Son of a King
When women begin showing up dead all across Toronto with distinctive puncture wounds on their necks, Vicki Nelson, PI, is on the job – along with her 450-year-old vampire partner. But if he’s not behind the attacks – who is? A strange, young couple new to the city could hold the key to discovering the truth. Handling two kinds of vampires was hard enough. Just how many different sorts were there? Second story in the “Different Sorts” series FINAL CHAPTER -- NOW POSTED!
ATTENTION READERS: DO NOT STEAL MY STORIES. Someone has stolen some of my stories from this website and posted them as their own on fanfiction.net. It is plaigarism, it is stealing and it is illegal. Read, enjoy -- but don't steal. Second story in the “Different Sorts” series -- takes place after "Different Sorts." Crossover with Buffy and the new “Blood Ties” series on Lifetime. 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.
9. Chapter 9
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The evening of the third night came quickly, which was probably a good thing – since waiting only made them more anxious. Buffy had spent most of the day pacing the apartment, but now took a moment alone to look herself over in the mirror. True, she was going into battle … but if she were to go down fighting, she wanted to look good doing it. She’d left her hair down – blonde waves falling past her shoulders. She brushed a stray lock off her forehead. She watched her own movements in the glass as she strapped her weapons of choice into holders on her body. The sword on her back; the stakes on her ankle and wrist. Normally, she’d also carry a crossbow, but not tonight. Tonight, she hoisted her Scythe up and delighted in the weight of it in her hand, the way the metal felt in her palm. She zipped up her boots, slid on a black leather jacket and walked out to the living room to meet the others.
The Slayer’s Army was assembling. Angel and Spike were showing Vicki and Mike how to properly stake a vampire in the heart and demonstrating other lethal blows with the broadswords and how to operate the crossbows. They’d been over it before, during the last three days, but one last review was always a good idea before going into battle. In one corner, Bella and Edward murmured softly, strapping weapons and stakes onto each other – checking the buckles and holders. Buffy watched as Edward brushed Bella’s hair out of her face, then caressed her check – his fingers lingering on her skin. Buffy smiled sadly. She would do everything in her power to make sure those two made it out of this fight together.
In another corner of the room, Willow and Xander were also strapping on weapons. They laughed at something one of them had said. Buffy smiled. It was just like her friends to be making jokes as they prepared for battle. Willow and Xander were no strangers to fights like these; both had already lost so much – and still they stood by her side. They were true friends and she was grateful to have them. They were part of her strength as a Slayer. So many Slayers before her had fought alone … and died much younger than she was now. Buffy credited much of her success and survival to the fact that she was not alone – that she had friends, like Willow and Xander.
Buffy proceeded to the dining table, where Henry was perusing the rest of their arsenal – deciding which weapons to strap on himself. His fingers brushed along the wooden stakes, then withdrew. His eyes lit upon a glimmering broadsword, with gold detail laid into the blade. He reached out and touched the filigree.
“That’s 16th century,” Buffy said. “It’s from England. Rumor has it … it once belonged to the king of England. A gift from France.”
Henry grinned and then gripped the handle of the sword, and swung it off the table. “I guess this sword and I were destined for a fight together, then.” He waved it in front of him, testing the weight of it as he sliced through the air.
“If you make it out alive, I’ll let you keep it,” Buffy said.
Henry lowered the sword and looked at her seriously. “You mean it, don’t you? The ‘if’ part … if I make it out alive?”
“It wasn’t one of my snappy lines, I promise you that,” she replied. “This is a war. This is just one battle – but it is still war, believe me. And there will be casualties. There always are.” She sighed sadly.
Henry could only imagine what she’d been through.
“Buffy.” It was Angel who called her.
She nodded and glanced at her watch. “It’s time,” she said, and her army gathered around her for one last rally. Then – they would fight.
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- Kayla Ariev
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