Joss belched, which erupted more laughter.
After they’d eaten most of what was on the table, and it had become crystal clear that Abraham wouldn’t be joining them, Joss set his fork down, wiped his mouth with his napkin, sipped his orange juice, and said, “So I have a plan.”
Ash, Cratian, Paty, and Morgan looked his way, their eyes full of curiosity, and Morgan’s tinged with sadness. In the most determined tone possible, Joss said, “Tonight we’re staking out Central Park. I overheard Kaige telling his intended victim about hunting there, so the smart thing to do is to investigate the area, and see if maybe we can locate the remaining two brothers. I’ve killed two. That means there are just two left before we’re done with this job. So let’s get out there and stake these things, so we can all sleep a little better at night.”
To his surprise—maybe he’d expected more laughter or a few shaking heads—all three Slayers nodded slowly, admiration sparkling in their eyes. Morgan reached over and gave his back a pat. “Sounds like a solid plan, little brother. You plan on stopping by the morgue first, right? To inspect Kaige’s body?”
“Of course.” Joss smiled, biting the inside of his cheek, bracing himself for his next words. He met Morgan’s eyes and took a slow breath. “Oh, and there’s just one thing. Morgan, you won’t be joining us.”
Morgan nodded just as slowly as Joss had breathed. “Of course not. I’m compromised, because of my brother. It’s all right. I need to spend a little time organizing my notes on what we know about Elysia in New York anyway.”
At that moment, Joss realized something that shook him a bit. His inner actor was clearly superior to Morgan’s, because at the moment, despite his reassuring smile, Morgan’s actor was failing completely at passing off his disappointment for casual tones.
They cleared the table quietly, and as Cratian was placing the last plate inside the dishwasher, he turned back to Joss, who was wiping down the counters with a sponge. “What time are we staking out the park, kid?”
Joss pulled a time out of the air, hoping it sounded like a wise idea. “Nine o’clock. We’ll assemble in the library about a half hour before.”
“Don’t worry about Kaige. I’ll inspect his corpse. Compromised or not, I’m good enough to pick at a dead body, if nothing else. You guys worry about the task at hand.” Morgan’s words lacked emotion, as did the expression on his face. His inner actor, apparently, had found the strength for Act Two. He finished folding the kitchen towel and hung it over the oven door bar. Then he quietly left the room, leaving the others exchanging glances full of pity. But there was no changing it. Abraham had given explicit instruction that Morgan was not to join their stakeout, so Joss had no choice but to listen.
Joss spent most of the day writing in the journal in the back of his field guide, annotating everything he’d experienced over the last few days. When he finished, he read over some of the notes that Morgan had given him regarding the vampire brothers and what the Society knew about them, which wasn’t much. Then, whether in preparation for a late-night stakeout or completely by accident, Joss fell asleep.
He, thankfully, did not dream.
He awoke just past eight that evening, and made his way down to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich for dinner. Then, glancing at the clock, he gathered his Slayer tools and moved into the library to wait for his team. He was joined shortly by Ash and Paty, followed soon by Cratian and his uncle Abraham. In a few minutes, they’d assembled and moved out the front door, leaving Morgan behind to deal with Kaige’s remains.
If someone had covered Joss’s eyes and ears and led him to the heart of Central Park before allowing him to see and hear where he was, he would never have guessed that he was in the middle of the largest, most populated city in the United States. All around him were trees and greenery, wildlife, and the quiet sounds of nature. He couldn’t help but marvel that a place that offered such serenity existed in such an exciting metropolis, and yet here it was, covering more ground than he had ever dared imagine. It was beautiful. The cityscape was beautiful, too, but this . . . this was different.
Paty looked less than impressed as she stepped up beside Joss. Her lips were pursed, her eyes glazed from the immediate onset of boredom. When she sighed, Joss knew that it was for him—a reminder, perhaps, that he was the one who’d brought them here, and if nothing turned up from this little field trip, that it would be his fault that she’d wasted a night in the woods, rather than scoping out the city’s nightlife for any sign of fanged monsters. She sighed again, as if to drive her point home, before speaking. “So . . . what now, kid?”
Abraham’s voice broke in then from behind Joss, dripping with an arrogance that Joss couldn’t really wrap his head around. “Yes, nephew. Please, enlighten us. What are your plans for this reconnaissance exactly?”
“It’s not reconnaissance. It’s a stakeout.” Joss felt the corner of his mouth twitch. Despite what his uncle Abraham might think, he did know the difference between the two. Reconnaissance was what one did when they watched a certain area, certain people, and gather information about them. A stakeout was that, too, but it also led to action if action is called for.
As if in response to his words, Joss’s body became acutely aware of the stake in his back belt loop, hiding under his T-shirt. Apart from Morgan he hadn’t told any of the other Slayers about it yet, and was under the assumption that once in a vampire-versus- Slayer showdown, they’d forgive him. Of course, Uncle Abraham would have questions. Lots of questions. And Joss would answer them all. But not now. For now, his stake remained a secret.
Ash chuckled. At a glance from the others, he wiped his grin away. “Sorry. It’s just . . . ‘stakeout’? Come on. That’s funny. No one else thinks puns are funny? I’m the only one?”
Being that no one else smiled, it had apparently been decided that, yes, Ash was the only person in the group who found Slayer puns funny. Except for Joss, that is, who smiled inwardly at the simple humor. Ash was all right.
When their eyes turned back to Joss, the actor inside of him took center stage. He straightened his shoulders and spoke with a confidence that he didn’t feel in the least. “Let’s set up a two hundred yard perimeter. Two in the trees. Three on the ground. We’ll wait for an hour, then shift locations. By morning, I want a sizable chunk of this park covered.”
Cratian and Ash exchanged looks with Paty, and all three fought to hide impressed smiles. Abraham grumbled, “Who gets what position?”
Expecting his uncle’s doubtful tone, Joss didn’t miss a beat. “Paty and Ash, I want you treetop. Uncle Abraham, Cratian, and myself will cover things from down here. Signal us if you see anything.”
Paty blinked. “Signal you? With what, exactly?”
They all looked at him expectantly.
Joss swallowed hard. “Birdcall?”
Much grumbling followed.
Joss blinked, not understanding their reluctance. “You guys do know how to do birdcalls . . . right?”
Awkward silence and glances around at the various greenery gave Joss his answer. The Slayers could survive for a week on a diet of bark and berries, but not a single one of them had any idea how to mimic the cry of a mourning dove.
Joss cupped his hands together, as if in prayer, and spread his thumbs slightly apart before putting them to his lips and blowing. The Slayers watched in awe as he perfectly mimicked a mourning dove’s cry. They practiced for several minutes before moving ahead with their plans. As Ash walked past him, he grinned and spoke under his breath in a tone that sent proud prickles over the back of his neck. “Yes, sir.”
Abraham’s eyes slanted in suspicion. “Perhaps it would be best for you to be treetop, nephew. You are unarmed, after all.”
Joss swallowed hard. Inside his mind, the actor shrugged, at a loss for what to say.
Paty shook her head. “Leave the kid alone, Abraham. You said he was taking point on this little adventure, so let him take point. You can’t run everything, despite
what you might think. Joss has his reasons for choosing those assignments. And if he’s wrong, he’ll pay for it. But why not let him learn through experience rather than coddling him like some toddler who’s never seen death or felt true pain before?”
Inside Joss’s mind, the actor’s jaw dropped.
Recovering, Joss simply nodded sternly at his uncle, who set his jaw and disappeared into some nearby bushes. Paty crossed in front of him and scurried up a tree. It took Joss a moment to realize that he was totally alone. After a moment, he walked calmly but alertly through the park until he located a spot just outside of the reach of streetlight in which to hide. He crouched in the darkness, watching as a few tourists wandered through. Soon the park seemed empty. Time passed quickly, and the Slayers changed locations. Every hour they moved to new ground, always with Paty and Ash in the trees, and Abraham, Cratian, and Joss on the ground.
At the sixth hour, bored and exhausted, his leg muscles aching from crouching, standing, and walking, Joss allowed a sliver of doubt to pierce his soul. What had he been thinking? There was nothing here. No vampires. No monsters. Just him and his crew, on a failed mission. With no further clues on how to locate the remaining vampire brothers.
It was over. The Slayer Society would have his head for this failure, and his grandfather would roll over in his grave. And very soon, Joss would join him in his Next Great Adventure.
20
CLOSER STILL
Just as Joss was about to break radio silence and call out to his fellow Slayers that the stakeout had been a miserable failure, his cell phone buzzed. Withdrawing it from his pocket, he flipped it open and answered in a hushed voice, full of surprise. “Henry?”
His cousin had never called him on his cell before. Especially after Joss had staked his best friend, Vlad. So he had no idea why he’d call now, unless it was something really important.
“Listen, Joss. I didn’t plan on speaking to you ever again, but this is important. Some chick stopped me at the mall here in Stokerton tonight, asking all sorts of questions about you.” Henry was all business.
Joss wet his lips and looked around, just in case anyone or anything approached. “A girl? What did she look like?”
“About fifteen. Kinda hot. Weird hair.”
Kat. Of that, Joss had no doubt.
Henry paused, and for a brief moment, the edge in his voice softened. “Anyway, she had a weird look in her eye every time I said your name. Like a crazy look. You should watch out for her. Just be careful, okay?”
Joss swallowed a lump that threatened to grow in his throat. “Thanks, Henry. I appreciate it. Maybe next time I’m in town, we could talk, y’know?”
Then the line went dead. His heart sank, and as he returned his phone to his pocket, he wondered if he and Henry would ever be friends, would ever be brothers again. Words entered his mind, words spoken too long ago, and he wondered whether or not they were true.
“Forever, Henry?”
“Forever and ever.”
Then Joss heard the sounds of heavy breathing, coupled with the slapping of shoes on pavement. Was this a crazy runner out for some very early morning jogging? He’d wait for them to pass before contacting the other Slayers and telling them his plan was a failure.
But the shoes . . . the runner’s shoes sounded off, somehow. Like the soles were harder than the usual running shoe rubber.
He watched the path out of bored curiosity, wondering what kind of person chose to run for entertainment purposes. Running was hard work. Running was something one did with purpose. Not something one would normally choose to do rather than reading a book or watching a movie or playing a video game full of zombie-splattering awesomeness. But to each their own, he supposed.
The breathing sounded heavy, and tinged with panic, sending the tiny hairs on the back of Joss’s neck on end. It wasn’t the sound of a runner enjoying him- or herself, but the sound of someone fleeing, someone running from something that had frightened them. Every single nerve in Joss’s body was on alert as he waited for the runner to come into view. What were they running from? He didn’t dare move into a position where he could help until he’d identified the source of their terror.
Then he saw her. A woman in her midthirties, dressed in a miniskirt and sequin-covered bustier, as if she’d been enjoying a night out on the town. Her high heels hit the pavement in desperation, slowing her pace. Joss couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t kick them off in order to aid in her flight. Her hair, which looked like it had once been tied in a messy bun, flew wild and free. Her breaths grew more panicked, more shallow as she ran, as if she were quickly running out of steam. But Joss couldn’t help her yet. He had to see her tormentor. He had to see who or what was chasing her before he made his move.
She passed by where Joss was crouched in the shadows before she paused to catch her breath. She turned back, eyes on the path, and just as she drew in a sigh of relief, a figure appeared ten yards away. The woman’s eyes widened. She froze.
Joss froze, too. He wasn’t certain at this distance whether or not the man standing on the path was a vampire or not. He just knew that it was a bad man. A man with ill intentions. A man who meant to harm the woman.
Unless Joss did something about it.
As the man, the creature, whatever he was, advanced on the frightened lady, she seemed held in place by glue. He moved with determination, his steps sure. Closer to her. Closer still. Joss searched the trees above, but couldn’t find Paty or Ash anywhere. Where were they? They’d been within eyesight just minutes before. He whistled the birdcall, hoping for some kind of response from his team, but none came.
Joss reached behind him, curling his fingers around his stake. The wood felt warm in his hand. He stepped forward, but just as he was about to be free of the bushes he’d hidden behind, the world disappeared in a swirl of black.
21
A SMILE IN THE DARKNESS
Joss’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.