Slayer(50)

I jump over the side of the pit, ignoring Artemis’s shout. I can’t leave the werewolf I hurt. The arm is cut almost down to the bone, but the bleeding is slow. Maybe a werewolf thing?

“Athena.” Leo tosses me a first aid kit. I nod in gratitude, then patch up the werewolf’s arm as best I can. It won’t bleed to death, at least.

There’s a flash of movement on the upper floor. I tense for attack, instantly ready. But it’s Artemis. Walking away. My stomach sinks. We’re moving further and further from each other, and I don’t know how to stop it. I want my sister back. But maybe we’ve been playing roles for so long, we don’t know how to be sisters now that things have changed.

“Come on,” Leo says. “They’ll be okay until morning. We’ll leave the barriers here so they can climb up when they’re back to human form.”

I nod, numb. I’ll worry about Artemis later. As for the werewolves, this is all we can do. I briefly consider hauling them each up myself, but then we run the risk of them waking up. And what would I do with them once I got them up? Put them back in the cages? Then I’d have to stay until morning to let them out again. And we—

Oh no. No no no.

“Oh my gods.” I scramble up the makeshift ladders. “We’re dead. We’re so late.”

Leo laughs, the surprise of my statement getting past his concern. My breath catches as his whole face changes. His eyes crinkle up until they’re almost closed, his throat moves, his head tips back, and his mouth stretches wide in such a delighted expression I can’t help but smile back. Leo is the only bright thing in this terrible room.

“You fought a pit full of monsters and protected the innocent while you were at it. And the most scared I’ve seen you all night is when you realized you’re going to get in trouble with your mum. Athena Jamison-Smythe, you are a wonder.”

Leo thinks I did a good job. He didn’t criticize or question my choices, and he approved of what I was trying to do with the werewolves. He even helped by sedating them instead of killing them. He gets it. The smile still hasn’t left my own lips. I bite them, trying to get it off, but it won’t budge. Oh gods, Nina.

Not again.

? ? ?

Artemis checks the room for clues but comes up with nothing. Cillian and Rhys are outside without protection. Rhys can handle himself, but after what I’ve seen tonight, I’m more worried about the people than the monsters that might be out there with them. The werewolves will have to be okay until morning.

Relief washes over me to see Rhys and Cillian waiting at the car for us. Sarah had been safely transferred to the paramedics, who assured Cillian and Rhys she’d be fine. Artemis doesn’t say anything. I want her to acknowledge that I did a good thing. But she’s watching the night, tensed for attack.

Cillian eyes me in mute horror. My favorite marigold peacoat is splattered with gore. Shuddering, I tear it off and leave it on the sidewalk.

“You okay?” Cillian whispers. I lean against him. I don’t answer, because I don’t know what the answer is. Rhys takes my other side, putting his arm around me.

As Leo loads the gear into the car, he seems preoccupied too. He barely looks at me. Which is fine. Good, even. He performed admirably as a Watcher tonight, and that’s all he is to me.

When Cillian and Rhys get in the car, I reach for Artemis’s bag to pass to Leo. She snatches it away. “I got it.”

“What’s your problem?” I ask, stung by her dismissive tone.

She lets out a shocked, bitter laugh. “What’s my problem? Do you have any idea what it felt like, running in and seeing you in the middle of an attack?”

“No, but do you have any idea what it felt like being in the middle of it? I was so scared, but—I wasn’t, too. It’s like, there’s this thing inside me, coiled, waiting, and it’s terrifying and exciting and strong. . . .” We stare at each other, both angry, both hurt. I relent first. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’m glad you were there.”

Artemis turns to put her bag in the car, but some of the tension drains out of her shoulders. “Right. I’ll always be there. Don’t go thinking you don’t need me.” But it sounds less playful and more . . . sour. She grabs my arm as I climb in, her grip almost painful. It probably would have been painful two months ago. Not anymore.

“Promise me,” she says, “you’ll listen next time. You won’t do something like this again.”

Something like saving another Slayer? Like taking on monsters and winning? I did okay. I won. And her only acknowledgment is asking me to promise I won’t fight to help someone again.

But . . . if I have to be a Slayer, this is exactly the kind of Slayer I want to be.

Artemis has no idea what it feels like. She’s always been strong. And now that I am too, she wants me to hold back. She still sees me as the one who got left behind, the one who needs protection and help.

I might not know how to untangle my emotions, but I do know that I need to stop lying about them. And I want to talk to her, to tell her everything. She’s been fighting these fights for so long. She really can help me.

“I can’t promise that, Artemis. But—”

She recoils like I burned her. Without another word, she gets in the front seat and slams the door.

On the drive back to Shancoom, the night seals us in. Something tremendous has shifted. Artemis is closed off, staring out the window. Rhys and Cillian are curled up around each other, half asleep. I’m stewing, annoyed at Artemis for shutting me out just like our mother does.