by Calista Fox
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.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jade rushed on. “I told you a long time ago that I’ve always wondered if I should follo
w in my father’s footsteps.”
“Jade Deville!” Davian roared.
He released her, but grabbed her right forearm. Yanking back the long sleeve that covered her wrist and a portion of her hand, he let out a harsh growl. She wore the dark-brown leather band of a demon slayer.
“Your father wasn’t a slayer,” he ground out as a red-hot rage flashed through him.
“He was the leader of Ryleigh, Davian.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, as if she knew how deeply this would affect him, but had gone through with the ludicrous and horrendously perilous action regardless. “Something Toran has never been comfortable with. We complement each other nicely.”
Davian wanted to shake her. The desire was unrelenting, but he resisted the overwhelming urge, knowing he’d hurt her because he was so fired up. Letting go of her, he stalked away. Only to pull up short and then spin back around.
“This is a joke, right? You’re teasing me, the way you sometimes do.”
She squared her shoulders. “Does it look as though I’m teasing?”
The anger seized him again. He whirled once more and clasped the wooden mantle with his hands, wanting very much to tear it from the stone fireplace.
“Please don’t break my house,” she pleaded. “I understand you’re mad, but—”
“I am not mad,” he said between clenched teeth. “I am furious. And I want to strangle you, Jade. Toran too, for swearing you in.”
“It was my choice. Leave him out of this. I had to convince him to do it, Davian.”
“Why would you even want this?” he demanded. “After the wraith attacks? Goddamn it. You know how susceptible you are to pain, and yet you’ve gone and put yourself in the most vulnerable position imaginable! Why?”
He couldn’t bring himself to face her. She was smart enough not to try to placate him with a hand on his back or some other gesture. In fact, she knew to keep her distance while his anger boiled in his veins.
“Slayers are born, not just cultivated,” she said. “I’ve always known I had the capability to fight—I was a natural from the first time I picked up a sword. But I needed more specific training, so I started working with Toran months ago, after the fire wraith broke my hand and wrist. I didn’t like feeling so helpless, so I asked Toran to instruct me. But that led to more advanced training, and then Walker got mauled and—”
