The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill (5 page)
Read The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill Online
Authors: Heather Brewer
“Do we have a problem, gentlemen?”
Joss flicked his eyes over to the man who’d interrupted their tension. Young, mid-thirties, slate gray eyes, and dirty blond hair, sheared into a short military cut. He was lean, but Joss could tell by the way the fabric of his shirt lay on his frame that he was also muscular. And he was hoping that muscular meant strong, because he was going to need every ounce of help he could get if this thing came to blows. The man raised an eyebrow at the vampire, setting his jaw, as if he were very much aware of what kind of monster he was dealing with. “Is there something the boy or I can help you with?”
The vampire emitted a low, guttural growl. It came off as a territorial warning, but Joss wasn’t entirely sure why. “Sirus.”
The corner of the man’s mouth twitched slightly. His hand slowly moved to the leather satchel on his hip. He dropped his tone so that no one else in the station would hear. “The boy is one of ours. And if you’re informed enough to know my name, you must know the girl is mine. I’m willing to turn the other cheek this time, but if you make a move, I’m authorized and fully capable of taking you down, despite the complication of exposure. So think about your next move before you make it—think long and hard—and then do it. But do it knowing that I’ll take great pleasure in killing you.”
The vampire seemed to weigh Sirus’s seriousness for a moment. Then, judging him to be an honest man, it nodded and moved out the door. Sirus shook his head and turned back to Joss. “Good to have you aboard, Slayer. I wouldn’t have wanted to face him myself, truth be told. Not in a public place. It could have gotten messy, and judging by his calculated movements, he’s accustomed to moving among vampires more than humans, which means he’d be strong. Maybe too strong for the likes of me. But the two of us. We probably could have taken him.”
Joss blinked in mild confusion. “Taken him? You mean taken him down? But he’s a ... vampire.”
The word fell off his tongue and tumbled to the floor in a whisper. It felt strange. It felt surreal.
Sirus nodded. “And we are Slayers.”
“I’m not a Slayer. I’m not even sure I know what that is, but I assume it means someone who kills vampires. And I’m not that.” But even as he uttered the words, he knew them not to be true. After all, wasn’t that why he’d come here? To avenge his sister’s death? Surely that would involve a little killing on his part. Joss swallowed, but his throat was parched.
Sirus seemed to size him up for a bit before speaking again. “But you are a Slayer, Joss. You swore an oath three years ago, and every day since then has been preparing you for this day.”
At the back of his mind, Joss heard his ten-year-old self responding to his uncle with a determined voice.
“I swear.”
“I swear.”
Sirus kept his voice even, as if he possessed an immeasurable amount of patience. “Yes, you did. And the next day your father was hired by a new company. A company that unbeknownst to your family is owned and run by the Slayer Society. A company that moved you to how many different places in just three years, Joss?”
“Too many.”
“And each of those cities was chosen for a reason. Some of the most talented Slayers in the Society are stationed in those places. You were being moved around so that each of those Slayers, highly respected members of the Society, could size you up, and confirm that you are as we are, a Slayer.” He reached a hand forward as if to give Joss’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, then thought better of it and dropped his hand to his side. “After they’d analyzed you, it was time for you to come here, to be trained in the art of slaying and eventually, indoctrinated into the Society. And to be honest, I was hoping that Abraham would be the one to explain it all to you.”
Joss shook his head. Not in utter disbelief, but in shock that he had somehow missed the exquisite detail of the Society’s plans. At the time it had seemed like just a bit of luck when his father scored a wellpaying position at a seemingly reputable company. It had been a bit strange that the company was willing—no, eager, Joss recalled his dad saying—to move his family along with him. And Joss had faced each move with grave determination, knowing that it would be just another house, and never home. Straining now, he couldn’t seem to recall anyone who’d obviously been a Slayer. But then, he supposed, they had just been incredibly good at their job and blended in. He wished, much like Sirus, that his uncle had told him that he was being reviewed by the Slayer Society.
He took a breath and let it out slowly before meeting Sirus’s eyes. “When do I see my uncle?”
“The great Abraham McMillan? Most highly regarded Slayer of our time?” Sirus smiled, and then nodded slowly, as if making a decision about Joss—a decision he would not put voice to. “Depends on traffic. The cabin is about an hour’s drive from here, when nobody’s on the road. The girl you saw is my daughter. She knows nothing of the Society and I plan to keep it that way. Secrecy is our biggest ally. So watch what you say while she’s around, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful with what I say.” He reached for his suitcase, but Sirus grabbed it first and led him out the station door. With every step, Joss felt more excited the farther away he got from the life that he had known. He was leaving it all behind; all for the love of his sister and his determination to locate the monster that had killed her and right a wrong that never should have been.
Joss stepped out into the bright summer sun and squinted until a large, puffy cloud did him a favor and crossed over the sun, blessing him with brief shade. In front of him, Sirus had approached a beat-up pickup truck that had been red in its glory days, but was now closer to brown. After placing Joss’s suitcase in the back, he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and glanced around briefly. Before he could slide the key into the lock, the girl who’d run from the station—Sirus’s daughter—burst from behind the truck and ran into his arms. She was about Joss’s age, with hair so many colors—among them purple, blue, and pink—that Joss could barely count them all. The shorts and tank top she wore revealed bronze tan skin. She might have been a teenager, but at the moment, she was acting very much like a scared child. “Dad, I’m sorry. I was going to look for your friend, but there was this man, and he was acting really bizarre. It scared me. He—”
Sirus smiled and gestured his eyes to Joss, who stood at the front of the truck, feeling unbelievably awkward. “Don’t worry. I found my friend. And you did the right thing to run. There have been some dangerous people lurking about lately.”
Joss shifted his feet uncomfortably. He’d never been the best at lying, and had only really begun to withhold the truth from anyone since the night Cecile had been murdered. His parents had assumed it was some madman who’d killed their little girl. Joss had merely gone along with their assumption, but supporting their incorrect belief was just as bad as lying. He had a feeling he’d be telling a lot of lies from now on. The idea didn’t sit particularly well in the pit of his stomach. It felt sour and achy and not at all like the cool, familiar comfort of truth. But he would do what he had to do for justice.
The girl’s eyes said she was both relieved and comforted by her father’s presence. She looked at Joss and offered a warm smile. “I’m Kat. What’s your name?”
“Joss.” He cleared his throat. “What grade are you in?”
“I’m starting ninth this fall.” She smiled then, and a peculiar, welcoming sparkle entered her eyes.
“Me too.” He felt the threat of a smile edging up onto his lips, but it stopped when Sirus caught his eye. “Nice to meet you, Kat.”
Sirus opened the driver’s-side door of his truck and shook his head, chuckling a bit before getting in. “Come on, you two. Abraham will be expecting us for dinner.”
Kat walked around and got in through the passenger door, sliding to the middle and patting the seat next to her as Joss approached. After taking a deep breath, Joss climbed in and closed the door, leaving what he had known as his life behind forever.
5
ECHOES OF THE NIGHT
Joss laid in his bed, his pillow wadded into a ball underneath his head. Moonlight poured in through the window, but apart from the dresser and the floor, he couldn’t see much of his room. A strange darkness surrounded him, one so thick and black that it seemed almost like ink. His covers felt heavy on top of him, so heavy that he was having a difficult time breathing. The cotton fabric felt stiff and thick, and Joss was certain that if he didn’t get out from under his blanket soon, he’d suffocate.
A sound caught his attention and he turned his head to look at the door, at where the noise was coming from. It was soft and steady, like a snake hissing quietly. Throwing his stifling covers off, Joss stood and moved to his bedroom door. He pressed his ear against the wood and listened. For a moment, the hissing stopped.
A slight breeze blew in from the crack at the bottom of the door. The skin on Joss’s feet cooled quickly and relief flooded through him. The room was just so hot he could barely stand it. He was debating opening the door to fill his room with cool air when the hissing started up again. Slowly, the sound changed from a low hiss—like someone releasing air from a balloon—to a whimpering cry.
Joss opened the door and stepped out into the hall. He’d hoped for a burst of cool air on his face, but the hallway was actually hotter than his room. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead and dripped off the end of his nose, but Joss paid it no attention. He was too focused on the sound of someone crying, and the fact that it was coming from the door just down the hall from his bedroom. The cries sounded familiar, and Joss’s heartbeat picked up its pace and joined the chorus of sounds around him.
He shuffled quietly down the hall. By the time his hand closed over the doorknob, Joss knew who was behind that door, and who was responsible for the echoes of sadness that were reaching his ears. “Cecile? Are you okay?”
But Cecile wasn’t okay. She was dead. She couldn’t be here in her room, crying for him to save her. She was dead.
With a deep breath, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Cecile was lying on her bed, her eyes closed. A line of blood traced down her cheek to her pink ballerina sheets. Only something was different this time. Her chest was rising and falling, and Joss could still hear her whimpers. Cecile was breathing. Cecile was alive.
He crossed the room, stretching a hand out to brush her bangs from her eyes and comfort her. When his fingertips touched her soft hair, he relaxed. She was real. And she really was alive. He patted her head and knelt beside her bed, keeping his eyes away from the bloody line that ran from her mouth. “It’s okay, Cecile. Shhh. Everything’s okay.”
Big, round tears spilled from her still-closed eyes and ran down her cheeks. Her voice was soft and sad. “No, it’s not, Jossie. It’s not okay.”
Wiping away her tears with his fingers, he leaned close, lowering his voice to as comforting a whisper as he could. “Of course it is. Why would you say that?”
Suddenly, Cecile’s eyes opened wide. Her sockets were empty black holes. Soulless tunnels that went on forever, into the deep, into the dark. For some reason, they reminded Joss of that thick blackness that had encompassed his bedroom. Her voice dropped into a deep, gruff tone, as if she hadn’t used her vocal cords in ages. “Because I’m dead. And it’s all your fault.”
Joss moved back, terrified. He screamed, but even as he did, he knew that no one would ever hear him. Cecile lunged forward, her tiny fingernails sharpened into claws. Inside her open mouth, Joss saw white, glistening fangs.
6
A SENSE OF DUTY
Joss sat bolt upright on his seat in the truck, alarmed by something he’d seen in his dreams. He wasn’t sure what it had been, but he wasn’t surprised.
Ever since Cecile’s death, his nights had been plagued by nightmares—nightmares that he was grateful that he could not always recall.
Sirus and Kat were looking at him, concern filling their collective gaze. It was Sirus who broke the silence. “Everything okay, Joss? You dozed off for a bit.”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He smiled weakly and realized the truck had stopped. “Just a bad dream. Is this it?”
Sirus seemed to gauge him for a moment before speaking again. “The cabin’s just around the bushes and up the hill a bit. If you can manage your bags, Kat and I will carry the groceries.”
Joss scratched his head and yawned, shaking off his bad dream. He nodded. “No problem. Sorry I dozed off.”
As Kat slid out the passenger door, Sirus leaned back inside and lowered his voice. “It’s okay. You’ll need all the sleep you can get before training begins.”
Joss sat up, excitement filling him. He was ready for this, and anxious to get started. “When will it begin, anyway?”
Sirus held his gaze for a moment, his eyes full of concern—a concern that Joss didn’t understand. “Probably sooner than you’re ready for.”
“When’s that?”
“Well.” Sirus sighed, as if doing the math in his head. “It’ll take us about three minutes to gather this stuff and get to the cabin, and another two or three for Abraham to realize you’re here. So I’d say you have about seven more minutes of freedom left.”
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