Read The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill Online
Authors: Heather Brewer
The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill (23 page)
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It was wonderful. So wonderful, in fact, that a large lump formed in Joss’s throat, rendering him unable to speak.
Abraham reached out and patted him on the shoulder roughly, an almost-smile on his lips.
When Joss found his voice, it came out with a croak. “I do. Very much, Uncle. I want to be a Slayer.”
“That day is fast approaching, Joss, but there are still a few tasks at hand that need tending to.”
Joss could feel moistness in his eyes, but blinked it away before his uncle could notice. “What tasks? I’m game.”
Abraham patted him again and stood. “Meet me in the clearing in twenty minutes. In just three more minor tasks, you can be indoctrinated into the Slayer Society. And these last three are where it gets fun. The worst of your training is over.”
Joss clung to those last seven words like they were a lifeline. The worst was over. His uncle had said it. And Abraham wasn’t a man to lie about something like that. Joss pulled the covers off and hurried out of bed, a permasmile on his face. “I’ll shower and be right out.”
Abraham chuckled. “Grab some breakfast first. After yesterday, you certainly earned a good meal.”
Joss nodded, still smiling, and Abraham walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. After grabbing some clothes, Joss hurried through a shower and bounded down the stairs. Sirus was nowhere to be found, but after last night’s ordeal with Kat, he wasn’t exactly surprised. He made a mental note to stop over and check on Sirus once he’d completed the task that Abraham had set up for him, and then filled a bowl with cereal and milk. After wolfing it down, he headed outside and up the hill along the trail until he could see the clearing up ahead of him. A strange scent was in the air—like smoldering ashes and decay.
As he drew closer to the clearing, he saw why.
Abraham and the other Slayers were there—all but Sirus, of course—and at the center of the clearing were two bodies. Their skin was charred and their eyes stared unblinking up at the sky, but their chests still rose and fell. Joss’s breakfast edged its way up his throat, threatening to leave him. He paused in his steps, looking away from the gruesome scene, trying desperately to ease his sudden, growing nausea. If he threw up, he’d never hear the end of it. Once his stomach had settled to a more manageable point, Joss continued into the clearing, standing to Abraham’s right, waiting for his uncle to give him his task. A task that would, hopefully, take him far away from the charred near-corpses in front of him.
“Early this morning we located the vampire outpost. These two beasts were inside, unaware that they’d been detected. We waited until first light, then dragged them outside into the sun. Luckily, they were pretty allergic, but not enough to kill them. Only enough to subdue them. Which is actually really fortunate for you, nephew, as ridding the world of these monsters in very specific ways is part of your training.” Abraham held up a small, silver hatchet. It gleamed in the morning light. The sight of that glint seemed abnormally sharp, like the metal itself. He held it out to Joss. “So ... are you ready to take the next step to becoming a Slayer, nephew?”
Joss looked from the hatchet to the vampires. They looked so human. Two eyes, a mouth, two ears, hands, arms, legs. And hearts. Did they feel? Did they know how? Did they know how to love as much as they seemed to know how to hate and destroy? Joss didn’t know. And all of a sudden he didn’t know if he had what it took to be a Slayer. It was one thing to fight with his fellow Slayers. It was quite another to take a life.
He shook his head slowly and took two steps back. He needed to think. He needed to think about what he was doing and why he was here before he did something so drastic, so unbelievably horrific and violent. Before there was no turning back.
As he turned away from the clearing, Abraham’s voice found his ears, stopping him in his tracks. “What ever happened to the vampire, the creature, the monster that killed your younger sister, Joss? Did it leave her room that night with a full belly, content with the murder it had committed? Do you suppose it felt any compassion at all for that sweet, innocent child before it ruthlessly took her young life? Do you suppose it was so overcome with regret that it gave up its vampiric ways and took its own life?”
Joss gripped his hands into fists, his body tensing at the memory of that night—the night he lost Cecile. “No.”
Abraham stepped closer, dropping his voice so that only he and Joss were privy to his words. “No, it didn’t. That bastard moved on to other children, other sisters and brothers, perhaps, and murdered each of them with a defiant, bloody grin. You know it did. Just as you know that one of those things lying in that clearing could be the one who did it. You can right the wrong it committed that night, Joss. But only you can do it. Only you can lay Cecile’s soul to rest. So are you going to man up and do it, or has this all just been for show?”
Joss closed his eyes and images of his sister raced through his mind, flipping like photographs in an album. Cecile in her crib. Cecile taking her first steps—to Joss, of all people. Cecile leaving for her first day of kindergarten. Cecile ... dead in her bed. A vampire whose face he couldn’t recall, poised over her with bloodstained lips. Cecile’s blood.
He opened his eyes and grabbed the hatchet from his uncle’s hands, wordlessly turning back to the clearing. He approached the two charred creatures with a confident step, though his actual confidence was absolutely lacking. With a shuddering breath, he raised the hatchet high and whispered aloud three words that he clung to, three words that would get him through every act he could not face alone, to remind himself exactly why he was doing this, exactly why he’d come here in the first place. “For you, Cecile.”
Then he brought the hatchet down as hard as he could, his aim sure, his arm strong. As he did, a piece of his soul fluttered off into the air, like ash in the wind.
Hours later, once the monsters had been beheaded and their remains disposed of, the Slayers sat around a campfire in that same clearing. Mugs were filled with foamy drinks. Songs were sung. And Joss sat on a large stone near the fire, his blood-soaked hands still trembling wildly. In his mind, he kept repeating his sister’s name, but it brought him no solace. There was nothing comforting about what he had just done to those vampires, and nothing just about the way that he felt now. Afterward his uncle had assured him that the act would get easier, that everyone experiences doubt after their first few kills, but that he’d done exactly what he’d needed to do in order to ensure the safety of all of mankind ... and to avenge Cecile. But Joss didn’t want to hear his words of comfort and assurance. He wanted to forget that it had happened. He wanted to wash away the blood and go home to his mom and dad. But he couldn’t. He was in too deep.
Abraham gave his shoulder a squeeze and held up his glass. The other Slayers followed suit. “Today, my nephew, you became a man. And due to your bravery and unfailing loyalty in the face of danger, soon we’ll call you brother and count you among our ranks. Slayers! We drink to Joss!”
Morgan, Ash, Cratian, Abraham, Paty—every Slayer in their gathered group raised their mug then in excited pride, toasting to Joss and celebrating his success. But Joss couldn’t raise his eyes to see them do so. All he could do was stare at the blood on his hands and wonder how much more there would be.
24
ABSENT FRIENDS
That night, after a long, hot shower, Joss retired to his room. He had been planning to speak to Sirus, but honestly just couldn’t face anyone until he’d had some time alone. In the shower, he let the scalding hot water wash away the blood, sending it swirling down the drain and away from Joss’s shaking hands. But the blood wasn’t alone. It mixed with Joss’s tears—tears that fell in steady streams down Joss’s cheeks. He cried without mercy—for Cecile, for the vampires he’d murdered, yes ... but mostly for himself. It was shameful to feel so much pity for one’s self, especially in this case, but Joss couldn’t stop the tears from coming. He hoped the water was loud enough to mask his weeping, but couldn’t be sure. Once the worst of his self-pity was over, he turned off the water and toweled himself dry before heading to his room for some much-needed solace.
He didn’t sleep. He didn’t think. He didn’t relive any of the moments of his day. He merely lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for eight hours, pushing away all emotion until the sun had risen again. Then he dressed and went downstairs to find Sirus, to see how he was doing and if Kat had left without a fight.
Sirus wasn’t in the kitchen. Nor could he recall having seen Sirus at all the day before. Eerily, he saw no one on his way outside and next door, something he was consciously grateful for. He stepped up on Sirus’s porch and knocked before opening the door and sticking his head inside. “Sirus? You home?”
But what he saw made his heart sink.
Sirus’s paintings were gone, as were Kat’s video games, butterfly net, and books. He stepped inside, moving from this room to that. The house wasn’t empty, but Sirus and Kat were nowhere to be found.
“We suspect he left sometime yesterday.” Abraham was standing near the front door, looking troubled. “I didn’t want to say anything to you until you’d had time to recover a bit. A first kill can be—”
“Traumatic. I know. You said so.” Joss pushed away his uncle’s acknowledgment of his horrific act and shook his head, his heart sinking some at the idea that Sirus would have just abandoned him without as much as a word. “He didn’t even say good-bye. Not a note or anything. I can’t believe he’d just leave like that. We were ... friends.”
Abraham cast his eyes slowly around the room. It was the first time Joss had remembered seeing his uncle at Sirus’s house. “Sirus’s loyalty has been in question for some time. By both the Society and yours truly. But even I was surprised to find that he’d defected. Foolish. Stupid. He knows what awaits him.”
Joss glanced at his uncle with a question. “What awaits him exactly? What happens to a Slayer who defects?”
Abraham didn’t speak for a moment, but when he did, his tone was serious and deadly. “He’ll be banished. But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Joss nodded, even though he didn’t really understand what his uncle had meant, and moved toward the door. As he passed Abraham, his uncle stopped him with a hand to his chest. Abraham’s tone was grave. “It would be best, nephew, if you learned now not to ask questions. Questions require answers. And answers can cause trouble. You wouldn’t want the Society to view you as a troublemaker, now would you?”
Joss shook his head, feeling his heart flutter a bit in uncertainty and fear. His words came out in a whisper. “No ... no, of course not.”
Abraham removed his hand and Joss stepped outside. The air felt oddly heavy and stale, the sun too hot on his face. On the surface, it was a beautiful day, but what someone sees on the surface isn’t necessarily what’s real.
Sirus was gone. Kat, too. Joss was left with nothing but his duty to avenge Cecile. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe being alone with his utter hatred of vampires was what he really needed. Maybe Abraham had been right, and his caring compassion for other people really was a weakness. Joss wondered why he hadn’t seen it before now, that his friendship with Sirus and Kat had been such a terrible distraction from his reason for coming here, his reason for moving on after Cecile’s death. He vowed to himself, and to Cecile’s restless spirit, that he would experience no further distractions. Not until he’d located the vampire that had stolen her away, and made it suffer like no other had suffered before.
Once they were both outside, Abraham leaned closer, his hand on Joss’s shoulder, and said, “I have another task for you, if you’re up for it. This one will bring you ever closer to your goal, ever closer to becoming indoctrinated into the Society. But it will take an amazing amount of strength, Joss. I won’t lie to you about that, or cater to your fear. Yesterday you faced the worst of it, but today will be a challenge. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether or not you want to face this task. There’s no shame in it if you can’t. If you can, meet us in the clearing after lunch. If you can’t, there’s a train ticket lying on your nightstand. You decide.”
Abraham walked away then, leaving Joss staring up into the too-bright sky. When he finally looked away, his vision was marred by dots of light, spots of shadow every time he blinked. A passing thought entered his mind, remarking on the strange similarities between darkness and light, and he wondered what he was representing now—was he light? Dark? Was he doing the right thing, at all costs? For a while, he’d viewed Abraham’s tests as a cruel fate, a form of sadistic torture, but everything that he had seen reflected otherwise. Abraham was doing good. He was doing everything within his power to train Joss to do what it was that he’d come here to do—to take down vampires.
Joss was weak. He knew that now. And he was wrong to question the Society’s wisdom, wrong to question his uncle’s motives. Joss wished deeply that he could be more like his cousins, Greg and Henry, who would never question the things that they were told, who would never hesitate in doing what had to be done. Their loyalty, like that of most McMillans, was unfailing and admirable. Joss was a rebel in that regard, and that fact deeply embarrassed him. His need to question, and his disgusting need to act on those questions. Dark questions invaded his thoughts, like a disturbing voice in the back of his mind that insisted on spreading rumors that only he could hear—rumors about his uncle’s motives, rumors about whether or not he was acting wisely. Only through focus and determination could he squash that self-doubt, that questioning, and only through the wisdom of the Society could he avenge his sister’s death. He was deeply ashamed of his tears last night and vowed not to cry again, not to give in to the shadow of doubt that loomed over his experience in the clearing. Beheading the monsters had been an ugly thing. But it had also been just. It had also been right.
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