Slayer (Slayer #1)

“Cillian!” I fall out of Artemis’s bed. Leo is gone. Cillian is in mortal danger. I don’t doubt it’s a demon now, so I don’t trust myself to fight it off. I won’t risk Cillian’s life on my skills.

“Artemis!” I shout, hopping down the hall as I pull on my shoes and throw on her leather jacket. I bang on Jade’s door. “Artemis, bring weapons!”

Artemis peers out, bleary-eyed.

“What’s going on?” Rhys comes out of his room, two doors down from Jade’s. He has a pillow mark on his cheek, and his glasses are askew.

“Cillian’s in danger!”

Rhys doesn’t hesitate. He runs back into his room and comes out with a sword, two stakes, and a knife. I take a stake and shove it in the waistband of my jeans. I know this thing isn’t a vampire, but stakes feel right in my hands in a way other weapons don’t.

“Let’s go.” He sprints down the hall. Artemis doesn’t even put on shoes. She just runs.

“I’ll get a car and follow,” Jade says, for once tuned in to what’s happening. I race for the castle exit.

“I can’t wait for you two,” I say, passing Artemis and Rhys.

“You don’t have to.” He points to the shed where we still keep a few four-wheelers. It’s locked. I kick it. The door flies off the hinges, revealing hulking objects in the dark.

I run ahead. I can hear as the engines start and begin following me.

“What are we facing?” Artemis screams over the roar of the engines as she pushes her four-wheeler hard to keep pace with me.

“I don’t know!” I dodge a branch and jump over a fallen tree. Artemis and Rhys have to stay on the trail; I run alongside it through the more difficult terrain. “I had a dream! The same one I had about Bradford Smythe.”

Rhys guns his four-wheeler, going faster. I match pace. Please, I think, please please let this be the most embarrassing night ever. Please let this be another example of how I don’t know how to be a Slayer, how my dreams are the result of my stressed-out mind falling asleep to thoughts of demonic conspiracies and doomsday prophecies. Please let Cillian be awake in bed watching Eurovision.

When we get to his house, the front door is ajar. That line of darkness cuts me like a knife.

“Cillian!” I shout. Rhys and Artemis jump off their four-wheelers, weapons brandished. I race up the stairs to Cillian’s room. “Cillian!” I slam through his door, stumbling in the dark. He’s on his bed. Alone.

And not breathing.

“No!” I rush to his side, feeling for a pulse. There isn’t one. But his skin is still warm. I take a deep breath, reminding myself of everything I’ve learned. Everything I’ve trained for. I carefully move him to the floor. And then I start CPR.

“Nina?” Rhys whimpers.

“Movement!” Artemis shouts from downstairs. “Window!” There’s a crashing noise.

I have a choice in that moment. The Slayer part of me is already tensed to sprint down the stairs. To give chase. To catch and kill this demon so that it can never hurt anyone again. And I know I can do it if I leave right now.

But Cillian would pay the price. And I can’t leave him. Not if there’s a chance I can still save him. Mustering my will, I push aside all my Slayer instincts, quiet the fierce rush in my blood, and put my lips on Cillian’s. My lungs breathe for both of us. I hold back as much of my strength as I can to push gently on his ribs, reminding his heart—his wonderful heart—what it’s supposed to do.

“Please,” I whisper, forcing air into his lungs.

The silence in the room is deafening.

And then, finally, Cillian’s breath answers. He coughs violently, putting a hand to his chest.

“What—oh, my ribs.”

“Cillian!” I throw my arms around him, and he cries out in pain. “I’m so sorry!” I sit back, giving him space. “Your heart stopped. I had to do CPR.”

Rhys kneels next to us, taking Cillian’s hand in his own. “You were dead,” he whispers.

“No wonder I’m racked. It’s exhausting being dead.” Cillian closes his eyes and squeezes Rhys’s hand. “I really like being alive.” He coughs again, then cringes. “I think my ribs are broken.”

“That’s common after CPR.” I stare guiltily at the carpet. “It wasn’t because I’m strong. I was careful.”