Prime Evil by Gallagher Diana G

Author:Gallagher, Diana G. [Gallagher, Diana G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2001-08-21T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

BUFFY SCRAMBLED OUT OF THE CITROËN'S BACK SEAT carrying a bag of flashlights, cutting tools and weapons, and sundry spellcasting supplies Giles hadn't been able to fit into his kit.

Xander eyed the car with disdain. “Someone remind me to get spare keys for Oz's van tomorrow. Code-blue emergencies demand speeds in excess of thirty-five miles per hour.”

“Would you please cease chattering, Xander, and get on with it,” Giles said coldly.

“Right. Anya's car.” Xander ran across the street.

Buffy did a quick reconnaissance of the woods along the drive. The moon was higher now, but no light broke through the trees. The house was invisible, concealed behind a wall of black that severed the driveway a few yards in from the street.

Willow is in there. Somehow, Crystal Gordon had gotten to her in spite of their precautions.

Buffy jumped when the lighted bulbs in the streetlights exploded, showering the road with sparks. “Not exactly a subtle 'get lost,' is it?”

“A bit disconcerting to be sure.” Giles set down his kit and opened it. “Some light would help here, Buffy.”

Buffy pulled a flashlight from her bag and tensed when she heard more breaking glass. She aimed the beam, saw Xander reaching into a compact car through a broken window. “Find something?”

“Willow's protection spell supplies.” Xander trotted back with a brown paper bag. “Fair trade. I left a big rock on the back seat.”

“Then she is here — somewhere.” Giles motioned for Xander to drop the paper bag. “Those ingredients may prove useful.”

“Pardon my lack of faith,” Xander said, “but Willow's potion pouch didn't pack enough punch to protect her. How —”

“We've got company.” The fine hairs on Buffy's neck bristled. She swept the flashlight across the drive, catching a moving shadow in the beam. The flashlight was in Xander's hand and her stake was drawn before she realized Angel was striding toward them, his dark brow furrowed, his eyes anxious. He raised his hand against the glare as Xander shone the light on his face.

“Well, well. What are you doing here, Dead Boy?”

Annoyed, Angel ignored Xander and addressed Buffy. “Willow's in trouble.”

“We know. How much?” Buffy asked.

“Light, Xander!” Giles barked. When the beam darted to the bag, he removed a dog-eared spell book and opened it to a bookmarked page. “Please, Angel. Go on.”

Angel lowered his gaze, jammed his hands into the pockets of his black duster, sighed. “I was patrolling the cemetery when she drove up with Anya and a boy.”

“Michael,” Buffy inserted.

“It didn't feel right. She looked dazed, so I tried to follow them —”

“Tried?” Xander asked sharply.

“The woods —” Angel shook his head.

“Are alive. I know. I lost an argument with some pushy vines a little while ago.” Pocketing her stake, Buffy took the other flashlight, a knife, and a machete from her bag. She dropped the bag, gave Angel the knife, and added her light to Xander's.

No one spoke as Giles combined ingredients from Willow's bag and his kit, then separated the mixture into equal portions on four sets of overlapping leaves.

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