Third Strike

  He wished he could believe his uncle, but he couldn’t. Because Joss knew very well that Henry’s issue wasn’t with some random girl or his best friend—it was with Joss, and Henry had already made up his mind about him.

  “Joss, would you please take these steaks out to your dad?” Without awaiting an answer, his mom handed him a plate of thick, red, raw meat.

  With a shrug at Uncle Mike—because Joss didn’t really have any idea how to respond to him about Henry—Joss made his way through the crowd and out the side door. He was glad to see so many family members outside, because it would make speaking to his dad a lot easier. Speaking through their masks was so much more pleasant than interacting the way that they did whenever no one else was around. “Hey, Dad. Mom sent these out for you.”

  His dad smiled his fake smile and took the plate, offering Joss a semi-grateful nod. Then a hand fell on Joss’s shoulder. When Joss turned his head, resisting his Slayer instincts to flip the unseen person over his shoulder and pin them on the ground, he realized that it was his cousin Greg, Henry’s older brother. Greg was looking tan and fit, as usual, dressed in tan cargo shorts and a black tank top. “Hey, Joss! How ya doin’, man? Listen, do you mind if we talk?”

  Before Joss could utter a word, Greg was steering him away from the grill, and away from all the people. Joss didn’t feel alarmed at all, just relieved to not be onstage for the moment, as he and Greg crossed the lawn to the forest’s edge that bordered the property. Just at that edge, Greg stopped and gave him a look that said that he was worried. “What’s going on with you and Henry, kid?”

  Joss swallowed hard and shrugged, trying desperately to put his mask back on so that his cousin wouldn’t see how upset the whole situation really made him. But Greg saw the scramble and tossed that metaphorical mask on the ground with a sigh. “Joss, it’s clear you two are fighting. But about what? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on. You guys used to be so close, and then suddenly every time someone at my house says your name, Henry’s eyeballs catch on fire. What’s up?”

  At least Joss knew that he wasn’t misinterpreting Henry’s fury toward him. He shrugged one shoulder in response, but when Greg crossed his arms in front of his chest, Joss knew that he wasn’t about to accept aloofness for an answer. He raked his hair back from his forehead with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know, Greg. I guess . . . I guess Henry just doesn’t like me anymore.”

  He wasn’t exactly certain what Greg’s response to that might be, but he did know that he hadn’t been expecting what Greg said next.

  “Well, that’s crap.” Not so much as a smile on his lips. Not even the hint of one.

  Joss blinked. “What?”

  Greg shook his head. “Of course he likes you. He’s your cousin. He’s your friend. But it seems like he’s worried about you. Any idea why that might be?”

  There were a million reasons that Henry should be worried about Joss. The danger of vampires. The risky missions. The price that Dorian had warned him had been placed on his head by Em. But Joss was fairly certain that Henry wasn’t worried at all. He was pretty convinced that Henry was angry. Because Joss had staked Vlad. And Henry’s mind had been clouded when he was turned into Vlad’s human slave.

  Joss met his cousin’s gaze. “Greg, I don’t think he’s worried about me, but I am worried about him. This Vlad kid—”

  “Hold up. Vlad? You mean the kid who was your best pal for much of the last school year? The kid who’s been like a second little brother to me since day one? That Vlad?”

  Joss paused. He didn’t want to get Greg worked up or ticked off at him, too. So instead, he chose more gentle words. “You don’t have to get defensive. I just . . . Vlad’s not who you think he is, that’s all. I’m not saying he’s a bad guy or anything, I’m just saying . . .”

  What was he saying? Even he wasn’t sure. What he really wanted to do was to grab Greg by the shirt collar and scream into his face, “He’s a vampire, okay? Vladimir Tod is a dangerous creature that will bite you and suck the lifeblood from your veins!” But he didn’t. He remained calm. Even though it was killing him to do so.

  Greg uncrossed his arms at last and sighed. “Then what are you saying, Joss? Because if you know something that I don’t, if Vlad is getting mixed up in some bad stuff, I need to know. I can’t let my brother follow him down a bad path.”

  Or a dark one, thought Joss. Or an alley. Or anywhere that they might be alone, without witnesses to the horrors that Vlad was capable of. But he didn’t put voice to any of those thoughts. Instead, he said, “I’m just trying to help Henry see that maybe Vlad isn’t as good as he thinks he is, that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Greg’s posture relaxed, but he went back to shaking his head. “No wonder his eyes catch on fire like that. You’ve gotta be careful, Joss. Vlad’s been as close to Henry as a friend can get since they were kids. You’ve really gotta get a grip on your jealousy. Vlad is Henry’s friend, but you’re family.”

  Jealous? Is that what Greg thought? Joss wasn’t jealous of Vlad. He was merely trying to protect his cousin. But how could he make Greg understand any of that without exposing the existence of vampires and the Slayer Society? “That’s not what I—”

  “Joss. A word, if you please.”

  Joss turned his head at the familiar voice. A strange tension entered his body the moment his eyes met with that of the speaker’s. “Uncle Abraham. When did you get h—?”

  “A word.” Abraham’s eyes narrowed. In stark contrast to what Greg was wearing, Abraham donned his usual slacks, shirt, and vest. Over it, he wore a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows; he was looking very much like his cover story, a successful university professor. “If you don’t mind, Greg.”

  “No problem, Uncle Abraham.” Greg looked back to Joss before walking away to rejoin the men by the grill. “Just remember what I said, kid. Jealousy isn’t healthy.”

  Joss couldn’t say anything to that. He wasn’t jealous. He was just trying to do a very important, very secret job.

  “Who are you jealous of, nephew? Greg? Henry? Either would be an apt choice. Both are physically adept, confident young men.” He cast Joss a sidelong glance. “Either would make a fine Slayer.”

  Joss wouldn’t allow himself to feel any of the barbs that his uncle might throw at him. He knew very well that his uncle hadn’t exactly been accepting of the notion that Joss was the next Slayer in his family line. “I assume you’re not just here for the barbecue.”

  The corner of Abraham’s mouth lifted in a small, knowing smile. “I have your next assignment.”

  Relief flooded over Joss. His next assignment. That meant that he’d be leaving Santa Carla for the summer. It meant he’d be spending time with his Slayer family, the few people on this planet who could actually understand the enormous pressures and responsibility that Joss was facing on a regular basis. It meant that he was going home. For the summer, at least.

  From inside his sports coat, Abraham pulled a small parchment envelope bearing the red wax seal of the Slayer Society. As he handed it to Joss, he said, “This mission will require stealth in a way that you’ve not yet achieved, nephew. You’ll have to decide exactly how to remain hidden in this scenario, and it won’t be easy for you, I’m afraid.”

  “Is it ever?” The words passed over his lips in a whisper before he’d had a chance to truly examine how they might sound to his uncle, his mentor. Fortunately, Abraham either hadn’t heard them, or ignored them completely.

  “You’re on your own this time, Slayer. Your team has assignments in other cities, myself included. This task falls to you and you alone, by the bequeath of the Society. Only Paty will remain behind with you, but strictly to act as liaison between you and the Society elders. She cannot help you in your task.”

  Joss furrowed his brow and turned the envelope over in his hands curiously. He rubbed his th
umb along the wax seal and pondered, “What’s my assignment, exactly?”

  “Intel has shown that there are vampires running wild in a certain small town, picking off human townsfolk whenever the mood takes them. You need to track down the creatures and stop as many of them as you possibly can before a cleansing of the town becomes necessary.”

  A cleansing. The Slayer Society would sweep through the town, killing everyone—both vampire and human alike—wiping the slate clean. It had been done before, but not for a hundred years. Joss hoped that it would never be done again.

  “Where am I going?”

  “Nowhere.”

  Joss snapped his eyes to Abraham’s.

  Abraham cracked a smile, but Joss was damn certain that it wasn’t a reflection of inner peace or joy. It was sadistic, that line in his mouth. It was cruel. The way that Abraham had been cruel. The way that Abraham was still cruel.

  Then, as if to erase all doubts as to what he was saying, Abraham said, “The town of which I speak is the one in which you currently reside.”

  Joss’s chest suddenly felt empty, hollowed out by the realization of what it would mean if he failed. His family was here. His parents. He swallowed hard, the name of the town escaping his lips in a disbelieving breath. “Santa Carla?”

  Abraham tipped the brim of the brown fedora he was wearing in Joss’s direction and smiled before turning to walk away. Over his shoulder, he confirmed Joss’s query with a matter-of-fact tone and an almost singsong voice that grated on Joss’s every last nerve. “Santa Carla. You’d think that with your training and keen eye, you might have noticed.”

  But Joss hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed anything that suggested that vampires had infested the town in which he lived. Was he losing his touch? Or had he never really had one in the first place?

  As his uncle walked away, Joss watched him, clutching the envelope in his hands, so tight between his fingers that he was amazed that the pages didn’t crumble. Uncle Abraham joined the men who were still standing around the grill, even though Joss’s dad had closed the lid and just begun to carry the plate of cooked food back into the house. Abraham smiled at them and they smiled back, sweeping him easily into their casual conversation. Joss realized then that while he and his parents were sad clowns, a pitiful act on a stage of sorrow, his uncle was a master of disguise. No one saw him for the Slayer that he was, or for the gifted liar that he had to be. Joss was torn between wanting to be like his uncle and hoping that he never became like him in any way.

  Shock held Joss to that very spot—shock that his family was at risk. If he failed in his mission, they would die. It was as simple as that. Not to mention what it meant for Joss to face down multiple vampires on the loose—ones who’d decided that they were free to feed on the innocent people of Santa Carla at will, without repercussion. He didn’t know if he was capable of taking the vampires out all by himself, without the aid of his skilled team members. He only knew that he was scared and worried for his family. He couldn’t have felt more relieved that his extended family would be leaving town the next morning. At least Greg, Aunt Matilda, Big Uncle Mike, and the others would be safe. At least Henry would be safe.

  But his parents . . .

  No. Joss would do anything to protect them from the ravenous hunger of mad vampires on the run and the cleansing intent of the Slayer Society. Anything.

  But he had to do so in a way that his parents wouldn’t notice him. Because if they did, Joss’s whole world would come crashing down around him. He’d have too much explaining to do, and he had no idea how to even begin such a task. How could he hide his vampire hunting and killing efforts from his parents, when doing such a thing resulted in so much blood, so many scars?

  Joss suddenly wished that he was invisible. A slight breeze rustled through the trees, brushing his hair from his eyes. And then—strangely . . . ironically—he remembered that once their family reunion was over and everyone else had gone home, his parents would go back to their sad selves. And he would once again be the Invisible Boy.

  But this time, it would be on purpose.

  2

  THE SUDDEN ONSET OF BEING AMISH

  No one on the planet could have been more relieved than Joss the next morning when the last few relatives had packed up their cars and said their good-byes. Except, maybe, for Henry, who had picked up his suitcase and practically sprinted toward the rental car’s trunk. Joss hurried to follow, wondering all the while whether his and Henry’s friendship would ever, could ever, be mended. Not likely. Not the way that Henry was acting.

  Standing at the rear of the car were Joss’s dad and Big Mike. Just as Henry began to lift his bag and set it inside the open trunk, Big Mike laid a big hand on his shoulder. “Hold on there a second, Henry.”

  With a confused look in his eyes, Henry set the bag on the ground beside the car. “What’s going on?”

  Big Mike and Joss’s dad exchanged a look. Relief flooded through Joss’s veins. At least he wasn’t the one in trouble this time. And besides that, maybe there was a hint of justice in the fact that Henry had been a total jerk to him all weekend and now he was getting yelled at for something. Joss straightened his shoulders and watched Big Mike, waiting for whatever storm that was coming. As he stood there, he swore he smelled a hint of rain, but there were no clouds overhead. Just another sunny, bright day in Santa Carla.

  “It seems to me that you’ve been a tad disrespectful to your cousin here all weekend. I don’t like it. And I know your mother doesn’t like it at all. You boys have always been close, so whatever this is that’s brewing between you, you should have the decency to put it aside when the family gets together for something like this reunion.” With every word that left Big Mike’s lips, Henry’s muscles tightened visibly. Big Mike kept his voice even, but his voice was big too, like him, so it wasn’t exactly something that Henry could ignore. Joss watched, grateful that he wasn’t on the receiving end of things. “Now I want you to apologize to Joss for the way you’ve behaved toward him all weekend.”

  Joss raised an expectant eyebrow at his cousin. He hated to admit it, but he was really enjoying this. Even if Henry’s apology only sprang into existence because he was told to do so, it was a start. Besides, Henry had been rude to him all weekend, even if, on some level, Joss believed that he just might have deserved it. Steam practically escaped from Henry’s ears the moment their eyes met. His cousin had always had a temper—and it had always made Joss laugh to see Henry lose it over something—but now that temper was being directed at Joss, and it wasn’t so funny anymore.

  Henry darted a glare at Joss, as if he’d set this entire thing up. Then he glanced at Joss’s dad before turning his attention back to Big Mike. “Dad, you don’t understand.”

  Big Mike chuckled. The sound of it reminded Joss of thunder in the distance. “Oh, I understand better than you might think, son. Cousins fight. Brothers fight. And you two are gonna stick together and work this out before it becomes unfixable.”

  Stick together? That made it sound like . . . but no. Henry was going home. Home, where he would be safe from a potential cleansing. Joss swallowed hard before asking, “What do you mean, exactly?”

  Big Mike looked from Henry to Joss and back again. “We’ve been talking, and it seems like what you boys both need is some extended time together so you can fix whatever’s broken between you.”

  Joss’s heart thumped hard inside his chest. So much for feeling justified in Henry receiving any kind of punishment for having been a jerk. Now Joss was being punished, too, and he wasn’t certain that he fully understood why.

  His dad spoke then, and Joss was shocked to hear his actual tone—not the hurt, angry tone of a man who’d lost his daughter, not the false tone of a man who was just fighting to keep it together in front of other people, but his actual voice. The real him. Hearing it sent goose bumps up Joss’s spine. It was like listening to the w
hisperings of a long-forgotten ghost. “And maybe, through doing that, whatever’s broken in Joss can be mended, too.”

  Joss locked surprised eyes with his dad then. He had no idea that his dad even had an inkling that Joss had been facing anything difficult at all. If only he knew what.

  His dad nodded, furrowing his brow sympathetically. “Clearly you’re going through some heady stuff, son. Maybe this will help.”

  Clearly. Which meant that his dad had noticed. Which meant that maybe Joss wasn’t so great, after all, at hiding the Slayer side of his life. But it also meant that his dad had seen him, and was worried about him—two things that he’d been convinced would never happen again.

  Henry’s face and neck were turning red, as if all of the blood in his body had gathered there. He refused to make eye contact with anyone. “So . . . you’re saying . . .”

  Big Mike slapped Henry gently on the back with his meaty hand. “We’re saying you can drop this bag in the guest room next to Joss’s bedroom, and Joss will be happy to spend the next month with his favorite cousin.”

  Henry looked at his dad. Joss looked at his. And after a long silence, the boys looked at each other. Neither looked happy.

  Without another word, Henry picked up his bag and started carrying it toward the house. But he didn’t get very far before Big Mike said, “One more thing, son.”

  Henry stopped in his tracks and turned around. Joss could tell by his demeanor that it was taking every ounce of self-control for Henry not to scream at his dad. “What? There’s more?”

  “Your cell phone, Henry. If you two are going to connect, you need no distractions. Hand it over.” Big Mike held out his palm and instantly a kind of panic filled Henry’s eyes. Joss knew it was panic, because he was feeling it, too.