Night of the Living Rerun by Cover Arthur Byron

Author:Cover, Arthur Byron [Cover, Arthur Byron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-07-25T23:00:00+00:00

The language recommended by the Churches’ book basically updated traditional séance chants. Since the spirits of the dead responded not to the sentiment but to the language of the caller, how something was said wasn’t nearly as important as what was said.

The Churches believed the “swami” of the séance should have all the slickness of the average infomercial host. Giles spent about twenty minutes laying down a sales rap to the spirit of Sarah Dinsdale, telling her it would be in her karmic self-interest if she revealed herself to the living.

Buffy, Xander, and Willow concentrated with all their might.

Meanwhile, the rains came softly creeping in on the very fringes of their collective consciousness, which became stronger with every passing minute.

They felt no breeze, yet the candles flickered. Sometimes the flickering coincided with the thunder. Sometimes it coincided with the quivers up their spines.

The vase stood in the center of the pentagram. The participants in the séance tried to visualize the ashes inside, to imagine their texture, their smell, their taste.

Gradually the contents became easier to visualize. The energy among between the four participants grew to a powerful current. The thunder overhead shook the entirety of Sunnydale High. Everyone’s bodies felt lighter, but their minds became heavier. Forming thoughts was becoming more difficult as their content grew foggier. Meanwhile, Giles’s voice droned on and on until it was just noise in the background.

Suddenly Xander stiffened, practically into a state of rigor mortis. Giles gasped and finally clammed up. Either at the same instant or a second later—Buffy couldn’t be sure which—an incredible bolt of lightning struck a tree near the school with catastrophic force. A startled-out-of-her-wits Willow broke the chain with both hands, and Buffy listened detachedly to the wood and fire sizzling in the rain.

Buffy opened her mouth to say something when the thunder roared directly overhead; she couldn’t even hear herself think, much less speak.

Xander, meanwhile, managed to remain stiff and to shiver as if he’d been dipped into ice water. He groaned. Willow leaned toward him, but Giles silently indicated she restrain herself. Which she did, but not without worry.

Buffy noticed the flash of light that had hit the vase inside the pentagram had yet to fade. If anything, it now glowed more intensely. Clearly the ashes of the dead had absorbed the magical energies released by the lightning bolt.

Outside, the rain slowly extinguished the fire. The lightning had sliced the trunk in half, and a column of ashes and smoke rose up from the wound. It was normal for the sidewalk and the road right outside Sunnydale High to be deserted this time of night—except when there were school activities such as ballgames and dances—but tonight the normal state of affairs seemed foreboding, as if reality itself was about to take a hike.

Xander already had, spiritually speaking. Buffy had been too busy concentrating on the subtle shift in the tone of their surroundings to notice that Xander had loosened up. Although still in a trance, he managed to stand of his own accord in a distinctive posture, with a definite personal body language.

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