she ran through the fire, her shield extending to the daughter she had chosen to take with her first.
I was left behind.
The flames spread. The smoke got worse. I waited, the room so hot that my tears felt cool on my face. And then everything went black.
The paramedics resuscitated me. She had come back for me, but by then it was almost too late. She could have carried us both. I know she could have. She picked Artemis first, and I almost died. She was willing to lose me over Artemis. And none of us have ever forgotten it.
• • •
I hastily wipe away new tears. Am I crying or just remembering the smoke? At least the tears blur the body of the hellhound. I wonder if my mother will put the castle back on lockdown. I could have explained to her where it came from, what it was actually hunting, if she had given me a second to speak. But she never does.
I drag the hellhound into the trees and tuck it against some roots. That way at least none of the Littles will stumble across it if they go outside to play. And if my mom asks where it is, I’ll tell her.
She won’t ask.
Corpse removal accomplished, I want to hide in my room. Maybe forever. I thought I was finally in control. Finally able to do things to make a difference. My mom showed me otherwise.
I send Cillian a text to stay away from his house. He didn’t touch the demon, so any other hellhound on the hunt shouldn’t zero in on him personally. Unless my mom is going to hang out there with her gun, Cillian isn’t safe at home.
At that thought, I hurry into the castle after my mother. She might not talk to me about it, but I can talk to her. “Hey!” I shout at her back. She stops but doesn’t turn around. “Don’t you want to know where it came from?”
“I can determine that on my own. You aren’t needed for this, Nina. I thought that was apparent outside.”
“I can—”
She finally turns around. There’s a smile pasted onto her face. It’s almost as repellent as the gun—just as cold and metallic. “Sweetheart, take the day off. It’s been a confusing time for you. Go read or paint your nails. Or you must have some chores to handle in your clinic.”
“You’ve never cared about my clinic.”
“That’s absurd. I’m the one who suggested that course of study in the first place.”
“Why did you, if you knew I was a Potential? You sabotaged me!”
“Sabotaged?” She has the audacity to look hurt, and for a second, she almost—almost—meets my eye. But right as she comes close, a shadow passes over her face and she lifts her chin. “I am a member of the Council and your mother. Everything I do is for the good of the Watchers. Don’t question my decisions.” And then she walks away. Again.
I stare after her, trembling with emotion. Then I lift my middle finger at her back.
“Um. Hey.”
Leo is standing in the door to the training room. Which is where my mother and I had our entire conversation, in perfect hearing range. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he leans against the door frame. “She’s jet-lagged,” he says. “It was a long trip back.”
“Don’t make excuses for her.” I hastily wipe under my eyes. I cannot handle another humiliation. And tears in front of Leo—the star of my greatest humiliation ever? Not happening. I won’t let him see what my mother obviously sees: That I’m weak. That I don’t deserve to be a Slayer. That no one needs me to be one.
When she first assigned me to the medical branch of study, I was proud. It felt like she noticed I’d be good at it, and I worked so hard in order to prove her right. But she was really just putting me out of sight, out of mind. Where no one would ever see my potential.
Including me.
I stomp past him into the room. I barely got any sleep last night, but I’m as buzzed as if I’d had four cups of tea. I want to hit something. “I’m ready.”
He follows, taking his time. “Watcher mums are . . . hard. Even the good ones.”
“You’re lucky you have a good one.”
“I meant your mum.”
I snort. “Well, you obviously don’t know her.”
“No, I don’t, I guess. But I’ve been alone with mine for three years. It was—” His face darkens,