Second Chance (15 page)

J
oss’s face looked drawn, his forehead creased, with dark circles under his weary eyes. His hair was mussed, his clothes disheveled, and as he sighed, a tiny pink flower petal fluttered down and landed on the surface of the puddle he was staring into, distorting his image. Just as his reflection was smoothing out again, another petal fell, then another. Soon his reflected face was a violent wave of ripples, madly distorted by the falling petals. Then, just as suddenly, the rain of flowers ceased, the petals floating gently to the edges of the puddle. As the puddle stilled, Joss noticed a figure reflected in the puddle, standing beside him, staring at their collective reflection.

Cecile.

Blond curls, blue eyes, happy smile. His baby sister.

He marveled silently at her image for a while, at her perfect curls, at her tan, healthy skin. She was dressed in a yellow sundress, and her toenails had been painted to match its sunny shade. Something about the way she looked—happy, healthy, serene—sent a wave of relief through him, one that ended in a smile of his own. Cecile was fine. She was alive and well and standing right next to him, staring at their images in the puddle below. Regarding her reflection with a nod, he said, “You look very pretty today, Cecile. But where are your shoes?”

Cecile pouted slightly. Adorably. “I don’t want to wear shoes, Jossie. They make it hard to run.”

Her voice was a song—one that lifted his spirits immeasurably. “What are you running from?”

Running. Someone had been running. He’d heard their footsteps, saw them running. And he was about to do . . . something. What was it?

Cecile’s pout sank some, forming a frown tinged with sadness and traced with fear. “The vampires.”

Joss’s heart skipped a beat then, and he felt his jaw tighten. Whoever he’d seen had been running from vampires, too, hadn’t they?

His voice came out more stern that he intended for it to. “You don’t have to be afraid of the vampires, Cecile. I’m here now, and I’m going to protect you. Haven’t I always been here for you? Haven’t I always taken care of you?”

Cecile nodded slowly, then stopped abruptly. “Except . . . except that one time.”

Joss furrowed his brow. In the puddle, Cecile furrowed her brow, too. He searched his memories, but couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t protected his baby sister. As far as he could recall, he always had. But then, his memories were a bit fuzzy, as if they’d been drawn in chalk and parts had been smudged away—whether by accident or on purpose, he didn’t know.

Regarding his sister’s reflection, he nodded, forcing a smile. “Well, I’m here now. I’ll protect you. From whatever threatens to harm you.”

He reached over, taking her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. In their reflection, Cecile burst out laughing. “How, Jossie?”

Something tickled his wrist, and Joss at last pulled his gaze away from the puddle. He looked down at his hand, the one that was holding hers. A beetle—large, black, and shiny—crawled across his wrist. He shook it away, but another appeared, followed by a worm, a spider, and more ants than Joss could count. He flung his arm wildly to get them off, but Cecile held tight to his hand.

And that’s when he noticed her fingernails.

Filth clung to her clawlike nails. The skin around the nail beds was puffy and almost gray in color. Her skin looked raw, rotten. And Joss’s heart raced as he raised his eyes to her face.

Her eyes were black tunnels that went on forever. From their depths poured maggots onto her cheeks, the front of her dress, the ground below. She dug her claws into his hand, gripping him to her. And when she spoke, her voice became distorted, with a metallic twinge that sent Joss into a panic so immediate that he nearly screamed. “You can’t even protect yourself.”

She yanked his arm down, so that he was looking back at his reflection. Maggots poured from her eyes to the puddle. But just before they hit the water, Joss saw something that nearly stole his sanity away forever.

Inside his own mouth were two perfect fangs.

D
arkness curled in around Joss like a blanket, entangling him in its web. Within the darkness was a thick fog, and within that fog was the undeniable fear that he hadn’t yet regained consciousness, or worse, that he was on the verge of doing so and the moment he opened his eyes, he’d see Cecile in all of her horrible glory. That was the worst part of these dreams, these nightmares. That Cecile might not just be a pictorial representation of his immense guilt. That she might actually now exist as the monster in his mind.

He allowed himself a few moments in the uncomfortable darkness, hoping like crazy that when he at last opened his eyes, Cecile would not be there. Or if she was, that at least her eyes wouldn’t be soulless black tunnels. He’d never admit it—maybe not even to himself—but Joss was scared of her eyes in particular. He worried, on some level of his frightened mind, that he might one day tumble forth, falling into her eyes, plunging into a darkness that had no end. And worse than that, Joss thought that he might deserve such a thing.

But all of these thoughts, these fears, were just something to keep him afloat in the darkness. Nightmares weren’t real. And Joss was in no real danger of falling into the black heartless space that was his younger sister’s nightmare eyes.

Was he?

At long last, the darkness broke and peeled back from Joss’s wakeful mind in layers. As he resurfaced once again into a conscious state, his head began to throb, and memories flooded in. He and the other Slayers had been staking out Central Park. He’d seen something—a vampire, maybe? And that’s when everything went dark.

Forcing his eyes open, Joss jumped slightly when all he saw was darkness. The brief, terrifying thought that perhaps he’d already fallen into Cecile’s eyes sent his heart racing. But then there was a break in the blackness. A small twinkling. Then another. Stars. He was looking at the night sky.

Turning his head, he saw Paty lying on her side, her wrists and ankles bound with rope, her mouth gagged so tightly that the white cotton was furiously pinching the skin at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were open, and the moment that she noticed that Joss was awake, she gestured dramatically with her eyes that Joss should look to his left. He did as silently instructed, his eyes widening. To his left the vampire he’d seen chasing the woman earlier was lifting a gag to Cratian’s mouth. Beside Cratian sat an already bound Abraham and Ash, who was unconscious and bleeding slightly from his temple. And, to Joss’s horror and surprise, beside Ash sat Morgan, with his wrists and ankles bound like the others. In a voice that trembled only slightly, Morgan said, “Do you have any idea what Dorian will do to you if you harm this boy?”

Joss’s heart thumped harder. Surely, Morgan was putting on a show. He didn’t even know Dorian, just knew
of
Dorian. But it was a great act. Joss almost believed it.

So did the vampire who was gagging him. It paused briefly, then forced the gag into Morgan’s mouth, tying it roughly at the back of his head, entangling his hair in the knot. When it spoke, its confident tone was betrayed only by the doubtful twitch in the corner of its mouth. “Dorian will never know.”

Joss remained the only Slayer who hadn’t yet been gagged. He swallowed a brief moment of doubt and said, “Yes, he will. He knows what you’re doing even now, and I can guarantee you, he’s not happy about it.”

“Really now . . .” The vampire’s eyes fogged in a moment of distraction. He twisted his hands in the remaining piece of white cloth—the one he likely planned to gag Joss with—and his entire being became enshrouded in doubt.

Inside Joss’s mind, his inner actor took a bow. Every word, every syllable that had crossed his tongue just then had been a convincing lie. Clearly, Dorian was someone to be reckoned with. Someone, perhaps, to fear. Only Joss didn’t fear him. Joss was intrigued by him.

A second vampire came into the light then, and ripped the cloth from the other’s hands, jarring him. The newcomer’s eyes were full of fury. “You fool! They know nothing of Dorian, Sven. Besides, Dorian is in Siberia at the moment. There is no way he could get here in time even if he wanted to. Not that he would ever rescue a group of Slayers. Especially a ragtag band like this one. Stop worrying. You are being tricked by humans.”

Something about the way that it had said “humans” gave Joss the impression that he was speaking in the same manner that a farmer might speak about cattle. It’s not something that has feelings. It’s something to be used for nutrition and dining enjoyment. The thought made Joss’s stomach roll with nausea.

The newcomer smiled, turning his attention on Joss. He moved closer, crouching right in front of him. “Does that sicken you, little Slayer? That we view you as nothing more than food and pests?”

Joss set his jaw, refusing the answer. The truth was, it did sicken him. And frighten him. But not in the same way that he was frightened of his sister.

The vampire raised an eyebrow curiously. “Cecile? Now she sounds like a worthy adversary, if I do say so. Those images trapped in your mind . . . the nightmares are unbearable for you. So perhaps it will be an act of kindness when I end your young life.”

Joss shook his head quickly, willing the vampire’s lips to stop moving, pleading with anything and anyone that the words would stop coming. He couldn’t hear them. Wouldn’t hear them. Especially from a monster like this. “How are you doing that? How do you know those things?”

The vampire smoothed out the white cloth with his hands, and then rolled it up into a suitable gag before placing it into Joss’s mouth. He secured a knot at the back of Joss’s head before returning his gaze to Joss’s eyes. “We read you like books, human. Sometimes we require information. Sometimes we desire entertainment. But whatever our needs, we can invade your minds at any point, and there is nothing at all that you can do to stop us.”

But there was one thing. Joss could kill them. And once they were dead, his mind would be his again. His alone.

The vampire’s eyes darkened as he stood again. “You can try, little Slayer. You can try.”

The other vampire, the one called Sven, seemed to regain his composure. He stepped forward, eyeing each of the Slayers with disdain. “You all—all but Abraham, that is—question why my brother and I haven’t yet killed you. The answer is simple. You deserve punishment. You deserve sheer terror and pain. And we will not rest until those things are appropriately administered.”

Joss glimpsed a tattoo on each of their left arms. It matched the one that had been on Boris and Kaige. Brothers, all four.

Both vampires snapped their eyes to Joss then at the mention of their brothers in his thoughts. He hadn’t yet been truly afraid of the notion of telepathy. But at that moment, Joss was afraid. He couldn’t hide anything from an enemy who was capable of invading his mind, of reading his thoughts. They could predict every move and countermove that he could ever offer. They could uncover his deepest fears, his greatest desires, and use those things against him. How could he fight something that had that kind of power?

He couldn’t.

The vampire who hadn’t shared his name yet, the one Joss knew to be Curtis, spoke then, his tone darkening. Perhaps in grief. “It is a sad day when any vampire succumbs to the great emptiness that is death. But to be brought to that finality by a child . . .”

Sven took a bold step toward Joss, shaking his long finger in Joss’s face. “You will suffer most of all, young one.”

Curtis kicked Abraham hard in the ribs. Abraham cried out, his injured yelp muffled by the gag in his mouth. The vampire bent closer to his face then and grinned. “We’re going to play a game, old man.”

“Yes. On to our game, shall we?” Sven chuckled. “As retribution for the murder of our dear brothers, we demand balance. And balance can only be achieved by a life for a life.”

A memory flashed briefly in Joss’s mind. A teacher he’d had in the fifth grade, lecturing him on vengeance. He’d shaken his head in disappointment and said to Joss,
“An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth will only leave you blind and toothless, Joss.”

At the time, he thought it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. But now it was starting to make a little more sense. Maybe, Joss shuddered, in the literal sense. He might not get out of this with eyes or teeth.

Curtis grinned. Maybe he could sense the Slayer’s fear. Or maybe, Joss thought with horror, he was merely expressing his joy at the idea of Joss being left with every tooth ripped from his mouth, each eye plucked from its socket. An image matching that description flashed through Joss’s mind and he gasped. The other Slayers sat absurdly still. Finally, Ash moved slightly, groaning like he was in pain. When he finally opened his eyes, he struggled, panicking against his bonds. Then he darted a glance around the clearing. As he caught sight of the Slayers, his muscles seemed to stop twitching in fear, but the fear moved from his limbs to his eyes. The vampires smiled down on him, drinking in his terror as if it were a fine wine. When Ash had settled down, Curtis continued to speak. “You, as our dear departed brothers Boris and Kaige were, will be hunted. When you are captured, each of you will be killed. You’ll be dinner. You’ll be our food, our playthings. We will not show mercy. We will not give kindness. We will chase you. We will catch you. And we will kill you.”

Joss searched the clearing, but found no way of escape, no tool that could assist he and his Slayer team to get out of this situation. His stake was long gone, and he was betting that theirs were as well. He couldn’t think of any possible escape. Hopelessness sank into the pit of his stomach like a dropped stone. Heavy. Solid.

Curtis ruffled Joss’s hair and in a mocking tone said, “There, there, little Slayer boy. All hope is not lost. I tell you what. If you can make it to the city streets, I’ll let you go free and hunt you later. A three-day head start. What do you say?”

“Bartering?” A girl’s voice intruded, followed by a clucking tongue. “Curtis, I had no idea you were so open-minded about the subject of negotiation.”

Joss whipped his head around. It was Kat, come for vengeance at last. It had to be.

Curtis’s head snapped up, as did his brother’s. But it was Sven who spoke, in a shaking voice, with wide, fearful eyes. “Em . . . I . . . we . . . no. Not at all. We weren’t . . . I wasn’t—”

The girl stepped into the light. This girl lacked Kat’s kind face, her stubborn chin. She was dressed in black skinny jeans, purple and black Converse high-tops, and a purple T-shirt that featured Count Chocula. On her right wrist were twenty or so thin, black rubber bracelets, as well as a thick black bracelet that read simply,
BITE ME
. Her eyes seemed bright even in the darkness. And when she turned her gaze on Joss, he froze.

He’d seen her before. In a photograph that Morgan had given him. This was Em. He was sure of it.

A sly smile formed on her lips, and though she looked every bit a teenage girl, Joss was certain in her presence that she was anything but. The girl standing before him wasn’t a girl at all, but a vampire. It was in her eyes, that knowledge of ages. She had lived, died, experienced, killed, and done everything in between. Except, he thought with a strange twinge of sadness, she’d never empathized. She was evil. Sad. Alone.

A hint of anger flashed through her expression as she looked at Joss. But when she spoke, it wasn’t to him, but to Curtis and Sven. “Give no quarter, gentlemen. I want these Slayers dead and bloodless by sunrise. Play your games, but if even one escapes, you’ll pay for it with your lives. I’ve put up with enough nonsense from you and your brothers feasting in the open. My patience has worn thin. Now kill them. And make the young one hurt.”

She turned and exited the clearing. Without a word, Curtis and Sven began removing the Slayers’ gags. Joss waited for one of them to speak, to bite, to do something, but the Slayers sat calmly, with their mouths closed, eyes forward. Sven tugged Joss’s gag from his mouth before untying it. After he did, he grinned in Joss’s face. “We’ll take special care with you, little Slayer boy. Em wants you to hurt, so we’ll kill you last. After we make you suffer, of course. That way, we can take our time.”

He opened his mouth then, and Joss shuddered to see two long fangs elongating inside of his mouth.

“Sven! Help me untie them,” Curtis barked at his brother, sounding more than a little impatient to get started. He also sounded less amused than he had with the entire situation before Em had shown up. It had been like a game before, but now it was more like a chore, and he seemed to want it over as quickly and as efficiently as possible.

One by one, the brothers untied each of the Slayers, starting with Paty, and once they did, each Slayer took off into the darkness without a word. Joss couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being left behind. It felt very much like a case of every man for himself, rather than the family bond they’d shared last summer, after his long and grueling training. He wouldn’t abandon them, though. Because if Joss was anything, he was loyal, dutiful, and would do anything to protect those that he cared about.

Just as Sven untied his ankles, followed by his wrists, Joss stood as calmly as he could, regarded each of the vampires with a glare, and stepped quietly from the clearing. The moment he was cloaked in darkness, he took off in a sprint. He had to get away, far away, and find some way to hide. Hide his scent. Hide his thoughts. There had to be a way.

Just as he was rounding a particularly large oak tree, a phantom arm reached out from behind its immense trunk and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him closer. Joss gasped, but once he was on the other side of the tree, Abraham pressed a finger to his own lips, instructing Joss to stay quiet. Then Abraham leaned closer to Joss and whispered, “Bite your tongue. They can’t break through the steady pain to read your thoughts.”

Then he placed his finger on his lips again before moving off in a southern direction, eyes darting this way and that. Joss furrowed his brow. Could it really be that simple? If that were true, a Slayer could easily feed misinformation to the vampire that was hunting him. And if so, he might just get out of this with his eyes and teeth intact.