The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill (22 page)

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Authors: Heather Brewer

BOOK: The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill
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While Joss was certain that the question was completely rhetorical, he took his seat once again and said, “If it’s not you, Abraham, and it’s not me, then maybe it’s the obvious.”
The surrounding Slayers blinked at him, overwhelmed by recent events and the loss of their friends. They needed guidance, and Joss was happy to give it to them. “Vampires. There’s a hive nearby. Maybe they killed the Slayers. And what’s more, wouldn’t doing so in a way that made us accuse one another be a brilliant way of spreading doubt among our ranks? It would weaken us as a whole,
has
weakened us as a whole, and isn’t that the way to really take down a well-oiled machine?”
Joss looked from one face to the next—his fellow Slayers, his family. They were broken, but could be mended. And Joss wanted more than anything to lead that charge. He loved them. Here, among his fellow Slayers, he was anything but invisible.
One by one they nodded, accepting his theory. It was so obvious, and such an embarrassment that they would turn inwardly rather than toward the enemy in a time of crisis. Sirus relaxed in his seat, looking more than a little bit relieved that the accusations hadn’t gone any further. Something told Joss that being put on trial by the Slayer Society was the last thing that he wanted to experience. Abraham stepped closer and extended his arm, shaking Joss’s hand. His eyes were warm and apologetic. “I relinquish my accusation, nephew.”
Joss smiled, but it was fleeting. Smiling hurt too much with all the bruises he’d received on his run. “Ditto, Abraham. We’re cool.”
“Joss? What have they done to you?” Kat dropped the box of medical supplies she been carrying over from the other house and rushed into the room, her horrified eyes locked on Joss’s face, which was still crusted with dried blood and the filth of the trail. She looked worried, and that suspicion was still there in her eyes.
As she hurried across the room to Joss, Abraham caught her by the arm and tossed her backward. “I don’t recall inviting you to this gathering, miss.”
Kat tightened her jaw stubbornly, defiantly. Her eyes were bright and clear, her hair shining in the afternoon light that was pouring in through the window. For the first time, Joss thought that she was beautiful, absolutely stunning. She practically hissed at Abraham, “I don’t remember asking your permission for me to be here. Now what have you done to Joss? He’s covered in bruises and blood. His eye is all puffed up. That gash on his forehead is oozing. He looks awful! If you hurt him, I swear, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Abraham’s tone was cool and crisp. Joss knew he didn’t care much for Kat, but he wasn’t even trying to hide his displeasure at her company now. “This, my dear, is none of your concern.”
Without warning, Kat slapped Abraham hard across the face, the noise sounding out into the room, shocking them all. Joss sucked in his breath in a surprised gasp.
Abraham reached up, touching his fingers lightly to his cheek. Then he drew his arm back, as if to backhand Kat a good one, but Sirus and Joss were on him in an instant. They pulled him away from Kat, who stood there glaring at him defiantly. The other Slayers didn’t interfere, just watched quietly, as if waiting to see how this whole thing might play itself out. Finally, Abraham wrenched himself free of their grasp and turned to Sirus. “Either she leaves tomorrow ... or you do.”
A sick feeling filled Joss’s insides. He knew that Abraham wasn’t just saying that Sirus would be packing his bags and leaving. He was saying something horrible, that Sirus would be kicked out of the Society. Or worse.
He wasn’t sure if his uncle had been implying death, but he wasn’t about to rule it out as a possibility. After all, he had yet to put all the Society’s rules to memory. Maybe Sirus’s insubordination over the years had been more serious than Joss had realized. Maybe Sirus’s life was in danger, all because of his inability to leave his daughter again for an entire summer. Joss hoped not, but he really had no idea what Abraham had meant, other than the obvious: get Kat out of here. Now.
Sirus moved to Kat and gently guided her out the back door by the elbow. As Joss followed, he glanced at Abraham, not wanting to anger him, but knowing that he couldn’t leave his friend alone. Not now. But Abraham wouldn’t meet his eyes.
As Joss moved out the door, he could feel the heat and fuming anger pouring off of Kat. That, coupled with Sirus’s tense silence, made for an awkward walk to the cabin next door. By the time they reached it, Joss was certain that Kat’s head was going to explode.
Sirus opened the front door and Kat stepped inside. Once Joss had come in and closed the door behind him, she turned to him. “What did they do to you? It looks like you’ve been wrestling or fighting or something. What happened? And don’t give me another one of your stupid vicious wildlife stories, because I’m not buying it. What really happened to you, Joss?”
He looked at Sirus, who folded his arms in front of him. Sirus’s voice was hushed, as if he were trying to contain his emotions. “Kat, I want you to go upstairs and pack your things. I’m putting you on a train home tonight. It’s for the best.”
Kat’s jaw dropped. “The best? Who says? Abraham? Come on, Sirus, you can’t send me home. You promised we’d spend the summer together!”
Joss watched Sirus carefully. He looked as though he’d crumble at any moment. He needed help. He needed strength. He needed a friend. Joss looked at Kat. “I think you should do what he says, Kat. Your father has very good reasons for everything he’s done. You should trust him, and just go pack your things.”
Furious tears filled Kat’s eyes and for a moment, Joss was certain that she’d slap him even harder than she’d slapped Abraham. Then Kat turned and ran up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door behind her. He turned back to Sirus, to try and offer some kind of comfort to his friend, but Sirus just shook his head and walked away. Joss took that as his cue that Sirus very much needed to be alone.
As he exited the cabin, Joss inhaled a deep breath and released it into the outside air. His insides felt heavy, but he wasn’t exactly certain why. Kat would be safer away from this place, and Sirus would be safer without her here. Joss and Abraham had been cleared of any murderous accusations. And, smallest of all, Joss had managed to complete his run and was reasonably certain he’d passed his test. All, for the moment, seemed right with the world.
So if that was the case, why did he feel so upset, so lost, so angry? There had to be a reason he was feeling this way, and it couldn’t just be the fact that vampires were lurking nearby, picking off Slayers one by one. He wasn’t homesick—the comforting feeling of home had left him long ago, with the loss of Cecile. And though he was physically injured, it hadn’t bruised his ego. Quite the contrary, in fact—Joss felt really good about his ability to stand up to two extremely talented fighters. So if none of those things could be the cause of his upset, then what could?
As Joss crossed the yard, he turned back to Sirus’s and Kat’s cabin. Slowly, he realized exactly what was wrong. He was going to miss Kat. Despite the fact that he’d pushed her away, and told her to listen to Sirus and pack, he was going to miss her more than he’d ever admit to. Because she was his friend, his first real friend. He knew with absolutely certainty why his chest felt so heavy and his stomach ached.
Because pieces of your heart clearly weigh more when they’re sitting shattered at the bottom of your stomach.
23
 
FOR YOU, CECILE
 
Joss woke after a blissfully dreamless sleep and rolled over in his bed, reluctant to open his eyes. He’d tossed and turned for much of the night, repeating to himself every moment that he and Kat had shared, despite his reluctance to even think about her. Thinking about Kat hurt, and thinking about the fact that he was a large part of what was making her leave made him hurt even more. But despite his efforts not to have her in his thoughts, there she was, with every breath, every heartbeat.
He’d never really had a friend before, and certainly had never felt about anyone the way that he felt about Kat. He wanted to protect her, the way he’d wanted to protect Cecile. And the only way to do that was to push her away. The only way to save her was to hurt her, and that hurt him as well.
More than he would ever dare admit to.
Finally, reluctantly, Joss cracked open his eyes. Abraham was sitting quietly in a chair beside his bed, but spoke as if they were continuing a conversation. “You’re quite right about that, nephew. I never hoped that you were the next Slayer in our bloodline. I’d hoped for your cousin Greg, or even his brother, Henry. But not you. You were the runt of the litter, so to speak. Greg was virile and quick, with a steady hand and a confidence that normally pervades our family. Henry was less confident, less physically apt than his brother, but with some training and direction, he would have made a fine Slayer. Then there was you.”
He didn’t say it with any intended hurt or malice. His words simply
were
. They rang of truth, a truth that could not have been easy to share. Nor were they easy to hear. “You were born a month early, too eager to come into the world, too impatient. And there were signs of weakness even then. You were born jaundiced because of a slight liver problem. It cleared up within months, but other weaknesses followed. You learned to walk much later than your cousins and had a reluctance to run from a very young age. But then ... you found your legs, and I saw that you could outrun anyone around you. I wanted it not to be true—your incredible agility—waited for it to prove itself false, but there it was. You had a Slayer’s agility, and later, a Slayer’s skill with a weapon. You blew everyone away at archery, whether it was at camp or in school. And I knew that you were one of us, and that I’d have to train you, despite your remaining weakness.”
Joss sat up in bed slowly, wrapping his arms around his legs, clutching his knees to his chest. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t sad—not about the things that his uncle was saying. He was just disappointed in himself for having been such a ... well ... disappointment. “What weakness? What weakness do I still possess?”
Abraham sat forward in his chair, his eyes expressing a sorrow that Joss didn’t quite understand. “You care about people, Joss. And though that is an admirable quality for a normal person to possess, you are a Slayer. Closeness, caring, these things can only harm a Slayer in the end, and will prove a terrible weakness in the armor of the Society. In truth, I’d hoped you’d fail at enough tests that I would be forced to send you home, to convince the Society that I had made a mistake about you, that you weren’t a Slayer after all.”
Joss rested his chin on his knees, watching his covers with false interest. He took in his uncle’s words and realized that by hoping he would fail, that by doing everything within his power to make Joss fail, Abraham had actually been trying to protect him. From what? Vampires, certainly, but more than that. From everything that Sirus had been telling him. From a lonely, dangerous life without anyone to share it with. But then, didn’t Sirus have Kat? Surely he’d been close enough to someone in order to have a child. Surely there was a chance—even a small one—that Joss could live a basically normal life outside his Slayer duties. It was possible. Wasn’t it?
“Initially, I tried to talk Headquarters out of their decision that you were the next Slayer in my bloodline, but they were adamant. And then, when I asked what would become of you should you desert the Society after your induction, they instructed me to take your life.”
Joss met his eyes, surprise and fear filling him.
Abraham nodded. “It’s protocol for such situations, but I had to ask. Once I received my instructions, I turned to leave, but by the time my hand touched the door, my mind was set. I knew I could not allow my nephew to perish, and that with your sensitivities, your weaknesses, you would be better off living a life without the binds of the Society. I turned back to the man in charge and pleaded with him to grant me a single favor. And he did. He said that if you should fail at your training before induction, you could go free.”
Joss’s heart raced with the knowledge his uncle had shared. Was it true? Abraham had only been so hard on him so that he could save Joss from a life in the Slayer Society? Why hadn’t he just told him in the beginning? But Joss didn’t have to ask that. The Society wouldn’t want Joss to have an easy out, so Abraham had likely been sworn to silence.
“I thought it would be easy to make you fail.” Abraham spoke softly, with more kindness than Joss had ever heard his uncle use before. “But then you passed my tests, at times with flying colors. You’ve bested men with skill beyond their years of experience and succeeded in ways I had not deemed even remotely possible, especially not for a boy with such incredible weakness. But despite that weakness, you have an inner strength unlike any I have ever seen, Joss, and I will be proud one day to call you a Slayer. That is ... if you still want to after hearing all that I’ve told you—which I shouldn’t be doing.”
Joss lifted his head and met his uncle’s eyes, which were shining with pride. Suddenly, his insides felt lighter. He had something he’d convinced himself that he’d never have—his uncle’s approval and the love of a family member. For a moment, he forgot about Kat and everything that had happened. He forgot about his healing wounds and the way his muscles ached. All he focused on was the admiration in Abraham’s eyes.

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