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International Calls
Connor stared at them. Hard. Willow didn’t like the tone of his stare, and was
just about to get catty with him about it when he spoke.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said, forcing his voice to calm level.
“We can use the Looking Glass to find him. Maya said she did the same thing
to find Buffy…”
“She also warned us not to be too peeky with it,” Willow countered. “Maya
said it can entrance someone if it’s used too much. It’s like a TV set to a gremlin.”
Connor crossed his arms. “How do we find Thellian without using the mystical
seeking device she gave us?”
Willow didn’t like Connor’s tone at all. She said, “She didn’t say don’t use it.
She just said…”
“Use it wisely. Got it,” Faith interjected. She’d been waiting impatiently on the
sidelines, arms crossed. “Meanwhile Thellian’s got a lead on us about two thousand
miles wide.”
“We could use a location spell,” Willow offered, she of the level-head.
“Do you speak Japanese?” Connor asked.
Willow’s brows knit. “Well, no…”
“Guys,” Faith said.
“Do you?” Willow snarked.
“How do you plan to get the stuff for your spell…?” Connor began.
“Phone!” Faith said.
Connor and Willow looked at each other quizzically, then turned their questioning foreheads to Faith. She was busy
fishing the phone and other bits of dumpster detritus from her jacket pocket.
“Oh!” Willow said. “We’ll call Buffy. Problem solved.”
“No,” Faith said, flipping the phone open. She toggled the page down button, her brow pinched in determination.
“Buffy should be picking out the perfect shade of ecru for the nursery right about now. We got this.”
“But we should,” Willow protested. “They should know we’re here.”
“We don’t even know where the hell we are,” Connor put in.
“We’re not in hell,” Faith quipped.
“Dammit, you know what I mean,” Connor growled.
“Ah!” Faith said, finally settling on a number in her directory. “Knew I had it.” She keyed the dial button then put
the phone to her ear. “There’s a Slayer school here. We’ll phone ’em up, see what kind of wasabi is cookin’ down in
Tokyo-town.”
Faith waited while the call went through. It started to ring, and she shifted uncomfortably under the eager stares
of Connor and Willow.
“Wow,” Willow mused. “A sensible play by Miss Blood’s-A-Boiling.”
“You know me, Red,” Faith said, impatient because of incessant non-answering on the other end of the line.
“I’m one to keep you guessin’.”
Finally, someone picked up at the Slayer School. Young girl, speaking Japanese. Of course.
So much for that plan, Faith thought. But she answered anyway.
“Hey. You don’t know me,” she said, speaking over-loud into the phone. “I’m Faith.”
“Faith? Really?” the girl said.
Faith paused. “Hearda me?”
The girl at the school spoke hurriedly in fractured English about something Faith could barely understand. Grinning,
Faith decided to play things up a bit. When would she ever get another chance?
She said, “Yeah I did once kill a Berithi with my bare hands.” She glanced at Connor and Willow, rolling her eyes
dramatically. “Why yes, I did kill Kakistos with a timber through the heart. Was I scared? Hell yeah I was pissing
scared, but you can’t let it stop ya…”
On the other end, the girl had gone quiet. Faith said, “Hey, much as I love fight stories, we’re lookin’ for, um,”
Faith checked the display on her phone screen, “Mr. Wayara. He around?”
While Faith fumbled some more with the phone conversation, Connor turned to Willow. She thought he was going to
apologize for being so pushy and rude. But he didn’t.
Instead, he said: “I think I should carry the Glass. Maya gave it to me.”
There was no inflection in his voice, no hem-haw of uncertainty. Just a cold, stark command.
Willow cradled the Looking Glass in her arms, faintly aware of how comfortably cool it felt in the bend of her elbow,
just like a nice hunk of refreshing ice on an unbearably hot day. Why should he have it? she thought. He doesn’t
have the magical sense to tell a lima bean from a magic bean. And she told him so.
“I’m the son of two vampires,” Connor said, all Mr. Monotone. “Last anyone checked, that’s not supposed to
happen. I think I qualify for things mystical.”
“Vamps aren’t mystical, Connor. You can’t even attune to this thing,” Willow said, almost shouting.
“All the more reason why I should hold on to it,” Connor said. “Safekeeping.”
“Safekeeping?” This time Willow did shout. “Could you be any bossier? I should so…”
“Hey!” Faith said, stepping in. She snapped her phone closed and shoved it into her pocket. “What is up with you
two?”
Willow glanced sideways, more than a little abashed. “Connor wants to take the Looking Glass,” she said.
“Maya gave it to me…”
“She gave it to us,” Willow said. “And as designated Wicca, I say I should get it…”
“Hold up,” Faith said, raising her hands. “You two are bickering over a cheap ass crystal ball?”
“It’s not cheap,” Willow said defensively, her bottom lip pudging out in a pout.
Faith so did not have the time or patience for this. Whatever this was. Looked like a power trip to whine country,
and she felt a burning need to smack them both.
“Look,” Faith said, making sure her tone held a nice serrated edge. “You kiddies want to fuss and fight ’cause we
didn’t wind up where we planned, you go right at it. But you bet sure as Fanny, I will leave both your asses in this
alley. Capiche? We got a mission. I suggest you saddle up.”
Faith turned on her heel and strutted out of the alley to the curb. With her back to them, she smiled at herself,
pleased with how bitchy that monologue rolled off her tongue.
After a few minutes, Willow joined her on the sidewalk. Faith didn’t look up, but she sensed the questions simmering
in Willow’s brain.
“Wayara’s sending a car for us,” Faith said tersely.
Connor came up on the other side of Faith. The three of them remained in tense silence on the curb, finally taking in
their surroundings. The city street buzzed with lights and the musical beeping and clacking like a bank of Las Vegas
slot machines. Throngs of people poured across the street, an unending deluge of them, their conversations flowing
into and out of each other. Faith felt edgy with all that human chaos bumping around them. Felt like they were in a
jar full of captured bugs and the captor forgot to punch holes in the top. Wasn’t a good way to be, and they needed
their wits if they wanted to get out of it alive.
In the forty-five minutes it took for Wayara’s car to finally arrive, Connor, Faith and Willow said nothing to each
other. But Faith did notice that in the grab for the Looking Glass, Willow won out. She still carried the crystal like a
swaddled child in the crook of her arm. Faith filed it in her brain under ‘Wigged’, then dog-eared it for future
reference.
British Airways Flight 4075 de-planed at Houston International at noon, and Xander, stiff-legged and groggy,
followed the herd of passengers to baggage claim. He had one bag, a big army green duffle onto which Dawn had
stenciled the name Harris, to make it look extra authentic.
Xander thought of Dawn and felt a tug of guilt. He didn’t have the heart to tell any of them – least of all the
Dawnster – that he had bought a one-way ticket to Texas. Especially after the blood scare with Buffy and the trip
to the ER. He couldn’t tell them that when Maya asked over the phone, “How long can you stay?” Xander had
answered, “Dunno. Maybe a while…”
Maya had said, “I like a while.”
Xander watched his bag tumble clumsily down the carousel, rolling end over end like a topsy caterpillar. He hefted it
to his shoulder and followed the signs to Gate D, where Maya said she’d be waiting.
Xander could feel the pins and needles of his waking-up legs as he rode the conveyor belt sidewalk. Actually, the
needles and pins sensation was an all-body deal. And she was the reason for the tinglies.
Maya.
He walked briskly on the conveyor belt, wondering why anyone would just choose to glide along at such a pace. He
rounded the corner, darting between the slower folk and calling back apologies to the ones he accidentally binged
with the duffle bag.
On the way down the stairs, he felt his phone humming in his coat pocket. He stopped on the landing, phone in hand.
The LED told him he had one missed call. He scrolled down. One missed call, from Dawn. No message.
No news probably being good news, he tucked the phone back into his pocket, reasoning that it was most likely just
a check-in call. Dawn did that several times when he was jetting around in Africa. She would call and ask how his
flight was, what movie did they show, did he remember to get all of his immunizations?
Xander looked up and his heart skipped. From his place on the landing, he saw her reflected in the mirrored ceiling
panels of the lower deck. She wore a yellow sundress that exposed her narrow freckle-flecked shoulders and most of
her rather-alluring-especially-from-this-angle back. As he watched her, she turned, as if sensing the intensity of his
stare.
She held up a cardboard sign. On it, she’d written, “Professor X.”
“My God, she’s perfect,” Xander said, smiling.
Maya blushed to a radiant buttercup pink as he ran down the steps to greet her. Impulsively, he picked her up and
twirled her, to the delight of Maya (who squealed) and everyone around them. He felt like a returning war hero
greeting his long-awaited love. And that was what he was. What they both were. So he felt justified in the
theatrical sweeping-off-of-the-feet.
Xander set her back down. She wobbled slightly, leaning on his arms.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hiya, Maya,” Xander said back.
She pulled his arm around her bare shoulder (to which Xander’s mind said ‘Mmmm’) and led him toward the exit doors.
“How was your flight?” she asked, matching her stride to his. It took three of her itty bitty steps to each of his one.
“There’s this big body of water between England and here,” he said.
“The Atlantic,” Maya said.
“Ah, you’ve heard of it…”
Maya pushed open the glass door and a wave of balmy Texas air greeted them.
“C’mon,” she said. “Uncle Leo has barbecue waiting for us.”
Xander looked down into her gleaming green eyes. “Barbecue? I like Texas already.”
After a cramped car ride across the extraordinarily dazzling city of Tokyo by night, Willow, Connor and Faith joined
Mr. Wayara in the empty Slayer school. It was nothing like the 1970s Hollywood dojo that Faith’s school in New York
and Buffy’s in London resembled. Instead, it looked like a kind of ancient temple with mahogany parquet floors,
richly polished to reflect the light shed from actual gas lanterns set into sconces. Streamlined elegant dragons of
green, gold and red pranced across the walls. Their scales glimmered silver and gold in the scattered light. In the
center of the far wall sat a squat shrine upon which incense burned. Curls of fragrant smoke twined in the air like
ethereal serpents.
The ceiling was open to a second story loft. Wayara led them silently through the school to a spiral staircase. The
upstairs room was hexagonal; each wall was lined floor to ceiling with books.
“Giles would love this place so much,” Willow marveled.
“Mr. Giles has been here many times,” Mr. Wayara said, stepping aside to allow Connor and Faith into the library.
“As had your Watcher, Miss Lehane.”
This caught Faith off guard on two counts. “Hey, how do you…?”
Mr. Wayara bowed his head. “Mr. Wyndham-Price came here three times after he quit the council. He spoke highly
of your skill and enthusiasm.”
Faith felt a little flushed. Maybe it was the shadowy, churchly interior of the place, but her snappy come back dried
up in the back of her throat.
Willow stepped in. “Mr. Wayara,” she said. “We wanted to thank you, for taking us in. We don’t know how we got
here, exactly. But when we arrived, we… that is, Faith, well, she killed a vampire.”
Mr. Wayara nodded. He stepped away to one of the bookshelves. Willow watched him, waiting for some kind of
reaction, but he gave them nothing. He was younger looking than any Watcher they had seen, but seemed
possessed of the same learned refinement as Giles. His English was fluid and perfect. Willow guessed he had to have
been educated in Europe, maybe even grew up there. Physically, he was a trim, efficient man who moved with the
deftness of a fox.
He plucked a thick green volume from the shelf and opened it. As he scanned the title pages, he seemed to have
forgotten they were there.
Connor bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Mr. Wayara,” he said.
“In Japan, we have many things that you will not find in the West,” Mr. Wayara said. He flipped through the pages,
revealing only glimpses of characters and engravings in the text. “Among them is a breed of vampire quite different
from those you have encountered. They are… like ghosts as much as demons.” He looked up from the book, making
sure he had their attention.
He turned the page to face them. The woodcut creature on the page looked vaguely humanoid, with taloned fingers
and feet hooked into its badly mangled female victim. Its face contorted into a vampire’s mask, but a double pair of
heavy wings spread in leathery folds over its body.
“That’s a vampire?” Willow said breathlessly.
“A Kuei-shin,” Mr. Wayara corrected. “A hungry ghost.”
Willow held out her hand for the book. Mr. Wayara passed it to her.
“These guys didn’t exactly get toasted like our vamps, did they?” Faith said.
“No, they did not,” Mr. Wayara said. “Their lineage springs from another demon. One for whom no Circle was
written.”
“Did Giles know about these?” Willow asked. She had turned to other pages, ones that depicted disemboweled
spirits floating around the city like grotesque helium balloons.
“He does,” Mr. Wayara said. “But unlike your Western vampires, the Kuei-shin believe in discretion above all else.
They have existed for centuries beneath the scrutiny of human eyes. They are judges and executioners to those
they find unworthy, and they retain their souls…”
“They have souls?” Connor said.
“Yes,” Mr. Wayara said, inclining his head to show that he understood Connor’s indignity. “Vampires with souls.
Heard of them?”
Connor, Willow and Faith stared at each other, feeling the weight of their new discovery settling on their shoulders.
“But,” Faith said slowly, “The vamp I dusted looked nothing like that guy.”
Mr. Wayara closed his eyes. When he opened them, he went to the rail to look down into the empty school below.
“A week ago, one of my Slayers encountered a Western vampire in the Odaiba ward.”
“Thellian,” Connor said.
“He escaped, but Suyuri managed to kill his progeny,” Mr. Wayara said.
“Up to his old tricks,” Faith said. “Where can we find him?”
“Of course, it is not so simple, Miss Lehane. There are many factors, many cogs at work in this wheel,”
Mr. Wayara said.
“Cogs? Factors?” Connor shouted. “I can simple this right up. Give me a location and a pointed piece of wood.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” Faith interrupted.
“No,” Mr. Wayara said sadly. “This creature made alliances with the Kuei-shin long ago. Alliances that must not be
disturbed if we wish to preserve the fragile balance of our world.”
“You’re saying we can’t go after Thellian ’cause it’s bad feng shui?” Willow asked.
“I understand how you must feel,” Mr. Wayara told them.
Rather unexpectedly, Connor rammed his fist through the stone column behind him. “You understand nothing!” he
yelled. “This creature murdered my father. I’ll kill him and I don’t care what it unbalances.”
“You don’t grasp the precarious nature of our situation,” Mr. Wayara said, raising his voice at last. “Your father’s
death on that Circle set certain events in motion against which the Watcher Council has safeguarded for
centuries.”
Connor froze. He looked down at his bloody knuckles. “You knew my father?” he asked.
“I knew him,” Mr. Wayara said. “I am sorry for your loss. But don’t make his death meaningless in this vain pursuit
of vengeance.”
The muscles in Connor’s neck flexed and relaxed convulsively. Watching him was like watching a dying man struggle
for breath. “I can’t just… let him go,” Connor said.
Faith was the one to put her hand on his shoulder. He tensed under her touch, but said nothing.
“So, what now?” she asked, bitterly. “We supposed to just hop on the next plane out of Tokyo? Go back to the
homefront and wait out the storm?”
“Yes,” Mr. Wayara said. “I will handle the arrangements. Until then, you may stay at the Radisson Narita Hotel. It’s
near the airport. I will phone you when I’ve booked passage.”
On the sidewalk outside, Faith realized how rank she smelled. Eau de Garbage still clung to her hair and clothes. The
mini-suites at the Radisson sounded better and better. They waited for Mr. Wayara to lock up the school, but Faith
didn’t think they would be able to stand straight up for too much longer.
“So that’s that,” Willow said. She sighed heavily.
“No,” Connor groaned.
“It’s a dead end, babe,” Faith said. “Best we head back home where we at least speak the language, yo.”
“No,” Connor said again. He turned to Willow. His eyes were wild when he spoke. “We’re here. For a reason. We
were supposed to go to Hell, but that thing,” he pointed to the Looking Glass, “It brought us here.”
“It was a mistake, Connor. We dialed a wrong number,” Willow said. “Or, I dialed a wrong number. Point is, spells
don’t always work like they should. Even if we think we’re pretty nifty with the casting of them.”
Connor shook his head. Mr. Wayara came through the front door of the school. When he turned to secure the door
behind him, Willow and Faith looked up to mark his presence.
“No,” Connor whispered to himself. “It makes sense that it brought us here. It wants us to find Thellian. It wants
me…”
Connor kicked Faith hard in the back of her knee, then spun to backhand Willow. She sprawled, and in the
confusion, he grabbed the Glass. Faith sprung to her feet, but her knee gave beneath her.
“Connor!” she shouted. But he was fast and not looking back. They watched, speechless, as he leapt a stone wall
and disappeared.
Connor stared at them. Hard. Willow didn’t like the tone of his stare, and was
just about to get catty with him about it when he spoke.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” he said, forcing his voice to calm level.
“We can use the Looking Glass to find him. Maya said she did the same thing
to find Buffy…”
“She also warned us not to be too peeky with it,” Willow countered. “Maya
said it can entrance someone if it’s used too much. It’s like a TV set to a gremlin.”
Connor crossed his arms. “How do we find Thellian without using the mystical
seeking device she gave us?”
Willow didn’t like Connor’s tone at all. She said, “She didn’t say don’t use it.
She just said…”
“Use it wisely. Got it,” Faith interjected. She’d been waiting impatiently on the
sidelines, arms crossed. “Meanwhile Thellian’s got a lead on us about two thousand
miles wide.”
“We could use a location spell,” Willow offered, she of the level-head.
“Do you speak Japanese?” Connor asked.
Willow’s brows knit. “Well, no…”
“Guys,” Faith said.
“Do you?” Willow snarked.
“How do you plan to get the stuff for your spell…?” Connor began.
“Phone!” Faith said.
Connor and Willow looked at each other quizzically, then turned their questioning foreheads to Faith. She was busy
fishing the phone and other bits of dumpster detritus from her jacket pocket.
“Oh!” Willow said. “We’ll call Buffy. Problem solved.”
“No,” Faith said, flipping the phone open. She toggled the page down button, her brow pinched in determination.
“Buffy should be picking out the perfect shade of ecru for the nursery right about now. We got this.”
“But we should,” Willow protested. “They should know we’re here.”
“We don’t even know where the hell we are,” Connor put in.
“We’re not in hell,” Faith quipped.
“Dammit, you know what I mean,” Connor growled.
“Ah!” Faith said, finally settling on a number in her directory. “Knew I had it.” She keyed the dial button then put
the phone to her ear. “There’s a Slayer school here. We’ll phone ’em up, see what kind of wasabi is cookin’ down in
Tokyo-town.”
Faith waited while the call went through. It started to ring, and she shifted uncomfortably under the eager stares
of Connor and Willow.
“Wow,” Willow mused. “A sensible play by Miss Blood’s-A-Boiling.”
“You know me, Red,” Faith said, impatient because of incessant non-answering on the other end of the line.
“I’m one to keep you guessin’.”
Finally, someone picked up at the Slayer School. Young girl, speaking Japanese. Of course.
So much for that plan, Faith thought. But she answered anyway.
“Hey. You don’t know me,” she said, speaking over-loud into the phone. “I’m Faith.”
“Faith? Really?” the girl said.
Faith paused. “Hearda me?”
The girl at the school spoke hurriedly in fractured English about something Faith could barely understand. Grinning,
Faith decided to play things up a bit. When would she ever get another chance?
She said, “Yeah I did once kill a Berithi with my bare hands.” She glanced at Connor and Willow, rolling her eyes
dramatically. “Why yes, I did kill Kakistos with a timber through the heart. Was I scared? Hell yeah I was pissing
scared, but you can’t let it stop ya…”
On the other end, the girl had gone quiet. Faith said, “Hey, much as I love fight stories, we’re lookin’ for, um,”
Faith checked the display on her phone screen, “Mr. Wayara. He around?”
While Faith fumbled some more with the phone conversation, Connor turned to Willow. She thought he was going to
apologize for being so pushy and rude. But he didn’t.
Instead, he said: “I think I should carry the Glass. Maya gave it to me.”
There was no inflection in his voice, no hem-haw of uncertainty. Just a cold, stark command.
Willow cradled the Looking Glass in her arms, faintly aware of how comfortably cool it felt in the bend of her elbow,
just like a nice hunk of refreshing ice on an unbearably hot day. Why should he have it? she thought. He doesn’t
have the magical sense to tell a lima bean from a magic bean. And she told him so.
“I’m the son of two vampires,” Connor said, all Mr. Monotone. “Last anyone checked, that’s not supposed to
happen. I think I qualify for things mystical.”
“Vamps aren’t mystical, Connor. You can’t even attune to this thing,” Willow said, almost shouting.
“All the more reason why I should hold on to it,” Connor said. “Safekeeping.”
“Safekeeping?” This time Willow did shout. “Could you be any bossier? I should so…”
“Hey!” Faith said, stepping in. She snapped her phone closed and shoved it into her pocket. “What is up with you
two?”
Willow glanced sideways, more than a little abashed. “Connor wants to take the Looking Glass,” she said.
“Maya gave it to me…”
“She gave it to us,” Willow said. “And as designated Wicca, I say I should get it…”
“Hold up,” Faith said, raising her hands. “You two are bickering over a cheap ass crystal ball?”
“It’s not cheap,” Willow said defensively, her bottom lip pudging out in a pout.
Faith so did not have the time or patience for this. Whatever this was. Looked like a power trip to whine country,
and she felt a burning need to smack them both.
“Look,” Faith said, making sure her tone held a nice serrated edge. “You kiddies want to fuss and fight ’cause we
didn’t wind up where we planned, you go right at it. But you bet sure as Fanny, I will leave both your asses in this
alley. Capiche? We got a mission. I suggest you saddle up.”
Faith turned on her heel and strutted out of the alley to the curb. With her back to them, she smiled at herself,
pleased with how bitchy that monologue rolled off her tongue.
After a few minutes, Willow joined her on the sidewalk. Faith didn’t look up, but she sensed the questions simmering
in Willow’s brain.
“Wayara’s sending a car for us,” Faith said tersely.
Connor came up on the other side of Faith. The three of them remained in tense silence on the curb, finally taking in
their surroundings. The city street buzzed with lights and the musical beeping and clacking like a bank of Las Vegas
slot machines. Throngs of people poured across the street, an unending deluge of them, their conversations flowing
into and out of each other. Faith felt edgy with all that human chaos bumping around them. Felt like they were in a
jar full of captured bugs and the captor forgot to punch holes in the top. Wasn’t a good way to be, and they needed
their wits if they wanted to get out of it alive.
In the forty-five minutes it took for Wayara’s car to finally arrive, Connor, Faith and Willow said nothing to each
other. But Faith did notice that in the grab for the Looking Glass, Willow won out. She still carried the crystal like a
swaddled child in the crook of her arm. Faith filed it in her brain under ‘Wigged’, then dog-eared it for future
reference.
British Airways Flight 4075 de-planed at Houston International at noon, and Xander, stiff-legged and groggy,
followed the herd of passengers to baggage claim. He had one bag, a big army green duffle onto which Dawn had
stenciled the name Harris, to make it look extra authentic.
Xander thought of Dawn and felt a tug of guilt. He didn’t have the heart to tell any of them – least of all the
Dawnster – that he had bought a one-way ticket to Texas. Especially after the blood scare with Buffy and the trip
to the ER. He couldn’t tell them that when Maya asked over the phone, “How long can you stay?” Xander had
answered, “Dunno. Maybe a while…”
Maya had said, “I like a while.”
Xander watched his bag tumble clumsily down the carousel, rolling end over end like a topsy caterpillar. He hefted it
to his shoulder and followed the signs to Gate D, where Maya said she’d be waiting.
Xander could feel the pins and needles of his waking-up legs as he rode the conveyor belt sidewalk. Actually, the
needles and pins sensation was an all-body deal. And she was the reason for the tinglies.
Maya.
He walked briskly on the conveyor belt, wondering why anyone would just choose to glide along at such a pace. He
rounded the corner, darting between the slower folk and calling back apologies to the ones he accidentally binged
with the duffle bag.
On the way down the stairs, he felt his phone humming in his coat pocket. He stopped on the landing, phone in hand.
The LED told him he had one missed call. He scrolled down. One missed call, from Dawn. No message.
No news probably being good news, he tucked the phone back into his pocket, reasoning that it was most likely just
a check-in call. Dawn did that several times when he was jetting around in Africa. She would call and ask how his
flight was, what movie did they show, did he remember to get all of his immunizations?
Xander looked up and his heart skipped. From his place on the landing, he saw her reflected in the mirrored ceiling
panels of the lower deck. She wore a yellow sundress that exposed her narrow freckle-flecked shoulders and most of
her rather-alluring-especially-from-this-angle back. As he watched her, she turned, as if sensing the intensity of his
stare.
She held up a cardboard sign. On it, she’d written, “Professor X.”
“My God, she’s perfect,” Xander said, smiling.
Maya blushed to a radiant buttercup pink as he ran down the steps to greet her. Impulsively, he picked her up and
twirled her, to the delight of Maya (who squealed) and everyone around them. He felt like a returning war hero
greeting his long-awaited love. And that was what he was. What they both were. So he felt justified in the
theatrical sweeping-off-of-the-feet.
Xander set her back down. She wobbled slightly, leaning on his arms.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hiya, Maya,” Xander said back.
She pulled his arm around her bare shoulder (to which Xander’s mind said ‘Mmmm’) and led him toward the exit doors.
“How was your flight?” she asked, matching her stride to his. It took three of her itty bitty steps to each of his one.
“There’s this big body of water between England and here,” he said.
“The Atlantic,” Maya said.
“Ah, you’ve heard of it…”
Maya pushed open the glass door and a wave of balmy Texas air greeted them.
“C’mon,” she said. “Uncle Leo has barbecue waiting for us.”
Xander looked down into her gleaming green eyes. “Barbecue? I like Texas already.”
After a cramped car ride across the extraordinarily dazzling city of Tokyo by night, Willow, Connor and Faith joined
Mr. Wayara in the empty Slayer school. It was nothing like the 1970s Hollywood dojo that Faith’s school in New York
and Buffy’s in London resembled. Instead, it looked like a kind of ancient temple with mahogany parquet floors,
richly polished to reflect the light shed from actual gas lanterns set into sconces. Streamlined elegant dragons of
green, gold and red pranced across the walls. Their scales glimmered silver and gold in the scattered light. In the
center of the far wall sat a squat shrine upon which incense burned. Curls of fragrant smoke twined in the air like
ethereal serpents.
The ceiling was open to a second story loft. Wayara led them silently through the school to a spiral staircase. The
upstairs room was hexagonal; each wall was lined floor to ceiling with books.
“Giles would love this place so much,” Willow marveled.
“Mr. Giles has been here many times,” Mr. Wayara said, stepping aside to allow Connor and Faith into the library.
“As had your Watcher, Miss Lehane.”
This caught Faith off guard on two counts. “Hey, how do you…?”
Mr. Wayara bowed his head. “Mr. Wyndham-Price came here three times after he quit the council. He spoke highly
of your skill and enthusiasm.”
Faith felt a little flushed. Maybe it was the shadowy, churchly interior of the place, but her snappy come back dried
up in the back of her throat.
Willow stepped in. “Mr. Wayara,” she said. “We wanted to thank you, for taking us in. We don’t know how we got
here, exactly. But when we arrived, we… that is, Faith, well, she killed a vampire.”
Mr. Wayara nodded. He stepped away to one of the bookshelves. Willow watched him, waiting for some kind of
reaction, but he gave them nothing. He was younger looking than any Watcher they had seen, but seemed
possessed of the same learned refinement as Giles. His English was fluid and perfect. Willow guessed he had to have
been educated in Europe, maybe even grew up there. Physically, he was a trim, efficient man who moved with the
deftness of a fox.
He plucked a thick green volume from the shelf and opened it. As he scanned the title pages, he seemed to have
forgotten they were there.
Connor bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Mr. Wayara,” he said.
“In Japan, we have many things that you will not find in the West,” Mr. Wayara said. He flipped through the pages,
revealing only glimpses of characters and engravings in the text. “Among them is a breed of vampire quite different
from those you have encountered. They are… like ghosts as much as demons.” He looked up from the book, making
sure he had their attention.
He turned the page to face them. The woodcut creature on the page looked vaguely humanoid, with taloned fingers
and feet hooked into its badly mangled female victim. Its face contorted into a vampire’s mask, but a double pair of
heavy wings spread in leathery folds over its body.
“That’s a vampire?” Willow said breathlessly.
“A Kuei-shin,” Mr. Wayara corrected. “A hungry ghost.”
Willow held out her hand for the book. Mr. Wayara passed it to her.
“These guys didn’t exactly get toasted like our vamps, did they?” Faith said.
“No, they did not,” Mr. Wayara said. “Their lineage springs from another demon. One for whom no Circle was
written.”
“Did Giles know about these?” Willow asked. She had turned to other pages, ones that depicted disemboweled
spirits floating around the city like grotesque helium balloons.
“He does,” Mr. Wayara said. “But unlike your Western vampires, the Kuei-shin believe in discretion above all else.
They have existed for centuries beneath the scrutiny of human eyes. They are judges and executioners to those
they find unworthy, and they retain their souls…”
“They have souls?” Connor said.
“Yes,” Mr. Wayara said, inclining his head to show that he understood Connor’s indignity. “Vampires with souls.
Heard of them?”
Connor, Willow and Faith stared at each other, feeling the weight of their new discovery settling on their shoulders.
“But,” Faith said slowly, “The vamp I dusted looked nothing like that guy.”
Mr. Wayara closed his eyes. When he opened them, he went to the rail to look down into the empty school below.
“A week ago, one of my Slayers encountered a Western vampire in the Odaiba ward.”
“Thellian,” Connor said.
“He escaped, but Suyuri managed to kill his progeny,” Mr. Wayara said.
“Up to his old tricks,” Faith said. “Where can we find him?”
“Of course, it is not so simple, Miss Lehane. There are many factors, many cogs at work in this wheel,”
Mr. Wayara said.
“Cogs? Factors?” Connor shouted. “I can simple this right up. Give me a location and a pointed piece of wood.”
“Hey, that’s my line,” Faith interrupted.
“No,” Mr. Wayara said sadly. “This creature made alliances with the Kuei-shin long ago. Alliances that must not be
disturbed if we wish to preserve the fragile balance of our world.”
“You’re saying we can’t go after Thellian ’cause it’s bad feng shui?” Willow asked.
“I understand how you must feel,” Mr. Wayara told them.
Rather unexpectedly, Connor rammed his fist through the stone column behind him. “You understand nothing!” he
yelled. “This creature murdered my father. I’ll kill him and I don’t care what it unbalances.”
“You don’t grasp the precarious nature of our situation,” Mr. Wayara said, raising his voice at last. “Your father’s
death on that Circle set certain events in motion against which the Watcher Council has safeguarded for
centuries.”
Connor froze. He looked down at his bloody knuckles. “You knew my father?” he asked.
“I knew him,” Mr. Wayara said. “I am sorry for your loss. But don’t make his death meaningless in this vain pursuit
of vengeance.”
The muscles in Connor’s neck flexed and relaxed convulsively. Watching him was like watching a dying man struggle
for breath. “I can’t just… let him go,” Connor said.
Faith was the one to put her hand on his shoulder. He tensed under her touch, but said nothing.
“So, what now?” she asked, bitterly. “We supposed to just hop on the next plane out of Tokyo? Go back to the
homefront and wait out the storm?”
“Yes,” Mr. Wayara said. “I will handle the arrangements. Until then, you may stay at the Radisson Narita Hotel. It’s
near the airport. I will phone you when I’ve booked passage.”
On the sidewalk outside, Faith realized how rank she smelled. Eau de Garbage still clung to her hair and clothes. The
mini-suites at the Radisson sounded better and better. They waited for Mr. Wayara to lock up the school, but Faith
didn’t think they would be able to stand straight up for too much longer.
“So that’s that,” Willow said. She sighed heavily.
“No,” Connor groaned.
“It’s a dead end, babe,” Faith said. “Best we head back home where we at least speak the language, yo.”
“No,” Connor said again. He turned to Willow. His eyes were wild when he spoke. “We’re here. For a reason. We
were supposed to go to Hell, but that thing,” he pointed to the Looking Glass, “It brought us here.”
“It was a mistake, Connor. We dialed a wrong number,” Willow said. “Or, I dialed a wrong number. Point is, spells
don’t always work like they should. Even if we think we’re pretty nifty with the casting of them.”
Connor shook his head. Mr. Wayara came through the front door of the school. When he turned to secure the door
behind him, Willow and Faith looked up to mark his presence.
“No,” Connor whispered to himself. “It makes sense that it brought us here. It wants us to find Thellian. It wants
me…”
Connor kicked Faith hard in the back of her knee, then spun to backhand Willow. She sprawled, and in the
confusion, he grabbed the Glass. Faith sprung to her feet, but her knee gave beneath her.
“Connor!” she shouted. But he was fast and not looking back. They watched, speechless, as he leapt a stone wall
and disappeared.
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Author's Notes:
In this chapter, I refer to
Eastern Vampires as Kuei-shin.
This is somewhat borrowed from
the White Wolf term Kuei-jin
(okay, so, ripped off more than
borrowed) which translates to
demon-ghost. I wanted the
vampires in Japan to resemble
those in BtVS and AtS more than
the ones described in Kindred of
the East.
Finally, I've never been to Japan
either, so this Tokyo is one
cobbled from anime, Internet
research and about a thousand
viewings of Lost In Translation.
It is the Tokyo fantasy land of
my brain. My apologies for the
errors.
In this chapter, I refer to
Eastern Vampires as Kuei-shin.
This is somewhat borrowed from
the White Wolf term Kuei-jin
(okay, so, ripped off more than
borrowed) which translates to
demon-ghost. I wanted the
vampires in Japan to resemble
those in BtVS and AtS more than
the ones described in Kindred of
the East.
Finally, I've never been to Japan
either, so this Tokyo is one
cobbled from anime, Internet
research and about a thousand
viewings of Lost In Translation.
It is the Tokyo fantasy land of
my brain. My apologies for the
errors.
.Chapter Index.
Anywhere Out
of This World
Blood, Pressure
The Drawing Board
All's Well
Anywhere Out of
This World
Mourning Sickness
Welcome to Hell
Relative
Matters of Time
& Fishes
International Calls
Empty as Houses
Lusty Wrong Feelings
Enthralled
Thanksgiving
Seduced
Innocents Lost
Burn
Flashback
Not A Chance In Hell
Empty Rooms
Two Roads Diverged
Starfall
Blindsided
Not Her Own
Outta Here
The Valley of the
Shadow of Death
Comes the Rain
Smoke and Mirrors
Drawn to You
Team Angel
By Fire Reborn
Salvage
Ashes to Ashes
Life Is...
With A Little Help
Appearances Deceiving
Familiarity
Sweetness
Not All Who Wander
That Old Black Magic
For Lorne
Drawn Together
Lost to Sand
Fall of Triumvirate
Parallel Lives
The Lovers
Avenger
Double Cross
Pursuit
Ripper's Girl
Pandemonium
Negative Space
Raveled Threads
Asunder
Human Hands
Singular
Fragmented
Symmetry
Plans
Rogue Squadron
Legends
Anywhere Out
of This World
Blood, Pressure
The Drawing Board
All's Well
Anywhere Out of
This World
Mourning Sickness
Welcome to Hell
Relative
Matters of Time
& Fishes
International Calls
Empty as Houses
Lusty Wrong Feelings
Enthralled
Thanksgiving
Seduced
Innocents Lost
Burn
Flashback
Not A Chance In Hell
Empty Rooms
Two Roads Diverged
Starfall
Blindsided
Not Her Own
Outta Here
The Valley of the
Shadow of Death
Comes the Rain
Smoke and Mirrors
Drawn to You
Team Angel
By Fire Reborn
Salvage
Ashes to Ashes
Life Is...
With A Little Help
Appearances Deceiving
Familiarity
Sweetness
Not All Who Wander
That Old Black Magic
For Lorne
Drawn Together
Lost to Sand
Fall of Triumvirate
Parallel Lives
The Lovers
Avenger
Double Cross
Pursuit
Ripper's Girl
Pandemonium
Negative Space
Raveled Threads
Asunder
Human Hands
Singular
Fragmented
Symmetry
Plans
Rogue Squadron
Legends