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I didn’t understand the language coming out of my mouth, but I knew what I was saying as I directed my people to light spears on fire, to gather the children in the center of our village, and to do whatever they could to slow down the demon hordes descending on us.
I would not let the darkness claim my people.
I fought in a fury of blood and blades, slashing and hacking through everything that moved. Behind me, my people were screaming their own battles. Dying. If I took out the queen of the horde, her demons would scatter. I just had to live that long.
Claws raked across my back. Something caught my forehead and blood streamed into my eyes. I fought on pure instinct, a machine of death.
And then I was faced with the queen. She towered over me, seven feet of muscle, claw, exoskeleton, and death. Her scream pierced my eardrums, leaving the world a silent, throbbing mystery. I was blind and deaf. But I was not dead.
Her claws, poisonous, pierced my sides as she lifted me overhead. Just as I had hoped. Smiling, I threw my arms in the air to give the signal. Burning arrows slammed into me, and my gas-soaked clothes immediately caught. The queen screamed, trying to remove her claws from me, but I threw my own arms around her, embracing her in fire and death.
My people were safe.
My people were—
Red, and then black, but a soft black. The black of sleep. The black of a struggle over and
a rest well-earned.
A thousand voices sighed in unison. I smiled. I felt it all. The pain and the fear and the fury. And now I feel the pride and peace of her death.
The darkness rips away from me. It isn’t mine. Not yet. I roll onto the floor, choking. Smoke is everywhere. I know if I open my eyes, I’ll see flames so dark and purple it hurts to look at them, the colors wrong, the flames wrong. And I’ll see my mother holding Artemis.
I can’t breathe. Shouting pulls me from the dream, and I claw my way to consciousness to find my blanket wrapped around my head. Someone’s shaking me.
“Nina!” The blanket is yanked away.
My hand covers my racing heart. “Who was screaming?”
Artemis sighs as she lies down beside me. “You were. The fire again?”
I don’t need to answer her. “And something new. Let’s never talk about Slayers before bed again.” But weirdly, that first dream—filled with demons and blood and death—wasn’t disturbing. I felt energized. Proud, even. Then the fire came and ruined everything, as always.
Artemis stays, which I’m grateful for. She hasn’t slept in my bed for a long time. But even when we fight, no one makes me feel as safe as she does. She quickly falls back asleep.
I don’t want to sleep. Not now. Not ever.
My body disagrees, and I slip right back under. The only dream I have is of a woman—petite with blond pigtail buns—sitting on the edge of a roof overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. Though the scene is quiet, I feel the pulsing presence of others around me. Unlike the darkness that had claimed the girl fighting the demon horde, there’s no peace here. We all watch, and we all feel the same thing, feeding off each other into a frenzy.
Rage. Focused on her.
Buffy sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I have never been part of something so big, so overwhelming. Surrounded, I lose myself in it. I surrender. I want to. The rage swells, a swarm of invisible violence focused on her. We are angry, we are multitudes, and we are buzzing.
And beeping.
Beeping.
Beeping.
I awake with a start, grabbing my clock. It’s 4:50 a.m. I turn off the alarm.
Whoever is waiting for me, they had better have coffee. And doughnuts. And a puppy.
“What?” Artemis asks, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“I have that meeting with Bradford Smythe.” I want to stay in bed, pretend nothing ever changed, that none of this ever happened. Anxiety seizes me as I consider the unknown future.
