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Notes: Thank you so much to Emony. :)
The Meeting
By Anna
Under the church, he had heard, was a place to avoid. "There's evil there," the demons told him, and he laughed in their faces. He'd lived on a hellmouth, he said. A gateway to all evil. And they said that nothing and nowhere could compare to the evil they felt in the crypt of that old church. Not even the mouth of hell itself. Even the evil stayed away.
And so, late though it was, Tucker left the demon dive and walked to the church, his heart pounding in his chest and his lock-picking set snug in his back pocket. It was the work of a minute to get inside, and once inside, in the low glow of votive candles, he found the crypt entrance. The heavy oak door was ajar and Tucker found he could easily slip through.
"Here we go," he whispered to himself.
His sneakers were silent on the wooden steps. The air was dry and he could smell cold stone and granite dust. Someone dragged that stone a long way to make sure this church stayed standing, he thought, because there was nothing but flat land for hundreds of miles in every direction and you don't get quarries where the corn grows. The blackness down here was thick as dirt and he could feel a residue already on his tongue. Vaguely, in the dim luminescence that made it into the depths from the light above, he could see massive pillars, two lines of them, holding up stone vaults. Grotesque sculptures scowled crudely in the gloom. Tucker suddenly wished he'd brought his flashlight.
The ground was gritty beneath his feet. He had to hold his hands out in the blackness to find his way. Inch by inch he groped through the dark to the nearest pillar, cold and smooth to the touch, and he stopped there because there was something making the hair on the back of his neck prickle with warning. He listened, and for a moment there was not a sound. The silence was as thick as the dark.
And then the light, dim as it was, went away.
"Now is the time to tell me what you're doing in my church, son." The voice was smooth and pleasant. Almost paternal. "I say my church," it continued. "Of course I refer to this house of God. I serve only as a shepherd and I fear, boy, that you may have wandered astray."
Tucker felt his face grow numb in the pitch darkness. There was no bearing now except for the voice, punctuated by gentle footfalls on wood. Tucker waited for the crunch of sole on dirt and when it came he spoke.
"I'm not lost," he said.
Another soft, gritty footstep.
"No?" said the man, much closer now, and quieter. "I must admit I do find that somewhat confounding." Another step. "For what, I ask myself, is a young gentleman like yourself doing in a church in the dead of night? This ain't the kind of behaviour I usually associate with those who visit our little town looking for something I'm not sure I even care to name."
"You don't know what I'm looking for," replied Tucker, his palms flat against the stone behind him.
"Is that so?" asked the voice.
"That's right, preacher man."
"There's some as might have a little argument with your opinion, son."
"And there's some who know me well enough not to argue."
Tucker could hear the preacher's surprise, a tiny, sharp breath in the dark.
"Well, ain't that something," said the preacher in a whisper. "There's the kind of spirit she likes, and it's been a while now she's been expecting you. I find myself with a notion to show you what exactly it is that you're looking to discover down here in the darkness." The preacher man's breath was warm against Tucker's skin in the chilly crypt air. "And she tells me that in return, you can bring me to the place I want to go."
"Where's that?'' He half wanted to edge away, but there was something in the voice, something intoxicating.
"Now, now. First things first." He heard the preacher step back, a sudden and incongruous laugh echoing against the stone. "Let there be light!"
Tucker found himself squinting against the bright light of a lantern. Between the streaks in his eyes he could make out the black of a priest's clothes and that little collar of white. But it was the preacher's eyes that were blacker than any dye, and his smile darker than any crypt.
"Turn around," whispered the priest, nodding towards the nave under the heavy vaults.
Tucker, a hand up still against the light, turned and stepped around the pillar.
The dirt lay in parallel mounds, maybe nine or ten of them, about four times as long as they were wide. The first one was heaped against the wall of the apse, as if whoever put it there did so deliberately to leave plenty of room for more. The others lay close together, the same logic dictating their positions. It took Tucker a moment to realise that they were graves.
"Huh," he said, taking a step towards them. The priest followed, light dancing around the pillars causing the sculptures to smile and grimace in turn. Evil things became angels and saints turned to devils and Tucker stood over the graves. "Who were they?" he asked.
The priest came to a stop beside him. "Girls," he shrugged. "They seemed to enjoy the passion of my preaching. After my sermons there's many that tend towards a certain variety of affection. But the lady," he smiled, "the lady don't approve of my losing concentration, and so I put them to rest down here for her."
"Neat," said Tucker. "What lady?"
"The lady you're here to find."
"I don't think there's a lady, see, the thing I'm looking for doesn't have a name, so much."
"You're looking for the same thing I want, son. And now she tells me that you can bring me to the place I'll find her."
Tucker turned and faced the preacher. "Where's that, precisely?" he asked. His eyes had grown accustomed to the light.
"The Valley of the Sun. You know where such a place might be?"
Tucker laughed. "They always call it that," he said. "Those stupid books being so poetic."
The priest smiled. "She was right," he said. "You can take me there."
"In return for cutting me in on the action, hell yeah," said Tucker.
"And hell is precisely where we're going, you understand."
"Always been on the fast track to hell," said Tucker. "May as well reserve a good seat for when I get there."
"My thinking entirely. For a boy of your young age you have a clear and precise mind, and I imagine we share many similar philosophies."
"Apparently." Tucker glanced back at the rows of dirt. "You feel okay leaving your little collection behind?"
Caleb looked at the graves with an expression close to fondness. "Soon it won't be in faithless whores I find her, son. Soon she'll be solid as you and me. That'll be a good day."
"I hear you, preacher man." Tucker put his hands in his pockets. "So. We ready to head for Sunnydale or what?"
Caleb laughed. "Sunnydale. Now, I do find that name amusing."
"Yeah, we all think so. We're going to tear it up, right? Because I'm done with half assed plans and hellhounds."
"We're bringing hell to earth, boy. There won't be a soul left, and I mean that literally."
"Sounds good."
"Glad to hear it."
"Let's go."
*
They left the nowhere town before sunrise in the preacher's car. Shadows became blacker and sharper in the new light, and for the first time in his life, with the silent, dark preacher beside him, Tucker was looking forward to going home.
"What do I call you, anyway?" he asked.
"You can plain call me Caleb. And what might your name be?"
"Tucker. Tucker Wells."
"Well, Tucker Wells." Caleb pointed to a dirt town on the road ahead. "Keep your eyes sharp for a nice place to have breakfast. I got a hunger that no food can quell, but I do find that food sure helps." He laughed, glancing congenially at
Tucker.
Yeah, thought Tucker, smiling and turning to the window. This will be good.
END PART 1