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Leo takes the prophecy translation, rereading. “Your mom isn’t the only child of a Slayer. It’s unusual, sure, because—” He cuts himself off. The reason hangs in the air between us. Because they don’t live that long. He pushes forward, ignoring the unsaid. “Other Slayers have had children. Even around the same age as your mom. There’s Robin Wood. His mother’s Watcher was Crowley.”
“I don’t remember any Crowleys.”
“My mom said he was nice.”
So much past tense with Watchers. Someday soon everything having to do with the Watchers will be past tense. “But did this Robin have twins with a Watcher?”
“Not yet.” Leo tries to sound hopeful, then shrugs. “Okay, and not likely to happen given our dramatic reduction in ranks. Still. This probably has nothing to do with you.”
“My parents obviously thought it did.”
Leo’s voice is as dark as the night pressing eagerly outside my window. “Our parents always think they know more about us than we do. They make decisions for us before we even realize we’re being controlled.”
“But look at everything bad that’s been happening. We’ve lived here for two years in perfect secrecy. No one found us. No violence. No attacks. Then we figure out I’m a Slayer and boom—Demons! Death! Destruction!”
“You could just as easily say all this happened because my mom and I came back.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure. Except the first hellhound attack was before you got here.”
He pauses, his lips tight. Then he moves on. “But the hellhound attack didn’t come after you realized you were a Slayer. You realized you were a Slayer because the hellhound came. And you can’t discount Honora. She’s not connected to your mother, and she’s involved in at least part of this. Th
ere could be totally different things going on. It doesn’t all have to be connected.”
I bonk my head back against the wall. “That doesn’t make me feel better! It just means we’d have even more mysteries to solve. Gods, I thought my life was complicated when all I worried about was getting supplies for my medical center and trying to convince the Council we could focus less on combat training and more on mediation.”
“Your life was complicated then too. This wasn’t an easy way to grow up. So many secrets. Both those we keep as Watchers and those being Watchers forces us to keep.”
I can’t believe my mom thought she could send me to boarding school. All those normal teens, with no idea what the world is really like. Leo understands my life in a way none of them ever could. And he’s right about how we grew up. I wasn’t wrong when I was thirteen. He really did see me. He still does.
I want to take his hand, but nerves hold me back. “This could be why my mother is so opposed to me being a Slayer, though. She knows the prophecy. And she’s worried that, now that I’m a Slayer, it’s one step closer to coming true.”
Leo shifts so he’s looking right at me. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black. I can tell he hasn’t been sleeping well, but exhaustion accentuates his cheekbones, and the dark stubble at his jawline is oddly vulnerable.
“Athena,” he says, “I know darkness. I know the hunger that drives chaos. And you have none of that in you. Slayer or not, you are and have always been good.” He pauses, searching my face, and for one brief aching moment I think he’s going to kiss me.
Then he smiles, and that mask he wears so well slides back into place. He disappears into it. He’s retreating from me into what must have become a defense mechanism all that time he spent alone with his mother, believing his only friends were gone, afraid to care about anyone. So I’m shocked when he leans forward and brushes his cool, soft lips against my forehead.
“Get some sleep, Slayer. I’m your Watcher. I’ll research, and I’ll watch, and we’ll figure it out in the morning.” He slides off the bed and back onto the floor. He takes the stack of books I borrowed from Rhys, setting them down on top of the prophecy book. I lie on my side, this time not turning my back to him. My eyelids gradually lose the fight against sleep.
When I close them, I still see him.
• • •
I dream of the fire.
But this time I’m not alone. As I watch my mother carrying Artemis out, walking straight through the fire, untouched, I feel the presence of hundreds of other minds.
“Oh God,” a voice says, “this is the third time I’ve been dragged into this one. No one else dreams like you. So either bring supplies for s’mores, or keep your trauma on lockdown.”
I turn to see a gorgeous brunette with pouty lips, big brown eyes, and a wry expression. She’s sitting in the middle of the fire. “Listen, kid, whatever happened, you’re five by five now. Try to let it go.”
“But—” I start, choking and coughing on the smoke. I’m not actually breathing in smoke, though. Not anymore.
The brunette winks at me. “Come on. I’m a pro at this. I once spent a whole year sleeping. But there was only one other Slayer to connect with back then. And I don’t like peeking in on B.” She holds out her hand. I take it. She tugs, and—
I’ve never been to a party like this before. I don’t think there ever has been a party like this. The lights flash, the music pounds, and all around me are girls dancing with ferocious abandon.
“That’s more like it!” The brunette winks at me again. “Live a little. You’re out of the frying pan and out of the fire. You’re a Slayer. Enjoy it!” She dances away into the crowd.
