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.But there hadn t been any invading teenagers in the past few weeks.Anyone who even came close tothe fence had the sudden and irresistible urge to be far, far away from the Sunnydale Twin.It wasn t anyone particular thing, but just an overall feeling that drove them off.It was black magick.And this black magick spread over the Sunnydale Twin like a miasma, like the diseases in the mists andthe steaming hot afternoons that used to make men sick; it reshaped and reformed the Sunnydale Twinuntil walls grew and puzzles formed and hedges sprouted and blocks carved themselves into vastwarrens.Until the Sunnydale Twin was what people saw if they looked from Route 17.But if they were inside the Sunnydale Twin, if they were a prisoner there if they were the mother of theSlayer then the drive-in was gone.In its place was a terrible maze.And within it dwelled the lord of the maze, the king of the labyrinth, as it had been set down from thebeginning of words and ritual executions: the Minotaur.A man with the head of a bull.A creature without mercy, so dread that in various countries such asSpain and Portugal, they still sacrificed captive bulls in large arenas manned by symbolic heroes calledmatadores  killers to assuage their sense of powerlessness when the minotaur had held sway overthem all.The minotaur was a thirsty creature.An abomination against heaven, it lusted for human flesh.It cravedthe gore of human tissue across its snout. Mrs.Summers? Brother Claude called softly. Wake up.We have a surprise for you.Within the Cauldron of Bran the Blessed, Jean-Marc Regnier, the Gatekeeper, held the Spear ofLonginus between his liver-spotted hands and wheezed to his mother,  He is winning,Maman.I can feelGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlit.The Cauldron is all that sustains me now.And even that is not enough.I will not be able.to use itagain.Fulcanelli will prevail.and the gates of Hell will open all over the world.The home of the Slayer. He sighed. It is the fulcrum.It is the central point.If we cannot hold Sunnydale, we are lost.Antoinette Regnier, the ghostly mother of the Gatekeeper, who had died over a century before, strokedthe lined, fevered brow of her son and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to fall.In life, shehad been bound through a ritual to this place and this house to aid her son.The sands had run out for himso completely; he was barely a shell housing a pulse and a mind.Yet he clung so hard; he waited for thereturn of his young son, so that the weighty legacy of the Gatekeeper might continue.Poor Jacques.Poor Jean-Marc. Hush, my dear boy, she whispered. Conserve your strength.As long as you hold the Spear, youcannot be defeated in battle. But I can still die.It isending, Mother, he said desperately. I m of no use, and the world is ending.Giles lifted his head.After his long day at school, he had come to the mansion to check on Jacques and Micaela.The lad hadplaced wards around the mansion, as had Giles, in his own way; else, Giles would never have left themalone.There really had been nothing else to be done: with no one else to help them, and no one totrust especially not Ethan, for all his protestations the best they could hope for was to keep the boyout of sight.As Giles had been asking Micaela about her day, he had fallen asleep on the sofa.When he awakened, the shadows were thrown across the room, and a blanket had been gently bunchedaround his neck.Across the room, Micaela sat in an overstuffed chair, her knees beneath her chin.She smiled when shesaw him.He looked at her with sudden clarity. I m glad you re here, he said.She closed her eyes.She wept.Giles moved to her, holding her; she cried against his chest, and then she said,  That strengthens me,Rupert, as nothing ever has.Chapter3Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlBUFFY HELD HER HEAD IN HER HANDS AS IF IT WEREgoing to explode.Giles could see howexhausted she was, and this brief rest during the ongoing search for her mother would do little to relieveher.But he could not allow his sympathy to blind him as to their priorities. We have to get Jacques back to Boston, he said tentatively.The Slayer looked up at him as though she wanted to strike him.Giles wouldn t have blamed her.Butthere was nothing to be done about it.As melodramatic as it seemed to his sense of practicality, the fateof the world hung in the balance.Already, they had wasted most of a day.After school, he had gone tocheck on Micaela and the boy, and to get some rest.Now, not long after dusk, he d returned with arenewed sense of purpose.A purpose Buffy seemed to disagree with. Buffy, we must  he ventured. Don t you think I know that? Buffy snapped, but her anger was tempered with a tone of desperationthat made Giles s heart ache. Buffy, you must know I understand, he said. I fear for her as much. But of course that could notbe true. She s my mother, Buffy said sharply. I can t leave her.Oz sat at the library s study table several feet away.He d been double-checking the chains he plannedto use that night.Now he looked up at Giles and raised his eyebrows. There s also that whole monsterthing.Okay, the wolfman was passed out most of the time; preventing slaughter, rule number one.So Ididn t actually observe the monster thing.But from what Angel and Micaela said, we probably couldn tuse the ghost roads even if we wanted to.Giles nodded, idly scratched his head. You have a point.One we ve addressed before.There is alsothe added problem of Fulcanelli s presence here.He wants the boy.He wants Buffy.He wants Micaela.And he was able to use sorcery to prevent you all from reaching the Gatehouse once before.If he coulddo it again.Buffy slipped off the library counter and grabbed the light jacket she d been wearing off the back of achair. It s settled, then, she said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]