Slayer(33)

I love the tiny village. Gray rocks, thatched roofs, and cobbled streets wind through the village straight to an ocean seemingly designed to complement the weather. There’s something natural about Shancoom—as though it were simply a feature of the landscape. Even the way it’s laid out feels organic, with its homes clustered around a meandering central street. So many cities in America exist in defiance of the land they were built on. But Shancoom belongs.

The early morning fog lingers, drifting through the streets like the ghost of a long-dead river. I imagine it flowing over the cobblestones, straight to the cliffs, and spilling in a slow-motion waterfall to the ocean.

The fog plays tricks on my eyes. I see movement where there is none. I jog faster, feeling hunted.

Then a low growl makes me realize: I am being hunted.

I stop dead outside the soda shop. I can see Cillian inside, asleep on the floor beneath the counter. The door is locked up tight. He’s safe.

For now.

I crouch, using the fog to obscure myself too as I slip past the soda shop and loop back around to try to get behind whatever is following me. The fog parts enough to reveal frenzied eyes and sick-looking patches of skin with tufts of fur growing like fungus.

Another hellhound. Where are they coming from? How did it find me? It sniffs the air and then cuts straight through the fog toward me.

My first instinct is an overwhelming compulsion:

Attack.

My muscles strain, heartbeat soars, blood pounds in my head.

I take a deep breath. Send cooling thoughts into my veins, use that same Slayer strength to restrain my own limbs. Force myself to think like a Watcher, to look at the bigger picture. To think, think, think, not move.

It’s not about me. What is the common link between the two hellhound sightings? The first one was following Cillian. And now this one is here in town, not at the castle. So the first one might not have been looking for us at all. It might have been looking for something else. Something linked to Shancoom, and to Cillian.

And then I realize: the Coldplay demon.

I didn’t wash my hands after securing its chains just now. The hellhound might not be hunting me at all. And the first hellhound was right behind Cillian, who had come from his house, where the injured demon was probably already hiding. Whether friends or foes of the Coldplay demon, the hellhounds are looking for it. And I’m not going to let them succeed. Because whatever side the hellhounds are on, I’m on the opposite one.

Shancoom will wake up soon, though. Hellhounds fixate on their prey with unshakable intensity, but that doesn’t mean they won’t rip apart anything they encounter along the way. Done hiding, I stand and whistle. “Hey, doggy! Here, doggy, doggy!”

The hellhound freezes, cocking its head in confusion. Then it growls and leaps into motion. I turn and sprint, pushing myself as fast as I can run. Hellhounds are fast, but I’m faster. I let out one involuntary whoop of sheer adrenaline-fueled joy.

I am faster than a demon.

Only just, though. I race through the woods, branches clawing at me. I leap logs and duck obstacles. I hear the hellhound in pursuit. When the castle comes into sight, I put on a burst of speed, praying no one is outside yet. My luck holds. I yank open the door to the storage building, then jump up and catch the door frame, pulling my legs under me right as the hellhound leaps for them. It overshoots, smashing into the shelves.

I drop and slam the door shut, trapping the hellhound inside. Chest heaving, I consider my options. I’ve trapped a hellhound right outside my own home. In the building with all the weapons and chains I could have used to subdue it.

Stake me. Why couldn’t my brain run as fast as my legs?

I can get weapons in the training room. I don’t want to think about what I’ll have to do when I let the hellhound out. I’ll figure it out when I get to that point. I have my very own Watcher now, but he’s the last person I want help from. I could ask Artemis, but—

I turn around and scream. My mother is standing right behind me. Interesting that she could make me scream in terror, while the hellhound, not so much. But only one of them is a mortal threat to me right now.

“Nina,” she says, “we need to talk about yesterday.”

Now she wants to talk? There’s a crash from the shed. It sounds like a shelf being torn down. My mother frowns, looking over my shoulder.

I grab her arm, turning her away. “I was reorganizing. Knocked one of the shelves loose. Sorry! I’ll fix it. Let’s go talk in the castle.”

The hellhound slams itself against the door. The entire building shudders from the impact.

“What do you have in there?” My mother steps toward the shed.

I hold out my arms. “Nothing! Just, let’s go inside. Okay? Please?”

“Open the door, Nina.”

Normally, the voice she uses would have me shrinking into myself like a tortoise. She’s been more Council member than mother since we rejoined the Watchers. And I always obeyed the Council. Maybe it’s part of my new Slayer powers. I’m compelled to kill demons and I’m compelled to defy the Watchers. But I can’t do what she tells me to. Not this time. “Don’t open it. Please trust me. I’ll take care of it.”

The door shudders again. There’s a cracking noise. I’m worried it’ll break before I can decide what to do. And then it does just that.

The hellhound bursts free, claws and fangs ready. I push my mom out of the way and drop to my back, using my momentum and legs to propel the hellhound over my body. It slams into a tree. I jump to my feet and spin to face it again, fists raised. I’m hyperfocused on the hellhound. But part of me still manages to feel exultant that my mother is here. She’ll see what I can do. She’ll see that even if she didn’t bother saving me all those years ago, I can save her.