Chosen (Slayer 2)

“For my third form. For my final form. For earth to have a god once more.”

“Bit of a monopoly.” Sean grins. “Used to be more competition, yeah? But we partnered up, and it’s been good business for everyone. Once the Sleeping One here is fully awake, we’ll use my network to spread his word, and before you know it, my products and his worship will be in—” Sean twitches, then looks down to see the crossbow bolt embedded in his shoulder. “Bloody hell, you shot me.”

I turn to Rhys, but his weapon is still loaded and trained on the hellgod. Doug looks at me, his crossbow no longer loaded. “I’ve had to listen to a lot of his speeches over the years.”

Sean staggers back toward the tunnel he came from. “Enough!” he shouts. “They’re wasting our time. Take them.” The pounding of dozens of sets of feet surrounds us with metallic rumbling as black-cloaked minions pour into the cavern. They’re behind us and in front of us, totally blocking any paths we might take.

Tsip pops into existence in front of me. “Just so you know, you’re surrounded. Okay, bye!”

I don’t have time to ask if Jade, Maricruz, and Chao-Ahn are all right before Tsip disappears again. Teleportation is wasted on her.

“Keep my son,” the hellgod says. “I am curious about him, and he should see what happens next. The rest can go.”

“You’re letting them leave?” Sean sounds outraged. His shoulder is bleeding and I’m sure quite painful, but Doug didn’t hit him anywhere that would kill him.

“Why should I care about them?”

“Because.” I stand on the edge of our walkway and calculate distances. “I’m a Slayer.”

Cillian’s dad smiles. “A Slayer never killed a god.”

“Nope,” Rhys agrees. “But a Watcher has.” He fires his crossbow. The bolt lands with deadly precision exactly where a human heart would be. The hellgod pulls the bolt out. It trails a shimmering gossamer substance that evanesces into nothing as it hits the air.

“Triangle thing, right?” I turn my head toward Rhys.

He nods. “When in doubt, break the big glowy thing. We’ll add it to the Slayer handbook.”

“Go,” Cillian says. “We got this.”

I take one step back, then push off the edge and leap. I soar through the air, covering the distance between catwalks in a way no normal person could. Maybe even no Slayer could. Faith’s right. If I have extra, time to stop hating myself for it. I’m going to use everything. I land hard between Artemis and Leo. I swing the sword toward her, but she takes a step back, holding up her hands. “By all means.”

“We’re not done.” I can’t even stand to look at her, knowing what she did. It makes no sense. None of it. But Leo first. I slice through the duct tape, then set my sword down and break the chain holding him there. He stands, full of life and fury. I know it’s awful how it happened, but seeing him restored is still like cold water on a parched throat.

The fight on the catwalk behind me is raging, awkward and treacherous with the drop beneath all of them. “You good?” I ask Leo.

He nods. “They need help.”

“I’d toss you, but even I’m not that strong.”

He smiles at me, something so hopeful and warm bursting through the sadness and desperation there. We haven’t lost each other yet.

“I have a better idea.” He jumps, grabbing the bottom of the triangle doom device. It swings, and he uses his own weight to increase the momentum.

“Be careful!” Cillian’s dad shouts. For the first time, he has the sense to look nervous.

“Watchers, duck!” Leo releases and flies through the air. He sails over our friends’ heads and then lands hard just past them. So hard, in fact, that the catwalk groans and buckles beneath him. He jumps back as that portion of it detaches, taking most of the zealots with it. They tumble down the side of the cavern toward the bottom. Leo turns and joins Rhys, Cillian, Imogen, and Doug fighting the remaining zealots. Which leaves me with my sister.

“Is it ready?” she shouts, ignoring me.

“We’ll come to you! I know the way!” Leo pushes through their remaining attackers, tossing them off the catwalk with ease, and my friends run into a cavern.

“No,” the hellgod says. “It must be shifted into the divine transference configuration.”

Artemis huffs in frustration. “Translation?”

“Translation is,” I say, twirling my sword, “I still have time.” I swing with all my might at the side of the wretched triangle thing. My sword connects with a ringing blow—and then my hands and arms go numb. The sword clangs to the catwalk, my arms useless.

“Nina.” Artemis sighs. “Honestly.” Then she punches me in the face.