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“And how is the rest of the family?” I closed the bedroom door behind me, then climbed into my closet and closed that door too. Surrounded by clothes and crouching on the ground like some kind of cave goblin, my voice was quieter and muted.
“Jasper, Peridot and your father and mother unearthed an illegal vampire nest with your Uncle John, cousin Mack, and Great Aunt Patsy as the playmaker,” Nan said, naming my two brothers.
“Alex didn’t go with them?” I asked. Alex—Alexandrite—was my older brother, who also was a slayer.
“No. Your cousin Bonnie’s daughters had a ballet recital. Alexandrite, Paddy, and I went to it. All the kids were so little they could barely do anything besides toddle around. They were as cute as buttons!”
I moved around in my closet, trying to get away from the hanger that was stabbing me between my shoulder blades. “That sounds fun. So… how is Dad?” I asked.
“You could ask him yourself. I know you haven’t called home in weeks.”
“Because the last time I did he just roared at me over the phone,” I said.
Dad took it hard when I left the family. It wasn’t that he was upset I didn’t want to be a slayer. Dad’s sister, my Aunt Erin, wasn’t an active slayer anymore either and he didn’t mind that. No, it was that I’d left the family to work for the Cloisters in a position that was still combat based.
Dad hadn’t exiled me from the family or anything—my dad was a loud man, and he loved deeply. But any time I tried to talk to him or mom on the phone, it spiraled to him shouting in the background that I needed to stop playing around and come back home.
“Fergus can be inappropriate in the way he shows his love. He brings me shame with his habit of crying over spilt milk,” Nan tartly said. “But he does fret over you so.I think it worries him that you’re fighting without the family to back you up.”
“I have my squad,” I said.
“I’m aware. He thinks no squad can match the support of a slayer family that has trained with you since you took your first breath.”
I leaned into my closet wall. “Yeah, that’s what Mom said, too.”
My mom didn’t disapprove of my career change like Dad did, but she still didn’t like it. So for now, it was still safest to get any family news from Nan and Paddy.
At least, that’s what I told myself. The truth was, I wasn’t sure I could take much more of my dad’s disappointment or my mom’s softer sadness before I’d break and head home.
It was especially hard on days when I sat alone in my quiet apartment, being used to having my family piled around me like an exuberant werewolf Pack.
But my job was important to me. I was tired of killing, tired of living an assassin or mercenary-like existence all slayers adopted as we weren’t very popular among supernaturals.
Most slayer families no longer only hunted vampires, but shifters, wizards, and occasionally even fae if they were offered a contract for it. (The O’Neils were able to be choosey with our contracts, so we mostly only went after vampires. Although I’d been taught about wizards and shifters, and even a little about fae—just in case.)
I wanted to prove not just to my family, but to supernaturals in general that vampire slayers could belong to the magical community. And most of all, I wanted to prove we could use our powers to help—we didn’thaveto be assassins.
“Well, variety is the spice of life,” Nan said.
I smiled in my dark closet and my heart twisted with homesickness. Nan loved proverbs and wisdom phrases. She collected them like they were a hobby. I hadn’t realized until I moved away how much I loved that about her.
“Your parents will eventually come to like the new spice you’re introducing. Just give ‘em time. You’re their baby—Fergus was bound to throw a fit whenever you finally left the nest, no matter where you were going.” Nan summarized.
“Thanks, Nan.”
“Of course, Lass. Now, tell me. I got the picture message you sent yesterday. Those were cookies?”
“They were supposed to be,” I said. “But I went wrong somewhere, and I can’t figure out where even though I’ve watched the show that used the recipe several times.”
“Humph. You can’t trust the telly. All that glitters isn’t gold, and let me assure you, Televisionisn'tgold! Now you tell me that recipe, and we’ll see if I can help you.”
* * *
I crumpledup the plastic wrap my sandwich had been packaged in, then tapped my smoothie cup, testing to see if my strawberry smoothie—one of my favorite flavors—had thawed enough to eat yet.
I was alone in the meeting room, so I leaned back in my chair and looked around as I sipped at my sweet smoothie.
As usual, I arrived early at work for my night shift. I’d again failed with the night’s cooking attempt—mac ‘n cheese. I’d apparently removed the noodles too early from the boiling water, so the mac had been crunchy. I’d stopped by my favorite café, Cat Tails, to grab dinner to make up for it.
