“I mean I quit. I didn’t want to be a Demon Slayer. But I’m a Legacy. I have no choice and I wanted, well, I wanted a choice.” He looked ashamed of himself.
“I’ll find out about the etchings. I promise. I’ll find out who did this to your family and we’ll stop them,” I vowed.
“The only way to stop them is to tell me who the Protector is, Piper. That is the only way.”
I felt like screaming, crying and running away all at once. I couldn’t tell Hunter that Colby was the Protector. As far as Hunter knew, it could be anyone at Psi Phi House and I had to keep it that way. Colby was my best friend. She would not bring about the end of our existence, she just wouldn’t. Demon or no.
“What I want to know,” the cat interrupted us without preamble, “is how come she can hear me talk?”
We frowned at him. “You mean not everyone can hear you jabber on when you’re not licking yourself? Gee, lucky me,” I said.
“Now don’t be getting mad at me. It’s not my fault your boyfriend here wants to kill one of your little friends. I just wanna know how come you can hear me.”
“I’d like to know that as well.” Hunter looked at me in question.
“How the hell do I know? It’s the first time I’ve ever heard a cat talk, I can tell you that.”
“Can you sense demons, girl?” the cat asked.
“Uh, no. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of demon possession. Duh.”
“Is it?” Hunter asked. “Remember when we first met? You said you staked the last vampire. Do you fight vampires often?”
It was a trick question and I didn’t want to give too much away. “Well, Psi Phi House is a sorority filled with half-blood vampires and there are many full-bloods who don’t agree with the new laws giving them equal rights and emancipation. Since they’re my friends I have been privy to an attack or two.”
I hope that was just enough information to appease his curiosity without having to share any more details.
“So, you’ve seen a vampire die before?”
I thought back to the first time I watched a vampire die, the rogue who’d changed Colby. He’d tripped over me onto a picket fence and basically staked himself. It wasn’t a pretty sight: He sort of melted until there was nothing left.
“Yes, I’ve seen it before.”
“Was the garage different? Did it seem unusual to you?”
I snorted at his definition of unusual parking garage behavior. When Colby and I staked those vampires it was certainly different. They seemed to be decaying before we even touched them. Vampires are Undead, but they don’t decay. They look perfectly fit. The one I staked smelled like sour milk and dissolved into foul-smelling goo. It didn’t melt away into nothingness, like the first one.
“Yes, it was different. It smelled really gross. Like dairy gone bad and when the stake penetrated, there was a hissing sound. Like air leaving a balloon.” I looked up in realization. “Ohmigod, do you think those vampires were possessed by demons? I mean demons other than the cat ones?”
“We’re called Sloth Demons, you silly girl, Sloth. Sheesh.”
I made a face at the cat. Now I knew why I was a dog person.
“How did you know they were coming? Could you smell them?” Hunter seemed very intent on what I had to say.
I tried to remember. “Well, let me think. We first noticed them in the food court, but we almost didn’t see them at all. Then they were in the parking garage and they called out to us. Oh yeah, first they shot a crossbow bolt at us, that was nice,” I added sarcastically. “Oh God, cramps.”
“You have cramps?” Hunter asked, confused.
“No, I
had
cramps. That night. I noticed them at first in the food court, when I was eating. After that, I had them again, right before the bolt. I doubled over from the pain and the bolt just missed us.”
I looked at Hunter for answers. What did this mean, anyway?
“Well, you’re in luck, Hunter. It seems you’ve found yourself a cute little Huntress.” The cat looked smugly over his shoulder, his tail swaying left and right.
Did he just call me a Huntress? I couldn’t be a Demon Slayer. I just couldn’t.
“I am so not a Huntress or Demon Slayer or whatever,” I told them both. “There’s no way.”
“No one is saying you’re a Demon Slayer.” Hunter glared at the cat and tried to calm me down.
“Oh, but he is saying that, aren’t you?” I directed my freaking out at the cat.
“Pretty much,” he replied.
I jumped up and started pacing back and forth. “Oh no. No way. You’re trying to trick me into revealing who the Protector is. I’m not going to do it. She’s harmless!”
I was officially freaked now. I thought I might even throw in some hyperventilating, just for the heck of it.
“Damn it, Mr. Whiskers, why are you here anyway?” Hunter snapped, having completely lost control of the situation.
“Why, I have news, of course,” the cat purred. “Barnaby is on the move.”
I wasn’t sure why Barnaby being on the move would be such major news to Hunter, but it was. I, however, was dealing with my own little crisis of possibly being a Demon Slayer so that kind of consumed my thoughts as Hunter interrogated the cat.
“Tell me everything,” Hunter demanded.
“Not much to tell. I heard Barnaby made a little visit to your world today, via an unconscious mind. I don’t know whose, but he must be getting ready for the full jump if he’s making mini-visits.”
Hunter grabbed me by the shoulders to get my attention. “Piper, you have to tell me who the Protector is. We are running out of time. Barnaby may have jumped into her body while she was unconscious or asleep. Tell me now.”
I’ve never been one to cave to threats, so it was certainly the wrong approach to use with me. Hunter was desperate, I could see that, but I wasn’t giving up Colby. Yeah, we fought but she was my best friend—and I knew in my heart of hearts she wasn’t going to destroy the world. No matter what the fabulous-looking Hunter believed.
“No.” Stubborn should have been my middle name. It’s more fitting than Renee, that’s for sure.
Hunter dropped his hands abruptly, but I noted they were clenched by his sides. He seemed coiled up, ready to strike out at the next thing he saw. I hoped the cat would say something but it wisely kept quiet.
“I’ll find out if this Barnaby entered the Protector or someone around her.” It was my idea of a peace offering.
“Or you could just tell me who the Protector is,” he countered sarcastically.
I gave him a look that said it all.
“Why won’t you trust me?” He was completely exasperated with me.
“Because if you knew for sure who the Protector was, you’d ride off into the sunset and kill her to stop the demon possession. I don’t agree with that tactic so I am wisely keeping this information to myself.”
“Don’t you understand the world is at stake?”
“Don’t you understand my best friend is at stake? Screw the Prophesy. I believe in her.” There. The lines had been drawn. I had Colby’s back, even if it meant losing Hunter.
We stared at each other in a showdown of sorts. He was the first to look away.
“You’re loyal, I’ll give you that.”
He was backing down. I was kind of shocked. “Uh, thank you.”
“Come on. I’ll take you back to Psi Phi House.”
Nine
COLBY
“M
r. Holloway said to give you anything you asked for.”
The librarian looked positively ill saying the words. Instead of being snide, I thanked her.
Surprised by my attitude, she escorted me to the back room. “The exhibit just arrived. No one else has been allowed to see it yet. Here is an original copy of the Prophesy and a symbol found in a Demon Slayer archive.”
“A what?” Surely I’d heard incorrectly.
“A Demon Slayer. Haven’t you ever heard of a Demon Slayer?” The librarian had adopted her superior air again.
“No, would you tell me what a Demon Slayer is, please?”
I thought she’d fall over from shock. I’d actually asked her for information with a “please.” I could almost see the wheels turning in her head: The Protector wasn’t being surly. It was one of the signs of the apocalypse, what with the Prophesy so close at hand. Or something along those lines.
The truth of the matter is I’m rarely surly. Only to rude vampires, which she totally was, normally. But Mr. Holloway told her explicitly to give me anything I wanted so she was trying hard to comply. Had to give her props for that.
“A Demon Slayer is a person who slays demons.”
I smiled tightly. Duh, I could have figured that out.
“Where do they live?”
“Unknown. Not a lot of them left anymore,” she replied.
I looked at the symbol on the wall again. “It’s sort of pretty, in a dark way.”
She grunted at me. “Good riddance I say.”
“Why?”
“Because Demon Slayers used to hunt vampires. That’s why.”
A good reason for a biased opinion, if I do say so myself.
“They used to? But they don’t anymore?”
“During the founding of the Tribunal, a proclamation was sent to the Demon Slayers that all vampire matters would be dealt with by the new Vampire Investigators. Possessions, rogue vampire activities, half-blood creation—all those issues were now officially vampire jurisdiction only.”
“You mean they weren’t always?” I was surprised.
“No, demon possessions were dealt with by the Demon Slayers but other items in vampire society were given to them as well. It seemed”—she seemed to struggle with the right wording—“easier that way.”
“Like, execution of half-blood vampires?” I tried to supply helpfully, with a minimum amount of sarcasm.
“Among other things. Look, Demon Slayers are no friends to full-blood vampires but I would think you, most of all, would have strong feelings about them.”
“Why, because they used to kill half-bloods centuries ago? Full-bloods have done the same thing.”
“What are they teaching you kids in college today? Don’t you even take Vampire History 101?”
“It’s on next semester’s course load.”
“Well, then you will discover that half-bloods found by a Demon Slayer were in for a fate worse than death.”
“Why? What would they do?”
“What wouldn’t they do? They used them as lab rats. Controlled experiments to record demon possession and test how long the process of full possession could take. They called it ‘valuable research.’” She snorted. “Was it coincidence that vampire blood fetched a very high price on the magick black market? I think not; and even mongrel blood was better than none. That’s how they funded their research.”
“Let me get this straight. These Demon Slayers would invite demons to possess vampires, record how long it took, then drain their blood for profit to learn more about their trade?”
“Think the symbol’s pretty now?” she questioned sharply.
I looked back at the artifact. “What does it mean?”
“It’s the symbol of a Demon Slayer.”
I stared at it long and hard. “Do you have texts or journals from the Demon Slayer’s archive?”
She nodded. “A small amount survived the fire. The originals are coming in a different shipment. Being catalogued online first. I can get you access to them, if you want.”
“I believe I would. Thanks for your help.”
She grunted at me again, but quickly gave me access. I guess the old adage was true. You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Now if it would only work with demons.
I had mixed emotions about reviewing the information found at the Slayer archive. I read about several half-blood experiments. The consensus among Slayers was that demon possession took three times as long with half-bloods as with full-bloods and then only after the subject had been exposed to large amounts of stimuli, aka torture. It seemed the weaker the subject was, the easier it was to possess.
The stark contrast was that while full-bloods could be in the best of health, possession could happen quickly if the vampire was reclusive and older. I thought of Thomas. Barnaby was slowly possessing him. I was sure of it. How long would it take? Thomas would fight him, but I knew I had to find a way to stop Barnaby. And quickly.
It was at that moment that I skimmed a passage that at first didn’t seem relevant. But reading it planted a seed in my head. A tiny niggling idea that refused to quiet until I knew my brain was onto something big. I tried to put thoughts of Thomas out of my mind and focus on the task at hand.
I flagged down the librarian. “Where is the section on magick?”
As the daughter of a medical professional (and yes, orthodontists consider themselves part of the medical field) I was raised with a healthy respect for science. I always excelled in it at school and I loved the lab work. There was something about mixing chemicals together to get an entirely new compound that was pretty cool. I imagine it’s what attracts witches to the potion profession.