Through a haze of terror Buffy could see Luke’s monstrous face, his lips curled back from his gums, his fangs bared greedily, moving closer and closer to her neck. She twisted and fought with all her strength, but her struggles were useless against him.
With one quick slash of his fingernails, Luke pulled her shirt open, just wide enough to expose her throat. Buffy gasped, bracing herself for the quick, searing stab of his teeth—but instead, Luke let out a shriek and jumped back.
Buffy stared at him, her mind reeling in confusion. Smoke was streaming from his hand, and he was glaring at his palm, eyes blazing with fury and shock.
As Buffy’s own gaze lowered to her chest, she saw a silver cross lying there—the cross that the mysterious guy had given her earlier that night. Somehow it had slipped free from her inside pocket and come in contact with Luke’s hand during the struggle.
Buffy wasted no time. With a burst of renewed energy, she kicked at Luke with both legs, sending him flying from the tomb. Before he could recover, she leaped out and ran for the door.
The beating had taken a toll on her—much more than she’d realized, Buffy thought glumly. Now as she tried to run through the woods, she was all too aware of the lightness in her head, the rubbery feeling in her legs, the painful heaving of her chest. She stumbled through the graveyard as fast as she could. When she finally reached the opposite edge of the trees, she stopped and looked behind her in the direction of the mausoleum.
She was alone.
Nobody seemed to be following her . . . not even the shadows were moving.
And then she heard Willow scream. “No! Nooo! Get—off—”
Adrenaline pumping, Buffy raced toward the sound of her friend’s voice. As she burst upon the scene, she could see Willow on the ground, wrestling with a vampire. The creature held Willow mercilessly in his grasp. He was just going in for her neck when Buffy surprised him, causing him to look up.
It was just the chance Buffy needed.
With one swift kick to his face, she sent the vampire sprawling backward. He gave a grunt of pain, then staggered to his feet, holding his nose and trying to get away from her.
Buffy stood there a second, catching her breath. All her senses were at their most alert now, and she furiously scanned her surroundings. She heard a cracking sound followed by unmistakable scuffling, and again she took off, leaving Willow still sitting there on the ground, her eyes huge with fright, her body trembling. She sat awhile longer, pulling herself together, then at last she got up and followed the path Buffy had taken.
It didn’t take Buffy long to find what she was looking for. Almost immediately she caught sight of Xander, his unconscious body being dragged away by two more vampires. As they sensed an unwelcome presence behind them, the vampires slowly turned around.
It wasn’t Buffy they saw, suddenly appearing through the trees. It was Willow. As Willow realized that Xander was in mortal danger, she seemed to change right before their eyes, her expression fiercely threatening.
The vampires turned back again, but Buffy stood there blocking their escape. It was easy to take them both out. With one quick punch, Buffy knocked them off their feet and they scrambled to get up and get away.
But they didn’t scramble fast enough.
Grabbing a branch from a nearby tree, Buffy snapped it off and held it in her hand like a stake. She charged one vampire, nailing him neatly through the chest, while the other fled for his life.
Willow ran up to Xander and knelt beside him, cradling his head in her arms. To her relief he seemed to be coming to, and after blinking a few times, he frowned up at her, trying to get his bearings.
“Xander . . . are you okay?” Willow asked softly.
“Man . . .” Xander still seemed a little disoriented. “Something hit me . . .”
Buffy walked a few paces, peering hard through the trees, her expression solemn and worried. “Where’s Jesse?”
For the first time Willow seemed to realize that Jesse was missing. “I don’t know,” she shook her head. “They surrounded us—he was really weak . . .”
“That girl grabbed him,” Xander mumbled. “Took off.”
“Which way?” Buffy demanded, but Xander looked blank.
“I don’t know.”
Buffy stared into the night. She honed all her senses, reaching out, straining through the darkness—but there was nothing . . .
Nothing at all.
Buffy’s heart felt heavy and sad.
“Jesse . . .” she whispered.