Slayer(37)

I tenderly probe the borders of the goose egg on my forehead. It’ll be nice to be reminded of this newest embarrassment every time I look in the mirror. If being a Slayer does nothing else for me, please let it heal this bruise in record time.

“Umm, maybe? There was a lot happening. Flashes of things I couldn’t quite understand with vampires, and Buffy, and a—” I grimace, my thoughts suddenly back to Bradford Smythe. That one I’ll chalk right up to the head injury. “Part of it definitely wasn’t.”

“So this Cosmina, do you think she was a Slayer?”

I grasp for the remnants of the dream. The picture on her wall. Mentioning Buffy. And the vampires . . . “She could have been? Yeah. Probably a Slayer. And if that part’s true, then maybe the rest was. She needs help.” I know it in a way I can’t explain.

Fortunately, judging by the look on Eve’s face, I don’t have to. “How can we find her?” she asks. Leo shuffles his feet, something shutting off in his face. He must be deferring to her. So even though he’s my Watcher, she’s still in charge of him. I like that. I trust Eve. And I’ve never written a single poem about her.

“Do we need to find her?” Artemis bites her lip, clearly debating something internally. I don’t need twin instincts to tell me she has information she wishes she didn’t.

“I don’t think I would have dreamed about her if she didn’t need help.” I remember the other dream I had, the one with the Slayer and the demon horde. “The last time I dreamed about a Slayer, she died. In the dream. But Cosmina wasn’t dead yet. Maybe that means she can still be saved.” I say it thinking Eve and Artemis will do the saving. My mouth goes dry as I realize it was my dream. My responsibility. I’m not ready to be super-saving girl.

“So it’s life-or-death,” Artemis says.

“I mean, I can’t be positive. But it felt life-or-death.” I want Artemis to believe in me. I need her to. She’s always been the one who’s there for me, the one who has my back. I’ve never had the chance to have hers, not in any meaningful way. And I know she’s worried I’m not ready to be a Slayer, but if I can save Cosmina—if I can prove that I can be a good Slayer by helping people instead of just hurting them—maybe she’ll feel better about it. Maybe I will too.

Artemis sighs. “I know how we can find her. There’s a . . . database. Of Slayers.”

“What?” Eve does not look pleased. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Rhys and I share equally puzzled looks. “Since when?” I ask.

Artemis pulls out her ponytail, redoes it even tighter. “Mom has one. She said it was classified and I was never to mention it. So I think the rest of the Council doesn’t know.”

I try not to show how hurt I am that, yet again, Artemis has been keeping secrets from me—and this time it’s worse, since it’s a secret she has with our mom. When it comes to Mom, I always thought Artemis and I were a team. Us against her. But I guess that’s not the case. “Why would she have a Slayer database? Mom is the one who’s always been opposed to getting new Slayers to work with. She said it was a security threat.”

“She set it up not long after we moved the castle here. I only know about it because I had to teach her how to use all the programs. The Watchers Council isn’t exactly known for being tech savvy.” Artemis glances sheepishly at Eve, who laughs.

“That’s true. Perhaps if any of them had a cell phone, I could have found you all two years ago. But I’m intrigued by this information. And if it can help us save Cosmina, then we’re obligated to use it. Slayers are vulnerable out there, alone. It’s our duty to protect them. I don’t know why Helen didn’t share this or make Slayers a priority. It’s concerning.” She picks up the nunchucks and returns them to their place on the wall. “She’s been keeping too many secrets from the Council. I respect your mother, tremendously, but I can’t understand her decisions. What if we ask her for the database and she refuses?”

“We don’t ask,” I say, still angry with my mother from this morning. And, well, from forever. “We just take it.” Then, thinking about the events of the morning, I remember a complication. “Are we on lockdown again?” If we are, there’s no way we’ll save Cosmina in time, even if we can find her info.

“Why would we be?” Eve asks.

So my mother didn’t tell them about the hellhound. That’s odd and a bit troubling. But I won’t be the one to admit I drew another hellhound right to our front door—and that my mom killed it, not me. I wonder why she didn’t think it merited lockdown. She doesn’t know what I suspect, that the hellhound was looking for the demon and had no purpose at the castle other than chasing me. Is it possible she doesn’t want everyone to know how bad I messed up in bringing the hellhound here? If so, it would be almost kind of her. I can’t imagine that’s why, but I can’t think of why else.

“No reason,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m covering for my mother or she’s covering for me.

? ? ?

Eve promises us an hour. We give her a head start to get my mother out of her rooms. Then Artemis, Rhys, Leo, and I hurry to the Council members’ residence wing. They’re on the south end, which stays cooler during the summer and warmer during the winter. Our wing was originally servants’ quarters. The rooms are claustrophobic, the hallways mazes. But this wing housed the important people both historically and now. The hallways are wide enough for all of us to walk side by side, and the rugs are plush beneath our feet. The windows here were more carefully updated, and though they’re still narrow, the glass actually fits.