The Journals of Rupert Giles Vol. 1 by Holder Nancy

Author:Holder, Nancy [Holder, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Giles was drunk on good British ale, and that put him in the mind of Oxford once more, where he had been reading the classics until he went down to London and started dabbling in the occult. He had known he was to be a Watcher and couldn’t bear the thought that his destiny was already planned. As far as he was concerned, all that talk about free will had been nothing more like hot air, than that spouting by the soapbox politicians spouting off in Hyde Park.

“You know what gets me?” he asked, slurring his words and not giving a bloody damn. “Here’s what gets me. Twenty years I’ve been fighting demons. Maggie Walsh comes in, six months later, demons are pissing themselves with fear. They never even noticed me.”

Ethan was drunk, too. His head wobbled as he asked Giles, “Who’s Maggie Walsh?”

“Oh, she’s awful,” Giles said, the drinks loosening his tongue. He gave his evil old mate an offhanded wave that said volumes about what he thought of the harridan. “Said I was an absent role model. Absent, my ass. And I’m twice the man she is.”

“Y’know, you’re really very attractive,” Ethan said, and it took Giles a startled moment to realize he was talking to their waitress, who had returned to either fetch some more drinks or else tot up the bill.

“Here, luv. M’name and number,” the sorcerer said, scribbling something down on his napkin. He handed it to her. “Ring me up. I’ll show you a time.”

“Sure.” The waitress glanced at the napkin and walked off, trailing rejection in her wake. Ethan did not appear to notice, and Giles could have cared less about his prospects with the barmaid. Still, in his day, the birds flocked to Ethan, not the other way around. He’d had his pick, wherever they went. All that dark hair, that wildness . . .

Good Lord. Ethan looks positively middle-aged, he thought. Do I look that old?

“We’ve gotta face it,” Giles said. “We’ve changed.” He suppressed a beery belch. “Well, you’re still self-centered and sadistic.”

Ethan smiled goofily and raised his glass. “Here’s to me!”

They clinked and drank. Giles continued, “But the world’s passed us by. Someone snuck in and took us away and left these old men in our place. Clouts. Has-beens.”

Ethan looked mournful. And wrinkled. Giles remembered the time Ethan had been asked to pose for a male fashion magazine; how they’d all teased the lad, though Giles had been rather envious of the other man’s good looks.

“We’re relics, mate,” Giles continued, feeling markedly creaky and sorry for himself. “Dusty scraps of a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I mean, the bleeding ‘Initiative’—their methods may cause problems, but they’re getting it done. What am I? An unemployed librarian with a tendency to get knocked on the head and a drawer full of grotty amulets. ‘S pathetic.”

Ethan suddenly appeared stone sober. His smile vanished, and in a clear, dark voice, he leaned forward slightly and said, “You don’t have to worry about all that anymore, mate.

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