Slayer(46)

A large glowing board behind the exchange table flickers to life, and an amplified voice echoes through the room.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and those who are not quite so categorizable!” A demon next to me rolls its eyes. All seven of them. “Welcome to tonight’s event!”

A man in a sleek suit with an equally sleek ponytail is standing on a raised platform holding a microphone. Next to him is a woman wearing head-to-toe dull gray leather. I can’t see her face in the shadows, but she’s not the vampire from the room upstairs.

Where is Cosmina? How do I find her? If Artemis were here, she’d know what to do.

I steel myself. It was my dream. My instincts. Cosmina needs me, not Artemis.

“We have something special for you during tonight’s dogfight.” The announcer pauses, mugging in the spotlight. “I kid. We would never actually hurt dogs. What kind of monsters would do that? No, we’re here to make Dublin a safer place! Because this is our city, innit?”

The crowd roars, lifting their drinks in the air.

“And if we’re entertained and make some money in the process, well, good on us.” The announcer gestures to the board. “We have all the usual categories. Time in the pit, which breed will last longest or have the most survivors, you know the drill. But tonight, my friends—tonight we have a wild card.” He pauses, savoring the anticipatory silence. “Tonight, we have . . . a Slayer!”

My heart seizes. I spin in a circle, ready for attack. I can see the exits. If I run fast enough . . .

The room erupts into noise as everyone shouts. I duck, covering my head, but they all shove past me to place more bets. No one is coming for me. A few of the more demonic types slip free of the crowd and disappear. I want to follow their lead and get out. But a good Watcher would stay and learn all she could.

What would a good Slayer do? I have no idea. Probably start punching things. I try to look inconspicuous. They said they had a Slayer. It’s obviously not me. Oh no. No no no. That means it’s got to be—

A door in the center of the ceiling opens. Cosmina falls through, her hair a brilliant streak of blue. She lands hard in the middle of the pit. This is so much worse than one vampire.

I rush to the barricade around the perimeter of the pit. Cosmina stands, breaking the ropes that had bound her. She doesn’t seem to be hurt from the fall, but her face is bruised. She squints up, shielding her eyes from the blinding lights. Then she lifts her index and middle fingers and flips off the crowd, British-style.

Gods. She’s cool. If our situations were reversed, Cosmina would know how to help me. Would already have done it.

Now I have to save Cosmina in front of everyone. And the clock is ticking. Why didn’t my dream fast-forward past the relatively easy vampire-only threat and give me a sneak preview of this much, much worse scenario? Whoever created this system was an idiot!

Oh. Right. My ancestors created it. Thanks a lot, jerks.

“No need to leave, my scalier mates,” the announcer calls as a few more demons book it out of the room. “I take it you’ve encountered our lovely Cosmina before. She’s been drugged. It’ll wear off quickly—we want a good show!—but she can’t get out of that pit. Don’t fret, though, little Slayer. You’ll have company soon enough!”

The room settles some, and the board flashes with new betting options.

“Before we give odds, a vote on tonight’s format: three at a time, or melee?”

There are a few bloodthirsty screams for melee. But the majority wants a longer show. Three at a time wins.

“Zompires and hellhounds and werewolves, oh my. What a night! Odds are on the board! Betting is open for the next two minutes, and then we begin!” The announcer sets down the microphone and wanders over to talk to the woman in leather. The vampire from upstairs has yet to reappear. Maybe I should have staked her after all. Or stayed up there. I could have saved Cosmina before she ever dropped into the pit. My instincts were wrong.

No, my instincts told me to kill the vampire. I could have killed her and found Cosmina. We’d already be out of here. But I hesitated. Made the wrong choice.

Now I have two minutes. I could attack the announcer, hold him hostage against Cosmina’s freedom. But is he in charge? I don’t know whether everyone—or even anyone—in here cares about his safety.

If I jump the barrier to get to Cosmina, a hundred sets of eyes will immediately be on me. And this is a crowd that has no problem killing Slayers.

I’m not so prideful I’ll risk Cosmina’s life to prove I can handle being a Slayer. I need Artemis. I’ll run out and—

A bell dings and a buzzer sounds. Three doors open, raining a werewolf, a hellhound, and whatever the hell the other creature is down on Cosmina.

The werewolf and the hellhound immediately go after each other, jaws snapping and claws grappling. They’re down in a frenzy of limbs. But the third thing—the announcer said “zompire,” a term I’ve never heard—zeroes in on Cosmina, running at her with fangs bared. Cosmina ducks and rolls past it, jumping to her feet and kicking it in the back. It flies into the barbed wire with a shower of sparks. The crowd roars.

The zompire falls, twitching.

And then it crawls toward Cosmina.

Some sense alerts me. I spin, snatching an object out of the air before it hits me. A stake. On the edge of the crowd I see Leo, who looks . . . proud. I didn’t duck this time. I caught the weapon so I could control it.