“I don’t know Bregs, the M.O. isn’t the same,” the street clad detective said to his partner, laying the manila files down and sitting on the edge of the desk.
“So what are you saying, Sullivan? That we have another serial killer on our hands?” the short blonde detective replied, looking up at him from her chair.
Detective Sullivan was about to reply when the captain’s voice boomed across the room. Beat cops and others scuttled around looking busy, looking anywhere but at the captain.
“Bregs! Sullivan! Haul in, we have a break!” he cried out brandishing a newspaper. The headline read: “Serial Killer Identifies Self: Son of Sam”.
Main Library – Basement
The dark skinned girl looked at her Watcher unbelievingly. “You’re jiving me right?”
The Englishman sighed and rubbed his palms across the corduroy of his pant legs and replied, “No, Nikki, I am quite serious. This has happened before. The police believe that they have a psychotic on their hands, when in reality, they have an egomaniacal demon who has possessed a human’s body.”
“That sounds a lot like a vampire. You want I should dust him?” she asked, getting bored.
“He is not a vampire. The host’s body retains all outward signs of life. But, this is what makes him quite dangerous. You must dispatch with the body in order to banish the demon.”
“So, this is going to look like I killed a person right?” she stood up abruptly and picked up her leather duster from the chair she had slung it across when she had first arrived in the musty basement room of the main New York City Library. They had trained before going over the latest developments from around the city.
“Nikki.” Stewart whispered gently. “I know this is hard for you. No Slayer before you had been called after she was eighteen, let alone twenty one. This has been a major disruption in your life. I know.”
Nikki’s eyes flashed angrily as she remembered the night seven months ago when her life was turned upside down. “You’re damn right it was. I didn’t ask to be Wonder Woman. One day I’m groovin’, doing my thing, the next, there’s some white English square telling me that I have some sacred duty to save the world.” She finished her rant, still standing in the doorway.
“Nikki, please. You must understand who you are. You are the one girl in all the world – “
Nikki held up her hand with a defeated sigh. “Spare me the lecture Stewart. I’m going on patrol. See you on the flipside.” With that, she turned to leave.
“Nikki – “ he started.
She turned again, her expression softening. “I’ll be careful.”
Greenwich Village
He stepped out of the shower, not bothering to don a towel and snuck up on the slim brunette. Wrapping his smooth white arms around her waist and resting his chin in the hollow of her shoulder, he let a cool breath sigh past her ear. “Hello, love.”
“Spike,” she replied, turning, surprise registering on her features.
“What do you think, pet? I think I got most of it. Right hard working on appearances without a mirror.” He stopped himself before he could begin babbling. He touched at his hair and pulled a white blonde lock so that it camp before his eyes and then smoothed it back again. He looked at Drusilla intently as she stood staring at him, still not saying anything. “If you don’t like it, I could change it back,” he offered, sounding more and more unsure of himself.
“Shh!” Drusilla covered her lips with an index finger and let a rush of air pass through her teeth. “My William, such a pretty boy,” she crooned holding his head between her hands, staring over his head. She caught a wave of color and idea. “You would want blonde.”
Spike grasped her by her shoulders and pushed her away so that he could look into the cool gray depths of her eyes. “What do you mean, pet?” he asked, puzzled.
Drusilla only smirked at him. She reached behind him to retrieve the porcelain doll, the newest Miss Edith, from the bed. Taking it, she embraced it and spun away, doing a little dance and giggling. Spike shook his head, bemused and went about finding where he had thrown his clothes so hastily before. He sat on the bed and leaned back, putting both leather pant legs on at once. He rolled forward and picked his shirt off the floor. Pulling on the sleeveless union jack t shirt, he stood up. He grabbed Dru in mid spin and tossed the fragile doll carelessly to the bed. He continued her spin while holding her waist. “We’re going to like New York, love.”
July 1977
The sun had just set a couple hours ago and the Slayer stalked through a neighborhood in Queens. The Son of Sam had struck again and again and she still couldn’t track him down. It seemed whatever borough she was patrolling, he had struck that night in another. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she turned and went down the stairs and stepped onto the platform to wait for the subway train that would take her home.
Greenwich Village
Spike looked over at the clock across from the bed where he had sprawled out. Hunting was good here. It wasn’t like the sleepy suburbs of Middle America a couple decades ago. Nobody knew anybody here and nobody cared if one or two or twelve people went missing in a week. He laid his hand on Drusilla’s shoulder as she stirred from her position laid out across his bare chest.
“What do you want to do tonight, pet?” he asked as she sat up, delicate smile played out across her features.
“I want to sing and dance,” she mewled.
“You don’t want to go to the park again?” he asked, trying to steer her towards coherent conversation.
“I didn’t like the men boys that we had there last night. They tasted funny and made my head do all sorts of strange things,” she protested.
Spike had felt strange too and had a hard time remembering how they had gotten from Central Park to their back alley flat behind a warehouse in the Village. It was almost like those hippies at that festival a few years back, only more intense.
“So you want to dance? Let’s dance tonight,” he replied swinging his naked legs over the side of the bed.
“Oh goody!” she answered, clapping her hands happily.
Harlem
“Yo! Nikki!” a voice called out as she emerged from the subway station.
She turned around to see where the voice came from and noticed movement in the alley way. She felt a tingling at the back of her mind. A man not much older than her emerged and casually slung his arm around her shoulders.
“Where you been, girl? We’ve missed you.”
“Junior!” she exclaimed throwing her arms completely around the man, a broad smile etched across her face. “I’ve been busy,” she replied to his previous question, as they walked in the direction of her apartment.
“What are you now? Too good for your own neighborhood? What’s the matter? That James Bond reject doesn’t want you hanging around your old digs? He your new man?”
Nikki cast a sidelong glance at her companion. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Never felt better,” he replied, his skin changing from that of a handsome young man to that of her calling.
“Junior! What – When – Why?” she asked, desperation in her voice as he grasped her by the throat and slammed her up against a wall.
To his surprise, she braced herself and pushed off the wall sending the two of them sprawling. He threw a punch which she blocked with a high kick. She followed up with a series of chops and kicks which he couldn’t fend off and sent him flying into a brick wall with another kick to his stomach. Seconds later, Nikki knelt above the ashes of the only friend she had who hadn’t drifted away.
Her face crumpled. She and Junior had grown up together. He was like an older brother and now he was dead. Permanently this time. With a detached part of her mind, she thought to herself. This couldn’t have happened more than a day ago. I saw him in the sun two days ago on my way to school. She had wanted to talk to him then, figure out when they could hang out. Now it was too late.
Straightening, she brushed off the leather of her coat and walked calmly towards her apartment, not letting the tears fall.
23rd Precinct
“So what we’re saying here is that we have a case where some loony saying that he hears a demon dog telling him to kill brunettes still unsolved. Then there are all of those unrelated cases of missing persons. How do we know he’s not kidnapping people too?” Detective Bregs asked.
“Because of the people who were found, and there were only a few, we can tell that its not the same loony.” Sullivan replied ruefully, going over the crime scene report. “Throats and sometimes hearts ripped out, barely any blood left in the veins, but none around the victim’s body. Usually young, but not all brunettes.”
“We can’t have mass hysteria on our hands. If word of another serial killer gets out, people will panic.” Captain Smyth said. “We let the boys in the other precincts worry about our resident psycho and we’ll try to take care of this other case quietly.”
Harlem
Nikki let herself into her apartment quietly. Her roommate was out for the evening and frankly she was happy for the lack of company.
She let her thoughts drift as she collapsed on the sofa, almost completely exhausted. Sure, she was a pretty decent vampire slayer, but it was this demon that was getting her down. She was out at all hours, still she couldn’t find him. She felt as if whatever powers she was supposed to have were abandoning her. She didn’t even know until it was almost too late that Junior had been turned. She had already lost friends to the mundane dangers of the world. Drugs, gangs, but Junior was the first she had to kill. Dammit. If she had only been around.
But she knew she was only fooling herself. She hadn’t really spoken or just hung out with any of her friends in months. As for family, she grinned ruefully to herself, can’t mourn for a family that wasn’t around anymore. A fire in her building several years ago had claimed everyone by her youngest sister and she had gone to live with a great aunt in Georgia. Even though her friends lived all around her, she was alone. Every day and every night.
Her phone buzzed and she almost considered not answering it. After the sixth ring, she decided the person on the other end wasn’t going to give up.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Oh, Nikki, thank goodness you’re home.”
“Stewart. What’s wrong?”
“A friend of mine at the 23rd Precinct phoned me a few minutes ago about a series of murders that are taking place in lower Manhattan.”
“So what? That’s what the fuzz is for,” she replied, wishing she hadn’t picked up the phone.
“It’s not that simple. The deaths were…brutal. He didn’t think that it was done by humans. This is a job for you as the Slayer.”
“Damn, and I thought I was gonna have a good night’s sleep for once. Where am I going now?”
“From Central Park down to the Battery, but the attacks have been concentrated in Greenwich Village. Do be careful. A couple of anonymous eyewitnesses have described the attacker and I do believe I know who it its.” Stewart began.
“Who?”
“William the Bloody, also known as Spike. He is most probably with his sire, Drusilla.”
“So this is a vampire. What’s so special about him?”
“There is no need for me to say that he is ruthless and dangerous. Evil, he has cut swathes through continents and left nothing but corpses in his wake. And he has already faced and killed at least one Slayer.”
Nikki’s eyes flew open at that. “Well, he won’t get a second,” she replied determinedly and hung up the phone.
Studio 54
Spike exited the women’s bathroom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he went. The young clientele here was perfect for him to feed upon. Drunk, drugged, looking for an easy shag. They didn’t know that Death walked among them.
He scanned across the dance floor. His eyes paused momentarily on Dru as she moved sensually against her next victim, her cheeks still tinged with pink from her kill on the way to the club. He rolled his gaze over to the bar, where he saw her.
She was tall, he could tell even though she was sitting down. She was wearing a long leather duster that would have been completely incongruous with the season if not for the low cut white tank top and gold hot pants underneath. She toyed with a drink and looked sullenly across the sweaty room and her eyes locked with his.
Spike gave her his most engaging smile and predator like began to move towards her. She returned the smile and turned to face the bar. *Coquette*, Spike thought to himself. He ran his tongue over his lower lip as he absently pulled at the beached spikes on his head. He tweedled the end, making sure it looked as deadly sharp as a railroad spike. He oozed into the seat that had just become vacant next to her.
“Hello, foxy,” he drawled, lighting a cigarette. “Wanna dance?”
Nikki looked at the strange Brit that had sat down next to her. Some punk, probably here for the weekend. White as all hell, but still, not bad looking. She was tired of the solitary life and even though she knew nothing would come of a dance, she decided to pretend, even for a few minutes. She stood up and moved in the direction of the dance floor. She stopped and turned expectantly. He got up and followed her.
As their feet touched the floor, the music changed, hard and fast, and they moved instinctively to the beat. As they gyrated, the floor suddenly cleared around them as people paused to take in the sight of them. By all outward appearances, they seemed to be two people who would never be together, but their movements were so perfect that, even though they had never laid eyes on each other before tonight, they could not be two separate entities. They belonged together.
The song ended and Nikki was wrapped in his embrace, her back to his chest, and her head just on his shoulder. The crowd clapped and another song came on, its slowness a sharp contrast to the beat of before. The spectators dispersed and the dance floor quickly filled up again.
Spike spun her around and was pleased that he didn’t have to look down to see her eyes. He let his hands snake around her waist. This one is good. It’s too bad she’s going to die tonight. Maybe its time I make a childe of my own…
His thoughts drifted off as he saw Dru come into his periphery. She gave him a conspiratorial stage wink and edged closer to the door. She wanted to share. He shook his head slightly and she pouted.
Turning away from his dark beauty, he pulled his arms tighter around the one he was already holding. He murmured in her ear. “What’s your name, pet?”
“Nikki,” floated the answer a short distance to his ear.
“We’re going to have a good time, Nikki. My name’s Spike.”
Instantly, as if she had been burned, she pulled back from him, anger on her face, but in her eyes was fear. He could see it, he reveled in it, but now she was talking.
“So where’s Drusilla? She know you’re drawing designs on me?”
Now it was Spike’s turn to rear back in surprise. “How do you know who I am?”
“My Watcher told me.”
“You’re the Slayer? You girls keep coming back. Like roaches you are. Too bad I have to kill you,” he said, with mock regret in his voice. Oh, but he did regret it. She was hot and she had moves. He was already planning on turning her when he had asked for her name and now his hopes for a new companion dissolved into delight at the possibility of killing another Slayer. He would prove that the first one wasn’t just a fluke.
“Let’s go then,” she answered confidently and went into a fighting stance.
Suddenly, the music stopped and all of the lights went out. Panicked screams filled the club as it was plunged into darkness.
To be continued...