Chosen - Kiersten White Page 0,17
The light in the library is warm and golden, dust motes winking in the air. I half expect Imogen to get up and begin our next lesson on demonology, or instruct me to translate a prophecy from Ancient Sumerian into Latin into English.
But we don’t do that anymore. It’s weird how suddenly and fiercely I wish I could be slacking off, copying Artemis’s notes, and heading to my little medical center to tidy up and organize. As much as I wanted more back then, it’s hard not to think about how much I actually had and took for granted.
Rhys clears his throat. “Which brings us to outstanding threats.”
“Outstanding like phenomenal?” Doug asks, frowning.
“Yes, all our phenomenal enemies,” I answer.
“We really do have some excellent ones,” he agrees.
I shrug. “We could do better. I mean, look at Buffy. Our enemy caliber is nowhere near hers.”
Doug pats my shoulder. “I have faith that you’ll get there. Give it some time. She’s had years to build up her rogues’ gallery.”
Rhys clears his throat in a decidedly annoyed manner. “Back to the subject at hand of outstanding as in still active threats. Any word on Sean?”
I stay very, very quiet, hoping Doug can’t smell my inner conflict. Artemis said the book wasn’t for Sean. Just because it has the same symbol as his tea doesn’t mean she’s working for him. It could be unrelated. Or she could be fighting him! Maybe that’s it. Artemis is taking out threats that might harm us. Imagining that makes me feel better. It does seem like an Artemis thing to do. Behind the scenes, making sure everyone is safe. She said she was doing it for all of us.
My mother shakes her head. “I send out feelers whenever possible, but Sean has been relatively quiet. And I’ve never encountered him or any agents working for him during my meetings off-site. Mind you, he’s still active. But his activities have never conflicted with our movements.”
Jade waves a hand lazily through the air. “If he’s not bothering us, why do we care? He only goes after demons, anyway.”
The awkward silence hangs in the air, a palpable weight. Doug shifts in his seat. “Oh. Only demons.”
Jade sits up straight. “No! Obviously I didn’t mean you. That’s different.”
“Love, it really isn’t.” Doug retracts his hand where Jade reaches for it.
“I agree with Doug,” I say. If Artemis is going after Sean, we need to stay out of her way. I can’t let the council decide to start investigating him. The last thing I want is for us to mess up Artemis’s plans and keep her away even longer. “But at the same time, we aren’t in a position to launch a preemptive offensive. And even if we were, I don’t know that we should. It’s not that I don’t think what he does to demons is wrong. I do. But if we start going on the attack, we’ll be right back where we used to be. Watchers and Slayers deciding who gets to live and who has to die based on archaic criteria. That’s not who we are. Who we want to be.” I remember how close I came to letting that mercenary fall, and twitch against a shudder. “Anyway, we chose to be a sanctuary. Not a militia. We’re better than that, right?”
Doug nods. He hates Sean, but all Doug wants in the world is happiness. He doesn’t have a predatory bone in his black-and-yellow body. Even his horns are rounded.
“So let’s come up with ideas for how we can help more demons and people.” Whatever Artemis said, this isn’t selfish. This is right.
“And werewolves?” Rhys adds with a raised eyebrow. He still doesn’t know why the family ran.
“Sure, whatever.”
“What about Slayers?” my mother asks. “I’d like to bring more in. Surely there are girls out there who need our help, or a support system. Even just a safe place to live. Do you know, your father lobbied to give Slayers a stipend for living expenses. He never could understand how with the expansive Watcher budget, we couldn’t find room to ensure that Slayers didn’t have to worry. It seems too much to ask that they spend every night patrolling and fighting the forces of evil and every day trying to provide for themselves. Though Buffy herself derailed any discussion of financial support when she refused to work with us. Still. Even before that, look at the conditions Faith Lehane had to endure. Is it any wonder she—”
Rhys clears his throat,