Third Strike (6 page)

Sirus smiled again, and oh, how Joss hated that his heart lit up to see it. Sirus. Still alive. It was a miracle. “We share a friend who told me where to find you. By the way, Dorian sends his greetings. He says he looks forward to seeing you again.”

Then, in a light breeze, Sirus was gone. The stake felt heavy in Joss's hand. He spun around, searching the trees for any sign of his long-lost friend. “When will I see you again? I have things to ask you! Sirus? Sirus? Sirus!”

But Sirus was gone.

J
oss brought the ax down hard, splitting another log, this time with ease. As he did so, he was reminded of his initial Slayer training, and how horrible that summer in the Catskills had been for him. It was for the good of the cause, he supposed, but it was difficult to see while he was in the moment, and if he was honest, even more difficult to see as time passed by. But he wasn't really thinking about the Slayer Society at all as he chopped firewood for his dad, who thought that they should probably get things ready for the coming fall and winter, even though summer had only just barely started. Instead, he was thinking about Sirus, and about what he probably should have done when he saw Sirus, but didn't. And why he didn't.

He should have killed Sirus. He knew that. But he hadn't acted on it.

The truth was, when he saw Sirus's face and had realized that his mentor, his friend, his father figure was still alive, he was relieved. More relieved, maybe, than when he'd seen Vlad, lying in the hospital, and had learned that he'd survived as well. Because Vlad had been his friend, but Sirus had been his . . . well . . . like a dad to him. Guiltily, he glanced at the house in the growing darkness. He probably shouldn't think that way, or feel that way, or be that way, but there it was. Sirus had been a kinder, more attentive father than his own dad had been capable of in recent years. And despite those damned fangs in his mouth, Joss had been utterly overjoyed at seeing him once again.

Joss stuck the blade into a nearby log and stood back, wiping his neck with a handkerchief and feeling like the worst son in existence. He hated that he liked Sirus better than his own dad. But how do you change the way that you feel? Isn't something like that ingrained on your heart, if not your DNA? After shoving the handkerchief half into his back jeans pocket once again, Joss retrieved the ax and set up another log. As he lifted the tool, his thoughts drifted to Henry.

Once Sirus had disappeared into the woods, Joss shook Henry into consciousness and helped him to stand. The entire walk home, Henry was in a daze and holding his head. Joss wasn't sure what to say to his cousin about what exactly had slammed him against that tree, so he said nothing about it at all. Once they returned home, Henry went in the guest room and Joss was given chores all day. They hadn't spoken since. Joss was kind of relieved about that.

After all, how do you explain to your vampire-adoring cousin that a vampire just knocked the snot out of him without provocation? You don't. You just chop some wood and hope the whole thing blows over in time for dinner.

As if on cue, the side door opened and Henry stepped outside. Joss brought the ax down again before tossing the split log neatly into the pile to his left. He was hoping, praying, counting on Henry not approaching him, not saying a word, and if he had to speak, to not ask about what had knocked him out in the woods. Mostly because he already knew where that conversation would lead, and he absolutely didn't want to go there with his cousin again. Why couldn't they stick to simple discussion topics, like the weather or which hot celebrity Henry unrealistically thought he had a chance at? Why did it always have to be about vampires?

A small voice spoke up from the back of Joss's mind. One he wished that he couldn't hear. It said that Joss had it wrong. His way of thinking was askew. It wasn't about vampires at all—not for Henry. For Henry, it was about his best friend, plain and simple. Vampire or human—it didn't matter to Henry. Vlad was his friend. And Joss had almost killed him.

Joss reminded the voice that he was a Slayer, and that it was his job to kill vampires.

Inside his imagination, the voice just gave him a knowing look. One that caused Joss to sigh deeply as he reached for the next log.

Henry's shoulders were slightly slumped as he approached. “I'm supposed to help you with the wood.” Clearly, the last thing that he wanted to be doing was hanging out in the growing darkness with his cousin, chopping wood. Come to think of it, that was the last thing that Joss wanted, too. “Your dad said he wants it done by dinner.”

Dinner. The world rolled around uncomfortably inside Joss's mind, like a loose marble. He was so used to grabbing a sandwich by himself or popping a frozen meal into the microwave that he was pretty uncertain what Henry had meant by his dad mentioning the
D
word. Dinner was something that their family had had before they lost Cecile. Now they simply foraged in the kitchen for food while avoiding eye contact. “What's for dinner?”

“Pizza.” He and Henry locked eyes then. Joss hated what he saw on Henry's face, but it was undeniable. Pity. Henry couldn't deny what was lying all around him in shambles. Joss's family was falling apart, and now he knew that for sure.

Joss stood there, the ax dangling in his right hand, shifting his feet uncomfortably in embarrassment. He could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes but fought to keep them contained. “Remember how much my mom loved to cook? Before?”

He hadn't been able to say “Before Cecile died,” but he knew Henry would understand what he'd meant. It was too difficult to talk about his sister. Especially when discussing the chaos and destruction that had been left in the wake of her demise.

Henry forced a smile, his eyes shimmering. “Yeah. She and my mom could cook circles around each other. But . . . things change, I guess.”

“I hope they don't.” Henry tilted his head curiously at Joss's words, so Joss clarified. “I mean, I hope that my mom's love of cooking is still in there somewhere. I keep on hoping that I'll wake up to the smells of breakfast and happiness, y'know?”

Memories of his mom's creativity in the kitchen came flooding through Joss's mind. The table had always been perfectly set. The food was in abundance, and the recipes wonderfully complex. His mom had had a passion for cooking then. And now she didn't have a passion for anything. She took her medication and sat quietly most of the time, the color drained from her days. Joss worried about her. He worried a lot, and with good reason.

“Losing Cecile really changed things, didn't it? The extended family talks, of course, and I see it when you guys visit, but I really had no idea how bad it had gotten for your family, Joss. You all just seem so . . .” Henry swallowed hard, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His words were softly spoken and carefully chosen. “. . . fragile.”

Fragile. Meaning they could be broken. Joss refused to believe that, refused to believe that his family could crumble and blow away with the wind. He tightened his grip on the ax and readied another log, his jaw tight, his shoulders newly tense. He never should have talked to Henry about this, never should have opened himself up in this way. What good could possibly come of it? Nothing. “We're fine.”

“You don't have to—”

“I said we're fine.” Joss brought the ax down hard, cutting both the wood and Henry's words. Clearly, Henry had hit a nerve.

Henry watched him quietly for several minutes as Joss moved through several logs. Just as the sun had finally dipped behind the trees, casting a nighttime feel, Henry spoke. His tone was even, as if he were worried that any misspeak might damage the already frazzled Joss. Joss would never admit it if asked, but he was right. “What can I do to help?”

Joss lowered the ax momentarily and looked around before pointing to the house. “Carry the wood I've already cut over to the rack by the garage and stack it.”

Without complaint, Henry moved from the cut pile to the stack by the garage and back again. Joss continued to cut wood, all the while amazed at how cooperative his normally hotheaded cousin was being.

“My head's still killing me.” Henry rubbed his temples as he approached the last few logs in the cut pile. Then, as if remembering something, he paused and looked at Joss. “Hey, what happened out there today? Was it a coyote or something? What hit me?”

Joss furrowed his brow in contemplation. On one hand, it was actually kinda nice to have someone to talk to about the existence of vampires. On the other, he knew that admitting anything regarding a vampire attack would put Henry immediately on the defensive. Joss made an executive decision and looked at his cousin. “It was a coyote. Big one, too. After it hit you, it ran off deeper into the woods. Apparently it thought you were alone. When it saw there were two of us, it must have gotten spooked. We were lucky. Looks like that guy died by a coyote attack after all.”

Instantly, Joss could tell that Henry didn't believe a word that he was saying. And who could blame him? Joss's tone was so full of it, he might as well have had a sign on his forehead flashing “I AM SUCH A LIAR” in bright neon red. But it wasn't Joss's fault. He was having a difficult time focusing on being smooth and believable on the heels of the discussion about his “fragile” family. In short, he wasn't trying hard enough. And they both knew it.

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Are you lying to me?”

“No.” Joss's heart beat hard inside his chest, as if tapping him in quiet disagreement.

“You're lying to me.” It wasn't a question anymore. Not that it had been much of one in the first place, but Henry had been giving him a chance then. Now there was no turning back.

“No, I'm not.” Joss set his jaw stubbornly.

“Joss.”

“What?”

Henry groaned, running a haphazard hand through his hair. Astoundingly, his hair looked even better after. He met Joss's eyes and visibly fought to keep his tone calm. “Was it a vampire?”

He wanted to shout that yes, yes, it was a vampire, and that vampire was someone near and dear to him, and he was so confused at this point about how exactly he was supposed to feel about it that he felt like imploding . . . but he couldn't. Because that would mean that the Society might be wrong about vampires. And that Henry might be right about Vlad.

Joss stuck the ax into an oversized log then and shook his head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Henry looked more irritated than Joss had ever seen him. He was holding it together surprisingly well. Joss wondered how long his calm demeanor could possibly last. Henry's eyes widened as Joss stepped past him toward the house. He placed a hand on Joss's shoulder, stopping him. “Dude, if a vampire attacked me, I have a right to know.”

Joss shook him off, more roughly than he needed to. “And if I said it was a vampire, what then? Would you defend them then?”

“Of course not. They're not all good. No group of any kind of person is all good.” Henry stood there, demanding Joss's attention, his eyes full of a fire that threatened to spread wildly. But he looked like he was desperately trying to prevent it from doing so. Only Joss couldn't understand why. “So?”

Joss threw his arms up. He was raising his voice to a near shout, but couldn't stop himself. So much anger and guilt and remorse and embarrassment was filling him that Joss thought that he might just explode into a cloud of ash. “Yes. Yes, okay? A vampire knocked you unconscious!”

He shoved Henry back with both palms, hard. Henry stumbled, but righted himself immediately. “Why are you getting so ticked off?”

Because Henry was here, asking him questions about things he didn't want to talk about. Because Sirus was alive and a vampire and not his real dad. Because his family was in shambles, and no amount of pretending could hide that fact from the world. Because his sister was dead, and it was his job to avenge her. Joss was mad for all of these reasons and more. But worse than any of that, he was losing it completely. He had to get away from Henry and regain his composure before he did or said something really stupid.

As if a light had gone on over Henry's head, he said, “Did you kill him?”

In Joss's mind, he saw the cabin from two summers ago exploding, the flames and debris flying outward. Then he saw Sirus's face as it had been just a few hours ago in the woods. His smile, still so kind, still so warm. His heart regretted feeling the elation that it had at the sight of him, but it was undeniable that he had felt it. Stunned at his own confusion, Joss slowly shook his head. “No. No, I didn't kill it.”

“So he got away. No wonder you're mad.”

“I'm not mad and . . .” He shook his head. He was so tired of lying, but it felt like the only way out. “Yeah, basically, it got away.”

Henry folded his arms across his chest. “Basically. Hmm.”

“Let's just get inside and eat some pizza, okay? I really don't feel like talking to you about vampires anymore.” Joss started back toward the house, his thoughts racing. Why was his cousin doing this? This was all Henry's fault. If Henry hadn't been asking so many stupid questions, Joss wouldn't have to think about Sirus or his family or anything unpleasant that was going on. He would still be lost in the mundane task of chopping wood. Overwhelmed, he spun around and shoved Henry again. “Why can't you just admit how dangerous they are?”

Henry shoved him back, his words right on the heels of his action. “I thought you didn't want to talk about them anymore!”

“Well, now I do! Why, Henry?”

“Nope. Sorry. We're done.” Henry brushed past him. “You don't want to talk anymore? That's fine. Or maybe you could kiss my—”

Joss grabbed his cousin by the shirt. It was only after he'd balled up his fist that he realized that he meant to hurt Henry. Slowly, he lowered his hand and released his cousin, who looked as if his temper had been pushed to the absolute brink. But, try as Joss might to change it, his tone was still full of venom. “Why?”

Henry shook his head, like Joss were a sad, pathetic person who was blind to the ways of the world. Joss instantly despised him for it and immediately regretted that emotion. “Because they're not all dangerous. They're not all good or all bad. You seem to think that the word
vampire
is the same as the word
evil
, and that's not true.”