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“Those are not mine!” My face grows hot, all the past trauma resurfacing.
Leo blushes. He actually blushes. How dare he. “Of course not. I know that.”
“I don’t even keep a journal.” I snatch my father’s diary from him, but he grabs my hand.
“Athena. I’m sorry. About that day in the old training room. I never got a chance to talk to you about it before I left.”
“I don’t remember,” I lie. “Why would you have needed to talk to me?” I tug my hand away and hug my father’s journal to my chest.
Leo sighs and sits down on the mats. He glances at the other journal. “Why do you have Bradford Smythe’s Watcher diary?”
“He was my grandmother’s Watcher.”
“What?” His shock is genuine.
“It’s pretty huge,” I acknowledge. “My mom’s mom was a Slayer. She got killed right after my mom was born. Bradford took her in.”
“Wow. I had no idea. I thought Helen was a Smythe.”
“They tucked her right into the family line. I guess we were always destined to be in the middle of the fight against demons.”
He flips through more pages. “?‘What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide.’?”
I peer at the page he stopped on. “It says that?”
Leo laughs. “No, sorry. I was quoting Shakespeare. It’s a terrible habit. I read everything of his during the last two years. Not a lot to do during demonic stakeouts with your mother.”
It’s the first time he’s referenced specifics of when he and Eve were off the grid. “I thought your life would have been pretty exciting. Out in the field.”
“Would you say Dublin was exciting?”
“No!” I pause. No one else wants to hear how I feel about things. Leo’s actually listening. “Yes? Sort of. It was terrifying, and terrible, and also thrilling and amazing and awful and I don’t know how it could be all those things at once.”
He nods. “What we do. It can be exhilarating. There’s a huge rush facing death and winning. Being out there, it was all those things you said. But it was also boring a lot of the time. Buses and airplanes and hotel rooms scarier than anything in that pit with you. Waiting. Watching. Hunting.” There’s a sad, faraway look on his face. “And it was lonely. After the attack took out Watcher headquarters, I thought everyone else was gone. That I was alone out there.”
“But you had your mom.”
“Which made me miss all of you even more.” He had tried to tell me that before, but I didn’t let him. I was too mad remembering my own hurt. Now I think I understand. My mom wants to send me away from the only home and family I’ve ever known. I don’t care how much things change. These people—the Watchers—are my people. At least I didn’t have to spend two years thinking everyone was dead. I still had Artemis and Rhys. Jade. Imogen and the Littles. Even the Council. I wonder why the Silveras kept going. Why they didn’t decide to settle somewhere and have lives.
Imagining Leo out there, lonely and missing us, instead of kicking demon butt and being all handsome and cocky about it, makes me soften even more toward him. I clear my throat. “So what does it mean? Your fancy Shakespeare quote?”
“It’s part of why I said you shouldn’t train if you didn’t want to. Even though, in retrospect, that was never an option.” He smiles wryly. “I wanted to at least offer. No one ever offered me another life. But in the end, none of us can escape what we were born to.”
That’s why they didn’t settle. When you know as much as we do, how can you ever decide to just . . . stop? Stop fighting? Stop trying to help? Once you’re in, you can’t turn your back on it. I wonder if my mom wishes Bradford Smythe had put her up for adoption, given her the gift of a normal life to make up for the violence of her earliest days. She never would have known.
I’m glad that’s not what happened. As much as I might question everything else in my life right now, I know how the world really works. I know the monsters that are out there. And I know the people who have devoted their lives to fighting them. Even if I don’t always agree with their methods or choices. Even if I have zero idea what my place is in that fight anymore.
“What about those of us who were born to Watchers and Slayers?” I try to grin, but it doesn’t quite work. “Which one do we pick? Which one can’t we escape?”
“Do you want to escape?” There’s no judgment in his tone.
I shake my head. “Not being a Watcher. I never have. This is our legacy, our calling. I always wanted to be a part of it.”
“If you could choose not to be a Slayer, would you?”
I almost blurt out yes. It’s my first instinct. But I’m still holding my father’s journal. What would he have wanted for me? What do I want for me? Do I really want to give up what I’ve become? For some reason the dream-memory of the Slayer who saved her entire village washes over me. She was so certain. So brave and powerful and good. If I could be a Slayer like that, I’d choose to be one, I think. But can I?
Maybe with Leo and Eve on my side, I can. My father would want me to try. And I want me to try too. I won’t know how much good I can do until I know what I’m capable of. I turn to Leo to tell him how glad I am he’s helping me, but the door bangs open.
