I think of Sineya stabbing me over and over in my dreams. Maybe she was just preparing me for what real life as a Slayer is like.
27
IMOGEN WON’T STOP HOVERING AS we weapon up. Doug wrinkles his nose every time she’s nearby.
“I’m coming,” she says.
“You don’t have to. I know you didn’t get the fight training.”
Her grin is as sharp as the series of throwing knives she sheathes onto her belt. “I’ve got your back, Nina. To whatever end.” She hands me a wickedly curved sword. I take it, staring at my warped reflection in the blade.
Doug frowns at the selection of weapons. “I don’t know how to use any of these.”
I lower the sword. “You aren’t coming.” Whatever happens today, nothing will ever be the same. I can barely think. If I do, I start worrying about what I’ll do when I see Artemis, and I can’t afford to worry about that. The darkness inside me, once roaring and seeping and insistent, is comforting now. At least when I let it wash over me, I don’t have to feel anything.
Doug toys absentmindedly with the gold hoops in his ears. “Sean hurt me for years. And until now, I was okay to let it go, because I was free. But he hurt you, and you’re my friend. Nobody gets to hurt my friends. Besides,” he says, shrugging, “I want him to know I get to go to a Coldplay concert before I defeat him.”
I snort. “How can I argue with that?” I would rather Doug stay here, where he’s safe, but none of us are safe here. We know that now. He’s choosing to fight rather than hide, and I can’t blame him for that.
My mother is sitting in a chair we dragged into the gym for her. Whatever sedatives they meant to hit me with were designed for a Slayer. She can’t walk in a straight line yet. “And you’re sure the Littles are safe?”
I sheathe the sword. It makes a satisfying sound as it slides into place. I try not to imagine what sound it would make going into a body. “Yeah. You know Jessi won’t let anyone hurt them.” She’s keeping them at Cillian’s house. If we don’t come back, she’ll take care of them forever. I’m certain of that.
Rhys is poring over Esther’s collection of legends in the corner, letting Cillian do the weaponing while he does the research. Doubtless we would have had a lot more information to go on if I hadn’t let Artemis walk out with that book. I’ve made so many mistakes. I can’t afford any others.
“Has Ruth woken up yet?” Jade asks.
Rhys doesn’t flinch, exactly, but the way he turns the pages has a desperate sort of precision.
“No.” My mother delivers the news matter-of-factly. That single syllable holds all my fears. Ruth might never wake up. And it’s my fault. And everyone knows it now.
I strap the sword onto my back. My belt is a special Watcher design; the finest Italian leather, complete with stake-and-knife-size loops. I load up. “I’m leaving the tiny purple demons here. They did a good job before.” Or at least an okay job. Artemis managed pretty free range. I can’t figure out how she got past them, and I can’t understand their mandible-driven speech to ask. But they’re better than nothing. I’m leaving Pelly here too. It’s not designed for fighting. It’s been in the medical center, a gentle guard over unconscious Ruth. And my mother is going to stay with her too. We debated for a long time who should go, and normally I would have voted for my mother. She has more real-world combat experience than the rest of us combined. But we don’t know when she’ll be back to full fighting force, and we won’t leave Ruth unattended.
“Where are you going?” Chao-Ahn asks. She’s in the doorway with Maricruz and Taylor. I didn’t factor the three Slayers in at all. They didn’t ask for any of this. They only wanted a safe space, and I couldn’t give it to them.
Rhys looks up from his book. “Gotta fight a cult so we don’t end up having to fight a god.”
“My da,” Cillian offers, a bemused frown on his face. “The god, I mean. Not the cult.”
“More gods?” Maricruz throws her hands in the air. “We already fought three with Buffy. Why can’t monotheism be a thing? I’m so tired of gods.” Taylor flinches violently at the B-word. Maricruz pats her distractedly, her eyes on the weapons pile. “You didn’t make us fight to defend the castle. Even though we could have helped.”
“You would have protected the Littles, if it came to that. That was more than enough.” I heft a duffel bag. It’s filled with holy water and crosses. They used vampires on the assault here, though we’ll reach the village during daylight, so who knows. Best to be overprepared, though. A prepared Watcher is—well, frequently still a dead Watcher. But at least a well-armed, thoroughly knowledgeable corpse.
What is a prepared Slayer? Taylor might hate the very mention of Buffy, but I need her. I wish I had been able to reach her on that dark shore. Would she understand? Would she be able to help me? Or would she see the same failure and corruption in me that Sineya does and put a sword through my belly instead of sitting down for a chat?
Tsip leans over my shoulder. “Can I have any eyes I find? It’s my birthday.”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the instinct to elbow her, to grab her and throw her into the wall. It’s not fair that I have to fight feeling this way about demons and people I care about. “You said yesterday was your birthday.”
She smiles slyly. “Every time I shift into the void beyond reality, I’m unmade. And when I come back, I’m remade, all brand-new. So … every day is my birthday.”
“I’m glad I didn’t make you a cake, then. Fine. You can have any nonhuman eyes you find. Except for Leo’s or Doug’s or anyone who is fighting on our side.” I’m not sure if that was necessary to add, but her slightly disappointed nod makes me think it was.
“I am coming,” Chao-Ahn says.
“Me too.” Maricruz folds her arms, angling herself away from Taylor’s shocked and hurt expression.
“What?” I turn from Tsip, taking in the three Slayers. They’ve already been through so much. And I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. “You don’t have to.”
“Exactly.” Maricruz smiles at me. “Ever since I became a Slayer, no one’s given me a choice. It was go here, fight that, don’t die. You didn’t ask us to do anything, much less command us to do anything, other than stay safe. And you know what I realized hiding in that closet?”
I shake my head. I have no idea.
“Hiding sucks. Gimme that stake.” She holds out her hand, and I toss it. She flips it over her hand, catching it in a neat trick. Her sweet face is transformed, and I can see how much power she has simmering under the surface. “Let’s get our slay on.”
“You can’t leave me!” Taylor’s voice is high and tight with panic.
Maricruz turns to her, her face softening. She reaches up and tucks Taylor’s hair behind her ears. “I’m not leaving you. I’m going to work. And I’ll be back. You have to trust that I’ll come back, okay?”
Taylor nods, numb and silent. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Watch over Ruth.” My mother stands, shaky but determined. “Call us if there’s any change.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll patrol.”
I sigh. I know she’d be safer inside, but I can’t exactly forbid my mother to do what she does best. “You remember where the medical center is?” I ask Taylor, and she nods.
“She likes being read to,” Rhys says, his voice soft. He doesn’t look up. “Anything with romance in it.”
“I won’t leave her side.” Taylor walks out. What would it feel like to walk in the opposite direction from this fight?
From every fight?
There’s nothing in me that could let that happen. Not my Watcher training, not my Slayer abilities, and certainly not the humming dark extra that is already gathering somewhere deep inside in anticipation of what’s to come.
“Should we talk about the elephant-size prophecy in the room?” Imogen asks. Everyone freezes. They’re all so deliberately not looking at me they might as well be. Imogen quot
es it from memory. “ ‘Girls of fire / Protector and Hunter / One to mend the world / And one to tear it asunder.’ So we all get the stakes, right?”
I wish it weren’t true. I wanted that prophecy to be checked off, averted, officially off the books. But maybe Artemis and I are doomed to clash again and again until one of us finally succeeds. Will it be the world breaker, or the healer? And which one am I? Artemis betrayed us, yeah. But I’m the one with actual demon inside me.
Rhys clears his throat and pushes his glasses into place. I flinch, waiting for whatever he has to say. However harsh, I deserve it. But he surprises me. “No world is ending today. We’ve been averting apocalypses for generations; ours won’t be the one to fail. Our top priority is to rescue Leo. Without Leo, all their plans fall apart.”
“Why rescue him?” Jade holds up her hands in anticipation of my anger. “Hear me out. He’s already dying. And he as good as told us all he’s fine with it. So if it’s a choice between letting them use him, or stopping them from bringing Cillian’s hellgod father to earth, which do you think Leo would want us to do? Which would you want us to do? I know what I’d pick.”
He told me it wasn’t my choice when I talked to him. That he’d rather die than hurt anyone again.
I imagine myself a hollow shell, filled with nothing but the dregs of demonic power I never asked for and can’t control. It’s easier than feeling what I’m about to say. “If we can’t get him away, we kill him.”
* * *
With the addition of the two Slayers, plus Cillian, Tsip, Jade, Rhys, Doug, and me, we end up having to take both cars. I don’t like leaving the castle without a vehicle, but it can’t be helped. It’s part of why my mother has no choice but to stay. There’s really not room with all the people and weapons we have to take.
She stops me as we head out. “Forgive her.” She doesn’t have to specify who she’s talking about.
“How can I?” I whisper. It’s not an accusation. It’s a genuine question. How can I forgive Artemis for what she’s done? How can any of us?
“She’s been through so much.”
“We went through all the same things. And I …” And I could easily have killed her, or killed Von Alston, or killed any of the cloakers. Maybe the extra darkness isn’t demonic. Maybe it’s me. Maybe Artemis has the same thing, and she’s stopped fighting it. Maybe she’s still my mirror image, just a few steps farther into a blood-soaked future.
“She’s your sister. Nothing changes that.”
“She changed it.” I shake my head. “I’ll be careful. But I’ll also do what I need to in order to protect the world. Artemis herself told me to make that choice.”
There are tears in my mother’s eyes. “I’ve failed you both.”
I don’t have time to comfort her, and I don’t know how. She already lost her husband to the evil in the world. How much more will she lose? How much more will we all? “This is what we were born to, Mom. We can’t live with one foot in the darkness forever without it catching up to us.”
“No.” Her voice is fierce, stronger. “We don’t live with one foot in the darkness. We live with our shoulders against the door, holding it shut so it doesn’t flood the world. Don’t forget that. Remind your sister, if you can. And be careful.” She hugs me, and I rest my head on her shoulder for a heartbeat. We’ve all lost so much. Too much. And it’s not over yet.
Before I can start doubting my resolve, I turn and leave. She’s wrong, though. Maybe Watchers are the ones holding the door shut. But Slayers have to walk through it in order to work.
I’m in the back of the smaller car with Doug. Cillian drives while Rhys reads certain passages of Cillian’s mother’s research to us. “According to this, he has three forms.” He pauses and looks up at Cillian. “What is your father’s name?”
Cillian shrugs. “Da.”
“What did your mother call him?”
“My love.”
“What did his friends call him?”
“Mate. Buddy. Pal. Chum. I don’t know. I actually can’t think of a single time I ever heard someone call him by a name. I was a kid, though, so maybe I didn’t notice.”
“Or maybe he doesn’t have one. Or he doesn’t have one that human voices can say. Interesting. Well, as I was saying, three forms. And when he reaches the third form, he’ll be unstoppable. But your mother doesn’t seem to know what that means, or what form he’s currently on. It’s not much help.” He hums to himself, an atonal thing he does without realizing it while he’s focusing. “I can’t find any specific weaknesses. I wonder why they call him the Sleeping One. Maybe because he only visited once a year?”
“If Jade were a god, that would be her name too,” Doug says. His voice is laced with fondness. Maybe her extreme efforts to keep him safe—even though he’s no longer supplying her with artificial happy—mended something between them.
Doug gives me a meaningful look. “And speaking of sleeping, when was the last time you did?”
I lean my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, certain I won’t fall asleep.
As in every other part of my life right now, I’m wrong.
* * *
“Come on!” I dodge the obsidian knife as it tries to find my stomach. “I want to talk with Buffy!”
Sineya glowers at me, the effect amplified by the white face paint she wears.
“It’s not my fault I have extra demon!” I twist, then run. I find myself in my childhood bedroom, the purple flames that haunted me for so long frozen. The floor is neatly lined with bodies. The bodies I created out of living people. I stand, shocked, and take them all in. There are the expected ones, but so many new additions. Rhys. Cillian. Jade. Doug. Chao-Ahn and Maricruz. My mother. Leo.
And Artemis.
She’s laid out in the center, the others forming a triangle around her.
I came here to—I wanted to—I needed to—
I can’t look away from the bodies. They’re here because of me. This is my fault. They’re all dead because of me. Because I couldn’t keep them safe.
I look down in my hand to see a knife, coated in sticky black blood. I didn’t just fail to protect them. I killed them. There’s movement behind me, and I turn, slamming my knife into Sineya’s stomach before she can get me. But it’s not Sineya I’ve stabbed.
It’s Buffy. Her eyes widen in shock, and then go blank. She slumps, limp in my arms.
“No,” I whisper. “No no no no.” I lay her next to Artemis and I don’t know what to do.
“Hey, kid,” a woman says. I turn to see the same brunette with pouty lips and big brown eyes who took me to the Slayer rave what feels like a lifetime ago. “Come with me.” She takes my hand and tugs me away from my carnage.
“It’s not—I didn’t—”
“Hey, no need to explain. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve stabbed B in my dreams—or just my daydreams—well, I’d have a lot of dollars. And if she had a dollar for every time she stabbed me in real life, she’d have … one dollar. So I’m coming out way ahead.”
I half expect her to drop me off at the rave, which is the last place I want to be. I can’t think straight, the dream storm getting closer and the atmosphere crackling with the promise of destruction. It’s almost here. But instead of the rave, she takes me to an office. There are a couple of flags, a neat and tidy desk, a closet, and a big set of cabinets.
She sits in the office chair behind the desk, putting her booted feet up on it. “He hated it when I did this.” She smiles, but it’s sad.
“Where are we?”
“Somewhere that made me feel safe back in the day, when I needed it most. I was pretty broken.” She purses those full lips, stained dark red. “Not sure I’m any less broken now, but I’m better at handling it, you know? Tell me why Sineya’s been gunning for you, why you bring that storm with you here, and why you thought B deserved a knife in the belly.”
“I didn’t—I didn’t realize it was her. There were all the bodies, and
I just reacted.”
She nods. “Been there. Only my insta-stab reaction wasn’t a dream. I ran straight here after. I almost destroyed everything, myself included, because I couldn’t handle the darkness.”
“I have more than you, though. So much more. Leo gave me extra when he—”
She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “So?”
“What?”
“So what? What does that change?”
“Ever since he gave it to me, I’ve felt different. Wrong. So mad and so scared and so guilty.”
“And what does feeling that way get you?”
I can barely breathe. “I don’t know. But I can’t handle having extra darkness. It was so hard to accept being a Slayer, and now I have to face even more?”
“Change we don’t choose is hard. Trauma puts things inside your soul you never asked for. Sure, sometimes it’s demonic. But sometimes it’s just growing up.”
“I’ve done terrible things, though.”
“Did you think you’d get through life as a Slayer living in sunshine? That you’d never have to spill blood? That you’d never have to grapple with the death that’s your calling?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, honey, I do. I promise. We live in the darkness. Fight it or embrace it. But accept that even in a world of powers and gods and Slayers, nothing is going to magically heal you and make you the person you used to be. And would you want it to, if it meant sacrificing everything you’ve learned and become?”
My voice breaks. “Maybe.” I wasn’t happy, but at least I still had Artemis.
She considers it. “Fair enough. I might too. But we don’t have that choice. We’re Slayers. We’re imbued with darkness. We live in it, and with it, and sometimes it’s more than we can handle and we become it.” A figure flashes next to her, a pleasant-looking middle-aged man in a suit. She doesn’t look at him. A knife appears on the desk, an ornate, double-bladed, wicked-looking piece meant to kill and cause as much pain as possible in the process. “You can’t go back. You can’t undo whatever triggered this extra bad you’re struggling through. So discover the new you. Learn to live with her. To love her, when you’re ready. And find people who will go on this journey, too. Because not everyone will, but the ones who do—you fight for them and they fight for you.”
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