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“Why would we do that?”
“They make you a target.”
“I’m already a target. We all are. We’re protecting ourselves and everyone else who needs it.” I sound more desperate than I want to. I want her to be impressed with what I’m doing here. To want to be part of it. She was always so supportive of my efforts to be castle medic and to expand my skills there. I finally have my mother’s approval, but it doesn’t compensate for losing my twin’s.
Artemis hugs the book she’s holding to her chest like a shield. “No one cares about Slayers anymore. They care even less about Watchers. If you weren’t running your little animal hospital here, no one would so much as lift a claw against you. All these years hiding were totally down to Watcher hubris. They couldn’t imagine a world that didn’t care about them, so they assumed everyone still wanted them gone, when in reality, no one even thinks about them anymore.” She looks around the library, shaking her head. “It’s like a mausoleum in here. You’re all living with the dead, still letting them control you.”
I jab a finger at her. “That’s not you talking. That’s Honora. This matters because it’s our past. Our heritage. Our link to Dad.”
Her eyes narrow, sharp and cutting. “You think Dad would want this? You staying hidden in a castle, isolated from the world, not doing anything to protect it? It’s selfish.”
I flinch at her words. “It is not. I’m protecting people!”
“No, you’re protecting demons. You think I don’t know who you’ve taken in? You have a vengeance demon, for hell’s sake! How much carnage is she responsible for? And now because her wish-granting is broken, suddenly she deserves help? I know you didn’t like the way Watchers did things, but gods, at least Watchers protected their own. What you’re doing here is irresponsible and dangerous. If you want to keep the Watchers safe, kick the demons out.”
“If we do that, we’re right back to what we used to be!”
“Who cares? You’re exactly what you always wanted. The most important girl in the castle.”
Her words pierce with more brutal force than the First Slayer’s blade did in my dream. Something in her face softens seeing my reaction. She sighs and leans forward, almost against her will. “I don’t mean that. But you always wanted to be a Watcher. You wanted this.” She lets go of the book and gestures to the room and castle around us. “And you’re holding on to it in the only ways you can. But you’re wrong. You’re all wrong. Be Watchers or be normal. This hybrid mess you’ve created will get people hurt.”
Is she right? Did I build Sanctuary with myself at the center just so I could finally matter the way I wanted to? But I didn’t do it for myself. I did it for Doug—kind, funny. Pelly, padding silently by my side. Jessi, who’s sort of the worst but loves the Littles as much as they deserve to be loved. Weirdo Tsip. The tiny purple demons.
I think of Leo. If he had had something like this to turn to, somewhere he could admit what he was and be accepted for it—helped, loved—he might still be here.
The demons, the Watchers, even the Slayers. We’re all castoffs, relics of ot
her worlds and times and magic. If we don’t protect one another, who will?
Besides which, the residents of Sanctuary are mine. Every demon here. I made them a promise. Buffy protected the whole world, yeah, but she stayed in Sunnydale until the end. She protected her home and the people she loved first.
“I’m doing the right thing.” I’m surprised at how firm my voice is.
Artemis is too, judging by her expression. “You’ve changed,” she says. She sounds unhappy about it.
“You’ve been gone awhile.” We sit in silence, then I resolve to fix it. She might not come back, but that doesn’t mean we have to be separated. Not totally. “If you’re not going to stay, that’s fine. But let’s go get some breakfast. I want to hear what you’ve been doing. How you are.”
Her hands tighten around the book, and I glance at it. There’s no title, only a symbol on the cover. Three interlocking triangles. I know I’ve seen it somewhere. The scent of fresh produce wafts into my memory, and I place it. It’s the symbol that was on all of demon drug dealer Sean’s tea. What it’s doing on a book in our library, I don’t know. But I do know that Artemis snuck in here in the middle of the night to get it. That’s what she’s here for. The only thing she’s here for.
“You’re working with Sean, aren’t you?” I clench my jaw. “He can’t have Doug back.”
She rolls her eyes. “This is bigger than Sean. And you can’t exactly criticize me for who I choose to associate with, given your little demon menagerie here.”
“Sean’s a creep! You’re better than this!”
She stands, glaring at me. “I am better than this. I’m better than Sean, and I’m better than the Watchers, and you have no idea what I’m doing, so keep your judgy eyebrows to yourself.”
“My eyebrows are not judgy!”
“Your eyebrows are so judgy they might as well have a gavel!”
We both glare at each other. I crack first. “Can they have a frilly white collar like Ruth Bader Ginsburg?”
She tries to hold her stern look, but the edges are trembling. “No. Your eyebrows have to wear a huge gross wig because we’re not in the USA, we’re in Ireland.”
I snort, which turns into a giggle. Artemis was never one for giggling, but even she grins at me, and for a few precious moments we’re each other’s again.
Then she sighs and tucks the book under her arm. I shouldn’t let her take it. It feels urgently wrong. Maybe that’s just my long-standing friendship with Rhys speaking, or maybe it’s some deeper instinct. But if I tell her no, I don’t know what will happen. And I need Artemis to be okay, I need her to be okay with me, so that when things fall apart for her—which they will—she’ll come back. She’ll be my twin again. We’ll paint each other’s nails and watch bad movies, and then I’ll have my mother and my sister.
