Slayer(30)

“I always knew you were special. I’ll admit I didn’t assume that meant Slayer, but it does settle an old bet.” His face shifts into a sly smile. “I wagered Honora fifty quid that you would be able to take any of us in a fight one day.”

The mention of Honora is the last straw. “I don’t want to take anyone in a fight. Fighting is pointless. Your being able to throw a punch then didn’t make any of you better than me, just like being a Slayer now doesn’t make me any better than I was before.”

He cringes. “Right. I know that. I’m just—I think we got started on the wrong note.”

“You mean when you immediately agreed I shouldn’t train and we should look for other Slayers instead?”

The confusion on his face is deeply satisfying. He takes a hesitant step forward, and then one back. The small, mean parts of me exult in throwing him so off balance. Leo was always precise in everything he did. Right now? He’s a mess. And I made him that way.

He shakes his head. “I thought someone should offer alternatives to training as a Slayer. It seemed like you didn’t want to. You shouldn’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with or ready for.”

I can’t blame him for picking up on the truth. Be that as it may, his speed to dismiss me was telling. He’s acting like it was about what I wanted, but I suspect it’s more about him still seeing me as a pathetic child. “All Watchers have to do things we might not be ready for. Artemis always had to. I shouldn’t be an exception. If this is what the Council wants, then it’s my responsibility.” I might be fronting a tad. But I refuse to have the same power dynamic here that I always have—mainly that everyone else has all the power.

Leo’s voice is firm again, all hesitation gone. “The Council shouldn’t count more than you. Ever. That’s my first piece of advice.”

“As my Watcher?”

“As your friend.”

“I’m going to change my clothes,” I snap. “And then we can train as Watcher and Slayer. Not friends.” His face falls as I leave the room. For a moment I feel guilty, especially since he really was picking up on how I was feeling. And it does mean something—however small—that he believed I was strong even back when no one else had any reason to. But I steel myself. I don’t want anything from Leo Silvera. If he has to be my Watcher, fine. But he’ll never be my friend again. I owe that much to my past self.

? ? ?

Leo and Honora were sixteen. Artemis, Rhys, and I were thirteen. Unlike Artemis, Rhys had passed his Watcher trials the year before.

Those in line for active Watcher (and future Council) status faced a series of tests, both practical and mystical, to determine whether they’d be approved for training. There were loads of different positions within the Watcher society, but all of them—special ops, mystical consultants, nurses, librarians—were subordinate to full Watchers. Being an active Watcher was the goal.

When she didn’t pass the test, Artemis became an errand girl. An understudy of sorts. I wanted her to join me in my medic and first aid studies, but our mother had sent a note that it would be “a waste of her abilities,” even though it apparently wasn’t a waste of mine.

Rhys was already stressing out about his Watcher project, an in-depth study presented to the Council. Most famously, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had done a genealogy tracing the sirings of vampires all the way back to the original demon that created them. It took seventeen days to present. Rhys always spoke of it with a wistful, dreamy look, as though he wished he had been old enough to attend.

Another Watcher had done a study of a vampire named William the Bloody. I tried to read it once, but Artemis took it from me, saying it was inappropriate. Even though she was the same age and had obviously read it. She wasn’t fully a Watcher-in-training, but she still had access to information I didn’t.

Leo and Honora had passed their trials three years before. They were well into the training, nearly ready to accomplish their final tests and be granted full Watcher status. It would be years before they’d be able to apply for Council positions, but they were both on their way.

Part of their responsibilities was overseeing the magical and physical training of Rhys. Artemis mostly worked alongside Rhys, the idea being that she’d eventually be his assistant.

She was still lucky, in a way. Close to the things that mattered. Jade had been shuffled off to magical special ops. Imogen, like me, wasn’t even allowed to test.

We sat together sometimes, when Imogen wasn’t on nanny duty. We’d climb up to the balcony overlooking the training room. With our legs stuck through the bannister rails, we’d lean our foreheads against it and watch those lucky enough to train for things we’d never get to do.

“Aren’t you mad?” I asked her once.

She shrugged. “It was nice of them to let me stay. I don’t have anywhere else to go. And I’m not like my mother. I don’t want power. I want to help. So if me taking care of the Littles while their parents do important things helps? I’m glad I can do it.”

I liked Imogen, but I didn’t understand her. I would have been pissed. I was pissed. I watched my sister training with a body that should have been identical to mine, and I envied her. I wanted that same level of ease in my skin. For our thirteenth birthday, my mother had given Artemis weapons. She’d given me DVD collections of ER and Chicago Hope.