Slayer (Slayer #1)

I mentally calculate. It’s about fifteen feet up. There’s a wide stone ledge; the walls are a foot and a half thick, and the window is set toward the inside.

If I can run super fast now, then maybe . . .

I crouch low and jump. With my arms straight up, I manage to catch the ledge with the tips of my fingers. I expect to fall, but they hold. I pull myself up, laughing, and haul my whole body into the space in front of my window, folded and crammed up against it.

That’s when I remember it’s locked—and it swings out when it opens, not in. I might have Slayer strength, but it didn’t improve my ability to think plans out thoroughly in advance. Maybe that’s why Buffy always reacts instead of planning. When your body can do amazing things, it’s easy to try first, regret later.

A face pops into view and I scream, almost falling backward. My scream has a mirror image in Artemis. Then she scrunches up her face and shouts.

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“Obviously I wasn’t!”

She gestures at the window hinges. I’m blocking its ability to swing outward.

“Give me a sec.” I lean out, trying not to think about the empty air below me. The stone above the window cavity is rough enough that I manage to find finger holds. I climb a few feet up the wall, holding myself above the ledge.

“Come on!” Artemis says. Her voice is no longer blocked by the glass.

I swing myself down and through, landing in a crouch on our rug.

“Did you forget we have a door?” she says, unamused. “What’s wrong with you? You could have been hurt!”

“But I wasn’t. I handled it.”

“Because I was here to open the window! What would you have done if I wasn’t here?”

“I would have—”

She waves a hand, cutting me off. “You have no idea what you would have done. Because I’m always here. You can’t act like things are different now. They’re not.”

I match her glare. “They are. Everything’s different.”

“Nothing is different! Nothing is ever different. If you keep pretending like you’re a superhero, you’re going to get hurt. You’re the one who was always talking about how violence isn’t a gift or even a tool—it’s a crutch. How Slayers get so focused on killing that they never think things through, like it’s possible to talk things out with demons or something.”

“I never said—”

She cuts me off again. “And then there’s your lectures about how we need to be smart and cautious. Prioritize other solutions, like my fight training was somehow something to be ashamed of. But as soon as you get some strength, all that flies out the window, just like you!”

Her words sting. “Technically I jumped into the window, not out.”

She doesn’t smile at the joke. “Don’t you get it, Nina? You never trained. You’re like a loaded weapon in a child’s hands. Dangerous to everyone, most especially you. You should have run from the hellhound, not attacked. How am I supposed to protect you from yourself?”

My plan to tell her about the demon slinks away. When presented with a demonic problem, I decided to come straight back to Artemis and dump it on her. I don’t want to prove her right. I’ve depended on her for so many years. But how much of it was me actually needing her, and how much of it was just doing what we’ve always done?

Besides, she definitely would think I’m an idiot for waiting for this demon to wake up so we can talk it out, exactly like she said. I can’t trust her not to hurt the demon before we have more info. Not when she’s already so worked up about protecting me.

I’m not telling her. A few months ago, living with secrets from her would have been unfathomable. But after the last two months of having to hide my constant fear of the changes inside me, this almost feels natural.

I unlace my sneakers, trying to act like I’m not hiding anything. Trying to act like her words didn’t hurt. “I came in through the window because I didn’t want to see anyone. If you hadn’t opened it, I would have jumped back down and gone around to the front. It’s not a big deal.”

“Why did you leave in the first place? I called you.”

Thank goodness it was her and not someone else. “I couldn’t deal after what we heard the Council talking about. And I didn’t want to take your hiding spot in the passages, so I went outside.”

She softens ever so slightly, then flips her ponytail away from her shoulder. “Next time you decide to bolt, tell me first. I didn’t know where you were. Also, this was under our door when I got back.” She holds out a thick cream-colored note. Artemis has already broken the seal, even though my name is on the front. Someone has elegantly written the following:

Nina.