The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill Read online

  “You had to come to understand that your opponent will never stop unless you fight back. And you did.”

  Joss bit the inside of his cheek absently. It seemed to him there were probably better ways of teaching someone that lesson, but he couldn’t argue with ageold traditions that had apparently been proven time and time again. Still, the urge was in him to do just that.

  Abraham met his eyes, a look of approval on his normally stern face. “Get some rest, and prepare for a long day tomorrow. I suspect that lesson won’t come as easily.”

  14

  THE LIES WE TELL

  Use more black, Joss. Otherwise you look less like the forest and more like the Hulk.” Paty’s tone had a hint of laughter, but Joss could tell she was doing her best to keep it contained.

  Joss dabbed his fingers into the black crème and rubbed crude lines onto his cheeks. Paty’s camouflage was flawless, but when he looked in the mirror, all he saw were several colors smudged all over his face in no particular order, like a kid who’d gotten into his mother’s makeup. He sighed heavily, hoping the lesson would soon be at an end. “Is this all there is to camouflage? Playing dress-up?”

  As soon as the words had crossed his lips, he regretted them. Luckily, if Paty had felt the sting of insult, she didn’t let it show. Instead, she smiled and handed him a moist towelette. As he rubbed the greens, browns, and black from his face, she said, “Actually, the most important aspect of camouflage is hiding our sounds, and at times, our scent.”

  He reached for another towelette, having destroyed the first, and said, “How do you do that?”

  Paty began gently removing her makeup as she replied. “Well, to hide our sounds, we learn to be light on our feet, watch where we step. Scent is a bit more complicated, especially when keeping our scent hidden from vampires. They can smell our blood, determine that we are human, even detect our blood type. So we can only mask it so well.”

  “How?”

  “You may regret asking.” Paty sighed, capping the small dishes of makeup as she spoke. “Suffice it to say that death helps to mask it.”

  Joss furrowed his brow, confusion filling him. “I’m not sure I get your meaning.”

  “How can I put this delicately?” She sighed again, this time looking to the ceiling of the dining room, as if the answers were written there. “I can’t. So ... the truth, then. Gross as it may be. Basically, if you rub yourself with a dead animal, it throws vampires off your scent.”

  Joss’s stomach turned slightly, nausea seizing him. “That’s disgusting.”

  At this, Paty chuckled. “Well, there’s always dung, but it doesn’t work as well. Besides, you’d be amazed what you’ll resort to when a monster is hunting you and closing in.”

  He mulled this over for a bit, wondering if she was right. What was it like to be hunted? Would he be desperate and afraid? Would he resort to methods of hiding that he currently deemed beyond his limit of tolerance?

  He was still mulling this over when Abraham opened the back door. “Joss. Outside. We have hand-to-hand combat to practice.”

  Paty muttered something—something about beating a lesson into Joss—but when Abraham flashed her a certain look, she packed up her camouflage tools in silence. She moved out of the room quickly, without a further word. Joss was sorry to see her go. Despite his frustration with applying makeup, he’d been really enjoying their time together. But Abraham was waiting, an expectant look on his face.

  Something told Joss that the longer he kept his uncle waiting, the worse his training would be.

  That night, Joss stumbled down the hill in the darkness, his ribs screaming, his mouth filling with the sick, metallic taste of blood. He spat on the ground twice, but still couldn’t get the taste out of his mouth. It was hard to navigate the dark woods, but somehow, he managed to find the cabin’s back steps. With a groan, he stepped up onto the worn wood, pausing only when he unexpectedly heard a voice—Kat’s voice—in the darkness. “Joss? Are you okay? Oh my god, what happened to you?”

  He turned slowly toward her, images filling his head of just what had transpired to put him in this state. He’d been called to training early in the day, and Abraham had begun working him over, stopping only to catch his own breath. They’d fought for hours, until Joss had passed out from the pain, and then Abraham had started in again, and again, until Joss had become convinced that he would die if his uncle didn’t stop. Abraham’s final words to him before he’d released Joss from the torment he called training, had been, “Now you’ve learned how to take a beating, what it feels like to truly hurt. Because we’ve covered two lessons, you can have tomorrow off.”

  And Abraham was right—Joss had learned his lessons. He now knew exactly what pain was, and how unmerciful someone could be if they wanted to. And he knew how to take a beating, which really wasn’t something he could take credit for. For one, Abraham had refused to let him leave. For two, every time he considered making a break for it, Cecile’s face would grip his imagination, and he’d turn back to face his uncle head-on.

  Lessons learned, if not entirely engraved upon his being.

  “Joss? What happened?” Her eyes were so full of concern, so wide and fearful of whatever it was that had hurt Joss in this way. He could barely stand to look at her. He didn’t deserve her pity, or her friendship.

  “It was a mountain lion, Kat. Just another stupid mountain lion.” He turned and opened the back door, then shuffled inside, all the while wondering where Sirus kept the bandages.

  To her credit and Joss’s relief, Kat didn’t follow him inside. There was also no sign of the other Slayers as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet, looking for something to clean and cover his wounds. After knocking over several jars, bottles, and small boxes, he located a small tin of Band-Aids, a tube of Neosporin, and a little brown bottle labeled IODINE. Part of him was almost certain the Neosporin would be the right choice for all of his scrapes and cuts, but he could vaguely recall his mother using iodine on his knee when he’d scraped it learning to ride his bike a few years before. After putting everything neatly away, he left his choices on the counter, and took a long, hot shower. The water burned on his skin and felt like knives on his wounds, but it was healing somehow to feel that pain. Maybe there was something to that whole purification ritual after all. Maybe Joss was learning the right way to be, and in that, he might just find the strength to go on, and to find peace.

  After he was clean, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, patted himself dry ever so carefully, ever so gently, and slipped his boxers back on. Then, loading his arms with his dirty clothes and medical equipment, he moved silently through the dark house and up the stairs to his room, where he changed into some fresh pajama bottoms and began cleaning his wounds. With a growling curse, he learned very quickly that iodine might clean your wounds, but it also feels like acid is eating its way through your flesh. Not to mention the delightful added bonus of dyeing your skin bright orange. With a grumble, he tossed the small brown bottle into the wastebasket and reached for the Neosporin. Gently applying it to the scrapes and cuts on his legs, arms, and chest, Joss counted to himself. Forty-three. There were forty-three visible wounds that he could find on his body, and who knows how many more on his back.

  And every one was worth it. Each scar, each bruise was simply a check mark on the list of things it took to become a Slayer. Joss was determined to move down that list as quickly as possible and to grit his teeth through every pain.

  There came a soft tap on his door and Joss lifted his head, speaking just as softly as the sound that had invaded his nurse work. “Come in.”

  Sirus pushed the door open and poked his head inside, his eyes moving quickly over Joss’s injuries. “Kat mentioned you weren’t feeling well. I thought maybe you could use some assistance.”

  Joss tightened his jaw. He didn’t want anyone’s help. In fact, all he wanted was to show his uncle that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, even afte
r taking a beating like that. “No thanks. I’ve got it.”

  A look of immediate doubt crossed Sirus’s eyes, but he didn’t give voice to it. He merely asked, “You were out all day without any breaks. Are you hungry?”

  Moments later, Joss was at the dining table, where Sirus had placed a large bowl of chili in front of him. He may be perfectly capable of tending his own wounds, but the fact was that Joss hadn’t eaten anything since early that morning, and his stomach had been rumbling its protests all day.

  Sirus handed Joss a utensil and he dug in, spooning bits of steak, beans, and various peppers into his mouth. The chili was spicy but delicious, and Joss quickly polished off one bowl and then another. He was working on his third when Sirus said, “I need to go into town tomorrow for supplies. You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like. It’s not far, but I’ll need some extra arms to help load the truck.”

  Joss chewed another mouthful and swallowed before nodding. “Sure. I have tomorrow off. I guess that would be okay.”

  “Kat will be joining us. I hope that’s all right.” Sirus filled a glass with lemonade and slid it closer to Joss. “I have a feeling you two could become good friends, given time.”

  Joss slowly set his spoon in the bowl and let Sirus’s words sink in. He’d never really had a friend before. With all the moving his family had experienced, it had been difficult for Joss to make friends. It would be nice to have a friend besides Henry. Even though the idea of spending any extended amount of time with her sent his stomach into knots. Kat was bold, outgoing, and seemed to have no concern at all about asking him questions. And that was the last thing a guy on his way to becoming a Slayer needed.

  Still ... she was pretty nice and very friendly. He took a sip of lemonade and nodded to Sirus. “What time should I get up?”

  “I’ll wake you at seven. We’ll leave around eight.” Sirus stood and cleared Joss’s dishes away. “By the way, I should warn you. Kat is a very curious soul. She may ask questions that you cannot answer.”

  Joss wiped his mouth on his napkin and looked at Sirus, mulling over exactly how to phrase his next sentence. “To be honest, she already has.”

  Sirus’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

  Joss nodded. “She knows that we’re not on some hunting trip, and she suspects that you and I haven’t been completely honest with her. But I don’t think she’ll push to find out what’s really going on. I have to ask though. Why did you bring her here? I mean, it seems like a really strange way to keep the Society’s secrets, bringing your daughter to a training camp.”

  Sirus said, “Every summer, I leave Kat behind. As you can probably imagine, she gets very lonely. After all, she has only me. No mother, no siblings. Just me. She stays with a friend of mine, but it’s not the same as having family around. We exchange letters all summer long, but hers always grow more and more troubled as time wears on. Then a month ago, Kat tearfully made me promise not to leave her this summer. She didn’t want to go to summer camp or on vacation with her extended family. She wanted to be with me. I couldn’t promise that I wouldn’t leave her, but I also couldn’t abandon her again. Not knowing how much it was hurting her to be away from me for so long. When you have children and you love them, it’s impossible to refuse them and even more impossible to knowingly cause them pain. So I brought her with me.”

  Joss furrowed his brow. He could only imagine how his uncle had reacted to the surprise news that a normal teenage girl would be joining them for the summer. He imagined Abraham’s reaction had probably contained a string of obscenities.

  Sirus smiled, as if guessing his thoughts. “Abraham was furious, of course. He threatened to report me to the Slayer Society. Then I reminded him of a few secrets of his own that I’m privy to, and he conveniently forgot my transgression. But if Kat finds out who we are and what we’re really doing here, I will be reported and taken into custody.”

  Joss swallowed hard. Without him even realizing it, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned forward in his seat. “What would they do to you?”

  “If they’re feeling kind, the Society will simply excommunicate me. But if they’re not feeling particularly forgiving, I will be punished.” The corner of his mouth tugged up slightly, as if Sirus were trying to make light of a very serious situation.

  “How?”

  “I’d rather not say.” Sirus waved his hand and shook his head. “You’re young. You should cling to your innocence while you can.”

  Joss sat back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him. “I thought you wanted me to have an honest view of the Society before I joined.”

  “I do. But some things you shouldn’t worry about until you’re faced with them. And hopefully you never will be.” Sirus met his eyes then, and Joss knew that the Society would kill him for betraying them. His life would be the price of not keeping their secrets. How he’d be killed, Joss had no idea, but he imagined it would be in the worst way possible. Sirus patted him on the arm and said, “It’s time for bed. I suggest you take some Tylenol before lying down. Tomorrow, I’ll take a good look at your injuries. Now get some sleep.”

  He nodded at Sirus, and yawned. He had no idea what time it was, but one thing was for certain.

  This was going to be the longest summer that Joss had ever experienced.

  15

  EARLY-MORNING ADVENTURES

  Come on, little brother.” Cratian smiled at Joss across the breakfast table. It was still dark outside, but technically, it was morning. Five in the morning. Joss had slept for maybe an hour, and he’d been tormented by Cecile’s restless spirit the entire time. When he awoke, he was famished, and Sirus had been happy to whip him up a nice breakfast. The house was quiet, but for Cratian’s voice. “It’s time to play. Chazz and I are going to search the hills for that hive. Thought we’d bring you along for the ride, if you’re feeling up to it.”

  Sirus turned away from the stove then and gave Cratian a look that said Joss wasn’t going anywhere. The look made Joss’s heart sink. Truth was, bruised or not, he really wanted to get out there and do some training, to further learn what it meant to be a Slayer.

  Cratian put up his hands in surrender. “I swear, no training. But he might learn a few things by tromping through the woods with us. Just for fun, I promise, Sirus.”

  Sirus seemed to mull it over for a while before pointing a finger at the three of them. “No maneuvers. His muscles need the rest.”

  Cratian looked from Chazz back to Sirus. “Can we at least go for a hike? He can watch me kick Chazz’s butt in the clearing.”

  Chazz looked up from his plate briefly. “Hey . . .”

  Joss finished chewing a bite of breakfast and said, “I want to go, Sirus. I promise I’ll be back before eight, so we can still go to town.”

  Sirus turned back to the stove without another word. Cratian grinned. Chazz shoveled in another mouthful of omelet before standing and giving Joss’s shoulder a healthy smack. Surprised into swallowing a bite of hash browns, Joss coughed, took a sip of orange juice and hurried to clear his plate away.

  Just a few minutes later, they were in a clearing in the woods, and Cratian was stretching his arms above his head. “The key to maintaining your strength is keeping the blood flowing, the muscles loose and limber, and the endorphins up. Before I head out on a hunt, I like to do at least twenty push-ups, and get some good stretches in. It’s a good habit to get into.”

  After watching Cratian for a moment, Joss followed suit, stretching one arm over his head, and then bending it at the elbow to stretch out his triceps.

  Cratian moved closer as Joss began to bring his arm down. “You’re not holding it long enough. You should feel a good burn, count to ten, then release it.”

  A muscle in Joss’s back started to cramp, but he brought his arm back up, refusing to show any sign of weakness to his fellow Slayers. Cratian caught his wince, though, and began to rub the muscle out for Joss. “Looks like somebody had a bit of hand to hand with Abraham
last night.”

  Joss shrugged, his back muscles losing their tension some. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  Cratian and Chazz exchanged looks that said that they knew just how full of crap Joss was at the moment. Then Chazz chuckled. “I remember the first time I faced off with your uncle. I couldn’t see out of my left eye for a week. He has a hard right hook.”

  “Don’t take it personally, little brother. It may seem like Abraham has it in for you, but he’s just trying to teach you the only way he knows how.” Cratian slapped him on the back before turning to Chazz. “Go on. Give him your tips before I kick your butt.”

  Chazz rolled his eyes as he turned back to Joss. “Despite what this meathead would have you believe, winning a fight is seventy percent mental, and only thirty percent physical. And preparation is key. For instance, look at Cratian and tell me what you see.”

  Joss moved his attention to Cratian and frowned. All he saw was a formidable opponent.

  Cratian flexed his bicep and beamed. “He sees perfection, of course.”

  A chuckle escaped Joss. “I see . . . I don’t know. He’s fit. And bigger than I am.”

  Chazz nudged him with his elbow. “Look closer, Joss. What’s he wearing?”

  Cratian was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. On his feet he wore a pair of ratty-looking sneakers. Before Joss could reply, Chazz leaned in close and spoke quietly, so that their opponent wouldn’t hear. “The materials are cotton, which can be forgiving, but jeans? A button-down shirt? Neither is a stretchy material, and both will inhibit his movement. Notice I’m wearing sweatpants and a loose tank top. I have a clear advantage over him in that regard. It may not be much, but it’s something. And when you’re fighting someone, you have to focus on the positive and keep your morale high.”

  “Are you girls done whispering? I’d like to get to this today, Chazz.” A gleam was in Cratian’s eyes—one that told Joss that he loved a fight. Even one between allies.