Slayer (Slayer #1)

Artemis gives me a flat stare. She’s always the first to support me. But she looks like our mother again. “There’s a demon loose and you’re worried about some musty old prophecy?”

“I found a reference to a prophecy in Dad’s diary. I’ll bet it’s this one.”

She looks like I’ve struck her. “You read it without me.”

“You didn’t want to read it. I never said I didn’t. I came straight here to talk to you after, but you were getting cozy with Honora, and I wasn’t about to share personal information with her!”

“This isn’t about Honora!”

“It is!”

Artemis kicks over the stack of books I stole from the library for Doug research. “Nothing is about Honora! You need to get over this grudge. People could die because you decided you would rather punch it out with her than listen to someone with way more demon experience than you’ll ever have!”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I’m not a Watcher-in-training, my instincts don’t matter? I’m a Slayer!”

Artemis throws her hands in the air. “Oh, good. Let’s bring that up! Because you discovering you’re a Slayer—two months after the change happened—makes you an expert in everything!”

I flinch at her tone. All my anger dries up, leaving only hurt in its wake. It’s not like I didn’t know something had happened to me. I was afraid to face what it was. “Why are you being like this? I’m asking for your help.”

“Of course you are. That’s what you do. That’s what everyone does.” She spits out the words. “We have hundreds—thousands—of prophecies in that library. If this one mattered, someone would have said something. This is the last thing we should be worried about now. You’re trying to find something else to distract me from the fact that you hid a freaking demon from me.”

It hits me hard. She’s right. She’s absolutely right. This isn’t a priority now, but I want it to be. I want anything that brings us together to be a priority. I latched onto this prophecy as soon as I saw it because it was easier to think about than everything else. It was easier than sitting in class, easier than making things up with Rhys. Easier than talking about this growing chasm between my sister and me. “That’s not it at all,” I lie. I step toward her.

She steps back.

“What about you?” I ask. “What was Honora talking about, saying you gave up your chance at being a full Watcher for me?”

Artemis turns away. “It doesn’t matter.” She might as well be our mother. This is how we deal with pain, with hard things. We shut down. And we shut each other out. She leaves me alone with a prophecy of doom and a broken heart.

She had studied the words enough that she knew them by heart. But she still found them sometimes. Ran her finger over them.

Her own mother had failed. Spectacularly. And for a while the hunter had thought, perhaps, she wouldn’t be needed. After all, if a prophecy ends up being inaccurate, how can it come true? She told herself that, but she didn’t quite believe it.

Prophecies are slippery things, after all.

And so she watched, and she waited. There was no rush. The girls grew. One strong and smart and capable, one weak and clever and kind. Maybe the prophecy had never been about them. Maybe all her work, all her sacrifice, had been for nothing.

She was okay with that. Better to be wrong and have sacrificed a few lives than to be wrong and sacrifice the world. She wouldn’t have felt guilty if she had succeeded in killing one of the girls. That was why she was the hunter. Because she knew she would do whatever it took to keep the world safe.

For a long time—for years—it looked like she wouldn’t have to do anything.

But then the weak became strong. The healer became killer. Which meant the other twin’s fate beckoned as well.

Something would have to be done. And soon.

A knock on her door pulled her from her reverie. She pasted the smile on her face. “Just a minute!” The knives she had been stroking were placed gently back in her drawers, alongside a box of ballpoint pens, her favorite lipsticks, and a photo of Artemis and Athena.

22

THERE’S A KNOCK. EVEN THOUGH Artemis wouldn’t knock on our own door, I’m still disappointed when I open it and find Eve Silvera.

I must look as miserable as I feel; she radiates sympathy. “May I come in?”

“Of course.”

She takes in the room with a smile. “Where’s Artemis?”

Tears well up in my eyes and Eve envelops me in a hug. She smells cool and crisp, like an autumn night breeze. “It will work itself out. And I’m here to help with whatever doesn’t. This is why Slayers have Watchers. It’s too much for any girl to bear alone.” She pats my back and I pull away, sniffling but comforted. What would it have been like, to have a mother like Eve?