Slayer (Slayer #1)

“I thought Doug attacked you!”

“Doug wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.” She stands, unsteady. I offer her a hand, which she takes. And then I remember I came here to confront her. This doesn’t change anything.

“You need to answer my questions.”

“We don’t have time for that. It was Honora and that worm Sean.”

“You know about Honora and Sean?”

“Of course I do. It’s my job to know things.”

I shake my head. “This isn’t about Doug. Or it is. I don’t know! But you need to tell me the truth: Did you bring another demon to Shancoom? Besides Doug? One attacked Cillian.”

“A demon attacked Cillian?”

“Yes! And Cosmina was dead when we went to go see her.”

This time my mother sways and stumbles, sitting hard on one of the moss-covered stone memorial benches. “She’s dead?”

“You didn’t know, then.” My body goes limp with relief, and I sink onto the bench beside her.

She shakes her head. Her face is pale, and I don’t think it’s because of the head wound. “Oh, that poor child. I should have contacted her sooner.”

“Tell me what’s going on!”

My mother’s face snaps back into its usual form. Firm. Distant. “This isn’t about you.”

Her words sting. She acts like I’m being selfish or immature. But I know what I heard before when I was spying. I know about the prophecy. “It’s entirely about me!”

“Innocent lives are in the balance. I can’t let them have Doug again.”

“Why are you even helping him?”

“Why did you?”

I pause, caught. “Because he seemed like he needed it.”

She meets my eyes—something she has almost never done in all these years. “You were right. And he needs help now more than ever. If I don’t get to him fast, they’ll move him to another facility, and I’ll never find him again.”

I hold her gaze, drinking in her words: You were right. But is she manipulating me? How can I trust anything? “Tell me what happened to the others, then. What killed Cosmina and Bradford? What attacked Cillian? Because you and Doug are the common threads.”

Anger flashes across her face, quickly swept away by something that looks like . . . hurt? “You think I would harm your friend Cillian? Bradford? That poor lost girl Cosmina? Why would I do that?”

“Because you hate Slayers!”

She reels back like I’ve slapped her. “I don’t hate Slayers.”

“Of course you do. Buffy got Dad killed. Your mother was a Slayer, and she left you alone. And you did everything in your power to keep me from being a Slayer. You don’t want me to be one.”

“Why would I ever want that for you?” She reaches out her hand as though she would take mine in hers. But I pull my hand back and grip my stake, afraid to let her. If I do, I might break. I might accept whatever she gives me because of how badly I want to. Her hand hovers, alone.

“Your father didn’t want to take the assignment with Buffy. I told him to. Because she was so young. Just a girl. I knew someday that could be you, and I would want the very best Watcher to take care of you. To protect you.” She breaks off, swallowing.

I open my mouth to reply, to tell her she could have protected me by preparing me. But my mother holds up her hand.

“Wait, I have to say this. You have to know. I don’t hate Buffy. I never did. And I’m sorry if you thought that your being a Slayer made me hate you. I’m sorry I never learned how to talk to you. Motherhood was not a skill the Watchers prioritized. I tried. I tried so hard.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment dream mom, the snickerdoodle mom, almost comes through. But then her voice hardens again. “When it became clear I couldn’t keep you safe, I did the same thing my own mother did. I gave you to the Watchers. I tried to keep you shielded, keep you sheltered.” A pause. “I’m sorry. It was the wrong choice. For both you and Artemis.” She stands. She seems stronger already.

“And the fire? At our house?” I ask, campfire smoke making my eyes water and my throat tighten. “Why did you leave me behind?” That question has never been asked, but now that it’s out there, a charge passes between us.