Instead of my own mother, I think of Artemis in that truck. I could have stopped them. I didn’t. I was so distracted by the fact it was Artemis doing the bad thing that I didn’t do everything I could to stop it. “Yeah. I know.”
“When she promised that she wasn’t going to hurt any of you, I let myself believe her. Both because I hoped she was something other than a monster, and because I wanted to come back. To be part of the Watchers again. I wanted to be with you. With all of you. And I let that selfishness blind me. People died. People got hurt. You got hurt. So I decided I’d never let myself be the reason you get hurt again.”
“Didn’t you think your death would hurt me? I haven’t been the same since! I’ve been—” My fists are clenched so tightly they ache. I’m almost shaking. Somehow instead of feeling sad, I keep diverting to rage.
He shifts, grimacing. “I figured you’d get over it.”
“It took me years to get over you the first time, and you didn’t even die then!” I flinch, biting my lip and wishing I could take that back. A ghost of a smile parts his lips. He lifts a hand like he might take mine. Then he looks down at it—slender fingers rendered near-skeletal—and puts it back on his cot. I almost reach for it, but I don’t.
“Well, I did come back. I had to return what was taken. I owed you that much, at least.”
“And that gave me hope! But then you never came back for real, so I was just confused and alone dealing with …” I run my hands through my hair, then I stand, pacing the tiny space. “First of all, thank you. That was nice of you to return my things. Pretty standard breakup procedure, I guess. Bringing back a box of sweaters. Books. Ancient demonic-based powers.”
“Wouldn’t fit in a cardboard box.”
I snort. “Not so much.” I have to ask him about why the Slayer powers feel different. I have to find out if it’s me, or if he felt it too. Maybe they got broken from too many transfers. Or maybe they were always this, but I hadn’t suffered enough to really feel what they were like. I wish I could talk to Buffy. At least I have Leo now. “But here’s the thing. When you—”
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” he rushes. “I shouldn’t have. I didn’t deserve that moment. But I really thought I’d never see you again. And it was the only way I could think of to transfer the power. I’ve never really done it before. Transferred power, I mean. Obviously I’ve kissed you before.” His pale skin flushes, and I could almost laugh at making Leo Silvera blush. Almost.
The cell phone rings in my pocket, and I jump, startled. My eyes were locked on his lips. Honestly, Nina. I pull out the phone. “Hello? Artemis?”
“I’m—I was told you help demons in trouble?” Not Artemis. I deflate.
“Sort of. Sometimes. What kind of demon, what kind of trouble?”
“Oh. Right. Well, I’d rather not say what kind, and the trouble is I think I’m being hunted. A lot of us are.”
“You have to tell me what kind.”
“I’m nonlethal. And I barely have any power at all since magic died. I promise you won’t even notice I’m around.”
I’m suspicious that he won’t tell me what kind he is. Leo shifts to the side, and I sit on the edge of his cot, painfully aware of how close he is. “How did you get this number?”
“A friend of a friend. Tsip.”
“I’m sorry, it’s absolutely against the rules to even meet with you until you tell me what type of demon you are. I’m really not trying to be speciesist or judge you, but we have an entire group to think of. Like, I’m not going to bring a lilliad demon here. We for sure do not offer broth made from the bones of children on our weekly menu.”
“Right. Right. I get it. I’m …” He sighs heavily, then mumbles, “I’m a chaos demon.”
“Oh.” I let the word out in a long exhalation. “Right. Chaos demon. That’s—that’s nonlethal. Right.”
“You don’t have to pretend. I know.”
Chaos demons are … slimy. They have giant antlers that drip a steady stream of slime. The slime can be used in various magical spells—or could be, at least—and the demons themselves are drawn to chaos and help foment more of it. They’re most typically found in countries with civil war, or riots, or very full and understaffed daycare facilities.
“Totally fine with the slime! It’s not—we’re not—how is the chaos end of things, though?” I’m not totally fine with the slime. I can imagine the protests about the chore rotation if we had to clean up his trail. And the laundry from his bedding. Oh gods, the laundry. But we already have more chaos here than we can manage.
“The chaos was a magic-based connection to my hell dimension. I’m all dry.” He lets out an awkward laugh. “Only figuratively. Literally, I’m still. Well. You know.”
“Yeah. Okay.” I rub my forehead. “We need to meet in person so I can check everything out.” And get a sense for whether he’s still all chaosy. I’ll have to send Rhys and his grandma Ruth. They’re the least prone to chaos in the whole castle. I once saw Rhys’s sock drawer, which was organized by color, type, and level of wear.
“Great! Thank you! I can only meet at night. It’s hard for me to be out during the day.”
Giant antlers would definitely make staying incognito a problem. Poor guy. “When can you get to the Dublin area?”
“Dublin? Hmm. Next week sometime.”
“Okay. Call when you’re there and we’ll arrange a meetup.” I hang up. I’m not sure where I’ll meet him, but we decided after the warehouse attack we needed to range even farther away from Shancoom.
“Your mother told me what you’re doing here,” Leo says. “It’s good. It’s what Watchers should be. What we should always have been.”
“Thanks.” I stand, needing to move for this next part of the conversation. I wish we could go for a walk. My phone rings again, and I sigh, answering it. “What?”
“Nina.”
My heart stops. It’s Artemis. “Hey.”
“I got your text. You want the book in exchange for not telling everyone what I’ve been doing? You’re blackmailing me?”
“No!” I pause. “Yes. But I’m also protecting you. I should have told them.”
“You should have.” She pauses for so long I want to reach across the static distance between us and strangle her. “Fine. I don’t need it anymore, and you should know what’s going on. Meet me tonight. Outside Dublin. Bring Rhys.” She pauses again. “And Mom.”
“Won’t that defeat the purpose of them not knowing?”
“I don’t care if they know, Nina!”
“I do!” I cringe at how I shouted it. “I do. You need to be able to come back, and you can’t if everyone votes against you because you’ve joined some demonic zealot group. You picked the one thing we can’t overlook. Why would you do that?”
Her voice is neither soft nor vicious. It’s just far away. “I’m never coming back. I’ll text you the address.” The line goes dead. I leave the phone pressed against my ear for way too long, hoping she’ll say something, anything else. It dings, startling me. The address stares at me. I’ll see Artemis. I’ll get the book. But it feels so … final.