Chosen

by Kiersten White

“Why are you looking for them?” Maricruz’s wariness is understandable, considering most people looking for beasties are hunting them, as evidenced by Von Alston.

  “I run a sanctuary. A safe haven. For werewolves, or demons, or anyone who needs it and won’t harm anyone already there.”

  Chao-Ahn’s eyes widen. “You offer sanctuary?”

  “Yes. Yeah. We’re the sanctuariest.” I’m a bundle of nerves. I almost want to run into the trees and find the hunters, give them a few more punches for good measure. Something to do with my hands while I wait for Leo to wake up and decide whether I’m going to hug him or strangle him.

  “What are the odds?” Oz asks.

  “Odds of what? Wait, is this the math you were going to help with? I don’t actually want math advice.”

  “No, dingbat,” Maricruz says, but she softens with a smile. “What are the odds we’d find a Slayer with a safe haven when that’s exactly what we came to London for?”

  “Seriously?” I was always supposed to bring Slayers in. I thought I’d find them through my dreams. And I guess I did, in a very roundabout sort of way. After all, Chao-Ahn and I already know each other.

  Oz nods. “I was taking them to another Slayer. But she’s actually the one outlier in my general good luck with Slayers. I think this might be a better option.”

  I’m excited in spite of myself. Everything is messed up and confusing, but I did something right! I found Slayers. “Oh yeah! You should totally pick us. We have a castle. I’ll bet that other Slayer doesn’t have a castle.”

  Oz rubs his chin. “Castle, huh? I’ve been looking into getting one of those. But the market is tough right now.”

  “I need to pee,” Taylor says. Maricruz follows her inside. There’s a weird dynamic there. Taylor can’t be much younger than Maricruz—in fact, I think she’s slightly older than I am. But it’s like she needs a babysitter.

  “Where are you all from?” I ask.

  “The Himalayas, by way of a lot of places,” Oz says.

  Chao-Ahn seems annoyed. Or maybe that’s her permanent state of being. “That is not where any of us come from. That is where we were. Maricruz is from New York City. Taylor is from Iowa. Idaho. Ohio.” She frowns. “Somewhere smaller than New York City.”

  “What about you?”

  “You do not know it.”

  “Try me!”

  “Guangzhou.”

  “Oh. Um. Yeah. I don’t know it. It’s in … China?”

  The breath she releases sounds sharp enough to cut me. “I will tell you enough, and then you will ask no more questions. A British man came. He tried to take me. Then other men came. No eyes.” She gestures to her own. “They almost killed me. I went with the British man. He brought me to California.”

  “Sunnydale?” I ask, my heart racing.

  “Home sweet hellmouth,” Oz says.

  “Yes. Very sunny. Very bad part of California. No movie stars. Just monsters. No one learned Cantonese. So many Slayers, and I was always alone.” Some of the anger fades and she talks as though trying to find her way through the words like navigating an unfamiliar room in the darkness. “And after, when we won, I had to keep fighting. Always fighting. I have not been home since Mr. Giles took me away. And I wonder. I am a Slayer for a reason. Guangzhou must have demons. Vampires. Monsters. Who is protecting them while I fight Buffy’s fights?”

  “Wait. Did Buffy send you here?” There was a period of time when Buffy ran an extensive network of Slayer operatives. Basically a big Slayer army. But a crap-ton of them died, and after Buffy destroyed the Seed of Wonder and killed magic, she kind of retired. Went back to solo Slayage in San Francisco. Is she still working internationally? We should have known if she was. This idea worries me and also makes me feel a touch left out that I haven’t been recruited.

  “No.” Chao-Ahn packs an entire history I’m not privy to in that one word. “We don’t speak. I was in Tibet with Oz and a Slayer army. So close to home.” She stares into the forest as though she can pierce the distance through sheer determination. “But I could not leave the girls, after the fight. No one takes care of them.”

  I cross my arms, not in defiance but to hold myself against the shame. I believed so much in the Watchers. In my heritage. It took becoming a Slayer for me to realize how deeply they failed in their calling. I told Eve Silvera that I was going to be the Watcher for every Slayer out there. I haven’t done a very good job of keeping that vow. But I will. “I’m trying to change that.”

  She nods brusquely. “We fought gods. We got hurt. Maricruz and Taylor and me and many others. We stayed when Buffy left. And she never came back. She never— Well, we stayed there. But they need to heal and move on. So we came here to find somewhere safe.”

  “They haven’t healed? They should have healed by now. Slayers heal fast.” I rub my shoulder, which is almost totally better. I wonder if there’s something with the loss of magic that’s changed our powers. They’ve all been Slayers longer than I have. Is it fading? Panic sparks through me. If we stop healing quickly, does that mean we’ll also lose our strength? Our instincts? I’ve lost it before, and the memory keeps me awake at night. It’s one thing to never know power. Another entirely to have it and then lose it.

  Chao-Ahn shakes her head. She gestures to her body. “Not here. Here.” She taps the side of her head. “Sometimes we break here. And no one can help us, because no one understands.”

  I feel what she’s saying. One of the worst parts of navigating the last few months is how alone I’ve felt. Is that why Artemis left? Because she got hurt, and no one could understand except Honora? I would have understood. I will understand. I just need her to come back. To talk to me. To give me a chance to be there for her. Like I’ll be there for these Slayers.

  Leo groans, ending the conversation as we all shift to look at him. I want to stare at him until he wakes up. I never want to look at him again. I never want to stop looking at him. I want to tear out my hair.

  Doug pulls up in our car. “If you all want to come to the castle,” I say, calculating, “Oz will have to drive too. We don’t have room in our car for every extra passenger.”

  “But we do have a kitten!” Doug holds up the tiny orange fluff ball. “Meet Trouble.”

  “Better than Chewie, but trouble is what we’re going to be in when Cillian finds out you already named her.” I toss the case of money to Oz. “Check that for, I don’t know, booby traps or trackers or something.”

  “All money is a trap, if you think about it,” he says.

  “What?”

  “Don’t think about it,” Maricruz answers, coming out of the house. “Trust me. Don’t ever think about anything he says, or you’ll lose your mind. Ooh, kitty!” She rushes Doug and snatches the kitten away. It crawls on her shoulder, disappearing into her hair. “Taylor, come see the kitten.”

  Taylor drifts to Maricruz’s side. She seems to relax a little. “We’re riding in the catmobile,” Maricruz declares, climbing into the back and settling in with Taylor.

  “Your friend doesn’t look so hot,” Oz says, pointing to Leo. I don’t look. I don’t want to acknowledge how bad he seems, because it makes it harder to settle on being livid or being devastated or being happy.

  Oz closes the money case and shoves it into his van. “He can lie down in here. Is it a long trip?”

  “Ireland,” I say. “We’ll have to take a ferry.”

  Oz pats the side of his van fondly. “She’ll get us there. Slowly but surely. But more slowly than surely.”

  “What happened?” Leo groans. His voice triggers memories of training in the gym. Fighting side by side. And not listening when he was trying to kidnap me to get me away from his mother, whom he had known was a killer and still let live in our castle.

  I crouch next to him. His eyes, so dark they look black but with a hint of violet when you get close enough and the light is right—and I have been close enough, and the light has been right—focus on my face.

&
nbsp; “I thought you were dead,” I whisper.

  “Not quite yet.” He tries to sit up but doesn’t make it. Chao-Ahn leans down and together we help him stand. We take him inside to the nearest sitting room.

  “Go get snacks and water and whatever else you can raid from the kitchen?” I ask Chao-Ahn. She nods and disappears.

  I’m still shaking inside. I can feel it in electric bursts of white-hot anger, more powerful than the jolts I got at the convention. Leo looks winded from the effort to make it this far. My anger flares even brighter, seeing how vulnerable he is. “You came to him? When we were right there, this whole time?”

  “I couldn’t,” he whispers.

  “You most certainly could have!”

  “The things I did … the things I hid from you all.”

  I throw my hands in the air. “Oh, join the club. We would have gotten over it. You didn’t give us the chance to.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. You can’t help me.”

  “I can help anyone,” I say through gritted teeth. A pained moan from Von Alston’s study contradicts me. I flex my hands, then ball them into fists. Today has nearly broken me. First Artemis proved that when she left, it wasn’t so much to discover herself as it was to get away from me. And now Leo—Leo, who I mourned and blamed myself over—has been alive this whole bloody time and he didn’t think I could help him.

  I’m going to help him if it kills him. Chao-Ahn reappears with some full bags, and Doug clears his throat from the hallway. “Good to go.”

  “We’re taking you with us.” I hold out my hand to help Leo stand.

  “Athena, I don’t—” Leo starts.

  I cut him off. No one has called me that since he died—since he didn’t die; gods, I have got to stop thinking of his death that obviously didn’t happen. “I swear to every deity listening, if you say one more word, I will get you to the car by throwing you out the window.”

  Leo’s lips twitch like they want to smile but can’t quite remember how. “You can’t.”

  “Fine, not throw. Push. I can definitely push you out the window. And the likelihood of me doing that is getting higher every moment we—”

  “Right, then.” Doug grabs Leo’s hand and maneuvers him up. He puts Leo’s arm around his shoulders. “It’s been a rough day. Let’s all walk calmly to the car; no defenestration necessary. Sweet hells, you are a heavy skeleton.”

  Leo’s half human, half incubus. The earth recognizes he belongs in a hell dimension and pulls on him a little harder. Gravity is greedy like that. Doug and Leo stumble and make agonizingly slow progress down the hall. I follow, glaring at their backs.

  “What about our host?” Doug asks, looking back.

  “I took care of it.” I help Leo get into the van, avoiding his eyes. I’m glad I’m not riding with him. I don’t want to talk to him. Not yet. It’s still too raw, and I feel so betrayed. And part of me wants to snuggle in next to him and forgive him and not talk about it, which I refuse to do.

  Chao-Ahn gets into the van. I take the passenger seat of our car, and we lead the way. Doug steers us out of the estate as dawn breaks on the horizon. We leave unchallenged, the gates gaping open from the happy-dosed employees’ neglect. I close my eyes and take careful breaths. Never mind that my sister is working with demon-snatching zealots, or that we didn’t figure out what this nameless threat is, or that I went against my mom’s wishes and confronted Von Alston.

  Leo is alive. We saved the world’s weirdest werewolf and three Slayers. I should be relieved. I should be happy.

  I should be.

  ARTEMIS

  AS SHE GETS OUT OF the car, Artemis thinks Ian Von Alston’s estate is like something out of a Jane Austen novel, if Jane were writing about a man who bought his nobility and used his wealth to hunt demons for sport instead of falling in love with someone slightly inappropriate. Actually, she would read that book. Nina would like it too.

  Or she would have, before she went Team Demon. Artemis understands her sympathies, she really does, but there’s still a difference between humans and demons, and that line has to stay there. Pretending that her little demon utopia is even possible shows how naive Nina still is, how incapable of handling everything mystical forces have given her. And she accused Artemis of turning her back on their past? Artemis can’t forget, won’t forget what demons and vampires have cost her. Cost their family. Cost the whole world.

  Just because some are benign doesn’t mean they aren’t still tumors growing where they don’t belong.

  “Remind me why we had to bring the entourage?” Honora glares over her shoulder at Sean and three huge goons, plus the Sleeping One drifting distractedly behind them.

  “Pardon me if I want to make sure we get what we need.” Sean smooths his ponytail. “Someone’s sister cost us a lot of supplies yesterday.”

  Honora rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and someone threw her off a moving vehicle. You had better not be questioning our loyalty. I’m the one who found this lead.”

  Sean holds up his hands. “Certainly not questioning you, pet. But this demon is the key to everything. Boss wants to make sure we get the right merchandise this time. No more mistakes or false hope.”

  The Sleeping One makes eye contact with them. “I am without so much. I cannot stand the emptiness, the silence. Can you feel time eating at you? An infestation, like maggots, devouring you from the inside out.” He holds out his hands, long fingers splayed. “I can see the decay that will claim me in another thirty, forty years. The blink of an eye.”

  “Can the decay hurry up so we don’t have to listen to you anymore?” Honora lets out a long, annoyed breath, then pounds on the front door to the manor. An ancient butler answers it. “We’re expected.” Honora walks in right past him. Artemis follows with the rest of their entourage behind them.

  A white man with a severely broken nose and some suspect bruising around his neck is sitting in a leather chair in a study. He stands, shocked, when Honora and Artemis enter.

  “You!” he says, pointing at Artemis. She’s never seen him before in her life. Which can only mean … he knows Nina. And judging by the damage to his face, she’s guessing their acquaintance is recent. Which is bad news for all of them. She can’t let Sean and his people decide to go after Nina. It would be a lot easier if Nina would stop sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

  “Nope, not me,” Artemis says, shaking her head. Honora makes a slashing motion over her throat, then puts a finger over her lips. His eyes widen and he shuts his mouth. The rest of the men shuffle in, the Sleeping One wandering to the window.

  “We’re in the market for something in your possession,” Sean says.

  “I’m, ah, afraid my inventory is depleted.” Von Alston keeps looking nervously at Honora and Artemis, licking his dry lips. “We had a mishap last night. If I had known you were coming, I would have held it for you.”

  “You do not have what I need?” The Sleeping One doesn’t turn around, but his voice is as cold as the depths of winter.

  Von Alston tugs on his collar. “I have many useful contacts. I own half the House of Lords. You’ll find working with me is most advantageous. You want me as an ally.”

  The Sleeping One shakes his head. “I do not even want to breathe the same air as you. Filling your greedy lungs and then spewing poison to corrupt me.”

  Von Alston laughs nervously. He looks at Sean instead of the Sleeping One. “You know me. My reputation. I can get him back. I will get him back. Let’s sit down, discuss terms. I have a feeling we’ll see eye to eye on everything.”

  The Sleeping One turns and crosses the room to Von Alston. He reaches out and puts his thumbs through Von Alston’s eyes. Artemis jumps at the screaming, startled by the sudden, unannounced violence. Honora has stepped forward, an arm out in front of Artemis, a knife in one of her hands.

  Von Alston drops to the floor, twitching and screaming. The Sleeping One holds the two eyeballs in his palm. “Ruined. I cannot see throu
gh these. Everything gets ruined. Everything decays.” He drops the eyeballs on the floor, then wipes his hands clean on Von Alston’s suit. “Everything dies.” He steps on Von Alston’s neck until it snaps.

  And Artemis stands there and watches it all. She knows she should stop it. But if she does, she’ll lose her chance. She just watched a man die—a human man, however dubious his business—and she did nothing. Make the hard decisions. Make the acceptable sacrifices. She learned those lessons well as a Watcher, but she knows this moment will haunt her for the rest of her life. She has to make sure it’s worth it.

  When it’s clear the Sleeping One is not going to murder Artemis, Honora quietly sheathes her knife. “No leads, then. Dead end.”

  Things have to progress. She wants to protect Nina, but how can she without power? It’s Nina’s own fault. Artemis warned her about taking in demons. “He recognized me,” Artemis says. Honora shoots her a look as sharp as a knife. She was lying to protect that information. Artemis gives her a tiny shake of the head. “Which means he’s met Nina. She must have beaten us here and taken what we need. So we know where he is.”

  Sean lets out an exaggerated sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “That Slayer is a pox. Always nicking my things. And this is bad news for us. You’re still vulnerable right now, pardon me for saying so, your, uh, unholy grace.” He waits, tense, but the Sleeping One merely nods. “The ginger Slayer isn’t vulnerable. We’ve got to make sure we know exactly what we’re facing. No mistakes this time.”

  “Where?” the Sleeping One asks.

  “Our old home. Two hours north of Dublin, along the coast.” Artemis feels less guilt for saying this than she should. Sean knows where the castle is. She’s not telling them anything new, and she has to be the one in charge. Because if she’s in charge, she’s in control. She can protect those fools even if they refuse to protect themselves by making smarter choices. “Honora and I know that castle inside and out. We’ll make the plan and lead the raid. Safest if the Sleeping One isn’t there. The Slayer doesn’t know about him, and there’s no reason to let her.”