William Carruthers' Journal [entries|friends|calendar] William Carruthers [ userinfo | greatestjournal userinfo ] [ calendar | greatestjournal calendar ]

[24 Mar 2006|05:20pm] During the time when the Romans fled from England to shore up the walls of their crumbling empire and escape the barbarian hordes, many things were left behind. Gold, crockery, goods, homes, were abandoned. The roads that criss-crossed the island were a testament to the Romans time. Even some people were abandoned. One such was the slave girl who would be someday known as Lillith. Of Egyptian descent, the girl (whose real name has since been lost to time, was taken as a slave by a Roman household at a tender age, and brought with them to the island where they lived. But when they fled, they were forced to leave her. And so, for the first time she could remember, the girl was free. By her own account, she was twelve years old. The girl was of surpassing beauty, and soon found herself in a village where she was taken in by a widow. She was raised in the shadow of a great castle that was raised by one of the feudal lords who styled himself king. When he died, and the land was plunged into chaos, the girl and the widow stayed safe. And soon the land was restored to peace. When the girl was twenty five, the lord’s son returned to build his own rule from the place where his father once ruled. The new castle, and its lands, were called Camelot, and the king was Arthur Pendragon. The girl took her place with the widow and learned the widow’s trade, that of a village wise woman. Not a witch, but a knower of herblore and healing. She was clever, and would mask it as magic, and the girl learned these tricks as well. The townspeople whispered of her dark skin and unnatural beauty, and many a man was “bewitched” by her looks, but it was simply a case of them following her and her not acknowledging their attention. When the old woman died, the girl became the village’s new wise woman, and she settled well into the position. Things were glorious for the time when Arthur ruled. In her older times, Lillith would wax nostalgic of the times in Camelot: the plenty, the nobility. But like all dreams, there would come a wakening. The tales of Arthur’s undoing are well told, and so I will spare the details, and remain telling of our orphan girl, who was no longer a girl, but a woman of eight-and-thirty when the demon hordes came. In one of her earliest attacks on the lands of her half-brother, the witch Morgaine le Fey summoned forth an army of demons and creatures of the night to harry the lands around Camelot. One night, the village that the girl lived in was attacked, and she was caught unawares, walking through the night. A vampire fell upon her and, seeing her beauty, took her blood and gave her some of its. When the girl awakened the next night, she was one of the undead, and her life as Lillith began. Lillith claimed that it was Morgaine herself who dubbed her Lillith, as she was insatiable and would create vampire after vampire. “Who is this mother of monsters?” said Morgaine. And when the young but beautiful vampire stepped forward, Morgaine smiled, dubbed her Lillith, and made her the general of her vampire forces. For a fresh vampire to be so named, it must have chafed her elders, but they bowed to her ferocity and cleverness. Take Your Shot

[24 Dec 2005|05:06pm] I write this so it, like so many other tales, will not be lost. It is the tale of the Knight of the Burning Sword, his army and order, and the great battle against the vampire queen Lillith and her ilk. It is long, and many would say unbelievable, but I tell it true. The name of the Knight of the Burning Sword is lost to time. He gave it up, and took simply his title, when he was called by God. The story goes that he was once a young knight, a hedge knight who went from tourney to tourney, trying to win his fame. And at one of these tourneys, his sword was broken, and he went to the smithy to have a new sword forged. And at the smithy was his life changed forever. The young knight waited for the smith to finish the new sword, and stared into the flame at the steel. And in there, did he see God come to him. The lord spake thus, “Young knight, for you We have a sacred mission. You are to go forth and be a Champion of the Light, finding and slaying beasts, creatures, and the spawns of evil. And for this, you will have a special weapon.” And thus the young knight reached into the flames of the forge and drew out the steel of the sword, and was unharmed. He placed it against a hilt, and the sword and hit became one, and thus was created the burning sword. The young went forth that night, seeking creatures to slay, and fell into conflict with the first of many he would kill. It was red and horned, and obviously sent from Satan himself. It was attempting to batten in a small hovel and devour its occupants, but the knight stepped to it, and when he drew his new sword from the scabbard, it burst into flame, and cut and burned its way through the demon. When the grateful people asked for the knight’s name, all he said was, “I am the Knight of the Flaming Sword, he who serves the God in the Flame.” Soon, other knights errant, hedge knights, and priests began to seek out the Knight, to hear his tale and see the legendary flaming sword. The Knight, an example of Christian piety, would not brag of his prowess, but would tell his tale plainly. He was a power in the field unlike any other, cutting a swath through all those who would oppose him. Men would say that no one could match the Knight in his battle prowess, but again he was so humble he would say that there was one. Once, when he had traveled across the sea, into the land of France, he met a girl there. This slip of a girl would slay the vampires and beasts with nothing more than a wooden stake and her bare hands. The knight would always say that she was the greatest fighter that he did ever meet. After his return from France, the Knight found many awaiting him, and to his great surprise, an order had sprung up around him. A noble whose land he had saved from a dragon had given the men who followed the knight a patch of land, and there they had built a small castle that was also a church, and had founded the Order of God in the Flame. The Knight wished to have no great glories heaped upon him, but he was made the leader of the Order. He would lead the knights of the Order into battle against greater and more powerful threats. The Knight began to draw around him a close circle of followers. The first was the great knight Martin Umber. Sir Martin once was a rich knight with many lands, but he gave them up to follow the Knight. He was a giant of a man, standing more than a head taller than any other man in the Order, and wielded a mighty war-axe. He still enjoyed his drink and women, but nothing would stand between him and aiding his new chosen liege. He was wise in the ways of war, and would aid the Knight in planning their battles. Father Sigmund was from the frozen north. It was said that his family bore a curse. Centuries before a member of his family was struck with fragments of a troll mirror, and from then on, the first born of the line could see the sins of man and the true forms of demons in hiding. He had traveled down to England and joined the church, hoping to use his ability for the good of man, and when he heard of the Knight, he tracked him down and joined his cause. No one was sure if Diana was the true name of the archer, or if she had taken it in honor of the Roman goddess of the hunt. Diana had lived in the wood her whole life, and had lived there with her young sister. Diana had gone out to hunt game, and had returned with her bow to find the house disturbed and a vampire feeding upon her sister. She drew her bow and fired an arrow and struck the beast’s heart. It turned into dust, and that night she burned the cabin and buried her sister, and gathering her bow, arrows, and food, she began to hunt the vampires. She soon came to the attention of the Knight, who sought her out and asked her to join his order. She agreed, and soon they were the best of friends. I cannot say if they were lovers or not, but many thought they were, and they did truly love each other, that I can attest. Roderick Waters was a boy of six when he came to the Knight. He was the youngest son of a noble, who had no land to give him, and so he was to be given to an order to become a brother or a priest. But the father thought it clever to give him to the Knight instead, to take him and foster him. The Knight smiled and agreed, taking the boy as his page and squire. He was as a son to the Knight, and served him as nobly as any son ever has. The last of the Knight’s inner circle came to him while he sought a killer in Londontown. A monster, a vampire of particular brutality, stalked the city, and would disappear by dawn. The king himself had sent for the Knight to come and slay the demon, and the Knight began hunting, but to no avail. The Knight was worried that this might be a beast that could outsmart him. But one morning, the Knight was approached by a man who said he could be of aid. He was Lord William of Marbury, and was a member of the Societam Custodes, “The Society of Those Who Watch.” Lord William provided the Knight with knowledge of the vampire, and the Knight laid a trap for the monster, and that knight he slew it. He asked Lord William to accompany him back to Flameskeep, the name given his home, to aid in his quest, and the scholar agreed. They worked together, this troupe of heroes and rogues, for some years, near on five and twenty. In that time they slew scores of demons, and vampires beyond counting. While this is to be the tale of their final battle, I cannot let it pass without telling tales of some of their more joyous adventures. In the wood outside Warwickshire, travelers were said to be disappearing at a rate that could not be attributed to just brigands. When one would be robbed, often the poor soul would be found wandering in the wood, destitute and cold. But none of the disappeared were found, and sometimes their goods were found without their former owners. People began to suspect that monsters were taking away their loved ones, and so the Knight was called. The folk who had disappeared were all traders and the like, no nobles and no one carrying large arms, and so the Knight, clever as he was, instead took Diana and Roderick, and the three of them looked a family and traveled through the wood. When they had reached somewhere deep within the wood, where no sunlight would reach, from the tree fell a group of vampires. There were six of them, and they looked upon this “family” as an easy target for their hungers. The Knight could have easily slain all the vampires in less time than it would take most to draw a blade, but young Roderick was then six-and-ten, nearly a man and ripe for combat, and so the Knight looked at him, and winked his eye. “Oh, great monster,” he said to the leader of the vampires, who was by no means great, being a shambling, scruffy creature, “I will gladly give you my life, to spare my wife and son.” The vampire laughed his scorn at the Knight. “You trade with something no longer yours, fool. Your lives are all ours.” The Knight continued to plead. “Oh, please, give my son a chance to win his freedom at least. Let him take a sword, and fight the greatest of your number. If he would win, set him free. If he would die, we will all be yours.” The vampire chief laughed again. “Aye, let the lad come at me. You’d all be ours anyway, and this way, we’ll get some sport and jest from it as well.” So the boy stepped down from the wagon and drew his sword. It was a small sword, not like the great Flaming Sword, and he took up his fighter’s stance. The vampire came at him, and Roderick dodged and slapped the vampire across his shanks. While the night fought with honor and strength, facing his foe head on with skill, and Sir Martin was a large man who depended on strength, Roderick depended on speed and agility. The vampire continued to swing in, and the boy simply dodged him tossing japes as he did. “What, sir vampire, do you have problems with a mere boy?” he shouted. “Oh, I’m sorry, lord vampire, maybe you should have stayed abed. Or is it acoffin?” After a time, the vampire leader growled, and looked to his fellows. “Kill the others! Do it now!” They took one step before Diana’s arrow took one in the heart and it disappeared in dust, and the Knight himself stepped down and dispatched the other four quickly with his Flaming Sword. Still Roderick danced about the vampire, and the Knight grinned and shook his head. “I think it might be time to finish your sport,” he said, and Roderick bowed and deftly beheaded the vampire. No other travelers were lost in those woods. On another occasion, all the farms of a local lord were being ravaged one at a time by an unknown force. Nightly, a farm would come under attack and when morning dawned, the whole of the farm would be laid to ruin with nary a cornel of grain or an animal left uneaten. The lord petitioned the Knight for his aid, and so the night and loyal Sir Martin headed to the next farm that would be a victim of this blight. The night was a cool one for the summer, and the Knight in his armor felt the chill. Sir Martin sat with his skin of sac and laughed. “You look chilled, my friend,” he would say. “Share some of this with me.” As the Knight reached out to take a drink a sound unlike any either man had ever heard began. It was a chittering, like that of an insect swarm, but louder, and the two men stood quickly, with Sir Martin drawing his axe, and the Knight placing his hand upon the pommel of the Burning Sword, waiting to pull it forth when the threat presented itself. Moments after the sound began, the Earth beneath a field began to churn up and a demon resembling an insect leapt forth. It was soon followed by another, and another, until a veritable legion of the beasts stood and began to eat everything in their sight. Sir Martin looked at the Knight, who, with a nod of his head, drew forth the Burning Sword. The demon-bugs looked up at the men, and shied away from the light. The Knight and Sir Martin charged forward, slaying everything in their path. Sir Martin let out a roar of joy, swinging his axe and chortling. “A fine sport, this is. Let’s see how many I can slay before the night is done.” Sir Martin cut a swathe through the demon-bugs, cutting them down by the fours and fives with each swing, and shouting the numbers. The Knight was quieter, moving through the demon-bugs and destroying them. He did not have the reach of Sir Martin, but his sword swung true, severing necks and limbs with each one. The fight continued on for many hours, with the demon-bugs falling by the score. The wounds were not one sided, though. Sir Martin suffered a gash on his forehead, and the Knight was crushed to the ground for a moment and one of his ribs was broken, but he rose from it and quickly returned to the fray. By morning, all the demon-bugs had been slain, and the two heroes returned to Flameskeep triumphant. The final story I will tell you is one of the Knight alone. A mage of some power had set to conquer a fiefdom in the south of England, and had declared that he would not rest until the Knight, who he saw as some enemy, was brought before him alone. The Knight, being a valorous soul, set out to meet the mage face-to-face. Arriving at the citadel of the mage, which sat at the edge of a dense forest, the Knight drew his sword and shouted, “You have called to me, black sorcerer, and I have come! The Knight of the Burning Sword awaits you.” From the top of his tower, the mage appeared. He was tall and lean, with a pointed black beard and an evil look about him. “So you have come. Noble fool, you will not leave here.” From out of the wood came two large demons. The knight dismounted and made short work of the beasts. “You can send your monsters to face me all day and night,” said he, “But you shall never defeat me this way.” The mage, thinking himself cunning, smiled. “Knight,” he shouted, “I say all your might is in your magic sword. Give it up, let one of my creatures place it at the center of the wood. If you can get to it and return here, I shall give myself over to your justice.” The Knight, who knew he was more than his sword, nodded. He plunged the sword into the earth, and a flying best swept down and plucked it up, and flew into the wood with it. The mage laughed, and said, “I shall give you a moment’s head start before I call my minions down upon you. Use it wisely!” The Knight did as the mage instructed, and took off into the forest. He cut an irregular path through the wood, looping around, intentionally breaking branches at all times to leave false trails. After a brief time he began to hear the shuffling of the creatures that were pursuing him, and he moved faster. When the sounds grew too close, the Knight leapt up, grabbing onto a sturdy tree limb and climbing up. He waited until the first of the demon creatures was below him, before he prepared to leap. There followed a second, and a third. They were large, with red skin. They were thick of trunk and limb, and they seemed to be following him be scent. They stopped, and looked at each other confused. When they began to speak to each other in their guttural language, the Knight sprang his trap. Dropping from the tree, the Knight landed atop the first of the creatures, driving his feet into its back, knocking it down. While he did not have his sword, he still wielded a dagger, and he quickly drew it and drove it into the throat of the second demon. The dagger was in too deep to easily draw out, and so the Knight looked at the third monster, the only one still standing, and he gestured for it to attack. As it came at him, he quickly moved aside, and the demon went past him. It turned, slowly, and the Knight already had his fist drawn back, and he struck a glancing blow at the creature’s temple. It fell back, and he reached out, grabbing its head and driving it down into his greave. The last of the demons fell over, and the Knight, after drawing his dagger from the one demon, returned to his trip through the wood. The Knight saw the clearing at the center of the wood, saw the flickering of the Burning Sword, but also saw the flying creature was guarding it. It was larger than the other three, broader, and it had wings and claws. The Knight knew he needed something to distract the creature, and so he looked about. He drew a small thong from within his armor, and found a few small rocks, and slipped them into the sling, and whirled it. He released the rocks, and they flew into the clearing. Some struck the demon, while others his trees all over. The demon whirled around, trying to see where the attack had come from, and when its back was to the Knight, he ran into the clearing, and grabbed up his sword. The demon looked at him in shock, and the Knight struck quickly. The demon fell to his blade, and he made his way through the wood to the mage’s tower. When the mage’s demon servants saw the Knight return unscathed, they fled, leaving just a feeble old man to face the Knight. The mage was brought back to Flameskeep, where he was imprisoned, and the people who the Knight freed from their onus celebrate his name to this day. This ends the first chapter of this tale. Next you will hear the tale of the Knight’s greatest foe, the vampire queen Lillith. 1 Bullet |Take Your Shot

Home again [27 Oct 2004|08:53pm] William turned his key in the lock of the door of his house. He had spent the past few days in Las Vegas, getting intelligence on this club she had been at when she was attacked. He gathered what he could, and then headed back home, leaving a private investigator to watch the place. After visiting Jordan, he headed right home. He pushed the door open and, still leaning on his cane, headed inside. Destiny was oblivious to the door opening. Wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts that said "Kiss it" on the ass, she danced with sock-clad feet. "Cotton-Eyed-Joe" came on and she switched from the seductive dance of the previous song to the line dancing of this one. She sang loudly with her eyes closed, using nearby furniture as dancing partners, then as spectators. ( Catching up ) ( Another training session ) William smiled at her, and his face lit up. "It is not your fault at all, Destiny. I walked in front of the demon. My fault entirely. Don't feel bad about it. I'm a grown man who makes his own dumb choices." Destiny lifted her head and smiled back. "I already lost a great guy. Don't let me lose another one. Okay? Don't go dying when I'm not around to save you." She opened the door and motioned for him to go first. William went in, and smiled back at her. "I can't die now. If I did, Emmeline would find a way to bring me back so you, she, and Jordan could all kick my, as you so put it, 'pasty British butt.'" "I did NOT say that!" Destiny opened her mouth in abject horror. "I've never seen your butt--unlike Jordan." She smirked and laughed, running past him and up the stairs. Take Your Shot

I would count myself a king of inifinite space... [08 Oct 2004|01:43pm] [ mood | nervous ] William awoke from his nightmare with a silent scream on his lips. He didn't scream, though. He didn't want to tell Desiny about this. Another nightmare, the same one he'd been having for the past few nights, since he had started researching, only even more real. The things that populated the town now, falling on him, hurting him, eating him. His bare chest felt cool, and was covered in cold sweat. He rose slowly from the bed and pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of khakis. He walked into his study and grabbed his diaries. He spent the next couple of hours filling them up with everything that had happened in Searchlight. He needed there to be a record of what had happened. Finishing that, he gathered all his research on Azazel. He wrote a note to Destiny and Emmeline, and laid it on the pillow of his bed. With that done, his heart felt a little lighter. William began to make phone calls. There was no answer at each of the places he called, and he didn;t leave messages the first time. No need to worry people unduly. But he decided that, if worse came to worst, he needed to leave one. And if better came to best, he needed to leave another. He picked up his cell and dialed a number. ( Voice Mail to Matthew ) William set the cell down, and steeled himself to make a call that was, in its way, even harder. He picked it up, swallowed, and dialed. ( Voice Mail to Jordan ) William shut the phone and shook his head. Fighting ancient demons, no problem. Asking out a perfectly nice woman, you stumble over your tongue like a drunk. He still had quite a few hours until he was due to leave with Destiny for Emmeline's, and he chose to relax. He picked up the first edition of The Stand that Emmeline had found for him, and he settled in to read it. Take Your Shot

The Quake [05 Oct 2004|10:32am] [ mood | content ] William had been peacefully reading in a lawn chair in the back yard, looking up at the lighted sky when he heard an unnatural shriek. And the ground began to shake. Can't have one quiet, happy night in this town, can you. He gritted his teeth and waited for the quake to pass. When things had settled down, he headed into the house. He heard noice upstairs, and was content in knowing Destiny was all right. The kitchen was in decent shape, with some things have fallen over, but nothing breakable. He gathered them up, and then thought of his lab. Skipping the first step, William headed downstairs. He looked at the walls, and it seemed there were no noticable cracks. Good Some of his beakers and the like had fallen and broken, and he swept them up and deposited the remnent in the trash. He then gathered a few weapons that had slipped from the racks, and put them back where they belonged. Content that things had settled, he headed back upstairs. The living room was fine, and so he flicked on the radio and listened to the news. And what he heard he did not like. The quake had hit Las Vegas much worse than it had hit Searchlight. Baal or Azazel had been focusing on this town, and with the dark lifted, he doubted they'd move into another city now. So this was either a new player, or Elfleda. Maybe she's jealous that we're not paying any attention to her. William laughed at his own little bit of gallows humour and shook his head. He wasn't going to let this ruin his mood. Earthquake or no, demon or demoness, there was light in the sky. Hope springs eternal, and with that light, even the realist that William was believed that there was no way they could lose. Take Your Shot

From the Watcher's Diaries of William Carruthers [04 Oct 2004|10:28am] I have grown lax in keeping these up since my arrival in Searchlight, and feel I should return to recording what has happened to me for posterity. I have not discussed my adventures in Columbia, and have decided it's best to start there before discussing this town. Just about two months ago, my plane dropped me off in Colombia. According to Amnesty International, one of the drug czars, a man known only as El Jefe, had a personal prison called Pena Duro, or simply "The Rock" in the mountains here, and he held those who stood against his petty regime. What drew my attention was the tale of a fourteen year old girl who had been imprisoned there for the past three months and had somehow survived. My assumption, which proved correct, was that she was a Slayer. ( The Lay of the Land ) ( “The ) ( “Escape ) ( “The ) William closed the journal he had been writing in and slipped it onto a shelf in his study. He looked outside at the still dark town, and shook his head. He decided he needed to do anything. He picked up his cell phone and the paper he had written the phone numbers of the people he’d encountered in town, and began calling a few numbers. Take Your Shot

Night of the living dead [24 Sep 2004|10:33am] William arrived home after his fight with the vampires feeling refreshed. Nothing like a good fight to clear the head. He unlocked the door and looked in. Ever since the vandalism, he had been expecting it to be there again. But the living room was fine. He walked into the kitchen to get a drink and saw the note on the kitchen table. He figured Destiny might have come home and gone to sleep already, and so he picked it up. As he read the unsigned missive, his face grew dark. William, You've been great fun to toy with. I do appreciate all the fantastic weaponry you keep, and all the interesting little experiements you've got around here. I do hope we'll come face to face soon. ( Cleaning up ) ( The Dead Rise ) When the gruesome task was done, William locked the basement and headed in to shower. There was excitement, and then there were days like this. He let the waters ease his sore muscles. He dried himself off and headed for the study. But he was too drained to even deal with this right now. Hebrew. That might narrow the field quite a bit. But that's what tomorrow and daylight is for. Choosing instead to go to his bedroom, William collapsed into blissful slumber. Take Your Shot

[21 Sep 2004|11:09am] William walked back from the diner, thinking about the meeting with all the towns magick users, Slayers, and Watchers. It would be a goos oppurtunity to network, and maybe get a better idea of what was going on here. And to warn the other Watchers about Dyan. Forewarned is forearmed, he thought as he stepped up onto the porch of his house. ( Chaos on the homefront ) Last stop was his bedroom. He opened the door, and nearly collapsed in exasperation. No bed. He figured as such from Destiny's room, but he could have hoped. He shook his head. He started in Destiny's room, reassembling her bed, and gathered all the pieces to his. He no longer had the energy to fix his own, and so he grabbed his blankets and moved into the backwards living room. I'll have to gte better locks tomorrow, he thought, as he fell asleep on the couch. Take Your Shot

The morning after. [18 Sep 2004|05:48pm] [ mood | nervous ] "And both the righteous and the unrighteous were burned in that most holy of flames." William closed the book, his breath catching sharply. He looked at his well worn copy of Stephen King's The Stand, and shook his head. He had read it more times then he could count, it was his favorite book, but that line, the last line of the stunning climax, had never resonated with him this way before. He was in a town outside Las Vegas, where King's heroes confronted their devil, and here in Searchlight the forces of good and evil were gathering. And the image on the cover stirred another quote in his mind, this one much older, but no less apt for this town, he thought. "And Behold!, I saw a pale horse, and upon it a pale rider. The rider was Death, and Hell rode with him." He had arrived home to find his house unmolested by the townsfolk, and had fallen nearly immediately asleep. Destiny had awoken him in the morning, and he had told her that she could have the day to do what she wanted. He didn't tell her that it was because of the bruised ribs caused by the werewolf's strike. Important lesson of the night, werewolves are not easily sent into a meditative trance state, and he had the line of bruises to show it. He was tempted to go out and try to find the werewolf in human form, as he had almost definitely reverted by now, and make sure he was all right, but the trail was well cold, and he didn't know if the man would be that happy that he had three bullets in him. The decision was then made to simply sit with his books and computer and do some more research on what might have caused the wasps last night. There were numerous examples of it historically, but coupled with the earthquake and the rain of blood and meat, this was definitely something for the history books. Such a confluence of events meant a great evil had risen. He needed to find out more about this temptress that everyone was so nervous to speak of. Maybe I'll track down Dyan, see if the evil in this town knows something. But that might not be such a good idea either. Dyan was, at best, unpredictable. His next steps were laid out before him. He would first see if Emmeline was at the bookstore, see if she could work the spell he had discovered in the books. Then he would find this other Watcher he had heard of, Dominick. Maybe he could shed some light on these mysteries. William rose, and felt the twinge in his ribs again. Maybe just a bit more rest... Take Your Shot

[11 Sep 2004|10:35am] William had set out just after dusk, loading what he would need for his little trip into the van that he had rented. He drove into Las Vegas, arriving at the rental car service and traded the unwieldy van for a more efficient jeep, transferred his gear, and then headed to one of the hotels for a good night's rest. The nesting grounds he was looking for were on the other side of Vegas from Searchlight, and there was no point in heading back for the night to just turn around. He set a 5 a.m. wake up call, and went upstairs. William showered and stretched out in bed. He had to admit, this was far more palatial living then his little house, but he was less comfortable. This wasn't his kind of place. He preferred something more utilitarian. But he had remembered a book, one of the Watcher's diaries he had borrowed from the bookstore, and settled into reading it. It was one of the most curious he had ever seen. About a Slayer from the Middle Ages, who, after saving her town from a vampire attack, was burned at the stake for being a witch. And it was written in verse. William finished it, and looked at the clock. It was late, and he had a long day ahead of him. He shut his eyes and went to sleep. ( Dreams in Darkness ) ( The Hunt ) ( The Scorpion ) Take Your Shot

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