Part Twenty-Seven: Out of place
There was a piece of Justine that observed herself from a distance—the feral stance, the wild, side-to-side nervous glance. She was wound like a spring, ready to fight, but something was missing.
Faith fascinated her, she watched the power in her stride, the way her every movement sent small ripples through the air. There was something about her power that was … familiar. There was something there she wanted, but couldn’t articulate.
The two children tied to the stone were barely conscious. The girl was unfamiliar. The boy … yes. She had seen the boy somewhere, but couldn’t place him. And she hated him. That much she knew. If she were able, she’d slit the boy’s throat right now. Why did she feel that?
Not for the first time, she thought of Holtz, and clenched her hand so her nails cut her skin. She wanted to run away from all this, these people. But she was compelled to stay—she didn’t know how or why, just that it was important. That Holtz wanted it.
The strange man, Doc, was looking at his watch and watching the sky. She tried hard not to think about time—it seemed wrong here. The other two, Xander and Willow, had been gone for what seemed like hours, searching for Wesley. Outside her own head, she could see herself slitting the man’s throat like it was minutes ago, but it had to be longer than that. He looked so different. So pale. Someone said he was dead. Maybe he was a ghost. She didn’t know.
The boy, Connor, was stirring, looking up at her now.
“Justine,” he said. “Do you remember me?”
“No.”
“No,” said Connor. “Didn’t think so.”
“Should I?”
“Yeah,” said Connor. “You should. I’m Angel’s son.”
“Angel … has a son?”
“Yeah. You helped kidnap me. I got trapped in another dimension. There was a spell. Everyone forgot.”
“I didn’t … “
“Heh. You’re confused right,” said a sing-song voice that seemed to come from nowhere. “Poor little lost girl, her memory is gone. All gone.”
“Who’s there?” said Justine. “Who the fuck…”
“You’re out of synch,” said Connor. “I get that. Not only has the spell screwed up your memory, you’ve also been moved through time. Things have changed, Justine.”
“Nobody loves you here,” said the voice. “Nobody loves Justine.”
“I don’t know what …” started Justine, but she was haunted by a giggle that came from nowhere. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Justine is losing her miiii-nnnd,” sang the voice. “Justine is losing her …”
“STOP IT!!! STOP … ”
Justine couldn’t see the gun being held to her head, but she could feel it.
“Don’t move,” said Connor. “The voices in your head are about to get tetchy.”
Justine froze, and looked at Connor. His manacles were undone, as were Dawn’s. The two of them were rising shakily.
“Like I said,” said Connor. “I know two things. You’re head’s not all there….” An invisible pistol smacked against he back of Justine’s head. “And you’re not a slayer right now, are you?”
Justine fell. Connor fell beside her to make sure she was all right.
“That’s gonna bruise,” said Dawn.
“Yeah,” said a voice. “So is this.”
A fist was slammed into Dawn’s jaw, and she fell on impact. Connor turned to face Faith.
“Well, kid,” said Faith. “Looks like it’s you and me.”