Page 17 of Chosen (Slayer 2)


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each other! And love me! Except lately, I also want to hurt and kill and maim things. But that’s okay too, right? I mean, if you’re good at something, it’s important to develop your talents.”

Doug sounds dubious. “Some talents might be best left buried, Bible be damned.”

I snort soda through my nose. “You can’t say that! That’s, like, double blasphemous.”

“Demon, remember?”

“True. I guess you’re allowed.” I sigh dreamily, remembering happier times. “We had so much fun booby-trapping our room, though. Decapitation fans, flamethrowers, holy water snow globes. We armed the whole castle.”

“Is that why all the wooden spoons in the kitchen have pointy ends?”

“Yes!”

“You’re terrifying.”

“I am! I really, really am.” I lean back, toying with my Coke bottle. “Not as terrifying as Artemis. Gods, I hate her girlfriend. I hate that I even have to think about Honora as her girlfriend. Maybe they’ll break up soon. Maybe Artemis will kill her!”

“You know, most people get mellower when they’re high. You get more murdery.”

“Ooh, maybe they’ll fight and Artemis will kill her and then Sean will get mad and so Artemis will kill him, too, and if they’re both out of the picture, Artemis will come home. Wouldn’t that be great?”

“It would be great if it involved less murder.”

“That’s true. That’s a good point. Murder is bad. Generally. I dunno. I mean, as a Watcher and a Slayer, can I really say that murder is bad? Why would it be murder if Artemis killed Sean, who is a bad dude, really bad dude, hate him, but it’s not murder that I killed Eve Silvera? Because I think it is murder. I think I murdered her. And I think I murdered Leo.”

“You didn’t kill them.” Doug sounds so serious. I don’t feel serious. I feel loose and floppy inside. All the coiled-up tightness is gone. I can look right at what I did without it making me want to curl up into a ball and never move again. Without wanting to gather up everyone I have left and lock them in a room and never let them out where they might get hurt or die or leave me.

“I mean, but I did kill them. Eve, at least. I for sure set her up to die horribly. On purpose. And what I did killed Leo, too. So doesn’t that mean I killed him?”

“Oh, for hell’s sake, girl, even when you’re happy you guilt spiral.”

“You’re right. Let’s not think about that. Let’s think about Honora and Artemis getting in a huge fight and Artemis kicking her butt and coming back home so sorry she ever left because it was totally the wrong decision.” I lean across the space between our seats to rest my head on Doug’s shoulder. We’ve switched places so he can drive when the ferry lands. “I’m so glad I didn’t kill you. Whatever else ended up happening, I made the right decision to keep you secret long enough to protect you.”

“I think so. But I am quite selfishly attached to the idea of being alive. And being free.”

“Selfish, selfish Doug. Always wanting to not die horribly or be someone’s drug captive. I like you. I’m glad we’re friends.”

“That’s the drugs talking.”

“No! I’m always glad we’re friends. I just avoid you because you sniff out how I’m feeling when I don’t even know or want to think about it.”

“But we should talk about it.”

I yawn, closing my eyes. “Later.” I’m so happy and warm and perfectly content. And I know when I sleep, this time there will be no bodies waiting for me.

* * *

The First Slayer chases me from dream to dream to dream, and I run. And the other Slayers run from me. And the storm follows, the churning emptiness racing right behind us. I don’t know where we’re going or what will happen when we arrive. And so I run.

* * *

When I wake up, it’s with a mild headache and the same sort of fuzzy discontent that comes with caffeine and sugar withdrawal. I can see why Jade likes Doug’s effects, but in retrospect it feels so … foreign. Like I was watching a movie of someone else being happy and having a good time, not like I experienced it myself. And all the things I felt okay about are right back to that crawling, tentacled black void threatening to drag me in and swallow me whole.

“Feel all right?” Doug’s driving carefully, following every traffic law to the letter. I don’t remember the ferry landing.

“Eh.” I wish I had another Coke to soften this crash.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Everything’s got a price.”

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