The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill: First Kill

by Heather Brewer

  Chazz shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. “Keep your skirt on. We’re talking.”

  Joss had to hide his grin. It was hard to believe that he could become so broken the night before, only to find himself truly enjoying himself the very next morning—after hardly any sleep, and tortured sleep at that.

  Chazz said, “Now, look around the clearing. There isn’t much to see. No stones, no sticks. Not really anything that can be used as a weapon. But there’s something we can use to our advantage. Any guesses what that might be? What do we have in abundance?”

  Joss swept the clearing with his eyes. One thing stood out above the rest. “Dirt. Lots of it.”

  With a nod, Chazz said, “And with a handful of that, an opponent can be momentarily blinded. Long enough to escape or to subdue them in another way.”

  Amazement filled Joss. These were things he never would have thought to look for before. Who paid attention to what type of clothing an opponent was wearing, or what clever use of dirt one could apply? Only a skilled fighter, it seemed.

  Chazz straightened his shoulders and took a step closer to Cratian. “Okay, we’re ready now. Or do you need a few extra minutes to fix your hair, pretty boy?”

  Cratian shook his head, a smile on his face, and rushed at Chazz. Before he could make contact, Chazz reached down and whipped a handful of dirt into Cratian’s eyes. Cratian cupped his face and swore loudly, swinging blindly with his fists. Joss dodged out of the way, but kept a keen eye on the scene before him. As Cratian stumbled, his eyes watering, Chazz whipped around him in a circle and caught Cratian in the knee with his foot. An audible crack came just seconds before another foul word escaped Cratian’s lips. Breathless, Chazz beamed at Joss. “And that ... is how you handle a loud-mouthed buffoon with an attitude problem.”

  After allowing Cratian a few moments to calm down, Chazz and Joss helped him to his feet. Joss wondered aloud, “Think Sirus will have enough time to bandage that knee before we head into town?”

  Chazz glanced down at the affected leg. “Sirus will make time, I’m sure of it.”

  Through gritted teeth, Cratian said, “Chazz, you are so dead the next time we face off. But thanks for teaching our little brother here all your dirty tricks. He’ll need ’em.”

  Chazz and Joss exchanged smiles. Then they moved down the hill, toward the cabin. Despite the excitement, a yawn snuck up on Joss, and he stretched as well as he could with a grown man weighing down his right shoulder. Maybe, he hoped, there was time for a nap before their trek to town.

  A nap, he hoped, without dreams.

  16

  CONFRONTING THE BEAST

  Joss studied the Slayer Society manual for a while, waiting for eight in the morning to come. He hadn’t slept, but just lying down seemed to be enough to rest him. He’d just gotten to an interesting chapter on drudges—or vampires’ human slaves—when his stomach rumbled loudly. He bounded out of bed and headed down the stairs after a quick shower, a full hour before Sirus said he’d wake him. He wasn’t exactly sure what had filled him with the peculiar energy—maybe it was the adrenaline rush of early-morning training—but he was in a good mood, that much was for certain. He mused that maybe it was the fact that his uncle had been enormously challenging to him in the past few days, and Joss had been man enough to rise to the occasion—something that likely surprised Abraham as much as it did Joss. But part of it—a small part, he was certain—was probably because he’d get to hang out with Kat today. And even if the very idea of friendship scared him, he was kind of excited about the mere possibility of having someone to call his friend. Even if she did ask a lot of questions that he couldn’t answer. Even if she was a girl.

  Sirus turned his eyes toward Joss as he made his way into the kitchen. Joss shrugged. “Any way I can get another omelet before we go to town?”

  “Not a problem. It’s good to see you have an appetite.” Sirus quickly, but happily, set an omelet pan on the stove and started organizing his ingredients.

  Joss grabbed a small glass from the cupboard and poured himself some orange juice. As he put it to his lips and sipped, he looked across the room to Sirus, who was busying himself at the stove. “Easy to have an appetite when you cook such great food, Sirus.”

  A smile settled on Sirus’s lips as he turned to face Joss. “Thank you, Joss.”

  Sirus made him the most delectable cheese and ham omelet known to mankind, along with a side of crispy hash browns. Joss had just swallowed a second mouthful of hash-brown goodness when he cast a glance around the room and noticed that no one had joined them or even shuffled through the house since he’d been downstairs. “Where is everyone?”

  Sirus shrugged as he filled the omelet pan with soapy water to soak for a bit before washing. “Our fellow Slayers have already started their day.”

  Joss chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “But ... where did they go? What do you all do when there’s not a new Slayer around to train?”

  The air around Sirus seemed to fill with tension, as if Joss were entering into semidangerous territory, but Joss couldn’t understand why. He was just curious. When Sirus spoke, though, it was casual and calm, without the smallest hint of tension. Maybe Joss had been reading too much into it. After all, he had been going through a lot lately, and getting a read on others’ emotions when you’ve been run ragged is too much to ask of anyone. Sirus was fine. It was just his wildly overactive imagination. Probably. “They’re searching for a hive—that’s what we call a base of operations for creatures of the night. There’s been evidence over the years that the hive is somewhere in this area of the Catskills, but we haven’t narrowed its precise location down yet, I’m afraid.”

  Joss scooped another forkful of the delicious, steaming omelet into his mouth and chewed. The cheese was so hot that it almost burned his tongue, but he couldn’t help but eat more. His parents’ idea of cooking was calling the local pizza joint. Apparently McMillans can do anything, except cook. His mom used to make a mean French toast but hadn’t done that since Cecile had died. “What happens when they find it?”

  Sirus was quiet for a while. He’d rinsed all of the pans and loaded the dishwasher before answering. That strange air of tension was back, and Joss began to wonder if Abraham had been onto something when he hinted at Sirus’s lack of loyalty to the cause. He wondered if it were possible, when one was older, if one decided that belonging to the Society was no longer in their best interest, to leave, to walk away from Slaying forever. He doubted it very much. Likely, the only way out was through death’s dark door. The thought sent a shiver up his spine. Sirus met his eyes—he looked exhausted, as if the subject were one he was tired of dealing with on a regular basis. “The hive will be set aflame. Any vampires who manage to escape will be destroyed.”

  “Why?” Curiosity filled Joss. Not that he disagreed that the task was necessary. He just wanted to know why exactly they were killing the beasts and not caging them up like animals at the zoo.

  “Why?” Sirus sighed deeply. “That, my friend, is a dangerous question. Questions, in fact, are all dangerous to ask of the Society, but ‘why’ is perhaps the most dangerous of all. You’d do well not to wonder why we do the things we do, Joss. Your job is not to question. Yours is to follow orders. ‘Why’ can get you in a lot of trouble.”

  Joss felt the fork slip from his fingers but couldn’t make himself grip it. He was leaning forward in his seat, eyes locked on Sirus, who seemed so close to telling him something important. He parted his lips and said, “Sirus ... did you ask ‘why’? Is that what made you change your mind about the Society?”

  Sirus’s eyes were very dark. He looked troubled. “It wasn’t the ‘why’ that did it, I’m afraid, my young friend. It was the reply that I received.”

  “What was the reply?”

  But it was too late. Sirus broke away from the darkness and smiled a pleasant smile over Joss’s right shoulder. “Good morning, Kat. Care for an omelet?”

  Kat
flopped into the chair next to Joss and laid her head on the table. Joss got the feeling she wasn’t much of a morning person. “If by ‘omelet’ you mean ‘Mountain Dew and a Snickers bar,’ I’m totally on board.”

  Sirus shook his head and reached for a clean pan, the hint of a smile on his lips. “An omelet it is.”

  “But, Sirus”—her voice was full of a whiny tone—“I don’t want eggs and cheese. What I want is sugar and caffeine.”

  He cracked two eggs into a mixing bowl and picked up a beater. “That’s not a healthy diet, Kat. You should eat a better breakfast, something high in protein. An omelet is just that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

  Joss found his fork again and continued eating.

  There was a clank on the side of the bowl as Sirus dropped the beater and turned to flash his daughter that don’t-mess-with-me parental look. The silence between them seemed to stretch on forever. Joss filled it with chewing his food and hoped that the awkward quiet between father and daughter would soon pass. It did, once Kat sighed dramatically and returned her head to the table.

  Sirus went back to cooking, tossing shredded cheddar, chopped onions, and diced bell peppers into the bowl. As he mixed the ingredients together, adding in bits of smoked ham and pepper jack cheese, he said, “Maybe we can pick up some Mountain Dew while we’re at the store today.”

  Kat turned her head toward Joss and smiled, then sat up again. “So what kind of supplies are we picking up today?”

  Sirus sprayed the pan with Pam and poured the egg mixture into it. “All kinds. Dairy, dry goods, meat, fruits, and vegetables. I’d like to get enough to get us through another two weeks, if possible. The men eat quite a bit, as you can imagine, and if I don’t stock up, I’ll be running into town every two or three days.”

  Joss finished cleaning his plate, took it to the sink, and rinsed it. As he turned to Sirus, he said, “Do you want me to make a list so we don’t forget anything?”

  Sirus flipped the omelet over with a spatula and nodded. “A novel concept, Joss. I was going to rely on my memory. But memories cannot always be trusted.”

  Joss grabbed a pad of paper from the counter and listed as many basics as he could think of, like eggs, milk, and cheese. Sirus added to the list, indicating how much of each they’d need to get for two weeks. By the time he’d reached the end of the list, he and Kat were adding their own list of supplies.

  “I think we could use six pounds of chocolate and a gallon of something heavily caffeinated to wash it all down, don’t you?”

  Joss laughed wildly, wiping a tear from his eye. It was almost as funny as the two-story tall bag of marshmallows he’d added just moments before. “A gallon? You’re thinking too small. This has to last us for two entire weeks. We’re gonna need an entire drum of something heavily caffeinated.”

  Kat tilted her head thoughtfully. “Does Mountain Dew come in drums?”

  This gave Joss pause. “I’m not sure.”

  He also wasn’t exactly sure where the Slayer Society got their funding for such things. Houses, food, medical supplies—who paid for it all and how? He’d approached the subject with Malek before but hadn’t gotten a straight answer, so his impression was that it was, frankly, none of his business. Not yet, anyway.

  Sirus had finished quietly cleaning up the kitchen, and turned back to them at last with a bemused smile on his face. “If you two are quite ready, we need to get into town. And no, I’m fairly certain that Mountain Dew does not come in drums.”

  Once outside, they piled into Sirus’s truck, and Kat put a scratched-up CD in the stereo. She turned the volume up really high and Sirus turned it back down a bit so their ears wouldn’t bleed. Joss wished very much that he could say he’d heard of the band they were listening to, but honestly, he had no idea who they were and why they seemed so determined that some guy named Bela Lugosi was dead.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the sparsely populated area that Sirus kept referring to as “town” and came to a stop in front of a small market that looked as though it had seen better days. Joss looked out the passenger-side window at the sticker-covered glass door and shook his head. It was highly doubtful that this small shop would have everything they needed, let alone a drum of Mountain Dew. He opened the door and stepped out, ready for a disappointing shopping trip.

  Sirus looked over the list. “Kat, you head over to the eatery and pick up muffins, bread, cookies, and crackers. Make certain you get two cheesecakes and maybe some sandwiches for tonight, if they have enough. I’m going to run a few errands and meet you both back here in an hour. Joss, you’re in charge of the rest of the list. Feel free to pick up a few treats for you and Kat.”

  Over Sirus’s shoulder, Kat mouthed “Mountain Dew,” and brought a smile to Joss’s face.

  Sirus glanced back at her with a question in his eyes before withdrawing several hundred dollars from his wallet and splitting it between the two of them. “Try to keep it under an hour, okay? Let’s make it snappy and get back to the cabin before lunch.”

  Joss gripped the list in his hand and pulled open the glass door to the store. As he stepped inside, a rather hairy man behind the counter grumped, “We got no meat today.”

  At first, Joss blinked. Then he wondered briefly whether or not he looked like the kind of person that desperately needed a steak or two. He looked at the man and said “Okay” before proceeding farther into the store.

  He looked over the list again and was surprised to find things like oranges and bananas in such a small shop like this, in the middle of nowhere. He could see only five aisles, but each of them was packed to the brim with items on Sirus’s list.

  There were no shopping carts to speak of, so Joss took his time filling one small handheld basket after another until he’d piled ten of them on the counter for checkout. The grumpy-looking man scanned everything and bagged it into six brown paper sacks. As he took the money from Joss, he spoke again, his voice only slightly less grumpy than before. “We’ll have meat tomorrow. If you’re interested.”

  Though he was extremely tempted to ask the man what it was about him that made him look like a guy with outrageous carnivorous needs, Joss merely nodded and retrieved his bags. “Thank you.”

  Someone that he couldn’t see opened the door for him and though he almost dropped all of the bags on his way to the truck, he somehow managed to set the bags in the back unscathed. After he did so, he breathed a loud sigh of relief and looked around the small parking lot. Kat and Sirus were nowhere to be found. He waited awhile before ducking his head back inside the store and checking the time. His shopping had taken just forty minutes, so he was a bit early yet.

  At the corner just up the street was a small tented booth, containing a table piled high with baked goods. Joss wandered over and smiled at the two little old ladies sitting behind it in lawn chairs. The rounder, blue-haired woman nudged the thinner, gray-haired one and smiled. “Oh, isn’t he precious? He reminds me of Bertha’s boy. What’s his name?”

  “Terrence? Or do you mean Thornton?”

  “No, the other boy! You know the one.” She smiled broadly at Joss and nodded. “You look just like him. Any relation?”

  Joss had to fight a chuckle. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t even know anyone named Bertha.”

  “Oh.” Her smile deflated some. “Well, that’s a shame. Bertha’s very nice. In fact, she usually donates to the bake sale every summer. Of course, this year she’s sick with something awful over at the hospital. What’s she got, Emmie? Bronchitis? Tuberculosis?”

  The other woman shook her head. “I don’t know. Something awful, that’s for sure.”

  “I hope she feels better soon.” Joss swept his eyes over the bags of cookies and various Saran Wrapped yumminess. “What’s the bake sale for?”

  The blue-haired woman puffed out her chest with pride. “We’re raising money for our library. Would you care for a brownie? They’re only a quarter.”r />
  Joss’s ears perked up. He loved libraries. Nowhere else in the world felt so safe and homey. Nowhere else smelled like books and dust and happy solitude quite like a library did. “Do you have two brownies?”

  “We have four. How many would you like?”

  As he walked away with all four brownies in his hands, Joss felt a peculiar warmth spread through him. In a strange way, coming to the Catskills for the summer had freed him and given him something that he couldn’t find within his own quiet home life. He’d found a challenge in Abraham, a mentor in Sirus, a friend in Kat, and strange sense of belonging in the sleepy little town of Phoenicia. And he was liking it more and more here. Yes, Abraham at times seemed to have it in for him, but he knew if he could just keep chipping away at that frosty exterior, he and his uncle could bond in a way that he had never been able to bond with any of the McMillan family—not even his cousin Henry. And yes, Kat was nosy and bossy, but she was also super funny and incredibly interesting. Joss was full of so much hope for the future, he felt his chest might burst.

  Then he turned his head and saw a familiar face peering out from behind the funeral home across the street. Dark, brooding. The face of a killer. It was the vampire who’d attacked Kat just two weeks before.

  Well, not attacked, exactly. But it had chased after her. It had scared the daylights out of her and had made him shake from the inside out. What was that thing doing still lurking around? It clearly knew that Sirus was a Slayer. Why stay in a town where people were out for your blood and hunting you? Why not move your so-called hive to a safer location? Joss didn’t know, couldn’t even fathom something resembling a sensible reason for putting your life in danger like that. But he was determined to find out.

  Plus ... he had been training lately, and his skills were developing nicely—even Sirus had said so. And what better way of impressing Uncle Abraham than taking down a vampire on his own, just days into his training?