The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill (11 page)
Read The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill Online
Authors: Heather Brewer
Sirus nodded as well. “Make up the spare room, please, Kat. We’ll be over in a bit to get Joss situated.”
Once Kat had bounded out the door, Sirus turned back to Joss and lowered his voice. “Something that no one here has been told to teach you is this: our greatest skill is keeping our secrets. The only training for doing so is in the field, I’m afraid. Get to know my daughter, but practice keeping your secrets over the next few days. It’ll help you in the long run. More, I’d wager, than learning how to wield a stake or block a bite. Though those do come in handy from time to time.”
Joss shifted awkwardly in his seat for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe his hesitancy. He’d never really had friends—unless you counted the books on his shelves. And he wasn’t exactly comfortable around girls. Especially girls with wild purple and blue hair, who seemed extremely comfortable around him. The idea of being alone in a house with Kat for two days set his stomach in knots. Knots that he couldn’t explain, exactly.
“Something wrong?”
He met Sirus’s eyes then and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “It’s just ... I’m not sure how to act. Around Kat, I mean.”
A protective glint flashed across Sirus’s eyes then. “She’s my daughter. You act with respect and kindness.”
Joss’s eyes widened at the insinuation that he’d do anything but. “No, it’s not that. I just mean that I’m not sure what to talk about. I mean. She’s a girl.”
Sirus laughed softly and shook his head. “Someday, my young friend, you’ll find out that girls are actually people, too. Just like you and me.”
A crease found its way onto Joss’s forehead then. Because he was quite certain that Sirus was wrong. Girls were more complicated than boys. Girls communicated in a language that only they understood. And Joss wasn’t sure at all that he would ever understand them.
Apparently, Sirus found his expression amusing, because he laughed again and said, “Let’s get you over to the other cabin before Abraham comes back.”
Joss slowly stood, mindful of the burning on his back. He started a gentle shuffle toward the door, and cast a sidelong glance at Sirus. “Do you really have the authority to tell Abraham what he can and can’t do?”
Sirus shrugged. “You’ll find there are decided ranks within the Society, Joss. My station as the caretaker of this clan is an important and powerful one. But don’t be mistaken. Your uncle has seniority as a Slayer here. He’s in charge. Not me. I can fix you up, but it’s up to Abraham to ensure you learn the required skills necessary to your training, and to dole out punishments when needed.”
Joss took another step toward the door, his back stinging terribly, and winced at the pain his purification had caused. In all honesty, Joss didn’t feel any more pure than he’d been before Abraham had starved and whipped him. But he knew better than to say so. He couldn’t help but marvel at the pain as he moved, and wondered something that he would never dare speak aloud.
If this was what it felt like to be purified, to be accepted as one of the group ... what was Abraham’s idea of punishment?
11
HEARTS OR SPADES
The smaller cabin was nothing at all like the larger one, expect for the fact that it, too, wasn’t actually a cabin, but an historic house. It was smaller than the Victorian, and Joss got the feeling it was newer, too. This one didn’t feel so formal in style, somehow. It felt cozy. It felt right.
True to her word, Kat had set up a nice area for Joss in the den, and he was now settled into a cozy couch, marveling at the differences between this cabin and the other, and blaming it entirely on the fact that no one but Sirus and Kat ever stayed here. Paintings adorned the wall—fantastic artwork depicting faraway places that Joss had never even dreamed of. Dramatic brushstrokes gave the images life, and Joss wasn’t entirely surprised to see Sirus’s name painted in the bottom corner of each piece. It seemed fitting that someone as kind and courageous as Sirus would be an artist as well. Joss had never painted anything ... unless you counted the sad finger paintings of his kindergarten year, or his bedroom walls when he was in the fourth grade and Dad said he could help. In fact, Joss had never really done anything creative at all. He had written in his journal, but that was more like purging his thoughts rather than creating something ... wasn’t it? And he had started a pretty incredible collection of various insects—collecting, categorizing, mounting them on displays—but that was more science than creativity ... wasn’t it?
Kat set a tray in front of him on the coffee table. It was overflowing with various cheeses, crackers, apple slices, and grapes. After she set it down, she disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with two bottles of water. Plopping down on the floor near the table, she smiled brightly. “Sirus said to take care of you. So eat.”
Joss looked over all of the food and nodded with appreciation. “I’m not hungry now, but maybe in a little—”
“Eat.” Kat’s eyebrows came together in a way that reminded him of his mother when she meant business. “Please.”
Joss stretched out his hand and grabbed something from the tray. After he took a bite, he realized it was cheese.
“Do you wanna play cards or something?”
Before Joss could decide if he did or didn’t or even form a response in his head, Kat had a deck out and was shuffling them loudly on the table. He was beginning to wonder if she ever let anybody else make their own decisions.
Or maybe she just didn’t think of stuff like that. He looked at her and cleared his throat softly. “Actually, Kat? My back really hurts. Could you maybe find me some Tylenol or something?”
Without a word, she bounded from the room and returned a moment later with a prescription bottle that was half full of pills. As she twisted the cap off, she said, “Sirus said you should take one of these every four hours until tomorrow. Then you can switch to ibuprofen.”
The frightening thought that he was about to take strange pills from someone he hardly knew flitted through his mind and then disappeared again. He opened his hand and took the pills, then popped one into his mouth and swallowed it dry. If he could trust Sirus, he could trust Kat. After he’d swallowed it, he turned back to her and said, “Thanks.”
“Well, if these are the same pills Sirus gave me when I broke my arm, you won’t feel a thing in about twenty minutes.” She smiled and cocked her head to the side, her eyes gleaming.
“How’d you break your arm?” he asked. The combination of the cheese and medication left a horrible taste in his mouth, so he sipped from the bottle on the tray, hoping to rinse the foul taste away.
Kat shrugged. “I was in a car accident when I was five. My mom was driving, hit some ice—the country roads in Michigan are pretty slick in the winter—and we skidded off the road into a big ditch. Mom didn’t make it. I got out of it with a broken arm.”
Joss swallowed hard, the bitter taste remaining on his tongue. He wasn’t exactly certain what he should say or do. Kat had just shared something deeply personal with him, and all he could think to say was that he was sorry. Was that what she wanted? For him to empathize with her? Or had she just said it because he’d asked about her arm?
Before he knew it, too much time had passed with his silence, and saying anything at all would have proven even more awkward. So Joss took another drink of water and waited for Kat to speak again.
“It’s no big deal. I was in a cast for a few weeks, and at the end of it all, it brought me and Sirus closer. We hadn’t been before that. I mean, he may have been my father, but he was never really my dad until after I came to live with him. So everything happens for a reason.”
“So Sirus wasn’t married to your mom or anything?”
“Well, yeah. Actually, he was. For two years. But it didn’t work out. They stayed close friends though. And after she died, her will said that I should go live with him, if he wanted me to. He did, so I did.” She shrugged once again, her eyes speaking of a sadness that her words wouldn’t hint at. Then she looked at Joss questioningly. “So are you going to tell me what really happened to you, or should I go on pretending that you lost to a mountain lion in a slap fight?”
Joss’s throat seized and, for a moment, it felt as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. By the time he’d recovered and placed a lie on the tip of his tongue, Kat had folded her arms in front of her as if she’d danced this dance before. “I got in a fight with one of the other ... guys ... and lost.”
Only his words hadn’t come out in the form of a statement. More like a question. Even he didn’t believe what he’d just said.
“Mm-hmm. Right. You either wrestle mountain lions or get in random fights with guys in the woods, and Sirus is just here to cook for his so-called friends and pass out Band-Aids on occasion.” Her cheeks flushed pink in irritation. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I should be at home, categorizing some beetles or something. But no, instead I’m stuck here with people who won’t even talk to me about whatever it is that’s going on. Do you know I left a perfectly preserved hairy fungus beetle just lying on my desk unmounted to come here?”
“Beetles?” He squeaked, with probably a bit too much excitement. “You’re into entomology, too?”
“Are you kidding? I love it! Ever since I caught that Schaus swallowtail butterfly when I was six.”
After a pause, one that was filled with elated heartbeats and so many questions that he thought he might burst, Joss leaned forward slowly, his back burning, and picked up the deck of cards. He shuffled them thoroughly before meeting her eyes. “Hearts or Spades?”
She sat down on the floor by the coffee table with a sigh. “Hearts.”
He dealt their hands and unfolded his behind cupped palms. “At home, I have quite an impressive collection of insects. In fact, it’s probably my favorite thing in the world to do.”
Kat nodded and reached for a slice of apple. “I hear ya. Collecting, categorizing, mounting. I love it. It was a hobby at first, but it’s kinda an obsession now. I got into it pretty hard core about two years ago with butterflies. It’s interesting stuff, y’know? I kinda wanna be an entomologist when I’m older.”
A strange, fluttery feeling settled into Joss’s stomach then. It felt light and airy and so unusual that Joss wasn’t certain if he were nauseous or just a little dizzy from happiness. Maybe it was the medication. “Me too.”
Suddenly, his chest felt a bit tight, like he couldn’t breathe. He’d never be an entomologist. Not now. Not with his future as a Slayer laid out before him. There was no time for a normal life. He had a duty to mankind ... and to Cecile. “I mean ... I did.”
Kat grinned. “Seriously?” When Joss nodded, she said, “You are officially too cool for words, Joss McMillan.”
Too cool for words. No one had ever described him that way before. He was alone, without friends, and looked down upon for being interested in things like books and insects and how they get along in this big, bad world. It was nice to know that someone on the planet—if only for a moment—admired him for just that. He smiled warmly at her. “I don’t know why you’re here, Kat, but I’m really glad you are.”
“You won’t be after this hand,” she chuckled.
She was right.
For the next four hours, they played hand after hand of Hearts, and Kat won almost every time. And the only time she didn’t win, Joss had a sneaking suspicion she’d let him win, and pity hands don’t really count, as Cecile let him know long ago.
Kat shuffled the cards expertly. “Come on. One more. Maybe you’ll get lucky.”
But Joss’s back yanked the strings of his resolve. He winced. “I think it’s time for some more meds. My back is killing me.”
Kat handed him the bottle then and watched as Joss tossed another pill back. “Can you at least tell me why you can’t say what really happened to you?”
Joss looked at her and shook his head. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep this a secret from her. He had to. “Kat . . .”
She held up a hand. “Just tell me if it was a thing or a person.”
He mulled it over for several minutes. She clearly already suspected that he was lying outright about what exactly had injured him so badly. What would be the harm in answering this one question? It wasn’t like he was revealing the Slayer Society’s existence or anything. He was just answering whether or not it was a thing or a person who’d hurt him. He could see no harm in answering the question at all. Crossing his fingers with hope that he was right, he said, “A person. But you can’t ask me any more questions.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper then. “It was Abraham. Wasn’t it?”
Joss shot her a stern warning glance.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just know it. I could sense it about him. He just comes off as a mondoabusive jerk.” Kat set her jaw, her eyes shining. “I’m sorry he hurt you, Joss. And I wish you’d tell me why or how, but I know you won’t. I won’t bring it up again. I just ... you don’t deserve whatever he did to you. And I’m sorry.”
But he did. Joss did deserve every lick of the whip that Abraham had doled out. For not being there the moment that monster had entered Cecile’s room. For freezing in fear when he saw it’s horrible fangs. For not being able to recall its face clearly. And for falling asleep and letting Malek get killed. Let’s not forget that one.
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