Against the darkness, p.1
Against the Darkness, page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Disney Enterprises, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Hyperion, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 77 West 66th Street, New York, New York 10023.
First Edition, April 2024
Designed by Tyler Nevins
Stock images: moon and clouds chapter ornament: 2035892681/Shutterstock
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Blake, Kendare, author.
Title: Against the darkness / by Kendare Blake.
Description: First edition. • Los Angeles ; New York : Hyperion, 2024. • Series: Buffy: the next generation; book 3 • Audience: Ages 12–18. • Audience: Grades 10–12. • Summary: Frankie Rosenberg, the world’s first Slayer-Witch, finds herself fighting evil alone as the threat of Darkness grows; she must lead the charge to reunite the fragmented Scooby gang, save the slayers, and defeat the Darkness.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023039635 • ISBN 9781368075084 (hardcover) • ISBN 9781368075213 (paperback) • ISBN 9781368075725 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Witches—Fiction. • Vampires—Fiction. • Werewolves—Fiction. • Demonology—Fiction. • Paranormal fiction. lcgft • LCGFT: Novels.
Classification: LCC PZ7.B5566 Ag 2024 • DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023039635
Visit www.HyperionTeens.com
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Part One: Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?
Chapter One: Welcome to Lovelorn, Population Two
Chapter Two: Straight Out of The Watcher’s Handbook
Chapter Three: Earth to Buffy
Chapter Four: The Wolf Is, Like, a State of Mind, Man
Chapter Five: Roaches and Rent Control
Chapter Six: Hunting Practice
Chapter Seven: Girls Just Want to Have Destinies That Lead Them to Loss and Pain
Chapter Eight: Burgers With a Side of Claw
Chapter Nine: Secrets are Lies
Chapter Ten: Watcher Care
Part Two: Nobody Ever Tells the Slayer Anything
Chapter Eleven: What Does He Watch Now That There’s No More Passions?
Chapter Twelve: Shiny Happy Future Slayer
Chapter Thirteen: Maybe He Should Check the Dosage on that Tea
Chapter Fourteen: Evil People Don’t Get to Help
Part Three: Say That You’re Happy Now, Once More with Feeling
Chapter Fifteen: On the Buffy Phone, Long, Long, Distance
Chapter Sixteen: If You Want Grim’s Body, and You Think He’s Sexy, Aspen’s Going to Let Him Know
Chapter Seventeen: Macho, Macho Werewolf; I Want to Be a Macho Werewolf
Chapter Eighteen: I’m the Bad Guy…Duh
Chapter Nineteen: Look What You Made Me Do
Chapter Twenty: Love Bites, Love Bleeds
Chapter Twenty-One: Leader of the Pack
Chapter Twenty-Two: Jake and the Lacrosse Werewolves, Like Josie and the Pussycats?
Chapter Twenty-Three: I’m Fine, Just Give Me Something to Punch in the Face
Chapter Twenty-Four: Evil Spells From Evil Books
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Slayers Are Coming
Chapter Twenty-Six: Scoobies! Mount Up!
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Living the Dream as an Evil Book Curator
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Opening the Gate
Part Four: Super Slayer
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Convalescence
Chapter Thirty: Return of the Mack
Chapter Thirty-One: The Slayer Line
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Darkness Falls
Chapter Thirty-Three: So It’s like the Bat-Signal
Chapter Thirty-Four: The Spell of Many Interdimensional Returns
Chapter Thirty-Five: It’s Raining Hellbeasts
Chapter Thirty-Six: 1630 Revello Drive
Part Five: Buffy: The Next Generation
Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Battle’s Done and We Kind of Won, So We Can Sound Our Victory Cheer
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Where Do We Go from Here?
Acknowledgments
About the Author
PROLOGUE
The vampire’s footsteps thudded against the pavement as he chased the girl through the back alleys and dark streets of New Sunnydale. She was fast, but that was all right. It was good, even: Running got the heart pumping, so her blood would practically fly into his mouth when he bit. And he was so very hungry.
He’d been hunting this particular girl for a few nights. He’d even spoken to her once, pretending to ask directions to a restaurant. He’d leaned just close enough to give her the creeps. He liked to give them the creeps. He liked how it felt, when they edged away and the bashful look that rose to their faces, like they felt silly for feeling afraid. Almost like they wanted to apologize to him for it.
That was his favorite part. How bad they felt, about fearing for their lives.
He chased the girl down another alley (they always went down alleys), and the sound of her ragged breathing was music to his ears. He just wished she would scream. She hadn’t screamed when he approached her in the park; she’d tried to give him her wallet. He’d had to show her his true face to get her to run.
The girl hit a dead end and stopped. Her shoulders heaved under her thick, knit sweater, and she put her hands out like she was feeling for cracks or a secret passageway through the twelve-foot cinder block wall.
“May as well turn around,” he said. “There’s nowhere left to go.”
“Please,” she gasped, too scared to turn and face him. “I don’t have much money.”
“I don’t want your money.” He stopped. “Actually, that’s a lie. I am going to rob you, too. Right after I kill you.” He bared his fangs and roared, ready to bite into the tender skin, to feel her struggle like a butterfly in a spider’s web, her little fists beating a rhythm against him that grew weaker and weaker.
But someone pushed him from behind, and instead of his fangs sinking into a nice, soft girl, they smacked into a hard cement wall. Then a foot connected with his back, and he fell to the street. He pushed himself up just in time to glimpse his pretty blond dinner, scampering back toward town to safety.
“Hey. Fang Face.”
The vampire spun. A different girl stood behind him. And this one held a stake.
“I hunted that for three nights!” he shouted.
“That’s not very efficient.”
He blinked his yellow eyes. “Maybe not. But it does mean I’m still hungry. So I guess you’ll have to do.”
“I’ll have to do? Look, if I’m going to be eaten, I’m going to be the first choice on the menu, you know?”
He attacked and caught her by the wrist when she tried to dodge. The sound of the breath leaving her body when he slammed her into the cement wall was delightful. Part of him didn’t even want to bite her. He just wanted to kill her. He saw her fist coming and grinned—only when it connected with his cheek his head lit up like it was on fire. He let go and backed off with a cry, hand pressed to his steaming face.
“Crosses! Your rings are crosses!”
“One on each finger.”
He pulled away a bit of burned skin and threw it on the ground, where it withered to ash. “That’s dirty pool.”
“Dirty pool? Who says that? Where are you from?” The girl shook her head. “Never mind. I forgot I don’t have to do that stupid demon census anymore.”
Before he could even form the words “Demon census?” the stake sank into his chest and pierced his heart. It didn’t hurt at all when he disintegrated.
“God, vampires are stupid,” Hailey said. “One girl in their sights and all the blood rushes right out of their brains.” She brushed a sprinkling of vamp dust from the shoulder of her black T-shirt, then tucked her thumbs under her suspender straps and turned. “So, how’d I do?”
Aspen stepped out of the shadows behind a dumpster. The leader of the Darkness cocked her head and shrugged. “You got yourself pinned and almost dropped your stake.”
“But the rings were good, right?” Hailey wiggled her knuckles, admiring the small silver crosses. They even worked with her outfit. The whole slayer gig worked with the Goth aesthetic, to be honest. A brooding, nighttime existence spent courting the possibility of death. More slayers ought to look like her, not like Buffy Summers, or Frankie, who patrolled in soft pink hoodies and joggers with pockets stuffed full of stakes.
Or like Aspen, who even in chill weather insisted on dressing like she was headed to Coachella.
“I admit,” Aspen said, “the ring crosses were a good idea. Your nerdy demon ex-boyfriend would be proud.”
Hailey frowned. Sigmund would be proud. He would kiss both of her cheeks and tell her she was brilliant. But only her cheeks. Because Sigmund didn’t want to be with her anymore.
“Half demon,” Hailey corrected. “And yes, he would. He’d wish he’d thought of it. But he chose sides, and he didn’t choose mine. So to hell with him.” To hell with him, she thought for real. It was easy to pretend to be angry with Sigmund. Because she was. The hard part was pretending to hate Frankie for killing Vi, and pretending to be broken inside over Vi’s death, when really Frankie had only mur
“We should get out of here.” Aspen looked up the alley.
“Don’t worry about getting spotted by Frankie. Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes doesn’t patrol past one a.m. on school nights.”
That was true, but Aspen still stuck to the shadows as they walked back the way they’d come. Hailey checked the time on her phone. She shouldn’t be patrolling after one a.m. on school nights either. At least Frankie had slayer constitution to get her through the lack of sleep. Hailey had black coffee and slapping herself in the face every few minutes.
I miss you, Frankie, she thought. This double agenting thing…it sucks.
“Come on!” Aspen called. “We can grab some food from the diner before we head home.”
Home was a bedroom with flowered curtains at the Rosenbergs’, not the smelly motel she was currently squatting in. But Hailey grinned and nodded. “Good idea, I’m starving.”
CHAPTER ONE
Welcome to Lovelorn, Population Two
Sigmund’s hybrid idled silently as he and Frankie sat in the lot of Valley View Park. So silently Frankie wouldn’t have known it was still running were it not for his hand, tense on the gear shifter in case Jake texted them to relocate in a hurry. He and his boyfriend, Sam, were running a bait play somewhere in the park. Jake would use his werewolf senses to sniff out demons, and Sam would linger enticingly nearby in an effort to draw them out. Once they were out, they would give the signal, and Frankie would arrive to slay them.
“This thing is really quiet,” she said, referring to the hybrid in the opening to their saddest small talk of the night.
“My next one will be even quieter,” Sigmund commented. “I’m hoping to go full electric, just for you.” He smiled without showing teeth. She did the same. Then she sighed.
“I miss Hailey.”
“So do I,” Sigmund admitted. “I don’t like thinking about her all alone for so long in that fleabag motel.”
“There are no fleas,” Frankie said. “Just roaches.” And water damage, and structural issues, and a smell that was hard to describe. The motel itself was kind of like a roach. It had survived the Spikesplosion. It was unable to be killed.
“She could have stayed anywhere. She didn’t have to go…there.”
Frankie shrugged. “Vi’s room was paid up for the month. And subsequent months were the cheapest around.” She prodded the half Sage demon in the shoulder. “You know she could have just moved in with you, if you weren’t being such a butt.”
“I’ve never in my life been a butt, Frankie.” He sat up straighter, mock offended. “And even if Hailey and I were still together, wouldn’t her staying with me have given away the plan?”
“We could have had you be neutral. Like Switzerland. Are they still neutral?”
“It’s one of the main principles of their foreign policy.” He sighed again, harder. “But I do wish…I just miss her.”
Frankie glanced into the trees. They weren’t that far from Vi’s “grave.” After the fight in the warehouse, when Frankie sunk the Scythe into Vi’s double’s stomach and then obliterated the Scythe into particles, they’d hoisted Vi’s double’s corpse between them and taken it to the forest. It was a long, disturbing walk, and Vi was no help—she couldn’t touch her double without reabsorbing it, and she kept trying to make them do jokes from Weekend at Bernie’s.
Sigmund followed Frankie’s gaze. “I see her sometimes at the grave site.” He stopped by to monitor it, since it was a Sage demon mirroring spell that was used to create the double.
“That doesn’t count as ‘seeing,’ Sig; that counts as stalking. Have you been taking lessons from Grimloch?” But Frankie was no better—once she’d seen Hailey coming out of a coffee shop and tailed her for three blocks, unable to stop herself.
“At the grave,” Frankie continued. “Does she seem upset? She shouldn’t really be upset; Vi’s not really dead, she’s probably having the time of her life gallivanting around with your mom—” But Vi really was gone, and Hailey really was alone, even if it was only pretend.
Sigmund half smiled. “But I shouldn’t be able to tell, should I? If it’s real or not. Not if she’s doing her job.”
Frankie frowned. He was right, of course; Sigmund usually was. “I just want this to be over. No one’s seen Aspen or any of the rogue slayers since the night at the warehouse. Maybe they really are gone. And then we’re sitting around Hailey-less and miserable for no reason.
“Well,” she amended, “I guess I have no reason. You have that Sage demon reason that I wouldn’t understand. Isn’t that what you’re always saying?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. That you wouldn’t understand. What I meant was that I didn’t want to explain.”
“Oh.” Frankie waited and held very still. Of course, he didn’t have to explain. But if she stayed quiet long enough, he might crack under the silence.
“I broke up with Hailey because it seemed inevitable,” he said.
“Inevitable?” Frankie’s brow furrowed.
“One day I’ll be expected to pair with another demon. And it felt like Hailey and I were getting too serious.”
“But you’re in love with her. So what if it might not last forever? You guys were…so happy.”
“Aren’t you in love with Grimloch?” Sigmund countered.
“Grimloch is carrying a torch for my mortal enemy. And no. I’m not in love with him.”
“Well, you’re in something with him,” Sigmund said, and Frankie laughed.
“In something? Pretty inarticulate for a Sage demon, Sig.” But okay. She was in something with him. She just didn’t know what. Crushing on Grim had been messed up enough when he was only mourning the loss of his slayer. Now that his slayer was alive and also rogue and the ultimate evil? And that was saying nothing of the whole mortal/immortal problem. There were so many obstacles. So many complications. But Jake and Sam had complications, and they still managed to make being together look easy…
Frankie shut her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Grim. She didn’t want to think about his voice, or how he hid the tips of his fangs when he smiled. She didn’t want to think of the way his eyes flashed blue when he was intrigued, or how those fangs felt when they nipped her lower lip. “Dammit, focus!”
She opened her eyes, and Sigmund grinned.
“Did I lose you for a moment there, Frankie?”
“Sorry.”
“I suppose Jake and I aren’t the best when it comes to girl talk…”
“No, you’re great.” She put her hand on Sigmund’s knee. “I love you guys. It just…none of this feels right without the Scoobies. All of the Scoobies.”
Sigmund put his hand over hers. Then he slapped it bracingly. “Want to pack this in and go get some frozen yogurt?”
“Sure,” Frankie said. “Right after we save Sam.”
“What?”
“Sam.” Frankie pointed through the windshield to the park below as Sam ran past the base of the green, sloping hill, screaming as he was tailed by three vampires. Jake wasn’t far behind, and as he passed, he turned to the car and shouted.
“Frankie! Get your slayer butt down here!”
“Well.” Frankie opened her door. “I guess that’s the signal.”
“It was so subtle; are you sure?” Sigmund asked, deadpan.
Frankie raced down the slope, parallel to the nearest pursuing vampire, and launched herself onto his back. The pair of them went down rolling, and ahead, Jake followed her lead, leaping upon the next vampire with a snarl. With Sam acting as bait there was no time for fancy footwork, so she pulled out a stake as she and the vampire rolled, eventually angling it up between them, toward his chest. When she rolled on top his yellow eyes opened in surprise, and then she fell through his dust to the ground.
Frankie sprang up and looked around for Jake.
The vampire he was grappling with was much larger than he was, which was saying something.
“Jake!”
“I’m okay!” He waved her away. “Sam. Go after Sam!”
She turned, eyes following Sam as he wheeled around the park, screaming loudly so they’d always know where he was. He was in trouble, but he was fast, and Frankie couldn’t leave Jake. The full moon was weeks away; the time when even Whoops Werewolf Babies were at their weakest. The super-sized vampire grabbed Jake by the shoulder and leg and lifted him high overhead.
