Long Way Home (Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Unseen - Book, 3) - Softcover

Holder, Nancy; Mariotte, Jeff

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0743418956 ISBN 13: 9780743418959

Publisher: Simon Spotlight Entertainment, 2001

Synopsis

Buffy and Angel venture into a terrifying alternate reality populated by dragons and other legendary monsters to rescue a group of kidnapped teens, only to discover that Spike and Faith have also journeyed through the portal.

About this title

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 1

Buffy stepped through the door she had visualized, and over a plain wooden threshold, and that was the end of what could remotely be called normal. The other side didn't look anything like what she had expected -- although to be honest, she thought, what I guess I was expecting was to still be in Giles's living room saying "I told you this wouldn't work" to Tara. So pretty much anything is a surprise.

But what she saw was more than just unexpected. It was unreal, a fairy tale landscape that she was sure had never existed on Earth. In the distance a castle perched atop a rolling green hill. Its walls and towers were a bluish gray, with pink pennants fluttering at the towers' peaks. Between her and the castle trees rose in columns, a kind of forest except that forests usually had all that underbrush and thorny parts, whereas this forest was all tall, strong trees with plenty of room between them for walking, picnicking, or whatever else came to mind, a carpet of lush green grass beneath them.

Hills rolled beyond the forest, topped by the castle, and in the far distance, snow-capped peaks that looked just a little too much like they were sugarcoated instead of frozen. Glowing above it all was a perfectly round, perfectly yellow sun in a crisp blue sky. It was all very bucolic and charming.

And then there was the dragon.

Where the rest of the scene was picture-book perfect, more charming than real and too real to be a dream, the dragon was absolutely horrifying. Sea green and vaguely iguana-like, if iguanas grew up to be the size of the Sun Cinema, with razorlike teeth that looked almost as long as Buffy was tall, a spiked tail, and leathery batwings. The beast turned its red, beady eyes on Buffy, shook its head from side to side a couple of times, and exhaled a blast of fetid breath.

Maybe they don't breathe fire, she thought, mentally holding her nose, because they don't need to.

It had seen her, she was certain of that. And if it wanted her for lunch, she couldn't imagine there was much that she could do to dissuade it. The idea of running occurred to her, but she discarded it a second later as impractical -- the thing's legs were certainly long and powerful enough to cover ground faster than she could, even if she knew where she was going.

Just in case, she spun around to see what was behind her.

Forty yards of grass, and then nothing.

The meadow ended abruptly at a drop-off that must have been incredibly steep, because from here she couldn't see a thing. In the distance, the fuzzy blue of an ocean stretched to the horizon. Her guess was that she was at the top of a cliff that fell away to the coast, but she couldn't tell for sure without advancing to the edge, and with the dragon behind her giving her the hungry eye, she wasn't overly excited to try that.

"Hi," she said to it, just in case it could talk because after all, here, who knew? "Buffy Summers. Slayer. You seen a guy in a black leather coat around here, spiky brown hair, dark eyes?"

The dragon lowered its head, front claws digging at the grassy earth.

"So probably not, is what I'm thinking," Buffy continued. "Because I was supposed to meet him here, and I'm not seeing any sign of him."

The dragon huffed again, and Buffy really wished it wouldn't. She'd hunted vamps in sewers that smelled better. For that matter, she couldn't remember having experienced a sewer that smelled worse.

And there was something about the way it was moving...

...something, she thought, like a bull getting ready to charge...

And then it did, straight for her, jaws wide, wicked-looking teeth glinting wetly in the sunlight.

Almost too easy, she thought. Get it coming at me fast, then dodge and it can't stop, and it's bye-bye, dragon, over the cliff.

She held her ground as long as she dared, looking into its red eyes, measuring its speed, watching for its tail and claws in case it led with one or the other. After it was practically on top of her, she took a running start and hurled herself toward the nearest copse of trees; and sure enough, the dragon started trying to brake, its front legs churning earth, rear legs locking. Clods of dirt flew everywhere.

Its momentum was too strong; it skidded and slid in a three-quarter turn, and tumbled over the edge of the cliff that must have been five hundred feet deep if it was an inch.

As it plummeted, it let out a dragon-size howl of distress, all the world's sirens turned on at once, ringing in Buffy's ears as it dropped away. Buffy almost felt bad for it -- probably acting purely on instinct. Walnut brain, saw me as a threat and it attacked, and I outsmarted it without even breaking a sweat. She started toward the edge to see how far down it was, and to make sure that the dragon was really gone.

Which was when she heard the thunder of leathery wings filling with air.

Right, she thought. They fly.

That was when she decided running was the best idea, after all.

With no other goal in sight, Buffy struck out for the castle. Her Slayer strength coursed through her and she ran far faster than the strongest Olympic champion, eating the space beneath her with long easy strides. But behind her she heard the pitch of the wingbeats change and knew the thing had topped the cliff. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder and saw it craning its head on its rubbery neck and then, apparently spotting her, it flattened its body to cut wind resistance and came straight for her.

She ran a few more yards and then stopped, not wanting her back to it when it got to her. She turned and waited, hands on her thighs for a moment, catching her breath, trying to come up with another plan.

Absolutely nothing occurred to her. And the thing closed in, saliva glistening in its open mouth.

Now I know what a crab puff feels like at a party, she thought. Except for the part where it's already dead.

Buffy held still, waiting for it. Its hot breath blasted her as it grew closer, and still she froze, knowing the futility of dodging right or left. Its head grew enormous before her, the size of a bus. Then it really was on her, close enough for her to see its pink, ragged gums and sharp-edged indigo tongue, and finally she moved.

She hurled herself flat against the grass, and the dragon's lower jaw, swooping in at waist height, was suddenly above her. She kicked up with both legs, as hard as she could, into its long jaw. She heard teeth slam together, and thought she felt bones snap under her kick. The dragon lurched, mid-flight, and lifted off higher, as if to avoid another attack.

But it circled quickly, remarkably agile in flight, and dove toward her again, jaws open once more. Blood mixed with spittle flew from its open mouth. She waited until it was close, hopefully too close to maneuver, and then threw herself to the side. But its head followed, its huge jaw snapping shut, and one of its teeth snagged her outflung leg, ripping through her black leather pants and tearing her skin.

Buffy rolled to a sitting position, scooting out of the dragon's reach and glancing at her injury. It had left a long cut that already bled down her calf.

She didn't have time to worry about it, though, because the dragon had landed and was extending its snout toward her, mouth opening for another try. This time she flung herself right at it, bringing her hands down on top of its snout and catapulting herself up onto its neck. There, she spun and sat down quickly, legs clamped around the sides of its neck as if it were a horse and she a rider. The dragon shook its head violently, trying to dislodge her, but she grabbed two fistfuls of scaly flesh and hung on. It threw back its head, as if to crush her against its own back, but it wasn't flexible enough to accomplish that. It writhed and snarled and snapped. Buffy held on tight, digging in with her hands and legs, riding out every attempt it made to throw her off.

Finally, it took flight.

Its huge wings unfolded, spreading out to a full span that must have been thirty feet. The beast flapped them a couple of times, pushing its front end into the air with its powerful haunches, and then it was airborne.

This, I am not liking, Buffy thought. At all.

They gained altitude quickly, and within moments had climbed above the treetops. Buffy felt a rush of vertigo looking down at the landscape that passed so rapidly beneath her, and so far down. The dragon made it worse by soaring into a banked turn loaded with not-so-delicious and -nutritious G-forces. Her hold on the dragon started to slip -- her hands were sweating, and her leg, slick with blood, couldn't grip well enough to keep her on if the thing kept this up.

Falling into a bunch of trees from a dragon's back was not one of the ways she had contemplated dying, and she had, she realized, considered lots of different ways.

But before she fell, the dragon righted itself and she settled back into the natural saddle where its neck met its shoulders. And the whole unsettling experience had given her an idea.

The thing was, she wasn't sure how to put it into action.

And the other thing was, if she did put it into action she might end up killing herself.

If it was a choice between killing herself and the dragon, or just dying, she resolved to take the monster out with her.

So she made the move.

She had to force herself to let go of its neck with her right hand. Her fist left a mark in its green flesh, which she found somewhat encouraging. She hoped she had hurt it, since it so obviously was intent on killing her. She didn't leave her hand empty for long, but instead leaned forward -- rising out of her seat when she couldn't quite reach -- and managed to clamp her hand down on its right ear. She pulled. The dragon loosed a roar that shook its entire body, and dropped twenty feet or so in the air. Buffy felt her stomach lurch.

She did the same thing with her left hand, grabbing the left ear.

The dragon bellowed, shaking its head as furiously as a dog coming out of the bath. Buffy was nearly torn from her hold, but she managed to maintain a grip.

The dragon dropped another few feet, its wings working at trying to swat the rider from its back instead of keeping them aloft.

And Buffy let go again, with her right hand.

This time, she had to trust the strength in her left hand and let go with her legs altogether, to reach out far enough. But she was able to do it. She balled her fist, and slammed it into the dragon's right eye.

The thing screeched with pain and tilted suddenly to the left, going into a spinning freefall.

Buffy caught hold with her right hand again, just below its right ear, and hugged as tightly as she could with her legs. Even so, she felt the centrifugal force and the rushing wind conspiring to tear her off. Every muscle she owned screamed with pain. She had never pushed her Slayer strength to this extent, but to let go was even more certain suicide than hanging on.

The world spun crazily toward her, faster with each passing second. She caught a glimpse of the meadow below, and knew she needed to do one more thing. Ignoring everything her mind shouted at her, she forced herself to let go again, and she took another swat at its eye. Again, it threw its head to the left, away from the attack, and its dizzying, spinning descent tilted that way.

Where there had been meadow below, now there were treetops, and Buffy and the dragon were heading straight into them. As if it realized suddenly what was happening, it arched its back and began to flutter its wings rapidly. For a brief moment, it seemed to slow its wild fall. But only for a moment, and then it was too late.

Buffy threw herself free at the moment of impact, curling herself as tightly as she could as thick-leafed trees slammed into her.

Over the crash of branches and the pain of a dozen sticks driving into her flesh, she heard the dragon's explosive impact. Buffy fell through the branches, snapping many, finally landing on the ground with the wind knocked out of her, bleeding from more cuts than she could imagine counting for the rest of her life. She kept her eyes open, though, not wanting the dragon to land on her.

But there was not much chance of that. Outweighing her by a thousand pounds or so, the branches parted like water before its mass -- but the tree trunks didn't. The dragon had impaled itself on several straight, thick trunks. Stuck forty feet or so over her head, it hadn't quite died, but that was only a matter of moments away. Blood ran down the tree's bark like a fountain. The beast kicked fruitlessly, its wings twitching. Buffy felt another moment of pity, but when she tried to stand, the pain in her calf reminded her that it really had been a kill or be killed situation, and she had done what she needed to do to survive.

Bet that's the biggest stake I'll ever use in my career, she thought.

She looked away, toward the still-distant castle, but then she looked back quickly because she had one of those corner-of-the-eye things where something seems to be changing. And when she looked back at the beast in the trees, it was definitely changing. Its whole body shimmered, as if liquefying, and as she watched, it began to shrink.

So you can't dust 'em, but you can reduce them from giant economy size to miniature.

But even that was wrong, because it wasn't just shrinking -- it was changing shape. Its neck became shorter, its wings vanished, its legs lengthened, and by the time it stopped transforming, it was a shape Buffy recognized all too well.

It had become a man. A man impaled on a single tree trunk, but a man nonetheless. He was as naked as the dragon had been -- not that there would have been much of him left to hang clothes on if he did have clothes.

And the worst part was, he wasn't dead. Lots of pain, sure, but not dead.

Yet.

She raced to help him, pushing her way through the stubbly thicket, ignoring fresh scratches and cuts as branches smacked and sliced her.

He's got to be an enchanted prince or something. That'd fit into this whole fractured fairy tale theme that's going on here.

She'd always heard fairy tales had ancient roots that were darker than Madonna's, but had never really known quite how dark until she watched the man writhing in pain with a tree through his sternum.

"Hang on," she called, lifting a limb over her head and throwing it out of her path. She was closing in on him, and she could smell his blood on the wood -- no vampire special power, just too much of it. Way too much.

Then the trunk broke and the man tumbled to the earth, landing with a sickening, wet thwop about ten feet from her.

When it seemed like nothing could make things worse, the man spoke.

"Th-thank you," he said, in perfect though oddly accented English as she rushed up to him and landed on her knees beside him.

"Me?" Buffy repli...

About this edition

• Publisher: Simon Spotlight Entertainment
• Publication date: 2001
• ISBN 10: 0743418956
• ISBN 13: 9780743418959
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 304