Chosen (Slayer 2)

She walks across a catwalk and sits next to Leo where he’s leaning against the rough stone wall of the cavern that forms the back of his cage. On one of the metal catwalks nearby, chains are being welded to the platform in front of the thing that will solve all of Artemis’s problems. Including the pain she feels thinking about Nina. When Nina sees the results, she’ll understand. And Honora won’t have to worry about anything, ever again.

There’s scraping and moaning and a few sharp snarls. A line of chained demons is being arranged, prodded into place by the black-cloaked zealots. Artemis hates the Sleeping One worshippers with an instinctive self-preservation and has done what she could to avoid speaking to any of them. How long have they been working on these caverns? Or have the caverns always been here, ready and waiting?

“Why?” Leo asks.

Artemis doesn’t look at him. “What would you do to protect my sister?”

“Anything.”

“Me too.” Artemis is only half lying. She would do anything. Has done everything. And it didn’t matter. Ever since the day she had to watch Nina get left behind in that fire, she’s been trying to protect her and failing at it. She couldn’t protect Nina from the pain of her crush on Leo, from the rejection of the Watchers, from the dismissal of her healing interests and efforts to improve things. She couldn’t protect either of them from the heartbreak of a cold, distant mother. Or from the death of their father. She would love to be able to protect Nina. Will love to be able to.

But more than that, she wants to protect herself. She can’t deny it. Not after what she’s done to get to this point.

Artemis doesn’t want to hurt anymore. She doesn’t want to have to watch these things happen and not be able to fix them. She doesn’t want Watchers like her father to die, or people like Honora to work every day to undo and hide the damage done by her own mother. She doesn’t want Nina to have to be a Slayer, to risk her life because she can’t stop caring about everyone and everything.

The world is so broken, and it hurts too much. She has no desire to be its god, not like the Sleeping One. She just wants enough actual power to change things. Maybe if she had been the Slayer, it would be different. But it’s not. Not yet. Not until she makes it different.

She doesn’t want to hurt Leo, but she will. In his Watcher test, he once chose the world over what he loved most. She’s hoping what he loves most now is Nina, and that he makes the wrong choice.

She nods toward the demons. “You know all those breeds. You know what they do. Each and every one of them is a mindless predator.”

“Then kill them. Don’t ask me to drain them. It’s cruel. It’s wrong.”

“But you’re dying without it.”

“I don’t care.” He looks haunted. “Once I start, what if I can’t stop? What if I turn into my mother? I won’t risk it. Better to die.”

Artemis rolls her eyes. “Gee, that’s noble. So glad you—a perfectly nice, nonmurdery mostly human who knows enough about the world to actually protect the innocent in it—are choosing to die rather than let all these vicious demons die instead. You know that one drinks bone broth made from children, right? Judging by the rings on his claws, he’s been alive for a few hundred years. Imagine how many children that is. How many bowls of soup. But sure. Better that you don’t risk maybe someday hurting someone.”

“You’re twisting this. Me choosing not to benefit from killing these demons is not the same as turning them loose.” Leo regards her with a calm gaze. He was always good at seeing through people. It’s inconvenient. She doesn’t want to be seen right now.

“Fine. Don’t do it. You’re right, I won’t let them go even if you don’t drain them. But what do you think will happen to Nina?”

“She’ll get over me.” The words hurt for him to say, but he believes them.

“No, you arrogant dolt. It’s not about her feelings for you. It’s about Nina herself. If they can’t get power transferred from you, they’re going to go looking for new sources. And who do we know—who do they know—who’s positively bursting with power?”

“No,” he whispers.

“They’ll see the same thing your mother did. Helping them was the only way I could steer them away from Nina. But if you don’t work out, there will be nothing I can do. I can’t fight a hellgod, Leo. And I don’t think Nina can either.” She leans close, almost pressing against the bars, and whispers. “I have a plan. Do what they tell you to. Take the power. Transfer it. Charge up his amplifier. And trust me. It’s the demons or it’s Nina.”

It’s not. She would never let Nina get close to the Sleeping One. It wouldn’t work anyway, without an incubus- or succubus-type demon to transfer the power. But Leo doesn’t know that. And thankfully he’s too depleted, too exhausted, too desperately in love with her sister to see through Artemis’s lie.

She softens her voice, makes it more like Nina’s, then puts her hand through the bars to rest it on his arm. “You were going to let yourself die to keep her safe. Live to keep her safe, instead.”

This—feeding on other living creatures—is the line Leo chose, the one he wouldn’t cross. If she were really his friend, she would find another way to make this all work.

She can’t afford to be his friend. She sees the moment on his face when Leo breaks. He nods. “I’ll do it.”

Artemis squeezes his arm, then stands to inform Sean they can start. She’s waited long enough. This is the end, or the beginning, or both.

26

THE CAR BUMPS ALONG THE dirt road toward Shancoom. I’m in the back sandwiched between Jade and Doug while Rhys drives and Cillian sits in the passenger seat. My mother is slowly waking up, guarded by the purring kitten and Imogen, an

d I’ve left Tsip in charge of still-unconscious Ruth with a strict no-eyeballs mandate. The demon is still bitter over the dusty fate of her vampire trophies, and I don’t want to take any chances leaving her up to her own devices. Imogen offered to be in charge of Ruth, but Tsip can get to me in a heartbeat if something is wrong.

Facing Ruth’s mortality feels like the end of a Watcher era. She’s the last of the old guard, two generations ahead of my own mother. The amount of experience and knowledge we almost lost today—could still lose—is too overwhelming to even think about. And I certainly can’t think about who tried to take that knowledge and experience and crotchety old warmth from us.