Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

“Jade, you’re running over,” Michael lamented.

She tore her gaze from the window at the front of the tavern to the beer mug in her hand. “Damn.” She closed the tap and handed the drink to Len Bartel, who owned the general store.

Michael regarded her thoughtfully, then said, “You’ve been distracted for weeks. What’s going on?”

The slayers had held a community meeting the day after Christmas, and now everyone knew about the decimated villages in the south. They also knew the king had sent an army to deal with the rebellious demons, but they didn’t know Davian had gone with that patrol. She assumed he and his advisors had thought it best to maintain the illusion he was still at the castle, so Jade perpetuated the guise. It was too bad it wasn’t true, because she missed him. And wondered constantly if he was all right.

“I’m just thinking about those people in the southern states,” she told her friend. “Hoping no others have suffered.”

Luckily, she had almost daily training and workouts with Toran to help occupy her mind, or she really would go crazy. Her body had changed dramatically with the weight loss and the intense exercise and she felt stronger than ever before. So much so, Toran had stepped up the pace on their footwork and their sword fighting. Jade almost matched his expertise.

No one knew of their partnership, which made her feel slightly guilty. Michael had tried to engage her in activities when the tavern wasn’t open, but she was always busy.

His shoulder had healed and he’d suggested they go riding, but Jade had turned him down on several occasions. She did not want to mislead him, nor did she want word to spread if they spent time together. Romantically, her loyalty was to Davian. She even wore his ring, though on her right hand and with the marking turned downward, so no one could see it.

Of course, Michael had noticed the new piece of jewelry. But rather than pick another fight with her, he’d shaken his head and had wandered off. It seemed avoidance was the best way to keep their friendship intact.

She worked her shift with one eye on the window, hoping for Morgan or a castle messenger to bring word of the patrol. Or for Davian to ride by. Neither happened, though Toran came through the door just before eleven o’clock.

“Jade,” he called out unceremoniously. “I need to speak with you.”

This created a buzz of curiosity in the tavern, so she smiled nonchalantly to put everyone’s mind at ease. “Probably just needs to rearrange my ride home.”

She grabbed her jacket, since Toran headed back out the door without even waiting for her. Hurrying to catch up, she followed him down the walkway. As they approached the medical clinic, she noticed Walker’s horse next to Toran’s, as well as the one designated for the physician. Beside the animals sat the long, narrow cart used to transport injured patients to the clinic.

Unfortunately, Toran stopped in front of Dr. Schaeffer’s building.

“What happened?” she demanded before they entered.

“Walker was ambushed on his watch. Shifters. An entire pack. He couldn’t fight them all off.” Toran pushed open the door and she walked briskly behind him.

“Jade,” the physician said. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

She’d visited him once she was fully healed to thank him for his assistance with her recuperation, but the uncertainty she’d seen in his eyes had told her he was wary of her—or for her. No doubt because he’d learned of her relationship with the Demon King. And her self-healing abilities.

“Thank you,” she said. Though she was in perfect health, this new incident rattled her. “How’s Walker?”

The doctor was equally agitated. “Not so good, I’m afraid. We just brought him in. I need to stitch him up.”

She heard the slayer’s grunts from behind the white curtain drawn to separate the examination stations.

“I’ve sedated him, but he’s in a lot of pain,” Schaeffer explained. “When I’m done, I’ll need to medically induce a coma so he can recover.” The severe expression on the older man’s face, however, indicated he wasn’t convinced Walker would survive.

“My God,” she murmured at the prognosis. She pulled back the drape and gasped.

Vicious claw marks across the slayer’s face and chest instantly brought back images Jade had buried long ago. The bile rose in her throat.

Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Schaeffer directed her toward another exam area and held a bucket out for her. She vomited into it as her stomach roiled.

She grabbed the container from him. “Do what you have to do for Walker.”

Leaving the clinic, she set the pail on the ground in the event she needed it again. She sank to her haunches, because her legs nearly gave out on her, and sucked in some much-needed oxygen. Toran joined her and handed over a wet towel. She pressed the material against her mouth for a minute or so, finding it—and the frosty air—refreshing.

Finally, she said, “That is horrific.”

“Yes. You didn’t have to look.”

“Actually, I did.” A peculiar sensation seeped through her veins. “I needed the reminder. As much as I’d like to think I’m under protection from you and the king, that’s not totally true. For any of us. Random assaults still occur. I can’t give into a false sense of security. I’ve known this all along.”

A rude and jarring awakening, yes. But a necessary one, she realized.

Immediately, the remainder of what had been brewing inside her the past few months fell into place. She’d skirted her true destiny for far too long. It was time for her to take action, especially now that the village was minus a slayer—and at a crucial point in time when murderous demons were attacking.

She stood and her gaze locked with Toran’s. “Swear me in.”

His eyes bulged. “What?”

“Do it,” she insisted. “Swear me in as a slayer. I’ll take the oath.”

“No,” he said as he shook his head vehemently. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Jade.”

“Toran.” Irritation—and anxiety over the danger that lingered too close to them all—tinged her voice. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. No, my father was not a demon slayer, but he was leader of this village. You’re not interested in the daily politics, but I’m basically a liaison to the castle. And you can’t patrol alone. Ryleigh has always had two slayers, even before you became one.”

“Jade, it takes years of training. I practically started when I could walk, since my uncle knew I would someday replace him. You’ve only recently been at it.”

“That’s not true,” she rushed on. “I learned to fight when I was a kid too. And you can’t tell me that all the training we’ve done lately hasn’t made me good enough to take Walker’s assignment.”

“I won’t dispute that.” He rubbed his temple as though a headache had suddenly set in. Seemed to be a common occurrence when they were together. “But you still don’t know how to kill demons.”

“Then show me.”

He looked ill. “Jade, this isn’t something you just suddenly decide to do. It’s a life choice. Once you’re a slayer, you’re always a slayer. Until you die.” His expression turned grave. “Usually by injuries similar to Walker’s and Jinx’s.”

“Low blow, Toran.” She seethed. Then shook her head. “Look, I understand, okay? This is not an arbitrary thought. I’ve wondered for a long time if this was the path I was meant to take. I believe it is. There’s no one else in Ryleigh to partner with you. I’m your best bet. Your only bet. And a damn good one at that.”

“Holy Christ.” He appeared to need the bucket as well, but refrained. “When the king finds out—” Toran all but growled. “Fuck, Jade. He’ll never stand for this. I’ve seen his horse outside your cottage. I know he visits you and there’s something between you two. He won’t approve of this. Hell, that’s a monumental understatement. He’ll be furious.”

“I take complete responsibility for my actions.” Though she knew Toran was right. And the fallout would, no doubt, be hellacious. But just thinking of Walker lying in the clinic made her bound and determined. “You’re the only person now who can make me a slayer. Do it, Toran. You know it’s the right thing for this village.”

“I will never hear the end of it if I do.” Then he grumbled, “I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t. Goddamn it, Jade. You are such a pain in the ass.”

“I’m sure you’re not the first one to notice.”

He harrumphed. “It won’t do us any favors to have me on the king’s shit list.”

“I’ll deal with him later. Let’s go.”

She rushed toward the town hall with Toran stomping along beside her, complaining and continuing to shake his head. He found the official registry information and completed the paperwork to record the new addition to the world of slayers.

Then Jade took her oath to sacrifice her own life in order to protect human lives against demon attacks.

Not once did she delude herself into believing Davian would understand the decision she’d made to forego her own safety in lieu of others’. She’d broken her promise to him and had likely violated his trust. And though her heart constricted at the thought, her head told her she was doing what she’d been born to do.

“Now,” she said to her new partner. “Teach me everything you know.”

 

* * *

 

While Walker fought for his life, Toran introduced Jade to the very nasty reality of demon slaying. They started small, with the most basic and easiest principles and targets. Though, admittedly, killing vampires turned out to be more complex than she’d anticipated. They didn’t practice on real ones, obviously, but Toran noted the exact point of entry to the heart that would stake a vampire and she had to work diligently on her aim.

Toran hung a burlap-encased dummy from a tree in the forest, and as it blew in the wind, it mimicked a body moving during a fight, surging forward or lunging to the left or right. Even retreating or aggressively advancing at times.

Mostly, Toran sighed and glowered at her.

“You’re quicker than this, Jade. I’ve seen you move recently. But you’re holding back. You’re not focusing on the red ‘X’ I drew. Keep your eye on it at all times. Go for the kill.”

Perhaps it was thoughts of Sheena that made it nearly impossible to concentrate on slaying a vampire. Jade forced herself to rise above that notion. She wasn’t taking on Sheena. Her enemies would come from outside the king’s alliance.

After mastering her task many days later, Toran taught her to do something similar with the horned demons. They also required a direct hit in a precise location, between their horns.

“It’s a miniscule, tender spot,” Toran explained.

He pressed a fingertip to her forehead to indicate the exact area.

“Unlike with vampires, there’s no need to drive deep with your sword. The most effective way to kill vamps is to run them through and cut off their heads. Then burn the bodies. With the horned demons, you just need to pierce the skull an inch or so. It triggers a violent reaction that, for lack of a better descriptor, skews their brain cells and sends them into seizures. They also tend to spew yellow puss from just about every pore and orifice, so don’t stay too close after you’ve hit your target. It’s vile.”

She spent another week learning to satisfactorily achieve her objective. Toran seemed impressed.

“It takes years to accomplish this,” he said, “but you’re a natural.”

“I told you.”

“Okay, smartass.” Mischief tinged his nearly translucent blue eyes. “Let’s see how well you do with shapeshifters.”

The next day, he showed up at the cottage with a crate. Inside was a live chicken.

He set the slatted box on the kitchen counter and said, “Shifters don’t die easily. It takes some effort.”

As if the other species were so simple to slay…

“You need to fatally injure a shifter when it’s in animal form,” Toran told her. “As a human, they’ll just shift and self-heal—so it must be a lethal attack in order to be effective. Stabbing the beast in the hindquarters will slow its movements. The chest and stomach are advantageous as well. If you can penetrate the nape of the neck, that’s a good spot too. Incapacitate the animal, roll it onto its back, place one foot against its chest with your weight bearing down and then…”

She stared at him with bated breath. The wrenching of her gut instinctively told her she was not going to like his next words.

“Rip its throat out.”

Jade jumped back. “What?!”

“You heard me.”

“That’s repulsive.”

“Yes. And you’re going to practice on the chicken.”

“I most certainly am not!” Disgust roared through her, making her shudder.

Toran glared at her. “Now is not the time to get squeamish, Jade.”

She wrapped her arms around her midsection as her stomach revolted against the challenge. “I can’t even begin to imagine doing this, Toran. It’s insane.”

“Yes. But necessary. Now,” he continued, unfazed, “we’ve worked on grip strength with various exercises over the past few months. Having a steel cage for a hand helps you maintain your hold on a sword when you’re incurring forceful blows. But it will also assist you with ripping out a throat. It’s not easy and there are very few humans who can do it. You have to dig into the flesh with your nails and fingertips and secure the grip. Otherwise, you’ll just come away with a fistful of fur.”

She turned her back to him. “There is no way I’m doing this.”

Toran was quiet a few minutes, letting her digest the task. Finally, he said, “Clearly, your father didn’t have it in him, either. From what I’ve heard, he was too preoccupied with trying to save your mother to do what had to be done to kill the wolves that beset them.”

Her jaw clenched as tears burned the backs of her eyes. “Bad form, Toran,” she said as she faced him.

“Really?” His brow raised. “Because you have to be angry to do this, Jade. And in a real battle, you’ll be terrified for your life—and possibly someone else’s—but will still need to be able to function.”

Her laugh held no humor. “That sounds oh, so doable.”

“It is, Jade. I’ve done it before.”

She gaped, but quickly recovered. “With a shifter?”

“No, a regular bobcat. I came across him when I was on a foot patrol years ago. He wasn’t inclined to let me leave his territory without a fight.”

“Jesus, Toran. I had no idea.”

“I didn’t advertise it. But I do have the head mounted on my living room wall.”

Despite her tension and anxiety, she whistled under her breath. “Impressive. So if I make this work, does that mean I get to hang the chicken in my kitchen?”

“It means we’re going to move onto a bigger animal.”

Jade’s jaw slackened again. Toran didn’t balk. After all, she’d been the one to demand he teach her how to be a slayer.

“I’m not so sure about this. I’m feeling queasy.”

“Good,” he said. “You won’t be cavalier about it.”

“No. But if I barf on your boots, you’ll only have yourself to blame, since I’ve forewarned you.”

“Try to keep your bodily fluids to yourself, Jade. Now,” he said as he lifted the lid from the crate and the chicken scrambled frantically about inside—as though sensing the jeopardy it was in. “Palm on chest, fingers like this…” Toran demonstrated his cupped-hand technique. “And go for it.”

“You’re an asshole, Toran.”

His grin was an impudent one. “And you call yourself a slayer.”

The prodding pushed her buttons. To hell with her reservations, she settled the chicken on its back and held the squirming creature down, though it fought valiantly. Toran had picked a feisty one, probably as payback for making him travel this path with her.

She swallowed hard, shoving all the apprehension and disgust into that abyss inside her where the majority of her feelings resided. She wasn’t even sure she could bring herself to kill a chicken. Yes, the butcher did it on a daily basis. Lopped their little heads right off and plucked their feathers. His wife did it as well. Plenty of others were in on the act, since many of the villagers raised the poultry for eggs and meat.

As she hesitated, Toran cajoled her. “Jade, if you can’t do this, how will you save yourself or someone else when a shifter pounces? You don’t want to end up like your parents or—”

“Shut up, Toran!” Fury instantly rose within her and before it even registered in her mind, Jade mimicked his gripping technique and her fingers closed around the throat of the animal. She yanked back almost immediately and blood splattered everywhere. “Oh, my God!” she shrieked.

She dropped the flesh from her hands and raced to the bathroom as her entire body began to convulse. Plunging her hands in the clean water in the basin, she scrubbed them with a washcloth and soap. The bile rose in her throat as it had done at the clinic and she heaved into the toilet. Repeatedly.

Jade had no idea how much time passed as her vomiting turned into little more than gagging motions when there was nothing left in her stomach to expel.

Toran came into the room with a fresh bowl of water and another towel. Squatting next to her, he asked, “You okay?”

“Sure,” she sneered at him. “Just sorry I missed your boots.”

He chuckled, admiration in his eyes. “I would’ve let it slide. That was pretty incredible for a first try. Next time, we’ll use a raccoon.”

Her stomach lurched again. “Please stop talking.”

He handed her the damp towel and then stood. “Come see me when you’re ready to do it again.”

Again?

Impossible. Impossible. Impossible.

Yet necessary.

Ugh!

In the back of her head, she knew she had to get over her repugnance. But she wondered if she could. What she’d done hadn’t been particularly humane, though obviously the animal hadn’t suffered.

She’d once heard the larger suppliers of chickens put them head first into a metal cone and slit their jugulars to bleed them out, which apparently made the plucking easier. That couldn’t be a pleasant way to go, either. At least her chicken had died quickly—and had given his life for a cause. The greater good, as it were.

She spent the majority of the evening sitting on the bathroom floor, trying to block from her mind the image of what she’d done. With her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest, she closed her eyes and considered the position she’d put herself in by becoming a slayer.

But she didn’t have much chance to reconcile her feelings and actions. She heard boots on the floor and her eyelids flew open.

“Jade, what’s wrong?” Davian knelt beside her, alarm in his deep, sensuous voice.

Relief and emotion washed over her. She threw his arms around him and clung to him.

The sobbing started instantly. It wasn’t something she’d intended or anything she was proud of. She couldn’t help how she felt or stem the well as it erupted. He held her tightly as the pain of her parents’ deaths assaulted her, the memory raw because of Walker’s injuries and what she’d just done to the poor, unsuspecting chicken. And, deep inside her, she knew she’d betrayed Davian, and that also devastated her.

He didn’t let her go or even make a move to release her. Though he had no idea what had brought on her crying jag, he didn’t question it or make light of it. He simply settled into a more comfortable position on the floor with her. He kept her gathered close, stroking her hair as he always did when she was in pain.

Time slid by and the flow of tears eventually ebbed, though she sniffled and hiccupped.

“Are you sick?” Davian quietly asked.

She stared into his glowing amber eyes and they soothed her heart and soul. “I threw up a few times.”

He gave this some thought, then ventured, “Are you pregnant?” His tone suggested he didn’t find the idea the least bit offensive or troublesome. An interesting tidbit, but one she didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on at the moment.

Shaking her head, she said, “No. I killed a chicken.”

His head cocked to the side. “Your first?”

“I’m not into maiming animals.”

“But you do eat poultry?”

With a sigh and a small whimper, she said, “I understand the concept, Davian. It’s the manner in which I killed it that revolts me.”

“Must’ve been a violent death. You do have some blood on your sweater.”

“I’m sure the murder scene in my kitchen is much worse.”

He got to his feet and helped her to hers. “Why don’t you freshen up? I’ll deal with the other room.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t think she could face the carnage. What sane person would have done such a thing?

Then again, she knew Toran had been right to force her hand. Now she had a better understanding of what it would be like to kill a shifter. Only that scenario would be markedly more challenging. At least she had some semblance of an idea as to what she’d be up against, particularly if they found the beasts that had wounded Walker.

After cleaning herself up and brushing her teeth and hair, she changed clothes and met Davian in the living room.

He wore a perplexed expression. “There was no chicken in your kitchen. No blood. Nothing.”

Her brows knitted. “Toran must have taken care of it.”

“Toran?”

Jade’s heart plummeted. Her day of reckoning had come and explaining everything to Davian would not make for civil conversation.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” he asked as he folded his arms over his chest, tension suddenly rolling off him in waves. “You’re not wearing my ring.”

“I had to take it off for the slaughter.”

“Not for any other reason?”

She couldn’t bite back the smile. The Demon King was jealous. “You were gone for a while, but I didn’t turn my affection elsewhere, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You’ve been forced to spend a lot of time with Toran because of the incidents with the fire wraith.”

“You think he grew on me?” She laughed. “Trust me, Toran and I have the push-pull relationship of an older brother and younger sister and nothing more. In fact, I have half a mind to kick him in the shin the next time I see him, but it wouldn’t do any good. He enjoys testing me.”

“Why?”

Here came the moment of truth.

“You haven’t been to the castle yet, have you? You came straight here?”

“I left the patrol when I heard of the attack on Walker. I returned to assemble another garrison to search for the shifters responsible. And to offer additional protection for Ryleigh.”

“The shifters have vanished, like our fire wraith.”

“Yes, that’s a problem.” He moved away from her and stoked the fire, which had nearly died since she hadn’t tended to it all day. After tossing a log into the hearth, Davian turned back to Jade. “You were right about the caves. We found evidence the army had been there not long before we’d arrived. We discovered multiple tracks leading in various directions, and I’ve divided our forces to follow them.”

“Any more settlements destroyed or humans murdered?”

“Not that we’re aware of. Although…” He winced. She wasn’t the only one ill at ease. “My suspicion is they’re on a campaign to band together all the renegade demons on the continent. And head north.”

“Toward your kingdom.” And the human village that sat in its shadow. Her village. “Oh, my God.”

“Don’t worry,” Davian was quick to say. “The reason I’m back is to prepare for their advance on us. They won’t make it into Ryleigh or up the hill to the castle. Even if they’ve gathered several hundred demons, my army is much, much bigger.” He paused, then added, “My greatest concern is the assault on Walker. Two slayers in the south were killed just before the rogue demons attacked the villages under their protection.”

A chill slithered through her for many reasons. “You believe they’re close by?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And Ryleigh is vulnerable without Walker.”

“I won’t allow the demons to breach your borders, sweetheart.” His look turned tender, though there was steely resolve in the fiery rims of his irises.

Jade nodded. Yet myriad emotions gnawed at her. She knew he spoke the truth—and she had to provide him that affirmation. “I trust you, Davian.” Her fingers brushed along his chiseled cheek, his set jaw. “It’s the random, individual assailants that currently worry me.”

He gave her one of his silent please obey me commands as he said, “Stick with Toran when I’m not available; especially now that I know I have nothing to worry about with the two of you.”

“Never doubt who owns my heart,” she insisted.

He kissed her forehead. “You once did of me, at the castle. It’s a thorny emotion—and you know I don’t ever want to lose you. I’ll feel much better with you under the protection of a slayer during times I can’t be here.”

“Yeah, about that…” Her fingers stopped stroking his face. She wrung her hands nervously. Not at all a common characteristic and one which drew the king’s attention, so she forced herself to stop, letting her hands fall to her sides. “The reason I asked whether you’d been to the castle is because there was some important paperwork delivered a few weeks ago. For the Registry of Slayers, to be precise.”

His eyes darkened in a suddenly disturbed way. “Has Walker died since I heard of the incident? Did Toran file a death certificate?”

“No. Walker is still in recovery. But that left the village with only one slayer. Until another was sworn in. Those are the documents awaiting you.”

His shoulders tensed. Subtly—but Jade took note. “Someone new to the village?” he ventured.

“Not exactly,” she said, her internal consternation mounting. “And, of course, there was no one with the necessary training or skill-set to step up, so I thought—”

“Jade.” Disturbed became the ultimate understatement for the emotion that clearly besieged him. “Who is the new slayer?”

Panic welled within her, rising into her throat so she could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“Jade,” he said in a sharp tone. “Who?”

His hands shot out and he gripped her biceps. Feeling her newly developed muscles evidently made it all click for Davian, because his intent gaze remained riveted on her. “Tell me you haven’t done anything reckless, Jade. Tell me you haven’t gone against my wishes—that you haven’t purposely put your life in danger. Tell me!”

Somehow, she managed to say, “I made Toran swear me in the night Walker was attacked.”

“You did not!” Davian erupted. Shock filled his wide eyes and fury radiated from his every pore.

His fingers tightened around her arms, but Jade didn’t flinch.

“Davian.” Hitching her chin a notch, she said, “I’m the new slayer.”