E.V.I.E.: 13 Slayers, 13 Missions

by Lexi C. Foss

  “I have learned a valuable lesson tonight,” I told her. No effort was made to disguise the new venom in my voice. “All acts of good faith are unfounded, no matter how sincere. I should thank you. You’re an excellent teacher.”

  Alex turned to me. Her eyes were a maelstrom of emotions; fury, regret, confusion. “Damien—”

  I didn’t let her finish. What she had to say was no longer of any consequence. Her position had been made extremely clear. “There’s no time,” I said, as I backed away from her. “You’ve made your choice.” She opened her mouth to say something else, but I slipped away into the shadows. The girl on the stairs had built up quite a head of steam as she barreled down to the sand. She leapt from the last landing. Her knee dug a trench in the shore where she landed.

  Secure in the darkness, all but invisible to mortal eyes, I became a quiet spectator—I was trapped there, after all. The second girl was too impetuous to be seen as a threat, but I had gained a now-sour respect for Alex. The two of them together was hardly a battle I wanted to take, especially on a night I hadn’t intended to fight at all.

  The longer I watched, the more I wondered if my initial judgement had been correct. The two women stood apart, sizing each other up. They started to circle like predators. Alex’s hair tossed in the wind like a banner of war. Her posture spoke of rigid discipline, the mentality of a soldier.

  “What the fuck are you doing here, Brina?” Her voice, tight with anger, carried across the empty beach.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” The one called Brina took down her hood, revealing a tide of pale pink hair. She matched Alex’s movements with a similar grace that was easy, if not quite as effortless. A junior slayer?

  Alex shook her head. “No. It’s none of your business.”

  Brina laughed. “Yeah. I thought that’s what you’d say, and you know what? I don’t blame you. I’d lie too, if I was caught out that bad.”

  Alex’s face darkened. Her body coiled downward into a powerful spring. I saw the metallic flash of something with an edge in her hand. She roared as she pounced, the sound carrying out to see on the wings of the brisk night wind.

  Had I been a betting man, I knew where my money would have gone.

  13

  Alex

  The rage was blinding. Under ordinary circumstances, with my customary level head, I would never have leapt at another slayer the way I flew at Brina. My logical brain disappeared under a tsunami of mortified fury. She’d been standing pretty far away, but it was impossible to know exactly how much she had seen, or what she was able to infer.

  All I knew was that this girl was playing spy, following me around, probably trying to find out what I was doing. I’d liked her well enough when we first met. I saw a lot of myself in her. Now, as I arced down toward her, I had never disliked a person more. Hate was still too strong a word. Even in my current state, I understood she was doing what she thought was her job. And I could respect that, to a point.

  “Jesus!” Brina jumped backward, out of the trajectory of my strike. I touched down hard on the rocky shore, much like she had minutes ago. The pebbles dug into my knee, their rounded edges saving me and the intact denim of my jeans from grievous injury. She was staring at the hand that was outstretched for balance. “Is that a knife?”

  I looked just to make sure. “Yeah. Does it scare you?” The irony of how much I suddenly sounded like Damien wasn’t lost on me—it fueled my annoyance.

  “You wish.” Brina flipped her own weapon up from where it had been inconspicuously hanging at her belt. It looked like an unimpressive baton until she flicked the end outward into a staff, dwarfing my hunting blade. I had a flash of lucidity then, outside myself looking in on the situation we had created. There I was, Alex Brighton, about to mess up or get messed up on a moonlit beach off of Puget Sound. How romantic.

  “Not really,” I said. “Doesn’t matter if you’re scared or not. It’ll still do the job.” Of course I didn’t really want to kill her, but I hadn’t meant to make out with a vampire either. God, if she had seen that, I was done for. That was the kind of thing that couldn’t be left as water under the bridge.

  Fraternizing with the enemy. Maybe a little more than fraternizing.

  “Fine.” Brina eyed me evenly. True to her word, her brown eyes held no fear. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The sound my knife made as it glanced off of her staff cut the air, shattering the lull of the seascape like a hammer on a plate glass window. Sparks flew from the edge of the blade. Brina didn’t flinch. She shoved me back with more power in her arms than I expected. The next thing I saw was that staff coming down at my head.

  I rolled out of the way, sprayed by clumps of sand. She pivoted on her feet and jabbed at me. The tip of her weapon missed my ribs by about half an inch.

  “I’m not actually going to hurt you, Alex,” she said. “Just so that’s clear.”

  I sprang to my feet. “Admit it. You’ve been stalking me since the police department.”

  “Come on.” She took a wide swing at my head, which I ducked. The staff skimmed the top of my hair at lightning speed. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t pulling all her punches. “I think that’s a very harsh assessment.”

  “How else would you have known to find me here?” With my right hand, I grabbed her staff as it swung back toward my face. The sudden canceling of inertia nearly wrenched her off her feet, though her grip held. I dove for her legs. “You were watching me the whole time.”

  “Not the whole time!” Her attempt to sidestep me was foiled by a dip in the packed sand. In the corner of my vision, her ankle rolled slightly. She grunted. “I had to catch up with you first.”

  “Aha!” The allowance made me feel a little vindicated. “Caught you slipping, huh?” She hit the ground beside me, and I used the point of my knife to poke her between the shoulder blades.

  Brina twisted around to look at me, her face scrunched with displeasure. “That’s fucking rude, Alex. I didn’t touch you when I drew ‘first blood.’”

  “Maybe you should have.” I pushed her forward onto her face, one hand planted securely on her back. “At least I didn’t run you through.”

  “I’m a little disappointed,” she shot back. Her grin was obvious, even though I couldn’t see her expression. “Could it be you’re not as tough as you wanted me to think?”

  “Yeah, right. More like I’m not a goddamn idiot.” I pinned Brina’s arm behind her and sat on her back. The cold steel of my knife lay flat against her forearm, where I knew she could feel it. “You know how much trouble I’d be in if the Org found out I murdered another slayer?”

  “That’s the beauty of going solo.” Brina’s voice was mildly muffled. She wriggled around beneath me in an attempt to get as comfortable as I would let her. “Listen, I know you’re pissed at me, but I’d really prefer not to have that arm amputated due to blood loss, okay?”

  I shifted my weight just enough to give her a modicum of relief. Neither of us said a word for a minute or two. I was the one who broke first. “If I ever catch you skulking around my business again, I’ll take off your arm myself.” My voice was sweet and cheerful to mask the resentment still bubbling right below the surface. It was going down, but slowly.

  “I get it.” Brina paused. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “Watch your mouth.” I gave her arm a mean little twist. Not enough to break it, just enough that she couldn’t ignore it. She winced.

  “You’re deceptively mean, you know that?”

  “No, I’m not.” Reluctantly, I let her up, moving off to the side to sit in the sand. It was going to get all over my pants, but I didn’t care. “I don’t like having my personal boundaries stomped on, that’s all.”

  Brina snorted. “Why are you talking about him like he’s some guy you met on a dating site?” She turned her head to look at me. “Seriously. I know who he is. And what he is.”

  “Congratulations,” I said flatly. The word hung in t
he air, lifeless.

  She kept on looking at me. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but it’s a bad idea. You’re getting too close and you know it. That’s why you’re mad.”

  I pressed my lips into a line so thin they almost disappeared. The hand she couldn’t see knotted into a fist, digging a handful of pebbles out of the shore. Indignation swelled in my chest, the righteous kind. This girl was way too young and dumb, with her cotton-candy hair and those huge dark eyes. She was a rookie. I did not appreciate her cutting insight.

  “Maybe I’m irritated with you because I was getting somewhere before you showed up,” I hissed. “Whoever taught you subterfuge ought to be fired yesterday.”

  Brina exhaled forcefully. “I’m the bad guy now,” she said, “but you’ll thank me later. Someone’s got to tell you when you’re screwing up.”

  She talked to me like I was a kid again, being scolded by my mom, and the memory made me want to jump out of my skin. I stood up so fast the world spun for a second. A flurry of wet sand rained down at my feet. “When I want your opinion, I’ll let you know,” I said without looking at her. “Until then, stay out of my way.”

  Brina didn’t respond for a long time. I stood there, my arms crossed over my chest, fully aware of my own pettiness. I basked in it even as I silently berated myself for stooping so low. Not in a very long time had someone managed to push my buttons so effectively. There was no younger sister in my life, but if there was, I imagined she would be a carbon copy of Brina.

  At long last, she sighed deeply. “Fine. Be careful, Alex. That’s all I’m trying to say.” She got to her feet. I heard the distinctive metallic scrape of her staff telescoping back into itself. “I don’t have to tell you how dangerous he really is.”

  I closed my eyes, willing calmness and serenity into my soul. “Whatever you want from him, it’s going to have to wait until I’ve done my thing. Until then, you’re not getting shit.”

  Brina went back up the way she came nimbly, like a cat. She gave no indication that she had heard my parting salvo, but I chose to believe that she did. After she was gone, I stayed on the edge of the beach as the tide crept in and wondered where Damien had gone. Home, most likely. Into a room enclosed by blackout curtains to marinate in his anger at me.

  A sliver of guilt sliced away at my conscience for unknown reasons. It was shameful, really. Me, a fully trained slayer, representative of my storied family tree, feeling bad that I let a college brat sneak up on us. I should have been paying more attention, been tuned into my bracelet. I should have expected her to show up; it wasn’t that hard a prediction to make.

  Still, I hadn’t done any of that, and as a result, I looked like a fool. What’s more, I might have lost the single most promising lead since the murder occurred. However stubbornly that door had been creaking open, it was firmly closed now.

  “Great,” I muttered into the salty breeze. I’d been out there long enough that the wind started to numb the apples of my cheeks. Nothing about the godforsaken night had gone according to plan. It was time to admit a sad defeat and make my way home. But first, I checked and double-checked to make sure no one had lingered.

  The first thing I saw when I walked into my bedroom was the note Damien had sent, lying discarded on my bedspread. I picked it up, read the words in his odd, spidery hand, and then crumpled it up. It was impossible to shake the feeling that I’d just missed a major breakthrough, steered off course at the very last moment by Brina’s untimely arrival.

  I snatched a pillow off the bed, tossed it in the air, and punched it down. If I never laid eyes on Brina Adams again in my life, it might be too damn soon.

  14

  Damien

  I should have seen it coming. In hindsight, even bothering to meet with a slayer at all, let alone initiating contact myself, seemed like a massive waste of time. Perhaps that was why it stung to know I had failed, that my moment of good faith had been utterly misplaced. At that moment, the rift between the hunters and the hunted looked unhealable.

  The only consolation was that I still had Caleb’s relic. And now I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it. The rest of that dismal night was spent stewing in bitterness and resolving never to let my feelings override my judgement again. The best thing to do was wash my hands of the whole situation, despite whatever promises I had made. If Caleb didn’t like it, I would deal with him personally.

  My father’s study was on the second floor, overlooking the courtyard. I saw him standing at the window as I approached, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out at the moon. His brow was knit in contemplation, but when I knocked, he turned immediately toward the door.

  “Damien. What do you need?” His suspicious surveillance had eased somewhat since nothing had come of the murder investigation, but I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I hoped that what I was about to do might help things further—at least in the long run.

  “I have something to give you,” I said, inclining my head. “For safekeeping.”

  He regarded me wordlessly. The man had a face like a marble statue, completely devoid of expression. It was one of the ways in which he most effectively wielded his power, by remaining immovable under any circumstances. Finally, he said, “This is interesting. Let me see it.”

  “Yes, sir.” I took out the watch, holding it out in my palm. The moment my father’s eyes landed upon it, they widened, and then narrowed. He stepped forward and took the chain in his fingers. “This is…” He glanced at me. “Is this what I believe it is?”

  “I’ve been told it’s a relic. As far as its function, I don’t know.” The study of the relics was complicated and imprecise. Very often, it was difficult to determine the affect a given relic could have on its wielder. Some held negligible amounts of power. Others, however, had the potential to be devastating.

  Father held the watch up to the light. It spun slowly on the end of the chain. To the naked eye, it seemed like any other antique. If not for the potent sense of foreboding I’d experienced when I tried to reset it, I might never have suspected anything unusual.

  “Where did you get this?” my father asked carefully. His piercing gaze flicked back to my face, scouring for hints of deception. Should he discover that I was lying to him, there would be punishment.

  I took a deep breath. Was I willing to risk my own skin in order to cover for Caleb? When I was standing face to face with our father, the relic literally dangling between us, I found the answer was no. “Caleb sent it to me,” I said. “He asked me to keep it.”

  “I see.” Father lowered the watch into his hand, felt its weight, closed his fingers over the top. “And did he happen to mention where he had acquired such a thing?”

  I shook my head. “Only that he feared having it with him in Oak Harbor. I think the vault is the safest place for it now.”

  “That is correct. It is the safest place for all items of this volatile nature, as I have striven to teach you. I’m glad at least one of my children has learned this valuable lesson.” He nodded approvingly and patted me on the shoulder. “You have done well, Damien. And perhaps so has Caleb…in his own way.” A momentary shadow of annoyance crossed Father’s face. “I will see to it that the relic is transported. Thank you.”

  I stayed long enough to see him lock the watch away in a drawer, and then he turned his back on me, which was his way of indicating that the conversation was over. My mission accomplished, I retreated back to my rooms. There was one other person to notify of what I had done, and although Caleb would not be pleased, I figured I’d ultimately done little harm. As a Leclair, he could access the vault if he really wanted to.

  “Hello?” Caleb spoke in a whisper on the other end of the line, and I remembered too late that he was having to keep human hours. “Damien? Is everything okay?”

  “I gave the relic to Father,” I said bluntly. After a night that had already been full of bullshit, I did not intend to beat around the bush. “He’s sending it to the vault.”

&nbs
p; “What?” Caleb’s voice rose sharply. I heard the creaking of mattress springs, followed by his footsteps and the sharp closing of a door. “Why the hell did you do that? I told you not to tell anyone!”

  I frowned, even though he couldn’t see me. “Come on. He still doesn’t know how you got it or where it came from. And I would rather have it secure in the vault than lying around my room.”

  Caleb groaned. “You don’t understand, Damien. I gave it to you instead of him because I think there’s something different about it. It’s not like the others.”

  That gave me pause. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t explain it exactly, but the watch is…it’s weird. Doesn’t look like much, but every time I tried to mess with any of its workings, I felt like I was about to make a major mistake.” He let out his breath, obviously distressed. “It could be unstable. There’s no telling how it will react in close proximity to other relics, and now it’s going out to the vault.”

  I could have punched him. “Don’t even think about pinning this on me, Caleb. You could have said one word about this instead of nothing at all when you brought it here.” The fact that he had purposefully made so many glaring omissions added to my looming regret about pretty much everything. “Anyway, it’s too late. I can’t just tell Father I made a mistake and ask for it back.”

  “But what if there’s a disaster?” Caleb said quietly. “What if they open the vault and the whole thing goes up in smoke? The watch could be a ticking time bomb, for all we know.”

  I gritted my teeth. The whole catastrophe was all Caleb’s fault, every last bit of it, but I couldn’t deny the merit of his words. Losing the vault would be an unmitigated disaster. Our wealth, our treasures, the artifacts gathered by generations of Leclairs—gone. We would be ruined. All of us.