Slayer

by Kiersten White

  Bradford Smythe lets out a phlegmy laugh. Then he gets serious, his bushy eyebrows half covering his eyes, like Spanish moss hanging on a tree. “Nina, my child, you’re a Slayer.”

  I don’t have it in me to pretend to be shocked. I shrug. It sums up my feelings pretty adequately.

  He continues. “Now that you have been Chosen, you have a responsibility. The life of a Slayer is never easy—that hasn’t changed even now that there are more. It is our duty to train you, to prepare you for what your future holds. Of course, the training will be a challenge. This is most irregular.”

  He clasps his hands behind his back and paces, looking thoughtfully at the walls. They’re lined with pads, practice weapons, real weapons. I brace myself as he pauses in front of a wicked-looking mace and chain. “We can’t very well do the Tento di Cruciamentum when you turn eighteen. You were raised by us, so you’ll know all about the muscle relaxers and adrenal suppressants we secretly inject so the incapacitated Slayer has to face a vampire without her abilities.”

  “Right.” I hope my eyes aren’t as wide as they feel. “Right, I know all about that, so there’s no reason to do it when I turn eighteen, which is still not for two years. So, yeah, that trial’s out. No point in even scheduling. And since we’re talking about it, I never technically agreed to be a Slayer? Or said I’d train as one. We should stop and think if this is really the best option for everyone.” For me. “I mean, we’ve never even tried to find any of the other Slayers. Maybe we should do that before jumping on the yay-Nina-kills-things-now bandwagon, which is a pretty bad bandwagon as far as bandwagons go.”

  Leo looks engaged for the first time this whole conversation. Before, his face had been blank. Now he looks anxious. Eager, even. “Athena has a point. There are so many Slayers now. We can’t ask her to do something she doesn’t want to—”

  “We aren’t asking her,” Eve says, interrupting him. “And we’re not commanding you either, Nina. But training or not, you are a Slayer. And that is something wonderful and I’m sure more than a little overwhelming and terrifying. But you can’t change it by ignoring it. To do so would be irresponsible. Dangerous, even.”

  I flinch, remembering Artemis’s comment about a loaded gun in the hands of a child. Leo is staring at me. He gives me an almost imperceptible shake of his head. It’s clear he disagrees with his mother. Which makes me want to listen to her more.

  Eve closes the distance between us, putting her hands on my shoulders. “You’ve always had so much to offer the Watchers, but you’ve never truly been utilized here, never truly had a place among us. This is a tremendous opportunity for us to learn from you. It’s time to take your rightful spot alongside the Council. Where your father would have wanted you.”

  I still don’t want to be a Slayer, but the way Eve is looking at me with hope and warmth melts away some of my fear. Would my father have wanted this? “I guess—I guess we could try.”

  Eve beams. “That’s our girl.” Then she releases my shoulders to take stock of what the room has to offer. “I assume you’ve had basic combat training?” Her assumption hurts, but it’s nice of her to give me the benefit of the doubt.

  “I wasn’t allowed to. My mom said no. But I’ve read most of the manuals! And I, uh, know a lot of first aid. I’ve been working as the Watcher medic. I’m really good with stitches. And ice packs. Expert ice packer.”

  She smiles, and there’s genuine delight there. No judgment or mockery. I’m so glad it’s her here instead of stupid Wanda Wyndam-Pryce. “That’s wonderful. I love that you have experience outside of the narrow focus a Potential would have been given. How is your demon lore?”

  “The lore-iest! Super up on demon lore. Name a demon, I know the lore.” Actually, Rhys is the resident demon expert, but he likes to talk and I don’t mind listening. Most of my studies have been human oriented, but I do know more than the average Slayer. And I definitely know more than Buffy, who was notorious for being unwilling to do research or study on her own.

  Rupert Giles always babied her. Now he’s dead too, just like my father. It’s usually Watchers who bury more than one Slayer. Buffy never did like the status quo, though.

  “Tell me about D’Hoffryn,” Eve says. “What do you know about him?”

  “Oh! I know this one!” I clap my hands, excited. I usually don’t get pumped about demony stuff, but Eve has this way about her that makes me yearn for her approval. Maybe because I feel like she actually cares, like she’s rooting for me. Leo’s eyes have moved from me to the door, and his hands are clasped behind his back. “D’Hoffryn is a true demon—not a hybrid. He has the ability to corrupt humans into vengeance demons. He has no known weaknesses. He comes to this plane only when summoned by a vengeance demon or drawn to a new candidate.” I pause, thinking. “But . . . with portals to and from demon dimensions closed, can he keep creating vengeance demons? I’m guessing he can’t! So that’s good. Score one for no magic.”

  “Do you know whether he was on earth when the portals closed?”

  I shrug, wishing I could impress her. “No idea.”

  Bradford Smythe answers. “I believe he is trapped here. He’ll still have his basic demonic abilities but will be considerably handicapped by the lack of magic.”

  “Didn’t anyone think this might be a good time to go after demons like D’Hoffryn?” Eve asks, forehead creased.

  “We don’t have the resources.” Bradford doesn’t sound offended. Just wistful. “What you see here is what we have, my dear.”

  Eve smiles at me, and the furrow leaves her brow. I find myself standing straighter. “What I see here is all the start we need.”

  I know I’m blushing, and I don’t care. Being looked at with pride and hope by such a remarkable Watcher is a feeling I never realized how much I needed. No one ever congratulated me for learning a new splinting technique or complimented my ability to time a pulse. But Eve not only believes I’m a Slayer . . . she’s glad I am. She might be the only one.

  And the way she looks at me makes me feel like I might actually be able to do this. She might even be the person I can trust with Cillian’s demon. I’ll have to feel her out and wait until Bradford Smythe isn’t here, but I’m already relieved at the anticipation of shifting the burden onto someone more capable.

  “Helen can’t know.” Bradford sighs. “She means well, but it is . . . complicated.”

  Eve nods. “Families always are.” She turns back to me, and her head tilts to the side. “I do have a question about the timing. When, exactly, did you feel the change? It had to have happened before the Seed of Wonder was destroyed.”

  “I think it happened exactly then. It’s why I didn’t tell anyone I felt weird. There was a big demon and a sort of magical aftershock wave, and we were splattered in demon goo. That’s when I felt like I was—it’s hard to describe . . . being unmade? Like everything in my body shifted so I wasn’t me, but I was more me than I had ever been. I was afraid it was a demon thing, so I ignored it. Until the hellhound attacked, and my body just reacted.”

  Eve’s face shifts with amazement. “Nina, if you changed from Potential to Slayer at the very moment the magic was destroyed, that means you are the last Slayer. Ever. The end of the line stretching back to the very first one.”

  The weight of that settles on my shoulders. I don’t want this mantle. I never asked for it. But one part makes sense: I got picked last. Some things never change.

  Eve squeezes my shoulder again, then looks around the room as though imagining what I’ll do. “We’ll train you in secret. Bradford’s right: Your mother can’t know. And frankly, I don’t care for Wanda’s politics. Ruth probably won’t have an opinion one way or the other.”

  I still don’t know how I feel about training, but she’s so supportive, I don’t want to take that for granted. And training doesn’t mean becoming Action Girl Slayer. It just means figuring out how I’ve changed, which is a good thing. I hope.

  “Can Rhys be involved?” It
feels traitorous not wanting Artemis—who already offered to train me—but Rhys is so much easier to be around. I’d feel better with my friend at my side. If anyone is going to help Eve, I want it to be Rhys, not Leo. He’s practically radiating coldness. Ever since he got shot down for agreeing that I shouldn’t jump right into training, it’s like he’s not even in there anymore.

  Eve shakes her head. “Rhys has his own studies to complete. And we don’t want to force him to lie to your mother. It’s best to keep this contained. No Rhys, no Imogen or Jade. As far as the Council is concerned, only Bradford and I will know.”

  “Artemis already knows.”

  “That’s fine. But your closest relationship should be with your Watcher.”

  She thinks I need a Watcher. It’s such a funny concept to me. Like being a member of a race-car-driving family, and then learning you need your own driver. Bradford is too old—I hope. It’s going to be Eve. I regret all the fantasies I entertained of her being horribly injured so that Leo would fall at my feet, weeping with gratitude that I saved his mother, after which I would calmly and coolly reject him.

  I might not have wanted to be a Slayer, but with Eve as my Watcher, I feel like maybe I can do this. Like maybe I can be great at this. I’ll show my mom how wrong she was to keep me sidelined. I’ll show Artemis that she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. And hell, maybe I can show Buffy what a Slayer should be. The things I hate about her, the struggles Watchers have had with Slayers over the centuries—I can avoid them. There has to be a better way to keep our world safe, a way that doesn’t rely so heavily on pure violence. I’ll find it.

  “It won’t be hard keeping it a secret from my mother,” I say. “She never notices me anyway.”

  “Be patient with her,” Bradford says. “She’s lost so much. She’s very protective of you. But I believe it’s more dangerous not to train you.”

  I don’t think he knows my mother very well. “Protective” doesn’t describe her. Cold. Unyielding. Even manipulative, now that I know the truth she’s hidden from us. And “protective” isn’t a word I’d use for a woman who left me behind in a fire. No, the only reason I can imagine she’s so against me being a Slayer is because she hates Slayers.

  The thing I hated too. But maybe I only hate the way Buffy is a Slayer. The Slayer from the village in my dream last night—she was amazing. If she’d had someone to help her plan, she probably could have avoided dying, even. I want to be a Slayer and a Watcher in one.

  “My sister said she’d help train me,” I say. If Rhys is off the table, Artemis will have to do.

  Eve shakes her head. “It’s fine if she knows, as long as she can keep a secret from your mother. But Artemis doesn’t have the skill or experience to train you.”

  “That’s not true, she—”

  “Artemis is exceptional. But she hasn’t been fully trained. She’s been an assistant rather than in line for the Council. We have to give you the absolute best, Nina. You’re too important.”

  My ego balloons, and I don’t even care. I have never been important in this castle, never been valued more than Artemis. Ever.

  So I nod.

  “Excellent,” Eve says. I lean forward, expecting a hug. Wanting one. But Eve holds out her hand toward Leo, gazing upon him with pure maternal pride. “I’m sure you and your new Watcher will be a perfect match.”

  9

  AS SOON AS EVE SILVERA and Bradford Smythe leave, Leo’s rigid stance relaxes, and he grins at me. Like he didn’t fall all over himself to agree I shouldn’t train and then go dead silent when they decided I should. Like now that he’s been assigned as my Watcher, we should both forget that happened.

  “I can’t tell you what a relief it was when we found your mum and she told us you were all okay. It’s amazing to see you—it’s like old times.” He stares at me for a moment, and I could swear I see a hint of a blush. “You’ve changed. A lot. You grew up.”

  “Yeah, that happens. And it isn’t exactly like old times. Those days I was on the balcony watching, not on the training floor. Ever.”

  He flinches, then tucks his hair behind an ear in a nervous gesture. So he hasn’t forgotten either. Good. I mean, bad. I wish he had. But then again, if he had managed to forget the most humiliating moment of my life, I’d probably be even more offended.

  “Of course things are different,” he says. “You’re a Slayer now. I’m not surprised.”

  I raise an eyebrow. He didn’t want me to train as one, and now he’s saying he’s not surprised? “Really? Everyone else was surprised.”

  “I always knew you were special. I’ll admit I didn’t assume that meant Slayer, but it does settle an old bet.” His face shifts into a sly smile. “I wagered Honora fifty quid that you would be able to take any of us in a fight one day.”

  The mention of Honora is the last straw. “I don’t want to take anyone in a fight. Fighting is pointless. Your being able to throw a punch then didn’t make any of you better than me, just like being a Slayer now doesn’t make me any better than I was before.”

  He cringes. “Right. I know that. I’m just—I think we got started on the wrong note.”

  “You mean when you immediately agreed I shouldn’t train and we should look for other Slayers instead?”

  The confusion on his face is deeply satisfying. He takes a hesitant step forward, and then one back. The small, mean parts of me exult in throwing him so off balance. Leo was always precise in everything he did. Right now? He’s a mess. And I made him that way.

  He shakes his head. “I thought someone should offer alternatives to training as a Slayer. It seemed like you didn’t want to. You shouldn’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with or ready for.”

  I can’t blame him for picking up on the truth. Be that as it may, his speed to dismiss me was telling. He’s acting like it was about what I wanted, but I suspect it’s more about him still seeing me as a pathetic child. “All Watchers have to do things we might not be ready for. Artemis always had to. I shouldn’t be an exception. If this is what the Council wants, then it’s my responsibility.” I might be fronting a tad. But I refuse to have the same power dynamic here that I always have—mainly that everyone else has all the power.

  Leo’s voice is firm again, all hesitation gone. “The Council shouldn’t count more than you. Ever. That’s my first piece of advice.”

  “As my Watcher?”

  “As your friend.”

  “I’m going to change my clothes,” I snap. “And then we can train as Watcher and Slayer. Not friends.” His face falls as I leave the room. For a moment I feel guilty, especially since he really was picking up on how I was feeling. And it does mean something—however small—that he believed I was strong even back when no one else had any reason to. But I steel myself. I don’t want anything from Leo Silvera. If he has to be my Watcher, fine. But he’ll never be my friend again. I owe that much to my past self.

  • • •

  Leo and Honora were sixteen. Artemis, Rhys, and I were thirteen. Unlike Artemis, Rhys had passed his Watcher trials the year before.

  Those in line for active Watcher (and future Council) status faced a series of tests, both practical and mystical, to determine whether they’d be approved for training. There were loads of different positions within the Watcher society, but all of them—special ops, mystical consultants, nurses, librarians—were subordinate to full Watchers. Being an active Watcher was the goal.

  When she didn’t pass the test, Artemis became an errand girl. An understudy of sorts. I wanted her to join me in my medic and first aid studies, but our mother had sent a note that it would be “a waste of her abilities,” even though it apparently wasn’t a waste of mine.

  Rhys was already stressing out about his Watcher project, an in-depth study presented to the Council. Most famously, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had done a genealogy tracing the sirings of vampires all the way back to the original demon that created them. It took seventeen days to present. Rh
ys always spoke of it with a wistful, dreamy look, as though he wished he had been old enough to attend.

  Another Watcher had done a study of a vampire named William the Bloody. I tried to read it once, but Artemis took it from me, saying it was inappropriate. Even though she was the same age and had obviously read it. She wasn’t fully a Watcher-in-training, but she still had access to information I didn’t.

  Leo and Honora had passed their trials three years before. They were well into the training, nearly ready to accomplish their final tests and be granted full Watcher status. It would be years before they’d be able to apply for Council positions, but they were both on their way.

  Part of their responsibilities was overseeing the magical and physical training of Rhys. Artemis mostly worked alongside Rhys, the idea being that she’d eventually be his assistant.

  She was still lucky, in a way. Close to the things that mattered. Jade had been shuffled off to magical special ops. Imogen, like me, wasn’t even allowed to test.

  We sat together sometimes, when Imogen wasn’t on nanny duty. We’d climb up to the balcony overlooking the training room. With our legs stuck through the bannister rails, we’d lean our foreheads against it and watch those lucky enough to train for things we’d never get to do.

  “Aren’t you mad?” I asked her once.

  She shrugged. “It was nice of them to let me stay. I don’t have anywhere else to go. And I’m not like my mother. I don’t want power. I want to help. So if me taking care of the Littles while their parents do important things helps? I’m glad I can do it.”

  I liked Imogen, but I didn’t understand her. I would have been pissed. I was pissed. I watched my sister training with a body that should have been identical to mine, and I envied her. I wanted that same level of ease in my skin. For our thirteenth birthday, my mother had given Artemis weapons. She’d given me DVD collections of ER and Chicago Hope.