Chapter One Tentacles writhed under the dark leather coat of the man ahead of Buffy. She knew they were tentacles because of the slimy tips poking out from the coat's wide sleeves. The slippery puddle of goo this guy and his three buddies left wherever they shuffled was another dead giveaway they were out-of-towners.
Buffy readied herself for a fight. It was two in the morning, and the Slayer stood in line at the Quick Stop, waiting to pay for the cereal she'd picked up so Dawn wouldn't go hungry in the morning -- not that her little sister ever ate anything that was good for her anyway -- and a Twinkie.
All she'd wanted was a Twinkie. A harmless Twinkie. You would think harmless.
Tell that to Tentacle Guy.
Buffy surveyed the potential battlefield. Okay, harsh overhead lighting, lots of narrow aisles, a double glass door entrance at the front, big glass windows looking onto a practically deserted parking lot and gas pumps, a hall leading to bathrooms, an office, a supply room or two, and an exit in the back. Two civilians, the bleary eyed carrot-topped teen at the cash register talking away on his cell phone, and a tall, scraggly-haired blond girl about Dawn's age wearing a dark oversized sweatshirt and jeans against the far wall, grabbing things from the freezer. Round mirrors were positioned in every corner to help Buffy have eyes in the back of her head during a fight, but there were also surveillance cameras and monitors.
Better to get this out into the parking lot, away from prying video cameras. Better still to get it into that open field local developers had been promising for years to turn into a strip mall. But she had plenty of weapons on her if the uglies got ugly here in the store, and if she needed to improvise, there were lots of heavy cans that could be used for beaning monsters, and aerosols, lighter fluids, cleaning chemicals, and more -- all the ingredients for a late-night monster meat cookout.
Outfit wise, she was fine for fighting. A beige turtleneck sweater under a short, dark brown leather jacket. Matching spandex-tight boot-cut pants, and shiny high-heeled boots. She could move in these clothes like they were a second skin.
She tensed, waiting for the closest creature to make a move -- then noticed the big sack of cat food Tentacle Guy was carrying. The cutest little meow came from one of his deep pockets, and a furry little head with two bright inquisitive eyes popped up.
I tought I taw a putty-tat!
Running her hand over her forehead, Buffy wondered if the long nights were finally getting to her. Still, the most threatening thing this guy had done so far was exist, and she couldn't go after him for that.
A tentacle reached out and stroked the head of the brown and orange furred kitten.
"Good Pumpkin," a deep, throaty voice rumbled. "Nice-nice."
The kitten purred and hummed as the tentacle stroked her silky head. Sounding just like a tiny motor turning over, she contentedly slid down into the pocket. Well, this is new. Tentacle Guy is a member of Pet-Loving Fiends. Maybe this was going to work out after all....
Tentacle Guy slapped the bag of cat food onto the counter while his buddies congregated near the door. They were all hooded, but, considering the way it had been cold and raining and everything, Buffy hadn't made anything of that. Now she glanced in their direction, scanning the odd shapes inside the hoods where human features would have been -- if these guys had been human.
Carrot-top didn't look up into the face of his customer. He was still all gabby with his cell phone. "Can't wait to get off tonight, gonna quit this job, get out of this town, finally be free for once in my life. Hold on, I got a customer...."
He set the phone down, scanned the bag, and said, "Nine fifty-three with tax. Do you need a bag?"
"No bag," Tentacle Guy said. "Thank you."
Okay, Buffy thought. Monsters with manners, too. Maybe they weren't bad. Just big, scary looking, and misunderstood...like Shrek or something.
Tentacle Guy slapped three goo-encrusted coins on the counter. The coins were charred black with gold and crimson specks, and they had small holes in them.
"Keep change," Tentacle Guy said.
"Gah -- yuck!" Carrot-top said as his fingers touched the coins.
Buffy silently seconded that. These guys always slimed things, sometimes just to show off that they could.
Don't look up, Carrot-top, Buffy thought. Don't look up.
He didn't. Instead, Carrot-top wiped the coins off with the tail of his red-checked shirt and examined them. "What is this, like Canadian or something? My boss always gets on me when I take Canadian coins. Sorry, got anything else?"
"But this currency bears the sacred blessing of Yiknakt," Tentacle Guy said, sounding a little testy. "It is more than sufficient at the current exchange rate. And the blessing it bears will bring you good fortune."
"Tic Tacs always help, whatever. I don't care if -- "
"Yiknakt, the supreme one who sent us on our sacred journey," Tentacle Guy said. His coat was fluttering now. The kitten stuck her head out, said, "Meep!" and leaped to the floor.
"Right on, dude, like I said, Tic Tacs rule, but I still can't take Canadian coinage, sorry."
"Yiknakt! Not..." Trembling in rage, Tentacle Guy threw back the folds of his dark leather coat, exposing a yawning mouth filled with jagged teeth where his stomach should have been, and streaming tentacles. A horrible stench rose in the air as the mouth opened even wider. "I will feast on the flesh of the unbeliever!"
The other guys in the trench-coat brigade slithered forward. "Don't do it, Fred!"
"Not in front of the kitty!"
Buffy shoved a ten spot across the counter. "Look, guys, the Taste of Sunnydale Sidewalk Fest doesn't start for two weeks, so this one's on me."
Tentacle Guy looked at her. His eyes were wide black saucers stuffed in a face that looked like a bubbling all-meat pizza with all the toppings and some writhing celophods for good measure.
"You propose an exchange?" Tentacle Guy said. "My currency for yours?"
"Hey, I'm all for this Yiknakt guy," Buffy said. "Sounds like an okay guy to me. Yay, Yiknakt, go team go!"
"Are you mocking me?"
"Honestly? Yes. But not Yiknakt. I could use some good luck."
Tentacle Guy turned to his pals. They were anxiously nodding, flapping their tentacles, go on, Fred, take the exchange!
Buffy was ready in case he didn't. Her short leather jacket was unzipped, the better to give her access to the handheld double-ax tucked into the back of her waistband. She held her hands behind her, ready to grab and free the ax, her shoulders swaying innocently, eyes wide...
She watched Tentacle Guy, his pals, the kitten, the near comatose Carrot-top, who still hadn't looked up, and the teenage girl who was flattened up against the freezer door, staring this way in shock.
Buffy noticed the video cameras again.
Have to come back and do something about those tapes later.
She wanted to nod toward the teenage girl to try to make it out the back, but she was worried about making any sudden movements.
Tentacle Guy wasn't so worried. He snatched the coins from Carrot-top and slapped them back onto the counter, leaving fresh slime on them. Then he shoved Buffy's ten toward the disrespectful register guy.
Buffy wondered absently if this one would last. Convenience store clerks who worked the night shift in Sunnydale seemed to have a life expectancy slightly less than that of a Spinal Tap drummer. Only without the explosion thing.
Sometimes.
There was a ring, the sound of a drawer opening, and soon some change was slapped down. The cat-food bag was shoved toward Tentacle Guy. All without looking up.
"Next?"
Tentacle Guy crouched and picked up his kitten. She purred. He nodded toward Carrot-top, the chasm of his chest only slightly open now, his tentacles curling hungrily. "He still insulted Yiknakt."
"He's a tool," Buffy said. "You really think Yiknakt would want one of his flock wasting his time on someone like that? Besides, think of the kitty. We could be talking long-term emotional scarring. Kitty-cats who witness violence, you know, it has an impact."
"But she already kills small birds and brings me offerings."
"That's diff -- "
"Kitty?" Carrot-top's brow furrowed as he cut Buffy off. "You guys brought a pet in here?" He stood up and pointed at a sign in the window. "No pets allowed. Can't you guys -- "
Then he saw them. Finally. He screamed, stumbled back, and snatched up a baseball bat from behind the counter.
"Now he thinks to threaten me?" Tentacle Guy hollered. "For this he will be mine!"
Tentacle Guy allowed Pumpkin, his kitten, to hop from his gray-speckled tentacles. The mouth in his chest opened wide, and a cacophony erupted as tentacles above and below the mouth reached out and wriggled toward their prey.
One of the lightning-quick tentacles was close enough to encircle Carrot-top's neck when a shiny silver flash severed it. Tentacle Guy screamed.
Buffy was up on the counter, slime-covered ax in hand. "Not food. Dork, yes, food, no. How many times do I have to tell you guys?"
Tentacle Guy backed away, withdrawing his horribly writhing celophods.
Buffy shifted her gaze to Carrot-top. He made high, short sharp noises as he hyperventilated. He looked like he needed direction.
"You really are a tool, aren't you? Run..."
Dropping the bat, he nodded happily -- and bolted. He was out the rear exit in moments.
All-rightee, Buffy thought as she hopped down from the counter. One civilian cleared, no more incoming, just the teenage girl to worry about.
Tentacle Guy sniffed the air. "It is a Slayer!"
His pals shuddered. "A Chosen One!"
"I told you we should have taken the next exit."
Buffy let the ax dangle at her side. She made sure the ichor didn't get on her nice new boots. "Okay, everyone, let's just c...
