Chapter 29: The Bringers Bring It On

Kennedy trailed her oars in the water. Behind her Marian was still breathing hard after their latest run. "That was nice," Marian said, catching her breath.

"It was," Kennedy agreed. They'd worked out signals so that Marian could be ready when Kennedy changed pace. The coaches were still having cat fits about Marian not matching Kennedy stroke for stroke, but the "slow it down" admonishment was never going to fly as good coaching advice.

"Kennedy," Marian started to say. Kennedy craned around to look at the older woman. "Can I ask a question?"

"That has to mean it's personal. Sure, if you want."

"When I first started rowing with you, Mr. van ter Horst called me in and talked to me. About how this was dangerous, that your father is super-rich and that more than once men have come for you. That once a whole lot of people got hurt."

"Two people got hurt," Kennedy said, trying not to sound bitter. "Eleven people got dead, not counting the perp."

"I just wanted you to understand that I know something of your history."

"Okay, you know a little of my history. Understand it? I don't think so."

Kennedy paused. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to sound so condescending."

"You got a full scholarship to Columbia; with a father as rich as yours that means you're a very good student indeed."

"All I take from my father these days is room and board. My living conditions are -- a little extreme -- it's just easier if I live at home."

"So, you're a good student, which means you study."

"Not as much as you might think. Certainly almost none since the start of this year."

"When I'm getting to, in a roundabout fashion, is I'm curious about your training regimen. I also coach a little; younger girls mostly. I would dearly like to know some of your secrets. I was wondering if sometime I could come and watch."

Kennedy stifled a giggle.

"What?" Marian asked.

"The second time we rowed together. You didn't want to get too tired and had to leave early. You were going, you told me, to a peace rally. You were going to be a march marshal."

"Yes, so?"

"I decided you would never want to know what my training regimen is. Your beliefs are yours, Marian. Let's just say that my training is heavily slanted towards martial arts. I didn't want to get into an argument."

"Kennedy, if we don't talk about our differing beliefs, there is no way we can come to a consensus on how to live our lives in harmony."

"Marian, this isn't something you want to talk about with me, do you understand? I'm Kennedy, the girl you row with. You don't want to know about my training regimen and you definitely don't want to know about my personal history."

Marian put her sculls in the water and pulled. The boat stopped.

"Are you a violent person, Kennedy? I have a little trouble imagining that."

"That's because if you had any imagination at all, Marian, you wouldn't be marching in peace rallies. If you had any powers of observation at all, you wouldn't think peace is a natural state of affairs. If we try to discuss this, all it will do is generate hard feelings."

"I'm not sure I understand, Kennedy. Who are you? Are you a fan of war? I can't believe anyone could possibly be, except the crazed and demented."

Kennedy sighed. "Marian, I beg you, let's start back, keeping the pace down, matching one to one. Let's not have this discussion."

"We won second place in the US nationals in double sculls," Marian told her. "You finished second in the single sculls. You slacked on both races, didn't you? And now this? Maybe I am in the wrong place, Kennedy. I want to win as much as anyone."

Kennedy couldn't help it. She hugged her sides and laughed, deep and hard.

"You're laughing at me," the nun told Kennedy.

"Of course. You don't believe in war, but you believe in competition. War, Marian, is competition by other means than a race. Competition is about proving yourself better than the others. I have my own reasons why I didn't win this year. Next year, Marian, we're going to set some tongues wagging. You'll have them wondering if we're both dykes. They'll be doing chromosome tests on you, too."

"What has this got to do with my activities with the peace marches?"

"Marian, ask once more and I'll tell you. Trust me, this isn't something you want to know."

"I can deal with it. I have faith in God and confidence in my beliefs."

"I'm agnostic about God, although I suppose since I believe in souls, heaven and hell, I have to believe in God, too. I tell you true, Marian, I have as much faith and confidence in my beliefs as you do. More, I suspect, because unlike like you, I get to see with my own eyes."

"You're making fun of my beliefs."

"Marian, I'm not kidding, and I'm not making fun of anything. What you take on faith, I see with my own eyes. I've stared into the eyes of a demon from the pits of hell, Marian. A soulless, lifeless husk who would just as soon kill you as look at you."

"That's not possible."

"Marian, sit still. I'm going over the side, into the water. I'm going to swim a ways underwater. A long ways. Two hundred meters, without coming up for a breath. If you sit still, the scull won't tip over."

"I'm not worried about going in the water."

"No, of course not. Now, please, sit still so I can get the balance right."

Kennedy dropped the oars forward of her, then waited for the boat to stop moving. She felt the pulse of the ocean and the waves, feeling the rhythm. Without another word she went straight up about eight feet. She moved then, doing two and a half flips, entering the water cleanly, a few feet from the boat.

Marian was dealing with the boat's sudden movement. The scull shipped quite a bit of water, as the reaction from Kennedy's jump had pushed the gunnels under water briefly. She looked around in vain, trying to find Kennedy. Could the girl really swim two hundred meters underwater without coming up?

It had to be a trick. Of course, with her own eyes she'd watched Kennedy jump higher than she'd ever seen anyone jump before, much less from a scull in the middle of Long Island Sound. And the double flip and clean entry said that Kennedy had considerable diving experience.

Reluctantly Marian headed towards the dock, trying to think of what she could say if something had happened to Kennedy. She saw Kennedy, a few minutes later, when she surfaced at the 1800 meter buoy. Marion hurried herself. When she was close, Kennedy gestured at the dock. "Race you!"

Marian was startled. There was no way a swimmer could beat a scull! Not even a single person who was rowing a double scull! She bent to it, and for a few minutes it was touch and go, before she finally pulled ahead. Whenever Marian slowed down, Kennedy would start to cut the distance, so Marian hustled the last eight hundred meters.

Finally Marian pulled up at the dock and watched Kennedy swim the last few feet. Without a word, Kennedy was up the ladder and onto the dock, ignoring Marian.

Nonplussed, Marion didn't know what to do. She saw Kennedy go up to a young woman about Kennedy's age, who was accompanied by a man old enough to be either of their fathers. Marian snubbed the boat to a bollard and got out herself.

"Clarice, Pipes," she heard Kennedy say. "An unexpected surprise."

"Could we talk, Kennedy?" the other young woman said.

Kennedy glanced at Marian, and a smile crossed her face. "Clarice, unless this is your private business, I'd like Maid Marian here to be able to listen."

"It's ... both of our private business," Clarice said, eyeing Marian.

"Ah, in that case, a favor then, Godmother."

Clarice laughed. "That certainly doesn't have the ring to it that Marlon Brando imparted to 'Godfather' does it?"

"No, and Cinderella's godmother didn't help. Please, a favor."

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"Marian," Kennedy told her companion. "This is about my life, as my life really is. It isn't a place for moral qualms, 'peace in our time' or any of that. Clarice is the head of one of the Mafia Five Families of New York, although they no longer function as a crime syndicate. More like a conglomerate."

"You're kidding, right?" Marian said.

Kennedy gestured for Clarice to speak.

"You were right, Kennedy. They ambushed both teams. They're all dead. Pistol was one of the backups. They died, too."

"He was a good man; I'm sure they were all good men." Kennedy turned to Pipes. "Did you do as I suggested?"

"Yes. It wasn't an easy thing to do."

Kennedy turned to Marian. "The three of us," she indicated Clarice, Pipes and herself, "have a common enemy. I'm more or less retired, but Clarice keeps a team of men who ambush our enemies. I warned them that our enemies are clever, and don't like people hunting them. That they would try to ambush the ambushers. Because of the nature of our enemies, I told them that if the team was ever killed in action, they had to be beheaded as soon as possible."

Marian looked at Kennedy. "You can't possibly be serious."

"As a matter of fact," Pipes volunteered, "she is. Vampires are hard to kill. Kennedy has advantages that the rest of us don't have, but like she said, she is more or less retired."

"Vampires? Now I know you're crazy!"

Kennedy chuckled. "You should seek out a priest. One who does exorcisms would be best. Or one who has been around a long time, dealing with supernatural events. He'll tell you the truth, if you ask."

Kennedy turned to Clarice. "How many of them were there?"

"The nest was reported to have four. So at least that many, more likely twice that," Pipes told her. "They're in the Village."

"They should be right at home there," Kennedy said with a straight face.

She looked at Marian. "When I take them, you can come and watch if you want, but I'll warn you now, I'll be killing them. At least you can take consolation in that they are already dead and their souls are gone."

"You're insane," Marian said harshly.

"I wish. Marian, like I said, go talk to a priest before you judge me. You talk about your religion and your faith. I don't ask you to take me on faith, I ask you to talk to one of the priests of your faith, then make up your own mind."

Kennedy gestured at Pipes, at the umbrella hanging from his arm. Pipes grinned and gave it to Kennedy.

Then the umbrella was Lady Kennedy and Kennedy made her sing for them.

She smiled at Pipes and Clarice. "Thanks, I love having Lady Kennedy in my hand. I just hope you don't think I'm going from here to there, to play whack-a-mole with vampires?"

Pipes looked away, but Clarice looked at her. "Don't you want to?"

"Sure, Clarice. I've got a few spare stakes, I'll loan one to you. You can come, too."

Clarice shook her head. "I'm a businesswoman."

"You're a businesswoman who got four men killed," Kennedy reminded her. "Maybe Pipes won't tell you about it, but you have to realize that if you don't go with me when it comes time, you'll never again be able to ask men to risk themselves in your name."

Clarice turned to Pipes, but he looked away from her again.

"And here," Clarice mused, "I've wondered all morning about why it was so easy to convince you to come here, Pipes. Was it because you knew what Kennedy would say?"

"My friend, I told you what you had to do. You shook your head and told me that you couldn't. You suggested we talk to Kennedy and I agreed. It was your suggestion, your choice."

Kennedy grinned. "Clarice, have I ever given you bad advice?"

"Actually, you're one of the few people who has never offered me any."

"I did suggest following the rules at camp. Clarice, I'm not going anywhere near where you lost people until I've had a chance to study the situation. You understand that as much as they like to kill vampire hunters -- Slayers and Potentials are the ones really at the top of their list. I doubt if our association is unknown. They think, they reason, they do everything but breathe and have a soul. Did I mention they have pride?"

Clarice grimaced. "What was it I heard from someone? About being seduced by the dark side of the Force? I used my wiles and my intelligence to get where I've gotten. But I forgot every single lesson my grandfather taught to me about how to fight. I wasn't going to, you see. We weren't going to do that any more.

"And you, Kennedy. You were a bad influence. You walked into a building with two dozen vampires and the City of New York police and fire departments did your bidding and helped you burn them up. No tiresome visits from the police later, no surveillance; none of it. I've had several cops stop me on the street and thank me for my help. It was safe, I thought. Civic duty, civic pride. Safe."

Kennedy laughed. "I'd hug you, kiss you on the cheek, but you'd wig out. Clarice, we're born, we live and then we die. It's not safe being born, it's not safe living, and death has its dangers as well.

"Have you met my sister?" Kennedy asked her friend.

"No."

"You should seek her out and say hello. My stepfather keeps wanting to treat me as a peer -- when he's not treating me like a child. Conflicted is the best word to describe him. Once he told me that my sister would never earn enough money to pay for a month of her credit card expenses. You, Clarice, you've been living on your grandfather's credit card. As long as you were content to just be quiet, take what was offered, no one had a problem with it. But you wanted something different.

"You face a choice: the classic fish or cut bait. You've been living on your grandfather's credit card. Come with me when I go there and that will stop."

"I pay my own way!" Clarice retorted. She stopped and blushed. "Which is what you're telling me, right?"

"Yes."

"I've made a big mistake, haven't I?"

"Yes," Kennedy told her.

"I can't order men to risk their lives, can I? Not if I'm not willing to risk my own."

"No. You can't even ask them. You're their boss. What, they're expected to tell you 'No thanks?'?"

"And what will going with you prove?"

"That you pay your debts, Clarice. Then, for God's sake, listen to me when I say, forget this! Pipes didn't want to hunt vampires, did he?"

"No."

"Then please, Clarice. Listen to your consiglieri. He's not a fool. And you know he has no love for vampires."

"I thought it was something I could do. To atone for my brother, for Cynthia..."

"Your brother was a bastard when he was your brother. You do need to atone for him, because you never spoke out until it was not only over and done with, but you spoke to the wrong person. You should have been looking in the mirror, not at me."

"Why don't you hate me?"

"He wasn't my brother -- he was yours. He never hurt me, except with Ruby and the others, and that wasn't him, not really. I rubbed out a piece of vermin for what he did at my party."

Clarice stood up straight. "I guess I have to walk the walk, don't I?"

Kennedy guffawed. "Yes. But you have to understand, it'll be like my father offering to pay for my college tuition. Pocket change! No big!"

"You're paying your own way," Clarice told Kennedy.

"No. The New York Athletic Club gave me a rowing scholarship at Columbia. My stepfather assures me he refused to say aye or nay when they asked him if they should."

For the first time Marian chuckled. "Oh, it wasn't like that at all, Kennedy. They'd have given you that scholarship no matter who your father was. All you had to do was ask, and you did.

"The Club wishes you'd done better this year, but there would have been a lot of talk, you're right about that, if someone walked in off the street who could go from nothing to world champion in a few months. They are already working on a marketing campaign for later this fall."

"Marketing campaign?" Kennedy looked stunned. "Me?"

"You."

Kennedy swallowed. "Not this year. I have to convince them to hold off until next year, at least. I can't afford the publicity."

"What do you mean?" Marian replied.

"I told you, my enemies would like to see me dead ... except I have a built-in 'best-use-by-date.' This year is pretty much my last chance there and they know it. If I lay low until then, they won't bother me. But this year it's still a risk."

"You can talk to Mr. van ter Horst. If nothing else, he'll listen to Peter Stuyvesant."

Marian took a deep breath and looked at Clarice and Pipes. "You have to know I'm trying to stay rational by grasping at straws."

She faced Clarice. "You said you didn't want violence, not for yourself. Yet, you're clearly thinking about it."

Clarice waved at Kennedy. "It's not within me to not want vengeance for those men. There are hundreds of generations of Sicilians in my makeup that demand, very forcefully, what I should do to those who hurt me or mine. I thought I was doing a public service; that it was relatively risk free. We were careful, I thought. Kennedy predicted this exact scenario; she warned me what would happen. And I thought we were too smart, too careful.

"And you know, as bad as my ordering men to engage in 'civic duty, ' my coming here to get Kennedy to bail me out was an even worse decision."

She turned and started to go, but Kennedy grabbed her sleeve. "Clarice, trying to deal with this yourself would make every other stupid decision you've made in your life pale into insignificance. Not to mention, would almost certainly render moot your plans for the future.

"You made a mistake; I've made mistakes, Pipes has made them, I know. Don't compound this one."

"You'll do it?" Clarice asked.

"I'll do it," Kennedy told her. "I've done it before, it's not that big a deal."

"And you'll take me with you?"

Kennedy grinned. "Yes. Which isn't to say that you'll be in much danger. But, there are those pesky mistakes we make. Ask Pipes about what it's like to start to turn into a mouse."

"I felt my tail twitch," Pipes said, shivering.

Kennedy could see Clarice look at Pipes strangely. To break the moment, Kennedy grinned at Marian. "You had to have been there."

"I'm alternating wondering how someone as nice as you can be such a huge liar -- or wondering if you're a profoundly disturbed young woman."

Kennedy took a few steps and dipped into her gym bag and pulled out her phone. She dialed Mr. Glastonbury. "Sir, Kennedy. Do you know the name of a Catholic priest who is aware of things? Preferably someone as high in the hierarchy as possible?"

He said he knew several. "Could you call around and see if any of them are available at short notice? Sir, Clarice's crew was killed and so was the backup."

He told her he'd get back to her.

Kennedy turned to Marian. "One of the indispensable weapons in my armory is Holy Water. Blessed artifacts, including crosses are good, too. Once, when I was ten, I thought my tutor was being passed a bottle of booze at a restaurant. Instead, it was a bottle of Holy Water, consecrated by a bishop."

The phone rang and Kennedy listened and nodded. "Sure, that sounds good enough. He'll be expecting us? Kennedy and a party of three?"

The drive wasn't that long. They rode with Clarice and Pipes, Marian not sure if she was in mortal danger of death or if her soul was in peril.

"St. Paul's?" Marian said softly, when they pulled up in front of the cathedral.

"You bet. Have you ever met Bishop Meany?"

"I've seen him at mass."

"Well, today is your lucky day, then."

It took a surprisingly short time to be brought into the presence of the bishop. Marian curtsied, while both Clarice and Pipes knelt to kiss his ring.

The bishop was a man in his late fifties, showing signs that at one time he'd been a boxer. He was still a powerful man, and grinned at Kennedy. "Geoffrey asked if I would meet you. With him, you never know."

Kennedy nodded. "Sir, Marian is a nun, who is honest, faithful and devout. She works hard, she's never had a bad word for me. However, there are some worldly things she's never had occasion to learn about, much less meet. I was wondering if I could impose upon you, sir, to help her understand."

The bishop's eyes went to Marian. "Sister? Is that your wish? Do you understand that there are things the church doesn't speak about except in private? Things that would not benefit most people's education?"

"I heard some fantastic things, your eminence. I don't want to impose on you or church doctrine."

He waved his hand airily. "Which order do you belong to, Sister Marian?"

"Dominican Sisters of Hope, your eminence."

"And you've fallen in with these people?"

"Sir, it's a vanity, but Mother Superior permits me to row at the New York Athletic Club. Miss Kennedy also rows there, and we row together in double sculls."

He nodded. "Is it your wish to learn of these things, Sister Marian?"

"I don't honestly know. If what Miss Kennedy says is correct, I'm not sure what to believe."

"In God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Mary ... all those things the Church teaches and holds dear. Nothing you will hear will contradict fundamental truths. But, as in many things, there are areas where reality isn't as simple as we teach to the laity." He sighed. "It's like a connect-the-dots puzzle, where we don't include all the dots."

He nodded to the rest of them. "I will be a few minutes, please pardon this rudeness on my part, but the Church has some secrets."

The bishop gestured towards an inner office and Marian preceded him inside.

Clarice touched Kennedy's arm. "When you go, call me."

"I will, I promise. But it won't be right away."

Pipes sighed. "Clearly we didn't do enough surveillance ourselves."

"Mr. Glastonbury said something to me once that I've taken to heart. When the small vampire attacked me from ambush, I thought I'd been ready. Yet I walked into a trap, knowing I was going to be ambushed. There is knowing, and then there is understanding. I won't say that I can't be ambushed now, but it's not going to be a simple thing for them to do."

Pipes smiled slightly. "I notice that when you're walking, you always walk on the sunny side of the street."

"It does make life easier," Kennedy told him.

Eventually Marian was back, and they immediately left, headed back for Marian's car at NYAC. "You don't look worse for the wear," Kennedy said mildly.

"And you don't look like a mystical avatar, either."

Kennedy chuckled. "That's probably because I'm not one. I could become one, but it's no longer very likely. As painful as it is for the others of you to contemplate, it appears that I'm too old."

There was a moment of disorientation. Then she was running, running, running. The men who pursued her wore black robes, implacably intent on killing her. They had, Kennedy knew, already killed her Watcher. She fled through the night.

The smells were strange, the buildings were strange, the night sounds were strange. Kennedy had no idea where she was, but it wasn't very likely to be the US of A. She scrambled up a drain pipe, much faster than her pursuers.

She relaxed minutely. She was safe now, she was sure ... none knew the roofs of the city like she did. The two men in robes who appeared in front of her startled her like she'd never been startled before. She grappled with one and used him as a shield, but she slipped. She fell and fell, landing with a thump in the road.

Momentarily stunned, she was helpless when they came upon her, knives gleaming, flashing in the night. She screamed and screamed and screamed...

The world flexed and Kennedy was lying on her back, next to the car, concerned people hovering over her. A few feet away Kennedy could see Marian with a cell phone in her hand, speaking urgently into it.

Kennedy grinned at Pipes. "If she's calling 9-1-1 have her call it off. I'm fine."

"This is your idea of fine?" Clarice exclaimed.

"Well, I'm a little disoriented, but it'll pass in a moment. I'm fine, really. If an ambulance comes, there could be some issues, because I won't go with them."

"But you had some sort of seizure! You were talking then your eyes rolled up and you slumped back. After a few seconds, you were panting, like a dog."

"Or like someone running full out. Clarice, please. Remember Rosalie. This is magic, not medical. All a doctor would find is that I'm in good health and stronger than I appear."

Pipes walked over and explained to Marian, who was stubborn, shaking her head. "I know a seizure when I see one!"

"It's not a medical condition," Kennedy repeated. "Like some Catholic saints, I have visions. Surely you wouldn't call a doctor for Joan of Arc or someone like that?"

"Don't make fun of my religion."

"And we were where, just now, talking about what, with a prelate of your religion? Your church openly accepts visions."

"You're not a saint!"

"And I never said I was. I said I have visions. It's magic, I'm sure of it, Marian."

"Magic!" she sneered.

"Magic," Kennedy told her calmly. "You know, like the exorcisms the church still performs. What do you suppose animates the shells of the undead? How do demons get here from other dimensions? There is no Scotty 'beaming them down.'"

Kennedy turned to Clarice. "I need to get home ASAP. Could we get going again?"

"Sure, Kennedy," Pipes said. "We'll drive you, if you want."

"I have a driver and guard back at the Club, patiently waiting. No, we'll just go back there, if it's okay."

"If you're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Kennedy turned to Marian. "I'm going to talk to my friends about something. It would be really cool if you'd listen and not butt in. If you would think long and hard about what you hear and what it means, before you speak. It wouldn't hurt to talk to the bishop again."

With that she turned to Pipes. "You know the current Slayer lives in California?"

"We've heard about that. We understand the need for secrecy, so we've never tried to learn more."

"This Slayer is different than all the ones who've gone before her. She's been killed four times, now."

"Killed?"

"Killed, but not as in dead as a doornail. This is going to sound fantastic, but the first time she was drowned, but a friend was close by and he gave her mouth to mouth."

"That's not terribly fantastic," Marian said, her voice bitter.

"Marian, I can finish this conversation after we let you out," Kennedy said crossly.

"Not so fantastic, Marian's right about that. The second time she was tossed into hell. At least a hell dimension. No one human has ever returned from a hell dimension before her. She came back. I'm weak on the details, but all you need to know is that she came back.

"The third time -- someone had to die to save the universe. It sounds hokey, but there was a primal evil conjuring to move us all, the entire planet, to one of those hell places. We'd all have died. Unless someone gave their life to stop it. It was supposed to be the Slayer's sister, who isn't exactly human herself. Except the Slayer decided that it would be her. So she jumped off a tall construction crane and went splat into a pile of building materials from something like a hundred feet up. After having stopped the end of the world."

"That was it, we were sure. Except someone very powerful wants her alive. One of the Slayer's friends is a witch a thousand times more powerful than Rosalie. She resurrected her. I'm not sure I'd want to call it 'innocence, ' maybe naivetè is better, but the witch was worried her friend was burning in hell.

"Well, the Slayer hadn't gone to hell -- she was in heaven. And she got pulled back here."

"This is a little hard to believe," Pipes said mildly.

"Yeah, well, I understand if you ever go to Sunnydale, California, you'd find out quickly enough that nothing is hard to believe there.

"Magic has consequences. Ferinc taught me that. When you do magic you need to be sure why and what you're doing. The witch went evil. I mean not just a little evil, but all the way off the reservation. Not so many months ago she decided that humanity was a blot on the universe's copy book and decided to eliminate it. Us. All of us. Her lover, you see, had been murdered. She was so concerned about that, she didn't notice at first that the Slayer had been mortally wounded at the same time.

"When she did notice, it was at one second past midnight for the Slayer again. The Slayer died on the operating table, as they were preparing to repair the damage.

"The witch brought her back. This time the Slayer was dead only for a few seconds again; heaven and hell didn't seem to be involved. The witch went crazy after that and nearly turned us all to toast. She was, however, stopped. That was early this summer.

"There is something else. I know a lot about the details of the Slayer's deaths. I know them because I've been in her head each time she's died. I was in the mind of the Slayer before her, too. And today ... that was what was happening. Only this time it wasn't the Slayer, it was someone else. She was, I think, a Potential, like me. Some guys in black robes ambushed and killed her."