Third Strike (3 page)

Relief flooded over Joss. His next assignment. That meant that he'd be leaving Santa Carla for the summer. It meant he'd be spending time with his Slayer family, the few people on this planet who could actually understand the enormous pressures and responsibility that Joss was facing on a regular basis. It meant that he was going home. For the summer, at least.

From inside his sports coat, Abraham pulled a small parchment envelope bearing the red wax seal of the Slayer Society. As he handed it to Joss, he said, “This mission will require stealth in a way that you've not yet achieved, nephew. You'll have to decide exactly how to remain hidden in this scenario, and it won't be easy for you, I'm afraid.”

“Is it ever?” The words passed over his lips in a whisper before he'd had a chance to truly examine how they might sound to his uncle, his mentor. Fortunately, Abraham either hadn't heard them, or ignored them completely.

“You're on your own this time, Slayer. Your team has assignments in other cities, myself included. This task falls to you and you alone, by the bequeath of the Society. Only Paty will remain behind with you, but strictly to act as liaison between you and the Society elders. She cannot help you in your task.”

Joss furrowed his brow and turned the envelope over in his hands curiously. He rubbed his thumb along the wax seal and pondered, “What's my assignment, exactly?”

“Intel has shown that there are vampires running wild in a certain small town, picking off human townsfolk whenever the mood takes them. You need to track down the creatures and stop as many of them as you possibly can before a cleansing of the town becomes necessary.”

A cleansing. The Slayer Society would sweep through the town, killing everyone—both vampire and human alike—wiping the slate clean. It had been done before, but not for a hundred years. Joss hoped that it would never be done again.

“Where am I going?”

“Nowhere.”

Joss snapped his eyes to Abraham's.

Abraham cracked a smile, but Joss was damn certain that it wasn't a reflection of inner peace or joy. It was sadistic, that line in his mouth. It was cruel. The way that Abraham had been cruel. The way that Abraham was still cruel.

Then, as if to erase all doubts as to what he was saying, Abraham said, “The town of which I speak is the one in which you currently reside.”

Joss's chest suddenly felt empty, hollowed out by the realization of what it would mean if he failed. His family was here. His parents. He swallowed hard, the name of the town escaping his lips in a disbelieving breath. “Santa Carla?”

Abraham tipped the brim of the brown fedora he was wearing in Joss's direction and smiled before turning to walk away. Over his shoulder, he confirmed Joss's query with a matter-of-fact tone and an almost singsong voice that grated on Joss's every last nerve. “Santa Carla. You'd think that with your training and keen eye, you might have noticed.”

But Joss hadn't noticed. He hadn't noticed anything that suggested that vampires had infested the town in which he lived. Was he losing his touch? Or had he never really had one in the first place?

As his uncle walked away, Joss watched him, clutching the envelope in his hands, so tight between his fingers that he was amazed that the pages didn't crumble. Uncle Abraham joined the men who were still standing around the grill, even though Joss's dad had closed the lid and just begun to carry the plate of cooked food back into the house. Abraham smiled at them and they smiled back, sweeping him easily into their casual conversation. Joss realized then that while he and his parents were sad clowns, a pitiful act on a stage of sorrow, his uncle was a master of disguise. No one saw him for the Slayer that he was, or for the gifted liar that he had to be. Joss was torn between wanting to be like his uncle and hoping that he never became like him in any way.

Shock held Joss to that very spot—shock that his family was at risk. If he failed in his mission, they would die. It was as simple as that. Not to mention what it meant for Joss to face down multiple vampires on the loose—ones who'd decided that they were free to feed on the innocent people of Santa Carla at will, without repercussion. He didn't know if he was capable of taking the vampires out all by himself, without the aid of his skilled team members. He only knew that he was scared and worried for his family. He couldn't have felt more relieved that his extended family would be leaving town the next morning. At least Greg, Aunt Matilda, Big Uncle Mike, and the others would be safe. At least Henry would be safe.

But his parents . . .

No. Joss would do anything to protect them from the ravenous hunger of mad vampires on the run and the cleansing intent of the Slayer Society. Anything.

But he had to do so in a way that his parents wouldn't notice him. Because if they did, Joss's whole world would come crashing down around him. He'd have too much explaining to do, and he had no idea how to even begin such a task. How could he hide his vampire hunting and killing efforts from his parents, when doing such a thing resulted in so much blood, so many scars?

Joss suddenly wished that he was invisible. A slight breeze rustled through the trees, brushing his hair from his eyes. And then—strangely . . . ironically—he remembered that once their family reunion was over and everyone else had gone home, his parents would go back to their sad selves. And he would once again be the Invisible Boy.

But this time, it would be on purpose.

N
o one on the planet could have been more relieved than Joss the next morning when the last few relatives had packed up their cars and said their good-byes. Except, maybe, for Henry, who had picked up his suitcase and practically sprinted toward the rental car's trunk. Joss hurried to follow, wondering all the while whether his and Henry's friendship would ever, could ever, be mended. Not likely. Not the way that Henry was acting.

Standing at the rear of the car were Joss's dad and Big Mike. Just as Henry began to lift his bag and set it inside the open trunk, Big Mike laid a big hand on his shoulder. “Hold on there a second, Henry.”

With a confused look in his eyes, Henry set the bag on the ground beside the car. “What's going on?”

Big Mike and Joss's dad exchanged a look. Relief flooded through Joss's veins. At least he wasn't the one in trouble this time. And besides that, maybe there was a hint of justice in the fact that Henry had been a total jerk to him all weekend and now he was getting yelled at for something. Joss straightened his shoulders and watched Big Mike, waiting for whatever storm that was coming. As he stood there, he swore he smelled a hint of rain, but there were no clouds overhead. Just another sunny, bright day in Santa Carla.

“It seems to me that you've been a tad disrespectful to your cousin here all weekend. I don't like it. And I know your mother doesn't like it at all. You boys have always been close, so whatever this is that's brewing between you, you should have the decency to put it aside when the family gets together for something like this reunion.” With every word that left Big Mike's lips, Henry's muscles tightened visibly. Big Mike kept his voice even, but his voice was big too, like him, so it wasn't exactly something that Henry could ignore. Joss watched, grateful that he wasn't on the receiving end of things. “Now I want you to apologize to Joss for the way you've behaved toward him all weekend.”

Joss raised an expectant eyebrow at his cousin. He hated to admit it, but he was really enjoying this. Even if Henry's apology only sprang into existence because he was told to do so, it was a start. Besides, Henry
had
been rude to him all weekend, even if, on some level, Joss believed that he just might have deserved it. Steam practically escaped from Henry's ears the moment their eyes met. His cousin had always had a temper—and it had always made Joss laugh to see Henry lose it over something—but now that temper was being directed at Joss, and it wasn't so funny anymore.

Henry darted a glare at Joss, as if he'd set this entire thing up. Then he glanced at Joss's dad before turning his attention back to Big Mike. “Dad, you don't understand.”

Big Mike chuckled. The sound of it reminded Joss of thunder in the distance. “Oh, I understand better than you might think, son. Cousins fight. Brothers fight. And you two are gonna stick together and work this out before it becomes unfixable.”

Stick together? That made it sound like . . . but no. Henry was going home. Home, where he would be safe from a potential cleansing. Joss swallowed hard before asking, “What do you mean, exactly?”

Big Mike looked from Henry to Joss and back again. “We've been talking, and it seems like what you boys both need is some extended time together so you can fix whatever's broken between you.”

Joss's heart thumped hard inside his chest. So much for feeling justified in Henry receiving any kind of punishment for having been a jerk. Now Joss was being punished, too, and he wasn't certain that he fully understood why.

His dad spoke then, and Joss was shocked to hear his actual tone—not the hurt, angry tone of a man who'd lost his daughter, not the false tone of a man who was just fighting to keep it together in front of other people, but his actual voice. The real him. Hearing it sent goose bumps up Joss's spine. It was like listening to the whisperings of a long-forgotten ghost. “And maybe, through doing that, whatever's broken in Joss can be mended, too.”

Joss locked surprised eyes with his dad then. He had no idea that his dad even had an inkling that Joss had been facing anything difficult at all. If only he knew what.

His dad nodded, furrowing his brow sympathetically. “Clearly you're going through some heady stuff, son. Maybe this will help.”

Clearly. Which meant that his dad had noticed. Which meant that maybe Joss wasn't so great, after all, at hiding the Slayer side of his life. But it also meant that his dad had seen him, and was worried about him—two things that he'd been convinced would never happen again.

Henry's face and neck were turning red, as if all of the blood in his body had gathered there. He refused to make eye contact with anyone. “So . . . you're saying . . .”

Big Mike slapped Henry gently on the back with his meaty hand. “We're saying you can drop this bag in the guest room next to Joss's bedroom, and Joss will be happy to spend the next month with his favorite cousin.”

Henry looked at his dad. Joss looked at his. And after a long silence, the boys looked at each other. Neither looked happy.

Without another word, Henry picked up his bag and started carrying it toward the house. But he didn't get very far before Big Mike said, “One more thing, son.”

Henry stopped in his tracks and turned around. Joss could tell by his demeanor that it was taking every ounce of self-control for Henry not to scream at his dad. “What? There's more?”

“Your cell phone, Henry. If you two are going to connect, you need no distractions. Hand it over.” Big Mike held out his palm and instantly a kind of panic filled Henry's eyes. Joss knew it was panic, because he was feeling it, too.

His dad said, “You too, Joss.”

His cell phone? But how was he supposed to call in for a cleanup or assistance? What if he got into serious trouble with the rogue vampires and he needed to call for help? If he didn't have his cell phone, he'd be in the dark out there. Completely alone with his sworn enemies. His heart raced at the thought.

With a curse under his breath that Big Mike seemed to purposefully ignore, Henry slapped his cell phone into his dad's palm and stomped off to the house, leaving Joss standing there trying to think of an excuse his dad would buy for why he needed to keep his phone.

“Joss. Now.” His dad meant business, and try as he might, Joss couldn't think of a believable lie to tell him.

He pulled the phone from his pocket and handed it to his dad. The moment his fingers released it, Joss felt a foreboding fear sink into his every pore. He was on his own now. With no way to call for help. And how was he supposed to take care of the vampire problem when he had to babysit his cousin for the next month? And if he failed . . . what would happen to Henry?

He knew very well what would happen to Henry. Henry, like Joss's parents, would die.

Joss's mom and Aunt Matilda made their way from the house to the car then, chattering every step of the way. Behind them was Greg, who had his hands and arms full of luggage and Tupperware containers. As Greg placed everything in the trunk, the rest of the family exchanged hugs and handshakes. Joss moved through the entire scene in slow motion. He didn't feel present at all. It was more like a dream. A bad one. And all Joss wanted to do was to wake up—preferably somewhere his home life and family were very much kept separate from his job as a vampire Slayer.

As Henry's family's car moved down the driveway and then down the road, Joss watched it, wondering exactly how he was supposed to handle all of this . . . and whether or not he was up to the task.

A
s Joss climbed the stairs to his room, two things happened at the same time. One, Henry slammed the door to the guest room, sealing himself inside. And two, Joss's mom called after him, “Joss, don't forget to take the trash out.”

He paused on the stairs, his eyes locked on Henry's closed door, and answered his mom as an afterthought. “In a second. Be right down.”

He didn't know if their dads' plan would work, or if it were even possible to mend this friendship, this relationship, in the span of just four weeks. But he did know that he hoped that they could come out on the other side friends, or, at the very least, alive. It was unlikely, though. He was pretty sure Henry wanted him dead—or at least on the verge and twitching—for what Joss had done to Vlad.

Steal a guy's best friend and he can forgive you. Stake a guy's best friend through the back and he'll hate you to your core for all eternity.

Joss moved the rest of the way up the stairs and slipped inside his bedroom, closing the door gently, quietly, behind him. The moment it was closed, he pulled the Slayer Society letter from his back pocket and broke the seal. His uncle had given him most of the details already, but protocol dictated that he read the letter as well, in case extra details were located within. He scanned the letter, noting that Paty was staying in a cabin not too far from where his family's house was located. Smart move on the Society's part. Wouldn't want Joss hoofing it all the way across town, just to report his findings and activities to his team. The letter said that Paty was holding documents and further details for him, so Joss made a plan to escape his house for a bit and go see her.

There had been no sign of Uncle Abraham since the family reunion broke up. He hadn't even said good-bye or wished Joss good luck at all. That fact bothered Joss more deeply than he would ever admit to. He wanted his uncle's approval—as a man, as a Slayer—but he was beginning to wonder if he would ever truly be the recipient of it. Just when he'd thought they were making headway, Abraham stepped back again, taking his approval with him. Joss loved his uncle . . . but despised him at the same time. It was horrible, being torn in two like that. And he was ashamed to even admit those feelings to himself.

He moved to the head of his bed and dropped quietly to the floor, removing a loose floorboard beneath where he lay at night. Even as he slipped the letter inside, Joss told himself that he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be keeping anything at all that might expose the existence of the Slayer Society. He'd been taught to burn all letters until they were nothing but ash and memories, so that no human would ever know that there was a secret organization in existence, protecting them from bloodthirsty monsters. But he couldn't help it. His job was utterly thankless. Sometimes he felt so unappreciated, as if he might as well not be doing anything at all to combat vampires, for all the praise it brought him. So late at night, whenever he was feeling sad or angry or bitter or alone, as the moonlight filtered in through the curtains, Joss would pull out the letters from the Society and his journal and read the words that proved to him that he was doing the right thing. Because he was. Even if he sometimes questioned whether or not vampires were the evil creatures the Society made them out to be.

An image flashed in his mind. The face of a teenage boy. He had black hair that hung in his eyes. And fangs. His name was Vlad. And Joss didn't know how that image made him feel. Guilty, mostly. And sad. And a little alone. He should have felt pride—he knew that. But mostly, he just felt confused.

Shaking the image away, Joss returned the loose floorboard to its place and stood, running a hand over the back of his neck in thought. He had to get out of the house for a while to visit Paty, but he wasn't certain how to do so without his parents suggesting that he take Henry along with him wherever he was going. Then in an instant, he had it. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission. And his parents would just have to deal.

As quietly as he could manage, Joss slipped out his door, along the hall, and down the stairs to the kitchen. He tied the garbage bag closed, lifted it from the can, and mumbled in his mom's direction, “Taking the garbage out.”

He wasn't even sure that she'd heard him. It was as if the moment Aunt Matilda had left the premises, Joss's mom had retreated once again inside of her cocoon. The sorrowful glaze had returned to her eyes. The mourning of Cecile had resumed. Joss's heart cracked further as he opened the back door. His family was broken, and he wasn't at all certain how to mend them.

He hadn't lied to his mom—he was taking the garbage out. It's just that he'd failed to mention that once he dropped the bag in the can beside the house, he was going to keep walking until he rendezvoused with a fellow Slayer. Because Joss had a job to do. And though he wished that he had time to sit with his mom and coax her from her cocoon, he didn't. People were dying, and it was up to Joss to save them. Because if he didn't, they would all be dead soon. Including his family.

Dropping the bag in the can, Joss moved around and away from the house as quickly and quietly as he was able to, not wanting to be seen by his dad, who would inevitably have chores for him to do. Luckily, no one and nothing stopped his escape, and before Joss knew it, he was walking down the road, the sun gently baking his shoulders through his T-shirt, the sound of chirping birds filling his ears. It was a pleasant day, despite the gloom of his mother that still seemed so present in the back of Joss's mind.

It didn't take him long to reach Paty's cabin, their temporary headquarters. And Joss could see why the Society had chosen it as a base of operations. No one would ever suspect that a skilled vampire Slayer, capable of taking life quickly and completely, would reside in a house like this. It was a small house, painted a bright white, with cheery, colorful flowers planted all around its base. The garden spread from the house to the wooden railway fence that surrounded its small, charming yard. The shutters were a deep blue, and beneath each of the small windows were flower boxes containing multicolored daisies. A brief thought swept through Joss's mind at the sight of them.

Cecile would have loved those flowers.

But as soon as the thought had appeared, it was gone again, swept away by the pleasant, unexpected breeze, and Joss's unwillingness to think about his sister in the light of day. He'd decided over the last few days of his school year that Cecile would own his nights. But his days . . . his days had to belong to him, or else he might lose his mind entirely.

The nightmares had gotten worse. Then stopped. Then returned with a vengeance. Joss didn't sleep much anymore. When he did, he was chased by a monstrous version of his younger sister—one with deep, tunnel eyes and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. He wasn't certain anymore whether the Cecile from his dreams was a manifestation of his guilt for having failed to save her young life, or if she was an embodiment of evil, hell-bent on taking Joss's life. He just knew that sleep wasn't something he enjoyed, and the only thing he couldn't avoid forever.

When he opened the small gate, it squeaked and then banged closed behind him as he approached the cottage. He only just raised his fist to knock on the door when it whipped open and hands dragged him inside, slamming him against the wall. The lights dimmed briefly, but then his vision returned to find Paty's eyes widening in shock. Apologies flew from her mouth as she released him and closed the door. “Joss! Oh no! I am so sorry. You just never know who's coming, and I really had no idea it was you. I'm all on edge from being assigned to stay here alone and . . .”

She sighed and looked at him then, a frown pulling the corners of her pretty mouth down. “Are you okay? I really am sorry.”

Apart from his heart being shifted into overdrive, Joss was fine. He smiled at her. “Y'know, come this fall, that's no way to greet trick-or-treaters.”

Paty smirked. “But it's summer, so I'm good, right?”

Joss looked around the room. It was a small, relatively open floor plan. Cozy. Nice. “So does that mean you don't have any candy?”

She groaned then and gave him a playful punch in the arm before returning to the kitchen, where she'd been stirring something steamy and delicious smelling on the stove. “You're starting to sound like Morgan.”

Joss sat on a bar stool by the kitchen island that held the stove, taking in the yummy smells. Chili, maybe. Or some kind of spicy soup. Paty picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the concoction, causing Joss's stomach to rumble. “How is Morgan, anyway? I was hoping—”

“You were hoping to see the team again, right?” She glanced up at him in that mothering way that she had about her. “It sucks that you can't, Joss. But the Society . . . things are weird. Something's . . . something's going on.”

He plucked a clean spoon from the counter and dipped it into the pot. As he blew the steam from his stolen bite, he said, “Mind being more specific?”

Paty shook her head and ladled him a small bowl of her cooking. As Joss placed the spoon in his mouth, he recognized it as chili. Only Paty could make chili like this—with banana peppers and jalapeños. So delicious, so spicy, that Joss knew he'd crave it for days. As he began working on emptying his bowl, Paty wiped her hands off on a towel and sighed. “Who knows? Not me, that's for sure. All I know is that I was told that if I value my position as a Slayer, I'll stay out of your assignment. I've been instructed to give you the initial intel, act as liaison between you and the Society, and that's it. Or else.”

Joss raised a sharp eyebrow at her. “Or else what?”

“That's just it, Joss. I don't know.” Shaking her head, she returned the lid to the pot before meeting his eyes once again. “Anyway, if you need anything, just call. Not that it'll do much good. But I can call in for backup, if needed, and we'll see what happens.”

He picked up the bowl, slurping the last bits of chili from it, and set it back on the counter with a frown. “My dad took my cell phone.”

Paty shrugged. “I can get you another.”

“No, thanks. If I get caught with a new phone, my parents would just ask questions that I don't have answers to. Besides, if all you can do is act as a liaison, then what's the point of the cell phone? If I need you, I'll knock.” The corner of his mouth rose in a smirk. “Try not to assault me next time, okay?”

“I'll try.” She looked at him then, for what seemed like a long time, as if she hadn't seen him in years, even though it had been only about nine months since they'd left Manhattan. “You're getting taller. And cuter. Got a girlfriend yet?”

Immediately, his thoughts were filled with the memory of a pretty girl in pink that he'd met back in Bathory. Meredith. He didn't yet have a girlfriend, but if he could, he wished more than anything that it could be her.

His cheeks warmed in a blush—one that Joss hoped wasn't apparent. “No.”

“Working on it?”

“Not really. I don't exactly have time for girls.”

“Or sleep?” She gestured to the circles beneath his eyes.

Joss looked away, pushing the empty bowl from him rather abruptly. “I'd rather not talk about that.”

The air changed then. It grew quiet and restless. Uncomfortable, when Joss had been enjoying the comfort of it so much just a moment before. At long last, Paty said, “Fair enough. There's a manila folder on the mantel. Inside is everything we know about the killings in Santa Carla.”

Joss excused himself and wandered into the living room. As promised, lying on the mantel of the small fireplace was a thin manila folder. Inside were various files and notes regarding recent deaths in Santa Carla, but nothing stood out to Joss. Nothing screamed
vampire
. He leafed through the papers as he walked back into the kitchen, taking his seat at the counter. Frowning, he looked from the papers to Paty, who was now wiping down the counters with a moist cloth. “Most of these deaths just seem like accidents or natural causes.”

“Of course they do. Vampires love keeping their murders secret. Easier to kill again if no one suspects you the first time.” She shrugged as she cleaned, as if this were the most normal, casual conversation to be having. He wondered instantly what Paty's life was like when she wasn't tracking down vampires and killing them. It occurred to him that he had no idea, and had never asked. It wasn't something that any of the Slayers seemed open to discussing. But Joss was curious, nonetheless.

“So why does the Society think that vampires are responsible, exactly?”

“Isn't it just a tad bit strange that so many of these deaths feature severed arteries and that several victims were noted to have been severely anemic?” She crossed the room to him then and flipped through the pages, stopping to point to several notes. “These are the kinds of details you need to pay attention to, Joss. A good Slayer knows that. Learn that early on and you could be one of the best Slayers out there in just a few years.”

A good Slayer. Meaning that Joss wasn't one? It reminded him too much of what Abraham had said on the day of the barbecue. Maybe he wasn't as good at his job as he'd thought.

“You have a point. Worth looking into, anyway.” He closed the folder and tucked it under his arm before going back to the door. Time was still moving, and he had work to do. Work that would take him away from the stress of spending the summer with his family, with his cousin. “I'll interview the four most recent victims' families, see if I can come up with anything.”

“Joss.” Her voice was soft and wavering, as if tears might not be far behind. It was enough to give Joss pause, with his hand on the doorknob. Paty hurried over to him, drawing her arms up around herself protectively. Her eyes darted around the room, as if someone other than the two of them might be listening. “I want to tell you something. Something that could land me in some very hot water, if anyone knew that I said anything.”