Third Strike (9 page)

J
oss stood still with his thoughts, going over in his mind what had just transpired, for several minutes after doing what he could to hide the vampire's remains until a Slayer Society cleanup crew could step in and take care of things. He'd covered the body with fallen leaves, fallen branches, and hoped that no human would find it. Death wasn't something that humans typically dealt well with. It also wasn't, Joss thought, something that Slayers dealt with either. The distinction in his mind between human and Slayer had come suddenly, but it seemed to fit. He didn't feel like a human half the time. He felt like something that operated on the fringe of humanity.

He moved through the woods for almost a half mile before exiting, not wanting anyone who had been at the boardwalk to see him and wonder why he was spattered with fresh blood and who that blood might belong to. He didn't go home. Too many questions were waiting for him there. Questions that his parents might ask about why he was shirtless and bloody. Questions that Henry might ask about why Joss would do something like that to his cousin, to his blood brother.

Blood. There was too much blood in Joss's life.

Still dazed by what had just happened, Joss found himself standing in front of Paty's small cottage. After all, she was supposed to be there for him—and if all that meant was that she'd loan him her shower and maybe a fresh shirt, that was enough. It was all Joss needed at the moment. And what he definitely didn't need were questions.

He raised his fist to rap on the door, but before he could speak a word, Paty called from within, her voice soft and ragged, as if she'd been crying. “It's open, Joss. Come on in.”

As he turned the knob and pushed, he leaned in and saw her face. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotched. Paty had been crying. It was a strange thing to see. Paty didn't cry. She was tough. What could break someone like her? He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Everything okay?”

Her brows came together as she gave him a once-over. As she spoke, she moved toward him, her eyes full of concern. “Seems like I should be the one asking that. What happened? Are you hurt?”

Joss shook his head and held a hand up, stopping her approach. With the other hand, he gestured to the burgundy flakes that had dried all over his chest and stomach. “It's not as bad as it looks. Hardly any of it is my blood.”

Paty paused midstep, folded her arms in front of her, and raised an eyebrow. Her eyes were no longer red, her tears moving so quickly into the past that Joss began to wonder whether or not he had imagined them. “Tell me what isn't yours belongs to that little weenie that runs the comic book shop.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Apparently he wasn't the only one who didn't care for Edgar Frog. “No such luck. I stumbled on a vampire attack and took care of business. I did my best to hide the body, but I need a cleanup. Redwood State Park. East side, about a hundred yards in.”

“On it.” Paty grabbed her phone off the counter and hit number two on speed dial. After giving directions to the mysterious voice on the other end, she hit End and turned back to Joss. “Do you think this vampire might be the one responsible for the recent deaths?”

Truth be told, Joss didn't want to think much about his Slayer responsibilities at the moment. What he really wanted was to take a hot shower, put on a clean shirt, and then maybe rewind a few years, back to when he and Henry were friends and brothers. But he knew that that would never happen. Time only ever marched forward, no matter how hard you pushed back.

“Not really. I have an idea who . . .” He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, hoping that Paty either wouldn't notice that he'd just referred to a vampire as a person rather than a thing. His uncle Abraham would have punished him for a slipup like that for sure. “. . .
what
might be responsible, but I don't know how to say it. Between you and me, Paty, I don't really want to say it at all.”

The last sentence came out in a whisper, and when it did, Joss's heart reached out after it, but only managed to grab air. He knew better than to say things like that. He knew better than to ever admit to anything at all like that. Especially to another Slayer. The punishment of withholding information from a fellow member of the Society could be severe.

But this wasn't just any member of the Society, he told himself. This was Paty. If he could trust any member of his team, it was her.

She tilted her head to the side curiously. “Who?”

There was that word again. Who. This time Paty had said it. Which might mean that they were both sharing the same questions about whether vampires were people or things. Or maybe he was just reading too much into it . . . which was likely the case.

Joss wet his lips and met Paty's eyes, hoping that she wouldn't freak out the way that he'd felt like freaking out when he'd found out that Sirus was still alive. After taking a slow, deep breath, he released it in words that felt almost too intense to be spoken aloud. They were life-changing words. And Joss didn't feel important enough to be changing anyone's life. “I think . . . that maybe Sirus is the vampire responsible for the deaths. Paty . . . he didn't die in that explosion. I just saw him the other day. Sirus is still alive.”

To Joss's shock, Paty didn't even flinch at the news. Instead, she said, “You probably want to grab a shower, right? I think I have one of Morgan's T-shirts around here somewhere that you can borrow.”

“Paty.” He shook his head at her, confounded. What? Was she in denial? Did she think that he was kidding? Joss would never kid about something like that. This was supposed to be life-changing news. Why was she acting like it wasn't really news at all? “Didn't you hear me? I said that Sirus is still alive.”

“I heard you, Joss. But . . . well . . . you're not exactly telling me anything that I didn't already know.” She sighed as Joss stood there, shaking his head still, trying to wrap his mind around what it was that she was saying. Then she nodded toward the bathroom door. “Take your shower. Then we'll talk. Towels are in the cabinet over the sink. I'll find you a shirt.”

He stood there for a moment, not knowing exactly what he was supposed to say to her and struggling with the growing realization that Paty hadn't been surprised. She'd known about Sirus. Which made him wonder what else she knew that she wasn't sharing with him.

Without another word, he moved down the short hall to the small bathroom. The towels were right where she'd told him they'd be, and when he stripped down and stepped into the shower, the hot water felt good on his skin. As he watched the blood run down the drain, Joss thought about the movies. In movies, killing wasn't all that messy. Blood hardly went anywhere. The mess of it was easy to contain. But the reality, he'd found, was far different. Blood got everywhere, and it refused to be easily cleansed away. Plus, it smelled. It took a lot of soap just to remove the rotten, metallic scent from his skin, and even then, he knew he wouldn't feel completely clean for the next few days. It was as if the essence of the blood clung to him, the memory of the horrific act that he'd performed.

He didn't know what was going on with Paty, or how she'd known anything about Sirus still being alive. But he did know that he trusted her. And if she had good reason not to tell him about Sirus, reason beyond the fact that he was supposed to be on his own this summer, then it was okay. She'd explain everything, and then maybe Joss could go back to not feeling betrayed.

Because he felt that way. And it hurt.

Once his skin and hair were clean, Joss stepped out of the shower, toweled dry, and got dressed again. He dropped his towel, now tinged from the blood that had refused to be rinsed away, in the hamper and stepped out into the hall. Paty was in the kitchen. As she tossed him a clean T-shirt, the timer on the oven went off. Donning a bright pink oven mitt, she opened the oven door and pulled out a tray of freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies.

Joss sat wordlessly on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island, his eyes on the pan that she was placing on the stove. Cookies. Clearly, he was either in trouble or in for some bad news. He had to be. She'd felt the need to soften the blow with cinnamon and sugar deliciousness.

Paty slid two hot cookies onto a plate with the aid of a spatula and set it in front of Joss. He grabbed one immediately and bit into it, breathing out a series of sounds that weren't really words, but somehow helped to cool his burning mouth. “Hawthawthawthawthawt!”

She poured a glass of cool milk, and Joss couldn't drink it fast enough. After he emptied it, his stomach gurgled a little, but at least his mouth felt better. He left the second cookie on the plate, giving it time to cool, and looked at Paty. “So you knew. About Sirus surviving that explosion.”

“Yes.” She removed her oven mitt, tossing it casually on the counter. Then she turned back to Joss, a newly born tension in her stance. “I knew.”

“How long have you known? Since the beginning? And you never told me? I've been living with crushing guilt for two years and you just let me live with it? You let me believe that I killed my mentor? My friend? Kat's dad?” He hadn't intended to raise his voice or to stand, his chest heaving in anger, but that's just what he did. It wasn't right for Paty to have kept this from him. Sirus had been a beacon of comfort for him during an incredibly difficult time. He'd been there for Joss when it seemed that no other Slayer would help him. More than that, he'd been like a father to Joss. His betrayal had stung, but what had stung far worse was the false knowledge that Joss had been responsible for Sirus's death.

“Hold it right there.” Paty pointed at him with a lone finger, and then gestured for him to take his seat again. Out of respect, he did. Then it was Paty's turn to raise her voice. “First and foremost, I hadn't known from the beginning. I only learned of his survival this spring, and didn't tell you because I was under strict orders by the Society not to. What with your loyalty under question and whatnot. Loyalty—you know—that thing that the Slayer Society values more than anything. That thing that you've been apparently lacking ever since the day you met that Vlad kid.”

Joss winced. He couldn't refute what she was saying. It was true. It was all true. He hadn't been nearly as loyal in thought or in deed as the Slayer Society required or deserved. But he couldn't blame Vlad for that, or even Paty for pointing it out. He could only blame himself.

“Second, don't forget that that friend and mentor of yours was also a
vampire
.”

The word hung in the air between them for a moment. It felt heavy. It felt wrong. And what was worse was that the truth of that word felt so much heavier than the word itself.

Joss hated that Sirus was a vampire. He hated that he still cared about Sirus. He hated that he still cared about Vlad. But he was beginning to think that that aspect of him could never be changed. What if everyone he came to care about betrayed him in some way? Sirus, Dorian, Vlad—it seemed that he was meant to be more of a vampire's plaything than a Slayer. The very idea sent a bitter shiver up his spine. Chasing it was the whisper of sorrow.

The look on Paty's face said that she felt very much the same way that Joss did. It made Joss wonder how the Slayer Society felt about Paty and her loyalties to them. They questioned his loyalty. Why not question hers?

“He betrayed us, Joss. Not just the Society. He betrayed our team, and did so over a long course of time. Plus, he wasn't just your friend. He was also mine. So don't think that you're the only one affected by his perceived death or surprising survival.”

Joss released a quiet sigh. What Paty was forgetting was that she didn't exactly have to carry the weight of guilt at having been the person who'd caused Sirus's perceived death.

Paty braced herself with her hands on the countertop and hung her head for a moment—long enough to take two or three really slow, deep breaths, as if she needed to gather her wits before she spoke again. Then she met Joss's eyes, and when she spoke again, he realized that he'd been behaving rather selfishly. He wasn't alone in this pain, in this confusion. She shared it. “I'm freaked out, too, y'know.”

Joss eyed his remaining cookie for a moment, but had no desire whatsoever to pick it up and continue eating. Suddenly his mouth tasted sour, unworthy of a sugary reward. He met Paty's eyes with an apology. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't bite your head off just for following Society orders. I just . . . it was a surprise to see him.”

She nodded slowly, and it was clear to Joss by the look in her eyes that she was mourning the loss of her friendship with Sirus still. “How is he?”

“He looked fine. Healthy, I think. But worried. He said there's something in the woods.” There was. There was something in the woods. Joss just wasn't sure whether or not that thing was Sirus or something else.

Paty folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side in contemplation. “It could be a trick. Something to distract from him.”

Joss nodded. His thoughts exactly. “It could be. I need to look at the coroner's report for Tilly, the woman who lived near the café, just to confirm that she was killed by a vampire and not . . . something else. How can I get my hands on it? I mean, the coroner isn't likely to just hand something like that over to a random teenager.”

Paty tore her gaze away from him then and rubbed her hands on her arms, as if trying to warm them against a nonexistent chill in the air. It took her a moment to speak again, and when she did, she seemed extremely uncomfortable. “I can't help you, Joss. No one can.”

She flicked her eyes to him momentarily, but then her gaze was gone again. Joss released a deep sigh, picked up his remaining cookie, and headed for the front door. As he opened it, he nodded to her over his left shoulder. “Okay. Then I'll help myself.”