Read The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill Online
Authors: Heather Brewer
The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill (26 page)
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Joss lowered the stake, not knowing what to do, only knowing that he could never harm a friend. Not exactly to his surprise, Sirus turned and took off into the woods, probably headed to warn his vampire master, as he’d likely been ordered to do. He moved over to his uncle and knelt beside him. “Abraham? Are you okay? I’m going to go call an ambulance.”
Abraham opened his eyes wide, the intensity of his pain all over his face. He reached up and grabbed Joss by the shirt. “Go after him, Joss. Don’t stop until he’s dead.”
Joss furrowed his brow in confusion. He wondered if it were true what they said about people who suffered delusions after breaking a bone. “Uncle Abraham, it’s not Sirus’s fault. He’s just a drudge. We have to figure out a way to help him.”
“Help him?!” Abraham trembled violently as his body slipped into a state of shock. “Don’t help him, Joss. He’s a vampire! I saw his . . . his . . .”
Joss’s eyes grew wide in disbelief as his uncle collapsed into an unconscious state. But not before he whispered one final word.
“... fangs.”
27
THE HUNT
Joss ran through the woods in the direction that Sirus had fled, his self-created wind brushing back his hair and tickling his eyelashes. He gripped the stake tightly in his hand, running, going, moving forward, not knowing if he was making any headway at all, and cursing himself for ever having jumped to the easy, forgiving conclusion that Sirus was merely a harmless drudge. But still he ran, his thigh muscles on fire, his focus clear and sure. He had to find Sirus, had to forget about the friendship he’d been duped into believing they had shared, and had to stake him through the heart.
He couldn’t think about Kat and wonder if she had any idea that her father was a bloodsucking monster now. He couldn’t think about the way that Sirus had made him feel cared for in a way that not even his parents had made him feel. He couldn’t think about anything but the wooden instrument in his hand and his duty to the Society, his duty to mankind, and his duty to Cecile.
Because every time Joss killed a vampire, he was setting her soul just a little more free. And if it damned him, so what. Let him be damned. But let Cecile’s soul rest.
Slowing his steps for a moment, Joss whipped around. He didn’t recognize this section of the woods and after spinning completely around, he really had no concrete idea of what direction he’d been heading in. In short, he was lost, with no idea how to find Sirus, let alone the clearing he’d left Abraham in. Joss turned slowly, making a guess at which way he’d been running, and moved forward through the woods until he spied something he had never seen before during his forest treks here. A small log cabin sat at the bottom of a shallow valley. Joss watched it warily, wondering if there were any occupants, and if there were, whether or not they were human. To be safe, he crept silently down the decline and around the building, ducking below the windows, until he came to a small door on the side of the house. The area around the cabin was unkempt and grown over, so it was likely empty, but Joss had to play it safe. Vampires, it turns out, were immensely crafty creatures. He’d rather tiptoe around and find out the building had been abandoned rather than throw caution to the wind and end up dead. Or worse.
And there was something worse than death. He could be made into a drudge. Or, even more terrible than that, he could be turned into one of the walking undead. A vampire. Joss couldn’t even imagine the horrors of that existence, and didn’t want to. He’d rather be dead than be a monster that fed on the innocent.
He turned the knob slowly and the small door swung open without a sound, as if its hinges had been recently greased. The room he entered was pitch-black, and it was only then that Joss realized that every window had been painted over, allowing no sunlight to pierce the glass. His heart picked up its pace, but Joss calmed it at once, not wanting to draw any attention from the vampires that surely must reside here, in this small, nowhere cabin, lost in the woods.
As he made his way across the room, he used his fingers for sight. The counter led him to the refrigerator, and when he hit empty space, he moved forward slowly, reaching out into empty darkness until the tips of his fingers found the table in the center of the room. Beyond that he found a blank wall, and then a door that was standing open a single inch. From within that next room, Joss heard voices. One of them very familiar to him.
“More bloodwine, Sirus?”
“Please.” Sirus’s voice sounded agitated and upset, as if he’d been terribly wronged and was consulting with his friends in order to find a solution to his dilemma. “Abraham still lives, but he shouldn’t be a problem. I broke his leg. Not a clean break, either. He won’t heal quickly from that.”
“Better than he deserves,” a third voice declared. “You should have killed him, drained him dry.”
Sirus sounded bemused. “Is that what you’d have done, Boris?”
The third vampire snarled. “I’d have taken my time, slurped every drop from every one of his lovely little veins. But not before tormenting him with a bit of fire. It’s the least he deserves.”
Joss leaned forward and quickly counted twenty-four vampires gathered in the dimly candlelit room. Plus Sirus. So twenty-five. He was no match for twenty-five monsters. Hell, he was barely a match for one, and that one he’d needed Abraham’s help with.
As he ducked away from the door, back into the darkness, he thought about Sirus and wondered how it was that none of the Slayers had recognized him as a creature of the night. His movements, his mannerisms, seemed so distinctly human, not at all otherworldly the way that the other vampires seemed to be. Then it hit him. Sirus must have been around humans for so long that he was able to adopt their mannerisms. Even if what Sirus had said was true, that he had been a vampire for just three years, then that meant he was just three years out of being human and into being a monster. Joss paused, his thoughts darkening briefly. What did that mean for Kat? Was she a vampire, too? Did her mother know about Sirus? Did he kill her and leave Kat motherless? He vowed then to find Kat and protect her at all costs. She was very lucky that Sirus hadn’t yet given in to his evil hunger and devoured her in her sleep as he likely had so many others. Joss would find her, no matter what, and protect her. As he should have protected Cecile.
A new voice spoke from within the next room. “There’s been news in your absence, Sirus. News having to do with the Pravus prophecy.”
Joss raised a curious eyebrow. Pravus. The word that had made his uncle so angry. What did it mean?
Sirus chuckled. “I don’t need to ask who shared this bit of information with you. Need I remind you gentlemen that the president of the Stokerton council is about as nutty as a hatter?”
“He may be crazy, but he says he has proof, and I’m inclined to believe him. Rumor says the Pravus may be located in a small town called Bathory.” This voice was deep, and the sound of it reminded Joss of pictures he’d seen of Scotland. It was old and lyrical.
Joss sucked in his breath. Bathory. That was where Henry lived.
The deep voice spoke again. “Keep this between us. We can’t have any nonbelievers getting involved. Or should I count you among their numbers, Sirus?”
Sirus sighed. “I never said I didn’t believe. Just that I don’t believe that he is a man we should follow blindly.”
Joss stepped silently away from the door. He turned toward where he remembered the door being, but slammed into what felt like a stove. As it yanked away from the wall, he heard a hissing sound. The air smelled like gas. And from the next room, a ruckus broke out. “What was that?”
“It’s that damned boy, I know it!”
The deep, Scottish voice shouted, “Sirus!”
Then Joss heard Sirus’s voice, just as he’d reached the small door that led to the outside. “Go after him, Kinley. And when you find him ... kill him.”
Joss burst outside and took off at a sprint, running as fast and as hard and as far as his legs would carry him, not slowing down to catch his breath or to stop his heart from bursting inside his chest. He just ran and ran and ran and ran, with no regard for his health or what was surely coming up behind him, hungry for his blood. He ran like never before and prayed to any deity he could possibly think of to let him reach the Slayers’ cabin, let him get to a place of safety. Even if it wasn’t actual safety. Just someplace he could pretend.
But an uphill run was taking more energy and more effort than he ever deemed possible. He was still too close to the cabin, too close to the vampires, and too close to death.
Above him there was a rustling sound, and just as Joss was about to brave a glance upward, the vampire that Sirus had called Kinley dropped from the trees and landed easily in front of Joss. With speed so fast Joss barely had time to blink, the beast moved close to him, shoving him backward, until Joss tumbled down the hill, toward the cabin he’d been trying so desperately to escape. It advanced on him, growling under its breath, so animalistic that Joss feared it might claw him into pieces before it even took a bite. Then it opened its mouth wide, revealing saliva-coated fangs, and Joss froze in fear, knowing that it wouldn’t just bite him. It wanted very much to kill him.
Joss recalled the heft in his hand and thanked the stars that in his terror, he’d gripped his uncle’s stake even tighter, so tight that the veins of silver were surely now temporary imprints in his skin. He slashed forward as hard as he could, but just nicked the beast’s shoulder. It screamed in a roar of rage and Joss stepped back, tripping over a rock that he hadn’t noticed behind his foot. Joss fell onto his back and, as the creature leaped forward at him, its teeth bared, its hungry tongue lolling inside its ancient mouth, Joss brought his knees up to his chest, a scream tearing from his throat until his vocal cords burned. He kicked his legs out just as the beast came down and to the shock and terror that now belonged to both Slayer and vampire, Joss kicked the monster backward. It flew through the air for a moment, but before it could regain control of its form, it slammed mercilessly into a large fallen branch, the sharp wood plunging through its back, piercing its heart.
The beast went still.
Joss scrambled to his feet, still gripping the stake in his hand—even harder now—and started to climb the hill once again. Then, from behind him, came a terrible explosion. The heat from the blast picked Joss up as if he were but a leaf on the wind and tossed him casually into a tree.
Joss’s world—once again—went dark.
28
NO APOLOGIES
The pain came before consciousness. It was immediate, intense, and filled his entire head up until T it felt like a balloon. A big, painful balloon. The thought occurred to him that he might have a concussion, and moments later, Joss opened his eyes.
He was lying on his bed in the Slayer cabin, under crisp white linens. His wounds—the few fresh ones he had—had been carefully bandaged. And the Slayers were standing around his bed in a semicircle, his uncle Abraham at the foot end, near the door. His leg was in a cast, and he was leaning on a sleek black wooden cane.
Joss couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here, or even if he was really here at all. Maybe it was all a figment of his imagination. Maybe he was hallucinating from his injuries. Maybe he’d died in the explosion. He only knew that he was glad to be here, glad to see these faces, glad to feel like he hadn’t completely ruined everything. Even if it wasn’t real, it felt good not to think about monsters with fangs for a second.
Ash was the first to speak. “We thought you were a goner, Joss. Thought the damn things had tackled you in the woods and swallowed every last bit of you. But then we heard that explosion and tracked you down.”
Morgan gave Joss a wink. “A word of advice, if I may? Explosions are an excellent way to kill the undead. But you should probably take a few steps back first, kid. But we can talk about that when I teach you more about explosives next summer. Of course, something tells me you might even teach me a few things.”
Roaring laughter filled the room and Joss sat up in his bed a little, enjoying their company, and so, so glad that he was still alive ... and a hero, apparently. Even if he hadn’t technically killed all those vampires on purpose. Who needed to know? Dead was dead, as far as Joss was concerned.
With awe in her voice, Paty said, “You must have killed twenty vampires with that blast.”
“Twenty-four.” Joss’s voice came out sounding weak, and a bit like someone had scraped his entire windpipe with low-grit sandpaper. It felt that way, too.
The Slayers all smiled proudly. All but one.
Abraham shot Joss a look that said that he knew that the blast was an accident, and that something about that didn’t sit well with him. Then he turned and limped out of the room without as much as a single word of encouragement or dissent. Joss didn’t know if he should feel berated or relieved, so he left it alone. He’d had enough unpleasantness today. The last thing he needed was another moment of heartache.
Slayers kept him company for most of the day. In fact, it wasn’t until Paty had brought him a tray of dinner that evening that he realized they hadn’t left him alone for more than a few precious minutes at a time. Were they watching him? Or did they just appreciate him and admire his efforts? He’d never know. But that evening, when he was lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come, Joss allowed his thoughts to drift through the pain medication’s fog back to the explosion. With pained realization, he knew that something horrible had happened. Sirus had been in that cabin when the blast had occurred. He was dead. And it was Joss’s fault.
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