into what had once been the temple attic and had now been converted into a semi-comfortable living space and probably the only room in the temple aside from the main foyer that Ashmedai’s horns and wing tips did not scrape the ceilings.
He gestured with a clawed hand to the floor, “Forgive the lack of furniture” he explained, “I do not entertain often,” he quipped, smiling slightly as he took the only chair, a battered recliner that had deep gouges torn into it from the creature wings,
“Looking like a gargoyle will do that,” Spike commented, squatting on the floor next to Giles.
Giles frowned at the other man’s rudeness before turning to Ashmedai,
“It’s quite all right, earlier you mentioned the Golem of Prague. To confirm, you yourself are in fact a golem, are you not?” Ashmedai nodded,
“What gave it away? I’ve got everything but bolts in my neck,” he spat bitterly before sighing, getting his rage under control, “Yes, yes I am a golem, created in the image of the demon king, to inspire ‘righteous fear’ in his flock,”
“Hold up, you were created to scare all the other Jews in the area? Why?” Spike asked, Giles answer for him,
“Because a religious leader who can manifest ‘demons’ at a moment’s notice can cultivate a lot of obedience from his flock,” he replied. Ashmedai nodded,
“His sin runs deeper than you know. Using me as his tool of fear and majesty, Rabbi Mesha extended his hand into politics, finance, local businesses, utilizing his position as spiritual leader to cultivate resource and influence in the local community,” Spike shrugged,
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, local holy men dipping into the town well for a little extra bread, it’s been done. I’m not impressed,” Giles sighed taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose,
“Spike, Try to understand this. Say you have an entire congregation of very devoted, deeply religions people. Now say one of them has a good deal of money, you can tell them it’s their religious obligation to tithe some of that to the temple and if they refuse, you send a demon to their house to scare them into doing it. Or say someone in your congregation is running for office and you want to make them more pliable to your wishes using a generous campaign contribution from money that you’ve extorted out of your own flock, followed by a demonic visit should your candidate not tow the line you want him to. It is a pretty powerful incentive. Faith and fear in combination make a powerful ally”
“Faith. Fear. Cut from the same bloody tree if you ask me; bunch of bleedin’ people cowering in sodding mansions of stone and wood begging some old man on up high for a better life; waste of time if you ask me,” Spike snorted derisively.
“Spoken like a man who’s lost his faith. Becoming a vampire wouldn’t have something to do with that would it?” Ashmedai asked.
“Don’t know. Would becoming a freak have something to do with you losing yours?” Spike replied testily.
“My faith has endured, vampire, how has yours fared?” the golem replied. Spike snarled at him,
“Fag off! I’m not going to be lectured at by someone’s bloody cross-stitch project!” Spike roared getting to his feet, fist clenched.
“Enough!” Giles yelled. “Sit down Spike!” Spike glared daggers into them both, and then settled back down upon the floor, arms crossed. Giles sighed and turned to Ashmedai,
“I apologize, Spike is…” Giles struggled for the word, “He’s sort of…he’s an idiot,” Ashmedai chuckled,
“Perhaps, but a brave idiot. If he brawls as well as he brags, he must be useful,”
“I have my moments,” Spike replied evenly, getting himself under control.
“You mentioned that his sin ran deeper than we knew. What exactly did you mean?” Giles asked. Ashmedai’s inhuman face turned grim,
“Let me show you,” he answered.
Willow awoke with a start. She rubbed her eyes and stared at her watch, the little glowing numbers told it was nearly quarter to ten.
And then it hit her.
Alec was gone.
Frantically, she bolted up right and whirled around.
Alec was there, sitting upright on the edge of the bed, staring into the dark.
Sighing in relief, Willow crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around him, her hands clasping against his bare chest, she placed a warm kiss on the skin upon his back, trying to ignore the wounds that were still healing.
“Hey you,” she whispered then smiled when she felt his hands come over hers and press together,
“Does the sun still shine, Willow? I’m having trouble seeing it,” he whispered. Willow frowned,
“Well its night time, also we’re underground,” she replied, there was something in this tone she didn’t like. It reminded her of someone she had heard before. She heard the smile in his reply
“Yes, it’s night. It’s always night here. Always dark. And we all linger here, under the cold earth. Buried alive. Screaming for release,” Alec replied. Willow shuttered at his words, thick with despair.
“Hey…” she whispered turning him towards her, he didn’t resist, his legs dangling behind him, “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” she whispered soothingly, pulling his head to her breast and rocking him. She realized then who he sounded like, speaking in that stilted broken tone of voice: Drusilla, Spike’s mad paramour.
“Yes, you’re here. And it’s here. I can feel it. It’s waiting for me, there, in the darkness. I can feel it under my skin, behind my eyes, clogging my lungs, strangling me,” Alec whispered, his voice full of dread. Willow frowned kissing his forehead,
“What is Alec? What’s waiting for you?”
“The hungry dark,” he replied in quiet terror and despair. Willow nodded then looked up and gasped.
Daenna was standing in front of them both. Her skin was a bloated blue, her flesh hung from her body like soiled clothes, soaked to the bone. Her eyes were a milky dead white, wide and staring right at her. The corpse opened its mouth and a thick black ooze leaked out, dribbling down the front of what had once been a pretty dress,
“Death cannot save you from the evil that you have brought! Beware!” The old woman threw her head back, black ooze spewing out like a geyser, choking and gurgling. And then her head fell off her body and rolled away.
Willow screamed in terror and brought her hands over her eyes shuddering in horror. Then she felt warm arms wrap around her,
“Shhh love, it’s all right. I have you,” she heard Alec whisper to her, resting his cheek on her red hair. She cried then, partially in horror, partially in grief but also in joy and relief: he was the strong, tender man she had fallen in love with once more, in spirit at least if not yet in body.
“Alec…” she choked clutching to her love. He smiled and kissed her head over and over,
“It’s me, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her.
“I’m so afraid,” she whispered. He nodded and turned to peer down into the dark tunnels, where he could feel the darkness looking back at him,
“So am I, Willow. So am I.”
“Hey! He lives!” Buffy exclaimed joyfully as Willow helped carry Alec into Buffy’s bedroom which had served as the impromptu place of hanging out for the last few days,
“Alec!” Dawn whispered before running over full speed and plowing into him hard, Willow struggled to keep them both aloft as Dawn squeezed him tightly, Alec hugging her back,
“Hey petite, miss me?” he quipped. She nodded vigorously,
“I thought I’d lost you,” Alec smiled,
“Never in a million years, love,”
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining as Alec leaned over, careful not to throw either girl off balance and kissed her gently upon her forehead. Xander walked over,
“Hey man, welcome back to the world, thought you’d taken one hit too many,” he cracked gesturing at the still bandaged young man. Alec shook his head,
“Still here, ready to fight the good fight,” The boy replied cockily. Suddenly a rush of vertigo hit him and he swooned, Willow and Dawn both braced him but he continued to topple,
Until strong arms grabbed him from behind,
“Perhaps you should fight the good fight from a sitting position,” Angel commented dryly. Alec nodded and chuckled looking up into the vampire’s face,
“Sounds like a good idea brother,” Angel hoisted the young man to his feet and helped carry him to the bed as Buffy cleared a space. As Angel set the young man down, his hand brushed against Buffy’s. For a moment, time stood still as Buffy and Angel made eye contact that seemed to last forever in their own private world.
Alec’s eyes flicked between the two then he scowled privately to himself before settling against the mattress. Buffy padded over to her brother and wrapped her arms around him squeezing him tightly and rocking him back and forth,
“Oooh! I am so glad you are not dead or crazy or anything,” Buffy commented, kissing her brothers cheek.
“Yes, we are all glad you have not gone murderously insane,” Anya commented, “We are also quite pleased that we will not have to toss you into a hole in the ground and bury you,”
The room fell silent as everyone regarded Anya with mixed expressions. Anya beamed,
“Yes, very glad,” she reiterated before settling back down next to Xander. Alec chuckled,
“Thank you…I think,” he turned to Angel, “How you holding up, mate?” Angel opened his shirt revealing several indentions from the bullet wounds he had suffered,
“If I can go a while without getting shot or stabbed I ought to be alright,” the vampire commented.
“Heard that one before,” Buffy replied smiling at him. Angel returned it gently then chuckled looking down at his healed wounds,
“It kind of itches a little,” Angel observed. Alec chuckled and removed the bandage from his shoulder, exposing a similar scar,
“The hell you say,” Alec replied grinning. Willow walked over to her lover, placing a kiss on his head and settling in next to him, brushing the white lock of hair from her face. Alec looked around and frowned,
“Where’s dad and Spike?” he asked.
“They went to go check out that temple again,” Buffy commented with a shudder. Alec’s eyes widened,
“Hell, I better get out there,” he pushed himself off the bed and nearly collapsed as his legs gave way.
“Damn it!” he cursed as Willow helped him back onto the bed, “I’m useless!”
“Don’t say that!” Dawn cried out to him. Everyone whirled to face her, astonished at the small girl’s vehemence, it was nearly staggering. Dawn herself looked a little taken aback as well as she stammered “You can still…help with research, you do have the Giles uber-smart gene,” she commented. There were a few chuckles as Willow turned to face Alec,
“She’s right, besides, if we want to make you combat capable all we need to do is stick you in a wheelchair, put some armor on you, have you grow a lance from your arm do-hickie and we can roll you into the enemy,” she cracked. Alec smiled despite himself,
“That’s not funny,” he admonished though he was chuckling quietly as were the others.
“So what’s next?” Alec asked after the laughter had died down.
“Next we strip your bandages, get you cleaned up and put some fresh clothes on you,” Willow informed him. There were a lot of “ooh’s” at this, though Dawn looked stricken a moment before sighing and looking away, unnoticed. Alec nodded,
“Yeah that’d be good actually,” the young man replied as Xander helped him to his feet.
“Whew!” the younger man gasped, waving his hand in front of his face in mock disgust, “You are ripe!” Alec chuckled,
“Anyone tell you its bad karma to pick on the wounded?” Willow punched Xander in the shoulder,
“Ow!”
“See?” Alec grinned then kissed Willow, “Thank you love,”
“Anytime dear,” she smiled prettily at Xander who scowled.
“Yeah you call it ‘karma’ I call it a ‘double cross’”, he replied.
“Now Xander don’t be bitter,” Alec admonished as Willow led him away.
Alec was propped up against the shower stall wall; it was a large open-air shower room, meant to accommodate several men; probably the sewer workers who first worked here. Alec ducked his head under the steaming water, cursing that, now crippled, he couldn’t even stand under a shower or adjust freely to keep from getting water in his face. The steam washed over him, cleaning him. Alec brought a wet hand across his bare torso, touching the rapidly healing scars that his regenerative factor had finally gotten around to tending to.
(If I was human, I would be dead) Alec thought to himself…then started when a peal of deep laughter boomed throughout the confines of the shower.
“What makes you think you are not?” it asked. Alec whirled around trying to see,
“Where are you?!” he demanded.
“What makes you think you are not dead and this is Hell?” the voice asked, sounding closer now. Alec tried to struggle to his feet but it was of no use and the strength in his arms left him, causing him to slump against the wall in impotent anger, exhaling hard and fast out of his mouth,
“Isn’t that where murderers of little boys go…Alec?” The voice asked. Alec brought his fists up to his ears,
“You can’t block me out Alec, I know you. That splash of blood, the screams, that look in their eyes as their life slowly fades out of them. You love it, you live for it,”
“NO!” Alec yelled and lurched wildly, he fell, face first into the tile floor, his nose re-breaking with a crunch. He bit his lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out from the pain and lifted himself up peering into the water pooled on the floor,
There, just behind him, a huge shape loomed dark and evil and overpowering.
“You love it!” it whispered. And with a scream of rage Alec whirled around a blade in his hand springing from his flesh…
…and connected with nothing. The only sound in the shower room was water on tile and the steady flat ‘drip drip drip’ of blood hitting the floor. Alec turned around to peer back into the water on the floor. Tentatively, Alec blew his nose hard, causing a jet of blood to spray out and then gripping his nose firmly he twisted it and with a loud crack of straightening cartilage, he put it back into place.
There was a low chuckle,
“See you soon, Alec,” it promised in a velvet voice, full of evil.
Ashmedai led Spike and Giles down into the bowels of the temple. Since neither he nor Spike required light to see in the darkness, they kept Giles between them so as not to lose him,
“Ow!” Giles cried out as he tripped in the pitch black corridor, colliding into Ashmedai. He felt hard, leather-like skin against his face, a flutter of wing and then he felt strong hands carefully hold him up,
“Thank you,” Giles said into the oppressive dark,
“You are welcome,” the golem replied before continuing on. They progressed perhaps 20 meters or so then turned left down another passage,
“I am stopping now,” Ashmedai warned the blind man. Giles got the hint and slowed then stopped, Spike doing the same.
“A blind watcher, you have to appreciate the irony,” Spike quipped,
“Thrilled beyond words at your satirical acumen, Spike,” Giles replied.
“Eh?”
“It means ‘shut up’,”
Spike chuckled, “Ah, okay then mate, why didn’t you say so?”
There was the sound of a heavy lock being undone and an even heavier door being pushed open. A rush of cold air spilled into the black, Giles shivered as the taste of something metallic entered his mouth. He could smell, now above the musty scent of the stone corridor, antiseptic and metal.
“Step forward please, and brace yourself,” Ashmedai warned before moving off to the side. For a moment, Giles was alone in the dark, panic set in,
“Spike!” Giles called out. He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeeze reassuringly
“Steady on mate, he’s just stepping to the side to get the light,” Spike assured him. Giles nodded,
“Yes. Thank you,” Spike snorted,
“Besides I can’t wait to tell Alec how you’re scared of the dark, yet more irony,” Spike put in. Giles sighed and smiled in the dark,
“Step forward now please,” Ashmedai’s voice rang out. Giles took a step forward as the light from a small wall mounted lantern ignited
Revealing a full scale laboratory.
“Now all this place needs is a hunchback,” Spike observed and Giles could hardly disagree.
Metal hooks hung from the ceiling. A large metal bed was suspended as well. Several books lined the walls with titles like “Gray’s Anatomy” and “Morticians Desk Reference”. Vials filled with blood and other less savory fluids bubbled. A vat of fat cooked on a small burner, tallow burned away at the surface of several half-formed candles. Prints of Da Vinci’s works on anatomy including a life-size “Vitruvian Man” hung on the walls with handwritten notes scrawled upon them. Giles peered at them, then shuddered: blood stains and bits of flesh and hair also clung to the sketches. It was cold in this room, no doubt for tissue preservation and Giles rubbed his hands up and down his arms to stay warm.
“Oy! What’s this do?” Spike asked gesturing at a lever.
“No! Wait, Spike, don’t!” Giles cried out but it was far too late. Spike pulled down the lever and with the sound of metal squealing, gears spun crazily, chains rattled and with a crash, the metal rack that hung upon the ceiling plunged down crashing to a stop at waist height suspended by gory chains. A wave of decay rose up from it and crashed upon Giles; he bent in half choking and heaving at the scent of death and rot that hung from the blood-soaked apparatus. Spike whistled at the sight,
“Bloody Hell. Someone was busy on this thing,” he turned to Giles who was still coughing up bile, “You all right mate?” Giles waved him away as Spike approached the rack,
“Gods,” he whispered in awe and not a little of his own horror. It consisted of two parts, a metal rack, shaped roughly like a sarcophagus and a second part which fit atop it, the ‘lid’ Spike thought.
The rack was lined with barbed hooks, no doubt they dug into the flesh of the person put in there to keep them on their back and still. Leather straps at the wrists, chest, waist, knees and feet further immobilized the subject while some kind of two-piece metal clasp came out from the underside of the bed to lock the throat down. Then the lid probably came down and that was that.
Spike leaned over and sniffed, “It’s old blood,” he confirmed.
“Yes,” Ashmedai added, “It is,” Spike turned to the patchwork beast.
“Yours?” Spike asked though he already knew the answer. Ashmedai nodded, “You will, I trust excuse me. Being here is unpleasant,” Spike waved him away,
“Yeah, sure, bugger off, no worries,” he replied. Spike turned, “You on your feet yet?” Spike asked as Ashmedai padded away, his massive horns scrapping the doorframe. Giles nodded,
“Yes, thank you,” Giles replied, he was leaning heavily on one hand palm against the wall his other hand holding his glasses limply at his waist, swallowing deep breaths of air and trying not to heave from the smell coming from the gory rack. When he looked up he frowned suddenly, focusing on something upon the wall,
“What you got there, mate?” Spike asked. Giles frowned and ran his finger over a spot on the wall; something about it bothered him. It took a moment but he got it: it was the only portion of the wall that wasn’t stained with blood or dust.
“I’m not sure,” Giles replied putting his glasses on and peering at it, frowning. Gently he pressed in with his thumb. And with an audible click, the portion of wall over his thumb depressed and the wall slide away. Giles stumbled backwards in surprise, Spike catching him before they both peered at the newly-revealed room.
A desk with some books, a chair, a trunk, really not much more than an oversized closet converted into a study. Giles had to step sideways to get to the desk. Lying upon it was an old leather-bound book, roughly the size of a paperback. Giles picked it up and opened it, examining it,
“A diary,” Giles confirmed, opening it and peering inside,
“What’s it say?” Spike asked. Giles frowned,
“I’m not sure, it appears to be written in Hebrew. Let me see here,” he sounded out a few words, Spike looked at him curiously,
“You bringing something up mate?” he asked. Giles sighed,
“It’s an Aramaic base as opposed to Anglo-Saxon which is Latin,” he pointed to some numbers, “These are dates, which is what revealed that it was, in fact, a diary,” Giles turned the pages from right to left, something that Spike found odd, Giles caught the look,
“It’s a language that’s read from right to left, backwards in contrast to most Western languages,” Spike nodded,
“Yeah, all right so what’s it say already?” He asked impatiently. Giles frowned at a single line of Hebrew written in black ink stark against the white inside cover,
“ ‘Ata Bra Golem Devuk Hakhomer VeTigzar Zedim Chevel Torfe Yisroel,’” Giles sounded out.
“And what the Hell does that mean?” Spike demanded. Giles frowned in thought,
“It’s a line of text from that story regarding the Golem of Prague. It’s what God supposedly said to the Rabbi who was responsible for the Golem,” Giles gestured at the text, translating “ ‘Make a Golem of clay and you will destroy the entire Jew-baiting company,’” Giles explained, “It’s considered the catch mark phrase of the myth of the Golem,”
“Better amend ‘myth’ to ‘fact’ mate, horn boy over yonder didn’t claw his way out of his mum’s womb looking like that,” Spike put in,
“So it would seem,” Giles responded as he continued to examine the diary further, “This is the diary of the rabbi. It seems to be dated back a few years. The beginning entry…” Giles voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Spike queried.
“My God,” Giles whispered to himself.
“And for those of us who are not bloody psychic?!” Spike yelled. Giles looked up,
“The first entry discusses the death of his eight year old son, heart failure,” Giles replied, “I believe that’s why the rabbi began delving into necromancy and reanimation, he wanted to bring his son back,” Giles gestured to a passage, “Look here, ‘Each cell burns with a new life which apparently lends an unnatural capacity to the body as a whole. This tensile strength may in part aid the body in trapping or retaining an appropriate animating spirit or essence,’” Giles looked up at Spike, “He was trying to bring his son back from the dead,”
“Yeesh, that’s pretty…psychotic,” Spike commented,
“Become a father first, then judge,” Giles retorted. Spike sighed and nodded,
“Yeah all right point, so what happened next?” He asked eager to change the subject, Giles kept reading,
“It talks here about first working with stone, apparently the rabbi at this point in time wasn’t willing to cast off all of his religions teachings about necromancy and kosher behavior yet,” Giles frowned, “It reads that the stone creature he created was ‘three widths of a man and nearly ten feet tall’” Giles brow furrowed deeper with concern, “It doesn’t say whether or not he was successful in animating the stone golem, all it reads is a quote from Shelley “ ‘Power; like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanical automaton,” Spike stared,
“What’s that from?”
“Percy Bysshe Shelley, Queen Mab, III,” Giles replied before turning the page, “Here it begins discussing…oh,” Giles trailed off looking downcast,
“What?”
“It’s discussing the murder and reassembling of Kohen,”
“Right. Okay. Bad. Let’s skip that then, shall we?” Giles nodded and continued on,
“Good lord,” Giles whispered. Spike didn’t even bother, simply glaring at the other man. Giles looked up,
“The last entry, speaks of encountering a strange creature who could ‘fashion flesh as clay,’” Spike gaped,
“That Dahaka thing Alec tangled with?”
“It’s certainly very likely. Apparently the rabbi entered a partnership with it in the hopes of using its fleshcrafting to create a better golem or possibly repair his son,”
“Yeah, instead, ol’ Moses had his skull scooped up and his face used like a discount Halloween mask,” Giles nodded,
“It would certainly appear that way,” Giles tucked the diary in his pocket, “This bears further-“he stopped. Spike frowned,
“What is it?” he asked. Giles shook his head,
“I’m not sure…something,” he sniffed a few times then peered at the trunk.
“Spike would you please drag this out?” he asked. Spike nodded,
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” taking hold of it he dragged it into the laboratory. Spike winced, “Smells like someone who shall remain lifeless has forgotten to do his laundry,”
“I don’t think its dirty clothes, Spike,” Giles gestured at a heavy padlock on the latch, “Can you handle that?” Spike took it and twisted, the latch ripped away from the wood, nearly dropping him on his backside. Dumbfounded, Spike stared at the intact lock then back to the ruined latch,
“Ummm, yeah, no problem,”
Giles stepped over the vampire and opened the chest then gasped.
Inside was the perfectly preserved body of a small eight year old boy. So perfectly tended was his body that it looked like he was merely sleeping,
“The rabbi’s son,” Giles breathed, “But that’s impossible, this body is in perfect condition, yet it must be several years old,” Giles leaned over the body, peering at the inside of the lid, “No refrigeration equipment-“
And without warning the child opened its eyes, a hideous bright pink and hissed at Giles. Giles tried to stumble away but the child lashed out with unholy speed, its child’s hands no longer ending in fingers but ten whip-like tentacles that wrapped around Giles’ head and dragged him closer.
“SPIKE!” Giles screamed out from underneath the greasy folds of grasping skin.
“Holy Christ!” Spike yelled and came running over trying to pull Giles away from the hideous monster. The child creature turned its head towards Spike, glittering pink eyes filled with bestial hatred as its lower jaw split into two portions, left and right, his soft palate folded up over his nose revealing a trilateral jaw filled with teeth and snaking out a long black tongue that opened at the middle and hissed at them,
“Bugger off!” Spike snarled lashing out at the creatures malformed face with his fingers. The creature howled in pain and brought his tentacles over his now ruined eye socket. Spike dragged Giles away and looked at the pink goo on his fingers in disgust,
“Bloody hell,” he muttered then turned at the hissing sound that came from the trunk.
The creature, its head split open and filled with teeth, ruining the appearance of the sleeping child hissed at them, perched precariously on the rim of the trunk,
“COME ON!” Spike roared and charged the creature. The thing leapt at Spike with its unreal speed and collided into him, lashing its tentacles around Spikes head and trying to drag the vampire’s skull into its massive jaws.
And with a bestial cry, Ashmedai charged into the room. He tore the creature from Spike, hoisted it into the air, and brought the writhing abomination’s spine down hard against its unyielding knee. There was a sickening crack as the creature’s spine shattered. The hissing became a mewling whimper as Ashmedai tossed it to the floor and helped Spike to his feet,
“What is this…horror?” Ashmedai asked.
“A parting gift from the Dahaka, same bloke that murdered your rabbi,” Spike informed the golem. The creature on the floor crawled to look up at them, its face resealing once again now resembling a wounded child with a bleeding eye socket and shattered spine. It clawed at Ashemedai’s clawed foot, mewling piteously,
“Sorry mate, not this time, do the honors,” he told Ashmedai. Ashmedai looked down at the lie of innocence and the horror which lay underneath. He brought a single huge foot up and then down, hard. The creature beneath his heel spasmed once then lay slack.
“Yes well, that was probably right up there with me own mum hitting on me as far as most horrible thing to happen to me as of late,” Spike commented. Giles nodded,
“This Dahaka must be stopped,”
“Yes,” Ashmedai concurred,
“Too bloody right,” Spike chimed in then peered at the broken body of the creature at their feet. Giles frowned,
“What is it?” Spike gestured and Giles turned to look. The blood running from its gaping maw trickled onto the floor and between the cracks upon the stone floor. A steady drip could be heard as it dripped through the crack to something beneath.
“Hey Dante, give me a hand with this,” Spike told Ashmedai. Giles gingerly dragged the dead body away, a touch fearful that the hideous child-beast would reanimate and seek once again to devour his head, as Ashmedai and Spike worked their fingers into the cracks between the stone and heaved up and out, tossing the stone back upon the floor.
Spike stuck his head in, “Looks clear,” he observed.
“I cannot fit in such a space,” Ashmedai informed them, “I will lower you both down,” Spike nodded and gripping the golem’s forearms was lowered down into the sub-basement. Giles followed, taking a lantern which Ashmedai handed down to him,
“What do you see?” the golem asked. Spike and Giles looked about the chamber. Some carving tools, a table, a chisel, a few ladders and something else. A glint of metal shined against one wall. Human and vampire examined closer then slowly craned their heads up,
“Oh…bollocks!” Spike whispered.
A shrill electronic ring made them both jump. Giles jerked his hand down to his jacket pocket, removing a cell phone, jerking it open and mashing it to his ear,
“Hello?” he spoke and was rewarded with a burst of static; reception being poor so far underground.
“G-Man, that you?” Xander’s voice crackled and hissed, cutting in and out over the tiny speaker. Giles slapped a hand over his other ear to hear better,
“Yes, I’m here. We have some rather alarming news,”
“We got you beat, you better get back here. Some weird creature is trashing the neighborhood near you. It’s bizarre-
“A statue perhaps? Roughly ten feet tall and three or four feet in width,”
There was a static filled silence then,
“Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know?” a confused Xander asked.
“Oh…” Giles looked back at the wall where a ten foot tall, three foot wide indention was carved into the stone, several chains now snapped and broken lay at the base,
“Call it a hunch.”
(To be continued in Chapter 10)