3 “All clear,” Jade shouts from the other side of the bookshelves. “And they’ve called a meeting.” When we open the hidden door, she’s waiting there, cringing in pain. Her ice pack is gone, her ankle poorly wrapped. I kneel to fix it. The meeting will be Rhys, Bradford Smythe, Ruth Zabuto, and Wanda Wyndam-Pryce. Artemis will be there to take notes. And my mom would be there, if she were here, which I’m glad she’s not. As castle medic, I don’t merit a spot. Usually this bugs me—one more way in which healing isn’t valued. Today I’m relieved. “I’ll walk Cillian back to his scooter when I’m done with your ankle,” I say nonchalantly, hoping that with all the chaos, no one will ask me questions. Hoping they’ll be so focused on the hellhound they’ll conveniently overlook the fact that I was the one who killed it. They’ve ignored me for years. Surely they can keep doing it. “Cillian can wait.” Jade pops her gum, brushing her choppy brown hair from her eyes. “You gotta go. They’re holding the meeting about you.” Fear twists me in its grip. I can’t go to that meeting. I’ve known something was wrong with me for two months. Now everyone else knows it too. And Watchers don’t exactly have a good track record of being gentle with demons or those corrupted by them. “That’s okay,” I blurt, fastening the sprain wrap and then hurrying past her. “I don’t need to go.” We may have gotten the all clear, but I feel pursued. I hurry toward my bedroom. Those of us who are not on the Council share the dormitory wing of the castle. Once, these rooms were packed with young Watchers-in-training, competing and studying and vying to be given the ultimate calling: a seat on the Council. Most of the Council had some experience working with Slayers, though their knowledge tended to be more academic than practical. With one Slayer and a full Council, most Watchers never worked directly with the Chosen One. Watchers who were actually assigned Slayers had . . . reputations. For being too close to the darkness. For lacking the level of professional detachment and farsightedness required to make difficult decisions. That’s why my father and mother were such a good team. He was on the ground; she was up next for the Council. Still, there were so many Council hopefuls who tested high enough that people like me—people who would never be an active Watcher or qualify for the Council—wouldn’t have been allowed in the dorms. Legacy Watcher family members like Jade, Imogen, and me would have been shuffled to soulless office buildings to do accounting, far-flung outposts to study magic, or, if we were lucky, assigned as support staff for the Council or special ops. We were never destined for this castle. Then Buffy took destiny and pummeled it to bloody, broken pieces. And here we are. Dorm rooms for younger trainees were once lined with bunk beds. We cleared all those out two years ago, quietly and without ceremony. Now the Littles are bunked together with Imogen in a suite. The rest of us have our own rooms, except for Artemis and me. Not because there isn’t space—if there’s anything in the Watcher ranks now, it’s space—but because Artemis didn’t want to be far from me, even while sleeping. I hate sleeping. Every night in my dreams, I’d be left behind in the flames. And it was Artemis who woke me up from the nightmares. Though lately I’ve been having a hard time falling asleep. As soon as the world darkens, my body begins buzzing with adrenaline and nerves. And when I do sleep, my dreams are not so often about being left behind. Usually they’re not about me at all. I’ve been hiding in our room for only a few minutes before Artemis finds me. She slips in and hugs me so fiercely I can feel her trembling. It stuns me. We haven’t hugged in years. She shows her love for me in the most Artemis ways possible. Monitoring my diet to be certain I’m getting the correct nutrition. Making sure my inhalers are always filled. Sleeping close in case I need help. Physically affectionate Artemis makes alarm bells go off. If she’s hugging me, I’m right. Something is seriously wrong. “I had no idea what actually happened,” she says, pulling back and inspecting me, searching my face to confirm I’m okay. “When I saw the dead hellhound outside, I assumed Rhys killed it. God, Nina. I should have been there.” “You couldn’t have known. None of us could have.” “How did you kill it?” I swallow the rising panic. There’s so much I’ve kept locked away inside, unwilling to confront it myself. So much I couldn’t say aloud, because that would make it real. The dam finally opens. “It was like—like I wasn’t me anymore,” I admit. “Artemis, I’m scared.” My eyes fill with tears. “The closet?” Artemis’s tone is gentler than I’ve heard in a long time. Suddenly she’s not Castle Artemis. She’s my Artemis—my twin sister, who I can trust with anything. We climb into the closet and sit shoulder to shoulder. We used to do this in our old house, hide in our closet when we were little and did something naughty. Later, it was where she’d take me when the nightmares were too bad and I was too scared to sleep. It’s our place for telling secrets. And I’ve never had a bigger one.
I scoot so that my back is against the wall, smashing the hanging clothes. Mine are all bright, rainbow colors, pieces that make me happy when I need it. Artemis’s are all black, utilitarian. If she ever needs cheering, she doesn’t have time to look for it in what she wears. She mimics my posture. “Tell me.” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t know what I was doing when the hellhound attacked. It was like instinct. My body took over completely and I killed that thing without even thinking.” She doesn’t respond. The thing I’m most scared of, the thing I’ve been ignoring, comes to the surface like a demon crawling from the blackest depths. I should have told her the day I first felt it. But what if Artemis can’t fix this? Artemis fixes everything, but this might be too much for even her. What will that do to her, if she can’t help? What will it do to me? “I’ve . . . I’ve been feeling weird. For a couple of months now.” The timing is not lost on her. “A couple of months generally, or a couple of months precisely?” “Do you remember the day with the big transdimensional demons?” Artemis chokes out a laugh. “I do, in fact, remember that day.” We had been outside, on one of Artemis’s rare breaks. I shifted on the blanket and squinted up at the sky. “What does that cloud look like to you?” Artemis didn’t look up from her sandwich. “Water vapor.” I elbowed her in the side. “Come on. Use your imagination.” “I can’t. My imagination died a long, agonizing death due to inhaling too much weapon polish.” I shifted onto my side to face her. “You don’t have to do all the grunt work, you know.” Artemis rolled her eyes. Sometimes I watched her face and wondered if mine looked the same when I made those expressions. We had mirror features, but mine didn’t work like hers. Everything she did was pointed, precise, powerful. Everything I did was . . . Not. I shooed away a fat black fly buzzing close to my face. “You’re smarter than all those stuffy old layabouts, anyway. You should be doing the research and writing while they do the polishing.” “I didn’t pass the test, so this is my role. And it’s not like there’s anyone else to do it.” Rhys collapsed onto the blanket next to me. He and Artemis had been training since they were children. As soon as we rejoined the Watchers, Artemis was put straight into full potential Council training. Our mother insisted on it. She never even let me try. But why couldn’t we have Council members who were focused on healing? Who viewed the world—both natural and supernatural—as something to be fixed, not fought? “What does that cloud look like to you?” I asked, pointing. Rhys’s voice sounded like a scowl. “Do you know how hard it is to get rid of bodies? I just spent four hours testing dif ferent chemicals to try and dissolve an Abarimon skeleton, only to be informed by Wanda Wyndam-Pryce that in the case of those types of remains, they just drop the bodies in the ocean.” I clucked sympathetically. “Makes vampires look considerate, what with the poofing and all. No cleanup.” “Least they can do. Anyhow, they made me leave. The Council’s freaking out over something.” He yawned. “Above my ranking, apparently.” “They kicked me out too,” Artemis said. I didn’t mind the company. “If you all need something to do later, I’m cataloging inventory in my clinic.” Artemis’s hand rested on my forehead. “Have you been taking your vitamins? You look pale.” “So do you.” “It’s almost like you’re twins,” Rhys said. Artemis ignored him. “Have you eaten yet? I can make you something.” “I can make you something. Your cooking is awful.” I stuck my tongue out at her so she would know I was teasing her. Though Artemis cooked breakfast and lunch, we all took turns with supper. No one liked it when it was my week. Half the time when I arrived in the kitchen, Artemis had already prepared everything for me. I couldn’t decide if I loved her for it or wished she would just give herself a break and let everyone deal with one night of my overcooked spaghetti with canned sauce. She closed her eyes, relaxing. It was rare to see her face at peace. Rhys, too, was trying to catch a nap. A skill I far surpassed both of them in. Probably the only one. I looked back up at the sky, enjoying that for these few minutes, Rhys and Artemis were shuffled to the side like I always had been. The clouds really were putting on a show. They pushed together faster now, swirling and billowing. And growing. And behaving decidedly uncloudlike. Then the first tentacle appeared. “Um. Guys?” “Mm.” Artemis shifted so her head was closer to my shoulder. She froze, listening to my breathing grow strained. She pushed herself to sitting, looking only at my face. “What’s wrong?” I pointed upward. “Is it just me, or does that cloud look like a giant demon emerging through a tear in the sky?” “Oh,” Rhys said. “Oh. Yes. I don’t know what classification that one is.”
A brief, silent moment passed, and then— “Weapons!” Artemis shouted. Rhys snapped out of his stupor and tore across the courtyard to an outbuilding. He returned with crossbows, pikes, and as many swords as he could carry. He had a nasty-looking rifle as well, already loaded with darts I knew could knock out even the biggest demons. But this was bigger than the biggest demons. This was a monstrosity, a behemoth. Most demons we saw were hybrids or vessels for true demons in another dimension. The thing coming from the sky didn’t look like it belonged in this world. It looked like a world killer. I heard chanting and turned to find Imogen and Ruth Zabuto gesturing, the charmed boundaries of the castle activated by their words. The air shimmered like a dome over us, marking the edges of the protection. Artemis gave instructions to Rhys. And I sat on the blanket. Doing nothing. Because all I had been trained to do was heal people. Fix them. And right then, I doubted any of us would have enough left for me to fix when this was over. After the fire, maybe because of my nightmares, my mom had always insisted I couldn’t handle stress. I was supposed to avoid intense situations. But a giant demon with one eye and teeth-covered tentacles descending from what had been empty sky only moments before? Pretty impossible to avoid. We were dead. Everyone was dead. The demon settled over the magical boundary. The scent of burning flesh made my stomach turn, my throat feel ragged. The demon didn’t pause. Pustules along its underbelly burst, coating the barrier in steaming, sizzling orange putrescence. Tentacles encompassed the entire shining dome. The demon was as big as the castle itself. Ruth Zabuto’s voice was trembling. Imogen ran back into the castle, presumably to find and protect the Littles. My mother burst out, but she didn’t come to us. She stayed at Ruth’s side, adding her fierce voice to the older woman’s. I wanted her with me, but, as always, she chose to protect someone else. I looked over at Artemis. She looked at me. This time our mother was choosing the Watchers over both of us. “I’m getting Nina out!” Artemis grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. My heart pounded so hard in my chest that it hurt. My vision was narrowing, the world blurring around me. “Help them,” I said, barely able to push out the words. Something was wrong with my body. Every nerve was on fire, everything exploding. “The barrier won’t last much longer. We need to run while it’s distracted.” She dragged me toward the forest, where a stone archway was unaffected by the magical barrier. It was the only way out. As we passed through, I glanced behind us. The last Zabutos. The last Smythes. The last of all of us. My mother turned toward us, the same expression on her face I had seen once before when she chose to save Artemis and leave me behind. Now Artemis had chosen to save me, and we had left my mother behind. My mother lifted a hand in farewell. But the Littles were still in the castle. I stopped, Artemis stumbling with the loss of momentum. “Nina, we have to go!” She took a few steps, waiting for me to follow. I tried to squeeze out the words to tell her I couldn’t leave them behind. And then I looked up and saw a single tentacle, gray and green with fangs instead of suction cups, swinging through the air. Right toward my sister. The world narrowed to a single point: Artemis. I threw myself at her, and as we collided, three things happened at once. The magical barrier disappeared as though it had never existed. A pulse of energy like I had stuck my finger in a socket hit me so hard I flew off Artemis and rolled into the trees. And the demon exploded. Later we’d learn that the demon exploded when Buffy destroyed the Seed of Wonder and cut off magic and our connections to other dimensions. But that day all we knew was we were going to die, and then we weren’t. And I was absolutely drenched in interdimensional demon goo. “So you’re saying,” Artemis says, “that you felt changed at the precise moment the Seed of Wonder was destroyed? The last possible second before magic left the world forever?” I pick up one of her boots and fiddle with the laces. “Yeah.” “This happened months ago, Nina. Why didn’t you tell me?” Castle Artemis is back—the softness is gone, and there’s a chiding edge to her tone and expression. I half expect her to pull out an “Is Nina a Demon?” checklist. “I was scared. I mean . . . I was worried that I had been infected: demonic power transference. There’s precedence. I kept waiting to grow tentacles. When that didn’t happen . . . I don’t know. I didn’t know how to tell you.” Because you aren’t the same you. And we aren’t the same we. And now I’m not even the same me. “I hoped it would go away,” I say aloud. “And nothing has been different. Not really.” Except the way I feel, all the time. And my sleeping habits. And the nightmares. Artemis has not failed to catalog this information. “You haven’t been sleeping nearly as well. And your nightmares are different. Fewer about the fire, more about . . . monsters.” “But look at what we do! Of course I dream about bad things. I spend half of every morning researching doomsday prophecies and demon family trees.”
Artemis leaves our closet and sits on the edge of her bed. I follow. We stare at her quilt. Mine is handmade from all the T-shirts we grew out of. Hers is so blank and scratchy it looks like it belongs on a hospital bed. “If you felt this change right before magic was destroyed, then there’s a chance that you could be a—” She pauses. Revulsion and anger flicker over her face. Demon, I think. She says something even worse. “Slayer.” Slayer. I burst to my feet, wanting to run from the word. It’s as abhorrent to me as what I did to that hellhound. I am not a Slayer. I’m a Watcher. Besides, there’s no way the seers we used to employ would have missed a Potential Slayer in our own ranks. I pace in tight circles. “I can’t be. There aren’t any more being activated. The magic ended along with everything else. No more Slayers. Besides, does it make any sense that I would be a Slayer?” “No!” Artemis says, and the force of her exclamation is a little insulting. She didn’t have to agree quite so quickly. It confirms what I’m saying, though. None of us would want to be a Slayer, but if any of us were going to be, I’d be the least obvious choice. She stands, perfectly still. Her eyebrows are drawn together, her expression troubled. “But I think . . . we know latent Slayer abilities are triggered by a big moment of fear or bravery, which you’ve never had to face since the fire because I kept you so safe—I’ve always kept you so safe!” She takes a deep breath and rubs her forehead. “It seems impossible. And wrong. But this doesn’t sound like demonic transference. And the timing works. What if you were changed into a Slayer at the last possible second before the Slayer line was ended forever?” “No,” a voice snaps, as cold and dark as the castle cellar. We look up to see our mother standing in our doorway. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.