Read The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill Online
Authors: Heather Brewer
The Slayer Chronicles: First Kill (6 page)
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Joss eyed Sirus for a moment, uncertain what to say. Sirus was acting like Joss was heading for his funeral instead of beginning his Slayer training. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around why.
Sirus laughed and patted Joss roughly on the shoulder. “Maybe ten.”
Kat grabbed the grocery bags from the back of the truck and Joss moved around the side, lifting his suitcase from the rear and following Kat’s confident stride around a large group of bushes. “Is this it?”
“Yeah, follow me.” Kat lead the way, following what looked like something that had once been regarded as a driveway of sorts. Joss got his first look at the so-called cabin.
It wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. Cabins, after all, are small, square, wooden simplicity, nestled in the too-wild woods, with no electricity and not a single modern convenience. At least, that’s what Joss’s impression had been up until he’d seen the house. What he was faced with was something that threw him completely for a loop. It wasn’t so much a cabin as it was a large, pale yellow Victorian-style house, with a wraparound porch. To its left stood a smaller blue house. Both were old. Neither was what he’d refer to as a cabin. Maybe it was the fancy carved wood accents on the outside, but Joss had a difficult time thinking of either place as home to a group of Slayers.
Kat and Sirus carried the bags up the path, crossing the porch of the Victorian with a familiar comfort. Joss wheeled his suitcase up to the steps, then lifted it and set it down just as Sirus was turning the knob and pushing the door open.
After he carried his bags over the threshold, Joss moved into the foyer, but didn’t follow Kat into the kitchen. He was waiting in anticipation, waiting for a man he hadn’t seen since the day of his sister’s funeral. He listened, but the house was silent, as if it stood empty. Even the sound of Sirus breathing beside him fell into the background as Joss listened for the sound of his uncle coming to greet him with open arms. Then, at last, Joss heard the slight creak of floorboards as someone descended the stairs. He looked up, but the face he saw belonged to a stranger—one with dark eyes and a scraggly beard. The man smiled at him and then nodded to Sirus, who responded, “Where is he, Malek?”
Malek jerked his head toward the direction Kat had moved. “Out back. But be forewarned. He’s in a mood.”
Sirus chuckled. “When isn’t he?”
Malek smirked and brushed past Sirus and out the front door. After he’d gone, Sirus turned to Joss. “Leave your suitcase and backpack here. I’ll show you to your room in a minute. But first, your uncle will want to see you.”
Joss glanced anxiously in the direction Malek had gestured before nodding and setting his bags on the floor. Sirus nodded, too, as if agreeing with some unspoken thing between them, and then strode down the hall, past what looked like an old sitting room on the left of the foyer, a formal dining room on the right at the end of the hall, and a small bedroom adjacent to that. Beyond that, they moved through the door that lead them to the kitchen, where Kat was putting groceries away inside tall, dark cabinets. Sirus set the bags he was carrying on the counter and nodded toward the back door. “Please close the door on your way out. It’ll keep the bugs out and give you some privacy. And Joss . . .”
Something dark and heavy crossed Sirus’s eyes then. Something that hinted at a warning. “Be careful.”
There was a moment when Joss hesitated. It probably only lasted a few seconds, enough for an eye to blink twice or a heart to beat once. But inside that moment, there was so much significance that Joss felt as if he couldn’t breathe. This was it. This signified the beginning of change in his life. It was a moment that would shape him, and bring him ever closer to finding justice for Cecile. He was ready, and so excited about beginning his training that he could hardly breathe.
He looked at the door and nodded to himself, ready as he’d ever be. Crossing the room, Joss’s footfalls sounded heavy in his ears. He turned the knob and opened the door, then stepped outside. Sitting at the small table there on the back porch was Abraham, a newspaper in his hands, a pipe clenched between his teeth. Without looking at Joss, he removed the pipe and pointed wordlessly to the chair across from him. Joss took his seat and waited. For what, he did not know.
Abraham was dressed in earth tones. Despite the fact that it was blazing hot, he wore slacks with boots, a button-down shirt and vest. He looked like a cool, young Indiana Jones, trapped in time. Instead of a whip, he carried a stake—a stake that was now held in a leather holster at his hip. And instead of hunting for treasure, he hunted vampires. Joss was mystified. Not a single wrinkle marred the fabric of his shirt, nor was a single hair out of place. Abraham was a perfectionist. In fact, his only flaw was the scar on his clean-shaven cheek—a four-inch-wide crescent shape.
Abraham returned his pipe to his mouth and finished reading whatever article had held his attention, then folded the paper carefully and set it on the tabletop. It was only then that he looked at his nephew. Silently, he went about emptying his pipe into a coffee can on the porch. After he was finished and had placed his pipe in its rightful place inside a leather pouch, he spoke. “Well, you’ve arrived in one piece. I suppose that’s something.”
Joss bit the inside of his cheek and dropped his eyes to the ground, uncertain what to say exactly. He’d never spoken much to his uncle. In fact, prior to the funeral, he’d had the vaguest idea that Abraham preferred anyone’s company to his. But still, they were family. There was something to be said for that. And there was something to be said for the fact that of all their family members, he’d chosen Joss to train as the next Slayer. He’d seen something special in Joss, and Joss wasn’t about to let him down. “I’ve been working hard nonstop to develop my skills, Uncle. And I’m ready to begin my training now. I’m ready for whatever you have in store for me.”
Abraham sighed and folded his arms in front of him. Joss raised his chin again, meeting his uncle’s eyes. For the briefest of moments, he’d expected Abraham to utter some words of praise to a boy who’d not only witnessed the death of his sister three years ago at the hand of a monster, but had worked hard to ready himself for training and had achieved a skill level that made him ready five full years early. But all Abraham said was, “They all think they’re ready. New Slayers come to us at eighteen years of age, full of bravado, full of pride, and none of them are truly prepared for the tasks that await them. How arrogant of you to think that at thirteen, you’re even moderately close to prepared. You’re a boy, Joss. And it takes a man to fully train as a Slayer.”
Abraham was right. Joss wasn’t a man yet. McMillan men were sturdy, strong, reliable. They did not falter. They did not cry. His own father had reminded him of that many times. Joss had argued that Uncle Mike—father to Joss’s cousin Henry—was nothing at all like that. Uncle Mike was kind and generous. He cried at sad parts of movies and had told Joss one summer that it was perfectly natural to be afraid sometimes. But there was no getting his dad to listen to reason. As far as he was concerned, McMillan men were one way and Uncle Mike was decidedly another, which made him less of a McMillan somehow, less of a man. And though Joss wasn’t exactly certain he agreed with those assessments, he wanted to be capable and strong and reliable for those he loved. He wanted the strength to avenge Cecile’s death. Maybe that would make his father notice him again.
A sinking feeling pulled at Joss’s insides. “I thought you sent for me because I was ready to train.”
Abraham slanted his eyes. “I sent for you because the vampire hive in this area has gotten out of control, and we have need of another Slayer. And since you’re the oldest new recruit on our roster, you’re it. That’s all. You’re not ready for anything. You’re not special. You were simply born before the rest.”
A lump formed in Joss’s throat then, one that was difficult to swallow. He wasn’t special. He was merely conveniently aged. One step above being the invisible boy.
Abraham picked up the newspaper from the table and opened it, snapping the creases from its pages and dismissing his nephew. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”
With a short, simple, manlike nod, Joss turned and moved back inside the house. Wordlessly, he walked down the hallway, retrieved his suitcase and backpack, and headed upstairs. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He was only sure that boys wait to be told where to go. Men find their own way, and Joss was going to prove he had what it takes.
The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he ascended, one hand running along the worn wooden banister. At the top of the stairs was a door on the right with two single beds. Past that, another room, this one with a daybed. Both rooms looked occupied, as both had personal effects here and there. Across from the daybed room was a small bathroom, and past that, back toward the stairs, were two more rooms, one with a queen bed and the other a king, both also occupied. At the end of the hall was another bedroom and a second staircase. Joss peered up the stairs, debating whether or not he should go up. A hand closed over his shoulder and Joss flinched. He turned to find Kat smiling at him. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
He hadn’t been all that intrigued about the space at the top of the stairs, guarded by a small wooden door, but now he was. There was something to be said about the enticement of all things forbidden, but there was also something to be said about the comfort of following the rules. “Why? What’s up there?”
Kat shrugged. “A meeting room or something. All I know is I was polishing the wood railing one day and got too close to the door and Abraham almost ripped my arm out of its socket.”
Joss peered up the stairs curiously at the small door. “How close is too close?”
Kat chuckled and tugged his sleeve toward the small bedroom at the foot of the stairs. “C’mon. Your room is this way.”
The room was small, painted green, and was covered in what looked like someone else’s dirty laundry. Joss set his suitcase down and looked around, a little befuddled. Then Kat walked across the room and opened another door. She looked back at him and gestured inside the door with a nod. “This one’s yours. You have to walk through Malek’s to get to it, but it’s a nice room.”
Picking up his bag again, Joss moved past Kat into a larger room with an old full-size bed and equally old furnishings to match. The patchwork quilt on the bed reminded Joss of something that his grandmother would have decorated with, and the flowing lace curtains only helped to solidify that image in his imagination. This wasn’t a place for a man. It was somewhere an old lady would sleep.
Kat flopped on the bed on her stomach and looked up at him. “Sirus tells me you’re Abraham’s nephew, and that you’ll be here all summer to help out.”
Joss set his suitcase down beside the dresser slowly, trying to think of the proper response. He wasn’t exactly sure what Sirus had said to Kat about him. He only knew that Sirus had pleaded with him not to reveal to Kat the fact that they were vampire Slayers. “That’s why I’m here.”
Kat darted her eyes to the door before dropping her voice to a whisper. “Aren’t you scared?”
Joss swallowed hard. He was scared. He was utterly terrified of the idea that for who knows how long, actual, real live vampires had been roaming the earth, right under mankind’s nose. And now he was going to learn how to kill them. To face down those horrible monsters and extinguish their life. The very idea set his hands shaking. But he couldn’t reveal any of that to Kat. Besides, she wasn’t talking about vampires. Joss got the feeling she had no idea that they even existed. “Scared? Why would I be scared?”
“Of the wolves, silly! If I were going to hunt wild wolves, I’d be scared out of my mind. Why would you want to do that, anyway? Those things can be dangerous, y’know. And you’re kinda young to be killing things, don’t ya think?” She shook her head and her bangs flopped briefly over her eyes before she drew them back with a finger and tucked them thoughtlessly behind one ear, not waiting for him to respond—which was good, because Joss had no idea what to say. “Sirus says wolves are a real problem here. That’s why the state of New York hires him to come every summer with your uncle and the rest of the guys. Because if he didn’t, the wolf population would go spiraling out of control. But anyway, are you hungry? Sirus is cooking enough to feed the entire population of Timbuktu.”
Joss shrugged casually, despite the fact that his stomach was rumbling loudly. “I could eat, I guess.”
“Cool.” Kat slid off the bed and headed for the door. “I’ll tell Sirus he can count on Timbuktu plus one for dinner.”
“Hey, Kat?” Joss cocked a curious eyebrow at her. He’d been wondering about something since he’d first heard Kat speak, but had only now summoned the courage to ask about it. “Why do you call him Sirus? Isn’t he your dad?”
“Yeah, but he’s also Sirus.” She smiled brightly. “Besides, I like his name.”
He nodded, not really understanding. “Thanks for showing me my room.”
“No problem. See you downstairs.”
Once Kat had gone, Joss opened his suitcase and began unpacking, organizing his belongings in the way he supposed Uncle Abraham would, and taking more time than was needed to do it. The first thing he unpacked was a small silver frame. Inside the frame was a photo of Cecile. She was smiling, her eyes bright and happy. Joss placed her photograph on his dresser and turned back to his open suitcase with a sigh. The truth was, he was nervous now about being here, nervous and excited about beginning his training, and beyond nervous about being away from his mom and dad for the summer—despite the fact that he was now the invisible boy to them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, but frowned at the lack of bars indicating no signal. He was in the mountains, and his dad had warned him that getting a signal might be a problem. He made a mental note to call home later and returned to the task at hand.
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