Rhys walks hesitantly to his boyfriend. He keeps adjusting his glasses like somehow it will change the way Cillian looks. “So. Erm. You’re … a god now?”
Cillian looks down at his hands. “Guess so. That or I’m totally off my nut and none of this is actually happening.”
“It’s happening.” Rhys takes Cillian’s hand in his own. “What about what he said—that you won’t be able to hold it?” Everyone looks at me like I’ll have an answer. For a moment I’m horrified that we’ve traded an immediate apocalyptic problem for the same problem in the near future. Then Leo shifts closer to me, and I realize I’ve done it.
I’ve saved everyone. Everyone I could, at least. Not poor lost murderous Imogen, or Cillian’s father, if any of him was left in the hellgod’s mess of a brain. But Faith was right. I used every ounce of power I had, the good and the bad, each part of myself. And we all came out on the other side. Including me.
“Two birds, meet one stone!” I lean back, laughing in relief. “We have a half god who will need siphoning and a half demon who can’t stand the idea of harming even demons by draining them.” I gesture to Leo and Cillian.
They look back at each other appraisingly. Cillian shrugs. “Could work.”
“You sure?” Leo asks.
“You can be my chief minion.” Cillian laughs at Leo’s horrified expression. “No? Head zealot. High priest.”
Rhys shakes his head. “God, you’re the worst.”
“You can still call me Cillian. We’ll save ‘God’ for formal occasions.” He’s joking, but his expression is still a bit shocked and raw. Rhys pulls him close and hugs him tightly. Esther bursts out of a tunnel onto our catwalk and wraps them both in her arms. She’s murmuring something quiet and broken that I know isn’t for me, so I don’t try to hear.
My mom sits next to us, and I lean against her, but I don’t let go of Artemis. I’m not letting go of her for anything. Plus, I’m bleeding quite a bit from my various stab wounds and frankly not feeling very mobile. Just exhausted and grateful. Leo lies back, his head brushing my leg. I finger-comb his hair away from his eyes, and he closes them, smiling. He looks stunned but happy. It’s not lost on me that only a few hours ago he was ready to die, but now he has a way to live without harming anyone. Sometimes we get happy endings.
Speaking of happy endings … “Where’s Doug?” I ask. “And the other Slayers? And Jade?”
“Here!” Chao-Ahn elbows one of the still-bowing zealots out of the way. “We are fine! A few vampires in the tunnels.”
“Done and dusted!” Maricruz twirls her stake again.
Doug and Jade appear on the opposite end of the cavern. They’re holding hands, laughing. Jade gazes proudly at Doug. “No worries about anyone stopping us on our way out. Sean and his crew are quite incapacitated. Blissfully out of it.”
Doug holds up Jade’s hand. “Also the police will find him with an extensive array of bomb-making supplies in his car, not to mention an entirely illegal arsenal of weapons.” Jade curtsies.
Honora drags herself across the catwalk. She looks so genuinely worried for my sister. There’s a lot I can’t—won’t—forgive her for. But I can’t deny that she loves my sister. She tried to help her. All this time I thought it was Honora forcing my sister into associations with hellgods, but I suspect it was the other way around.
“Is she okay?” Tears are streaming down Honora’s face, making tracks through the smears of blood and dirt.
“Do you …” I grimace, the words foul on my tongue. But I push on. “Do you want to come back with us? Help me make sure she gets better?” Artemis is going to need more than just physical healing. It will take a long time, and everyone who loves her should be there to help.
Honora closes her somehow still perfectly lined eyes as she bends her head and brushes her lips against Artemis’s forehead. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.” My mother reaches for Honora, and Honora collapses into a hug, crying.
With the other Slayers helping, we manage to limp out of the caverns and into the sunshine. I can’t believe it’s the same day. I help load still-unconscious Artemis into a car and then close my eyes, feeling the weak winter sun on my skin. Everything feels tender and raw, like the worst sunburn of my life. But it feels. We are still here to feel. Whatever it is we have to, whatever it is that comes. We’ll feel it all, together.
A hand slips into mine, and I don’t need to open my eyes to know whose it is. I lean my head on Leo’s shoulder.
The prophecy that loomed over Artemis and me since before our birth is done for real now. But, more than that, I finally understand Artemis’s pain—and my own—enough that I think we can help each other. I hope we can. It’s time to heal. After all, together we saved the world.
And it hurt. A lot.
EPILOGUE
SPRING IS SLOWLY BUT SURELY nudging winter out of the way. Artemis and I sit on the stairs to the castle. I’m braiding her hair back from her face. I’ve been watching tutorials. Every day the braids get more elaborate. Old Artemis never would have let me, but this one does. Maybe only because she isn’t up to fighting me off yet, but I’ll take it.
It’s been two weeks, and we’re not sure how much better she’s going to get, or how quickly. Everyone is walking softly around her. The general consensus is she already paid the price for what she did, but we all have a lot of healing ahead of us. I spent years studying how to heal bodies; now we’re all going to work on how to heal the hurt we can’t see.
“How can I do it?” she says.
“A fishtail braid? I’ll teach you later on Maricruz.”
“No.” She shakes her head, then rests it against my knee. “This. Everything. Life. How can I do it as me?”
I rest a hand against her forehead. She apologized for what she did, but it was as distant and lost as her eyes when she said it. I’m ready to really talk. I hope she is too. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m not strong enough, or smart enough, or good enough to exist in a world this broken and evil.”
“That’s not true. You saved me.”
“Because I had all the power of a hellgod.”
“No, I don’t mean from Imogen. I meant all those other times. All those years. You saved me time and again. Not only by protecting me, but by making sure I never felt the weight you did. You worked so hard to keep my life as happy as possible, as filled with love as you could make it. That was you, and only you. You did it for Honora, too.” I only wrinkle my nose a little bit at this. There’s a lot I’ll never forgive Honora for, but she fought a god to protect my sister. I can deal with having her here, knowing what she’s willing to do for Artemis.
I asked Honora the other day in a rare moment alone as we prepared dinner—I still don’t know how to feel about Imogen’s memory, but we definitely miss her meals—how she was doing with everything. She shrugged and said it was her turn to support Artemis through some bad times. And that, if it had worked, my sister would have made the most kick-ass goddess ever, so it was worth a shot.
Artemis clenches her fists. “How can it ever be enough? Dad was …” Her voice breaks. “Dad died. I don’t want to die, or to watch you die, or Mom die, or Honora die.”
I put my hand on her head, stroking her hair. “Everyone dies eventually. Nothing we can do will prevent that. I mean, unless you fancy life as a zompire, in which case, grrrr argh,” I growl. It doesn’t elicit a laugh. I sigh. “Dad wasn’t a failure. He was everything he was supposed to be. I wish he would have lived longer, but he lived right. I’m proud of him, and I know he’d be proud of us. The world is messed up, yeah, but it’s also pretty great sometimes. We can’t spend every moment afraid of what’s waiting for us.” What’s waiting for us out in the world, or inside ourselves, as I’ve learned. I wish I could take all Artemis’s fear away, but it’s part of her. She’ll have to learn to live with it in her own way too.
I tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Besides, we don’t love you because you
can protect us. We love you because you’re you. Me, and Mom, and everyone in the castle, and Honora.”
“I hurt her, though. I never should have asked any of that.”
“Pretty sure she gets it.”
“I hurt you, too. And I didn’t do it for you, or for Honora, or even for the good of the world. I did it for me. Because I couldn’t be me anymore.”
“I understand.” I do. I was willing to throw myself into the darkness to avoid actually feeling what I needed to. “But we’re not alone. We have each other. We have a whole castle filled with people who love us. We were always supposed to stick together. Slayer and Watcher.” I squeeze her shoulder as she looks quizzically up at me. “I know you didn’t want to be a Watcher anymore, but I could sure use one.”
“What about Leo?”
“I mean. Um. Not a lot of actual training going on there.”
She snickers a laugh, then her face falls. “How can you trust me? After everything I did?”
I slip down so I’m on the same step as her and we’re face-to-face. “You hurt me. Really bad. And understanding why you did it doesn’t change the fact that it cut deep. But it also doesn’t change the fact that I love you, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always be here for you.” I want to ask her if she feels the same, but I won’t push her.
She puts her arms around me and pulls me close for a hug. This one doesn’t feel like it’s burning me alive. It feels fragile. But that doesn’t make it weak. It makes it precious. “What if I have to leave again?” she whispers. “What if I can’t find myself here?”
“Then I’ll let you. I’ll even let you take your favorite coat. But no more books from the library. Those are off-limits.” I say it like I’m joking, but she incurred a lifetime ban from both Rhys and a fully recovered Ruth. “And as many times as you leave, you can come back.”
“Thank you.” She relaxes a little more into the hug. I luxuriate in the closeness, in knowing that we can’t ever lose each other. Not really. Until she speaks again and ruins the moment. “You really do need a Watcher, though. I can’t believe Imogen almost beat you.”
“Hey now! She’s been secretly evil for years! That’s a lot of training!”
“Exactly. Next time—”
“Oh gods, no next time. None of our other friends have been plotting our deaths for the last decade. Unless you steal another book, and then I don’t know if I can stop Rhys from destroying you.”
“Okay, okay, not next time. Next threat, you’ll be ready. We know what goes bump in the night. We’re going to be ready, together.”
“Together.” I release her as Honora bounds up the steps.
“They’re playing football,” Honora says, “and no one is there to critique their terrible form. Come down to heckle and fill out these college applications with me.” She helps Artemis up and puts an arm around her as they navigate the stairs. She also flips me off behind Artemis’s back.
“I hear America has good colleges!” I shout. “Or Australia! Maybe you could do an exchange program in Antarctica?” This time Artemis flips me off too.
I laugh, then lean back and observe the castle grounds. Ruth is helping Jessi push the Littles on the swings while the tiny purple demons chase each other in circles. Pelly is dozing in a patch of sun next to them. Cillian and Rhys are playing Doug, Tsip, and Jade in the aforementioned game of football, which seems to be more about arguing with one another than actually trying to score. Maricruz and Taylor are working on a patch to grow a garden next to the makeshift football field. Honora guides Artemis to a chair and tucks a blanket around her, cuddling in next to her as they watch the game and shout commentary. My mother opens the door behind me. She pauses, and I can tell she’s looking at Artemis too. They’re working on their relationship. It’s weird to be the one who’s closer to Mom now. But I don’t mind it. “Can we go over some logistics for this month’s schedule? We’ll have to shift things now that Chao-Ahn is going home.”
“Schedule meeting in ten minutes!” I shout. “Be there or be on bathroom cleaning duty!”
“I call babysitting on Jessi’s days off!” Maricruz shouts.
“I don’t take days off!” Jessi shouts back, violence in her tone. Maricruz laughs brightly, and I’m not dreading the schedule, or talking with my mom, or any of it. I don’t feel like I have to avoid anyone, or pretend to feel anything I’m not. I’m okay with feeling everything I am. The happy parts, the dark parts, and everything in between.
“I’ll be right there.” I stand, stretching. “Just let me help Chao-Ahn load the car.”
At the bottom of the stairs, a hand shoots out of the shadows and grabs my wrist, spinning me off the path and into Leo’s arms.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say.
He looks good. Better than good. He looks amazing. Cillian sometimes gets a little jumpy—buzzing, he calls it—and Leo drains the excess. It might not be a permanent solution, but it’s working for now.
“Seems like you need more training.” He frowns thoughtfully down at me, his hands around my waist.
“Excuse me?”
“You should have sensed I was there and blocked my attack.”
“You’re assuming I wanted to.” I go on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. We had a lot of talks. So you’re part demon talks, and so you thought you could die instead of having a fight about all your lies talks. Painful talks, but good talks. And now Leo and I both have someone who knows exactly what it feels like to worry you’re going to hurt the people around you. Who understands having to work to keep the angry and predatory parts of yourself under control. We don’t have to be ashamed. We can be proud. Because it’s hard, but we do it. Together.
A few moments—or minutes—luxuriating in the feel of his mouth on mine pass before I pull away, remembering I came down here for a reason. I twist free of Leo’s grasp with a laugh, then hurry to where Cillian’s mother is helping Chao-Ahn load everything. She’ll take the Slayer to an airport and help her get on her way back home. One of these days I’ll go to London to meet Faith in person. Maybe even San Francisco to meet Buffy. But for now, dreams are enough. I have plenty of Slayers in my real life too.
“I am ready.” Chao-Ahn loads her small pack into the car. Then she turns to me. “I was afraid to face the monsters of my home—my past—for too many years. Thank you for helping me find my strength again.”
“And thank you for helping me face my storm.”
“See you in dreams?”
“No more ice cream, okay?”
She laughs and hugs me, then climbs into the car. Taylor waves forlornly, but everyone else has already said their good-byes. Sanctuary might be permanent for some of us, but it makes me happy to see someone take what they need and then go back out into the world.
I’m surprised as another car pulls up just after Esther’s car disappears. A young woman, maybe a couple of years older than me, her nose pierced and her expression intense but haunted, leans out the window.
“I hear you help Slayers.” Her fierce tone is belied by the slight tremble in her hands as she grips the steering wheel. “Take them in.”
Prophecies and ancient forces have tried to claim me. Generations of tradition have tried to steer me. Trauma and fear have tried to stop me. But today, right now? I’m exactly who I’m supposed to be. I smile. “Welcome home, Slayer.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Liesa Abrams, Sarah McCabe, Jessi Smith, Michelle Wolfson, Sarah Creech, Kekai Kotaki, Cassie Malmo, Ian Carlos Crawford, Zoraida Cordova, Caleb Roehrig, Slayerfest 98, Stephanie Perkins, Natalie Whipple, Noah, my three children, my parents, my in-laws Kit and Jim, Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane, the cast, crew, writers, directors, producers, and everyone who brought Buffy to us, as well as the authors, graphic novel writers, and artists who continued her stories off the screen:
You know what you did.
(Thanks for what you did.)
More from this Series
Slayer
Book 1
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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KIERSTEN WHITE is the New York Times bestselling author of many books for teens and young readers, including And I Darken, Now I Rise, Bright We Burn, The Dark Descent of Elizabeth Frankenstein, Slayer, and Chosen. She lives with her family near the ocean in San Diego, where she perpetually lurks in the shadows. Visit Kiersten online at kierstenwhite.com and follow @kierstenwhite on Twitter.
SIMON PULSE
SIMON & SCHUSTER, NEW YORK
www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Kiersten-White
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Slayer
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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