Slayers: Friends and Traitors

by C. J. Hill

  Dirk swore again and stalked out of the kitchen.

  “Dinner is ready!” Cassie called after him. “You need to eat something before you leave!”

  How could she do that—talk about kidnapping his friends in one breath and act all motherly and concerned in the next?

  Dirk went to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of shoes from his closet. While he was putting them on, Dr. B called his watch-phone. Dirk stared at it in dread. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want any of this to happen.

  Seconds went by. Dr. B wouldn’t think it was odd that he hadn’t answered. The Slayers were supposed to go to private locations before they answered their phones.

  He shut his eyes and repeated the mantra he had been saying since he got home from camp: It’s better for my friends to lose their memories now than their lives later. I’m helping them, not hurting them.

  Dirk hit the receiver button. “Hello?”

  “I have bad news,” Dr. B said. His normally calm voice had an edge to it, a fear that seeped through despite his best efforts. “Overdrake’s men captured Alyssa.”

  Alyssa. His father had taken Alyssa, not Tori. Dirk shouldn’t have felt relieved at the news, but did anyway. He needed to respond—a Slayer response. Surprised. Upset. “How do you know they have her?”

  “She turned on her watch-phone while it was happening. I heard it.”

  “Why didn’t you call the rest of us for backup?” It was a real question, one sprinkled with agony. If Dirk had left home before his father called him, Dirk might have been able to avoid his father’s instructions. It was a small thing, and probably pointless, but he would have felt better not being a part of the trap.

  “Alyssa was too far away and it happened too fast. I’m putting out a call for everyone to assemble.” Dr. B paused. “Overdrake hasn’t drugged Alyssa yet because he wants her to give him information about the rest of the Slayers. We can attempt a rescue, but…” His voice faltered as though he couldn’t say more.

  “But what?” Dirk asked.

  Even over the receiver Dirk heard the low breath Dr. B let out, a breath punctured with worry. “How can I send the rest of you into danger?”

  “Uh, isn’t that pretty much the point of being a Slayer? We go into danger.”

  “I’ve told you all along that you need to know when to cut your losses. You need to think about things logically—and yet I can’t. Alyssa is alone, afraid, and Overdrake will hurt her if she doesn’t cooperate. How can we stand by and do nothing?”

  Dirk slipped his shoes on. “We’ll think of a way to help her.”

  Dr. B didn’t seem to hear him. “If anything happens to the rest of you, though—you could be killed. What would I tell your parents—that I trained you to do these sorts of things, that I purposely put you in harm’s way?”

  Dirk tied one set of laces, careful not to break them this time. “None of us will be killed.” His father had promised that. “And you’re not putting us in harm’s way. We vote on these things. It’s always our choice. You’ve just trained us so we know how to use our powers.”

  A pause, and then Dr. B let out a resigned sigh. “I’d better put out the call to the other Slayers.”

  In another moment the call would end. Dirk suddenly realized this might be his last chance to talk to Dr. B privately before everything changed. “Dr. B…,” Dirk said, and then couldn’t think of what to say next—how to put it best. “Anything that happens later on—none of it is your fault. You’re a great leader. You’ve always been my role model. I just wanted you to know that.”

  It was probably a suspicious thing to blurt out. Dirk never got sentimental. Dr. B didn’t question it, though. “Thank you,” he said. “You’re a good captain. You’ve always been like a son to me. You should know that, too.”

  Dirk did. That’s what made this so hard.

  CHAPTER 17

  While Tori’s mom assembled the kids in the front of the room for story time, Tori and Aprilynne set things on the tables. When the kids were done listening to stories, they would come back here and paint pumpkins to look like jack-o’-lanterns.

  Aprilynne placed paintbrushes on a table. “So what time is your party?”

  “What party?” Tori asked.

  “You must be planning on going somewhere or you wouldn’t keep checking your watch.”

  Tori set out bottles of glow-in-the-dark paint on the center of a table. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just … I think my watch might be breaking. It’s making odd noises.” She added the last part in case any more alarms went off.

  “Well, what did you expect?” Aprilynne asked. “It’s a piece of junk.” As she put a water cup by a seat, she sent Tori a sly smile. “I bet if you asked Roland, he would get you a nice watch for your birthday.”

  Tori kept her voice low. “Roland and I are just friends.” Tori didn’t add that Roland wasn’t happy about that fact and kept trying to change their status.

  “Hmm,” Aprilynne said, moving around the table with the cups. “Does the fact that you’re just friends have something to do with the hot blond guy who appeared on your phone?”

  Tori sent Aprilynne a sharp look. “You shouldn’t snoop around on my phone.”

  “It’s not snooping. It’s sisterly love. So, are the two of you some sort of item?”

  Tori picked up the water pitcher and poured a small amount into one of the cups. “I’m not sure. Things are complicated between us.”

  “Oh,” Aprilynne said, her interest peaked. She loved drama and didn’t understand why Tori didn’t date with the same gusto for the sport that she had.

  “It’s never as complicated as you think,” Aprilynne said. “What sort of car does he drive?”

  “A Porsche.”

  “Go for him.”

  Tori laughed. Aprilynne had a completely different standard for judging guys than she did. A low, insistent beep from Tori’s watch cut her laughter short. She felt frozen for a moment, standing there with the water pitcher in her hand. That alarm meant there was an emergency situation. The number one showed up on her watch face. The code to go to the exhibit room at the Jefferson Memorial.

  Had Jesse been attacked again? Was it something worse?

  At the thought of danger, Tori’s senses grew even sharper. The smell of paint punched through the air; her mother’s voice intensified. Tori noticed the fan vents pushing warm air into the room and heard the rustle of Aprilynne’s costume as she moved around the table.

  Tori had to answer Dr. B’s call with a code of her own, telling him that she could come now, come later and meet up with the Slayers wherever they were at the time, or not come at all. Her gaze swept over the crowd of kids. Her parents were both busy right now. She couldn’t ask them if she could leave. What excuse could she come up with anyway? Her parents wanted her help with the party and it would go on for another hour or two.

  Then again, if Dr. B needed to gather the Slayers together, something was wrong. Something important. Tori couldn’t wait out the party, go home with her parents, and then turn around and drive back to downtown D.C. The George Washington University Hospital was within walking distance from the Jefferson Memorial.

  Tori pushed in her reply. “I’ve got to go,” she told Aprilynne. “Cover for me with Mom and Dad until I get back.”

  Aprilynne sent her a humorless glare and kept putting cups on the table. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “It’s an emergency.” Tori looked down at her costume. Was there a way to look less conspicuous? Her jacket was locked in the hospital director’s office. She wouldn’t be able to get it.

  “An emergency?” Aprilynne put one hand on her hip. “Tori, I heard your watch alarm go off. You must have set it to let you know when you needed to leave. That’s not an emergency, that’s called ditching. Where are you going?”

  Tori checked to make sure her cell phone was still tucked inside her pocket. “Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be back in a little while. If I don’t get back be
fore the party ends, tell them I’ll take a cab to the house. They don’t need to worry about me.”

  Aprilynne continued to glare at her. “Oh, I don’t think worry is the emotion they’ll be feeling.”

  Tori took a step away, and then turned back to her sister. She was so on edge she wasn’t thinking straight. “Can I borrow some money for cab fare home?”

  Aprilynne rolled her eyes, then reached for the purse that was slung around her Snow White costume—a small bag shaped like an apple. “You’re lucky this went so well with my outfit that I wore it.” She pulled out three twenties and handed them to Tori. “Is the hot guy going to be at your emergency?”

  “Yes, actually.”

  “Well, at least it’s for a good cause then.”

  Tori didn’t say more. She walked out of the room, past the security detail, and into the hallway. She didn’t look back until she was outside.

  * * *

  It was quarter to four when Tori walked around the tidal basin to the Jefferson Memorial. The trees lining the walkway were beginning to lose their leaves. Small puddles of them were gathered under their shade, a reminder that autumn was here. Cold air pushed against her legs and exposed midriff. She wished she’d chosen a warmer costume. Something that covered all of her thighs. This was why girls should want to become astronauts, doctors, and scientists. None of them had to wear miniskirts.

  Tori’s cell phone rang. It was her parents’ ring tone. She didn’t answer. They would only chew her out for leaving and tell her to come back.

  Not many people were milling around the monument. The ones that were, all stared at her as she went by. Yes, she wanted to say, I’m here on superhero matters. Go about your business, citizens.

  This was one more thing to thank Overdrake for.

  Tori made her way to the underground exhibit beneath the rotunda. A few people browsed through the bookstore at the other end. A couple people sat in the room where the Thomas Jefferson videos played. A few more stood in the hallway outside these two places reading the timeline of Jefferson’s life displayed on the wall.

  None of the other Slayers had arrived yet. Procedure dictated that Tori keep a low profile until Dr. B and the others assembled. Hard to do in a Supergirl outfit. She glanced at the doors that led outside, one on each end of the hallway, then turned and read the plaques that hung high on the walls.

  The last hope of human liberty in this world rests on us—Thomas Jefferson, 1811.

  She smiled. That quote, she supposed, was the reason Dr. B had chosen the monument as the Slayers’ first meeting place. He wanted them to read that phrase while they waited. She walked down the hallway a bit. Another plaque read: Knowledge is power … knowledge is happiness.

  That quote didn’t engender the same response. It reminded Tori of a conversation she’d had with Overdrake during their confrontation.

  They had been in the forest, both high in tree branches. She had a rifle trained on him—which wasn’t much of a threat since he was dressed completely in bulletproof clothing. He talked to her, not because he was afraid of her, but because he wanted to taunt her.

  He didn’t insult her. He was too smart for that. Tori would have ignored insults and forgotten them before she went to sleep that night. Overdrake spoke in riddles, and those repeated endlessly through her mind as she tried to figure them out.

  “Who is your source?” she had asked, her rifle held firmly in her hand. “How do you know things about me?”

  “You go to one of those private elitist schools, don’t you?” he called back to her. “Let’s see if the tuition is worth it. Do you know what the sign in the Greek temple of Delphi says?”

  “No littering. In six languages. I went there last summer. Now answer my question.”

  “The sign says, Know thyself.”

  She thought he was stalling. She’d already shot one tree branch from underneath him. He’d only managed to keep himself from plunging twenty feet to the ground by flipping through the air and landing on another branch. “Okay,” she said, “I know I don’t have a lot of patience.” She looked into the sight of her rifle, aiming at the tree branch he stood on. “You might not be so lucky the next time you fall.”

  Overdrake shook his head. She couldn’t see his expression through his helmet, but somehow still knew it was condescending. “When you understand yourself, you’ll be a lot closer to figuring out who my source is.”

  It made no sense. The one thing she knew was that she wasn’t his source.

  “Who are you, Victoria Hampton?” he’d asked. “Where do you come from?”

  Where did she come from? She came from Virginia. She came from a home that, despite her father’s political position, was remarkably normal. Two kids and a dog. How did any of that have to do with Overdrake’s source?

  Tori didn’t speak to him for long after that. She went to fight the dragon. When that was done, Overdrake was gone.

  Tori knew he never meant to give her any information. He was only trying to get her to doubt herself. She ought to have been able to dismiss his words as easily as insults. Heaven knew she brushed off enough of those in high school.

  But maybe that’s why Overdrake’s comments bothered her. Average people spat out random insults. The smart ones, the ones that really wanted to hurt you, they mixed truth in with their insults. Those were the barbs that penetrated and stung.

  So what was the truth in Overdrake’s words?

  Tori knew who she was. She was a Slayer. She was a person who cared about her country and would fight for it.

  She moved around the room, reading a history of Jefferson that hung on the wall. She sensed Dirk before she saw him. He was walking up behind her. “Nice costume. I’m glad to see you kept my advice about being careful and staying home today.”

  She turned and smiled at him. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket. His hair was shorter than the last time she’d seen him, the summer highlights gone. He was as handsome as ever, though—more actually, because now when she looked at him she didn’t just see his perfectly formed features and light blue eyes; she saw the weeks of texts he’d written her. Funny ones, caring ones, ones that asked her out to dinner at La Niçoise so she could show the staff she was making progress with him.

  Without saying a word, Tori hugged him. She would have hugged any of her friends from camp. Dirk held on to her for longer than normal, and she let him. It felt good to see him again.

  He ran his hand along her cape. “Where were you today that you needed this?”

  Tori pulled away from him. “I was helping my parents throw a party for some kids at a hospital.”

  “Giving candy to babies,” he said, still looking her over. “That’s probably why your father scores so high with the four-to-eight-year-old constituents.” Dirk smiled as he said this, but Tori could sense the tension in him. The worry.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Dirk put his hands in his pockets. “Dr. B will give us the details when he gets here. We’ll feel the simulator when he gets close.”

  Tori had asked what was wrong with Dirk, why he was so tense. She didn’t clarify herself, though. He was probably just nervous about the mission. She was, too.

  She took the edges of her cape and wrapped them around herself. “This is the real reason superheroes wear capes. You’ve got to have something to keep you warm when your outfit consists of twelve inches of material.”

  She had expected Dirk to laugh. Instead he took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The gesture was so sweet she didn’t even make a token refusal. “Thanks,” she said, and slid her arms into the jacket, enjoying the warmth. It smelled like his cologne. It felt like putting on a hug.

  “Oh,” he said, “I’d better get my phone.”

  He slipped his hand into the pocket to retrieve his phone. He was so close. She wanted him to be close and at the same time didn’t. The rest of the Slayers were on their way. Jesse was on his way. That thought alone brought up a wh
irlwind of emotion inside her. This wasn’t the time for her and Dirk to figure out what their relationship was.

  Dirk put his phone into his pants pocket and looked around for other Slayers. A few more people had wandered inside the exhibit hall. No one Tori recognized.

  “I’m sure more of us are coming,” she told Dirk. “They’ll be here soon.” Dr. B knew who had replied. The rest of the Slayers didn’t.

  Dirk was silent as some tourists walked past them to the door, then said, “This is one of those times when we could use Ryker. Did your dad have any luck finding him?”

  Tori hesitated. She didn’t like keeping things from Dirk. “That’s still up in the air.”

  “I called every listing for an Allen Davis in San Diego, Denver, and Crown Heights. Each time somebody answered, I asked to speak to Ryker.” Dirk shook his head. “No one had heard of him.”

  “You did that?” It was touching and sad to think of Dirk calling all those people, each time hoping to speak to Ryker.

  “I even searched some older records, in case they had gotten rid of their landline. I thought maybe I could find an address.”

  Tori had to tell Dirk something. Next he’d drive to the cities and go on a door-to-door search. She stepped closer to Dirk and lowered her voice. If any of the other Slayers came in, she didn’t want them to hear this. “His dad’s name isn’t actually Allen. He’s one of those guys who goes by his middle name. You should have been looking for a Charles Davis—although it wouldn’t have done you any good. Their phone number is unlisted.”

  Dirk straightened, surprised. “You found Ryker’s address?”

  She paused, didn’t answer.

  “Tori—” Dirk prompted.

  “You have to promise not to be mean to him.”

  Dirk lifted an eyebrow. “I’m never mean to anybody.”

  “How many times last summer did you throw Lilly into the lake?”

  “That wasn’t mean,” Dirk insisted. “If you use all the hot water in the showers, you get thrown in the lake. It’s a posted rule.”