forgotten it, good memory or not. Although,
tonight, it doesn’t seem so far away.
Shaking his head, Seth deposited
his phone back into his pocket and took a step forward before freezing. Suddenly
the messages his vampire-enhanced senses were sending him were actually
connecting with his brain, but it might already be too late. That depended
entirely on what kind of human he smelled behind him. A question that was
answered as quickly as he’d thought it, when the human—male—opened his mouth.
“Vampire,” the man called abruptly.
His tone made it clear that he wasn’t particularly fond of vampires, and the
age in his voice indicated that he’d come across one or two over the years. Without
even laying eyes on the man Seth knew he was a Slayer.
“If we’re going to communicate,”
Seth began slowly, holding absolutely still, “it might be easier if I turned
around.”
“As long as you keep it at a pace I
can see,” the Slayer replied coldly.
Seth carefully held his hands up,
palms open, and turned at a deliberately slow pace. The last thing he needed
was to have to deal with a trigger-happy Slayer. It was several tense seconds
before he was actually able to see the man, and he was unsurprised to note that
he didn’t recognize him. He could count the number of Slayers he’d encountered,
who were likely still alive, on one hand. That number was one, and the number
existed at all because Seth had seen a power and potential in that then-boy
that he hadn’t seen in half of the vampires he knew.
This Slayer was older, somewhere in
his mid-forties, which was actually rather impressive. He was only slightly
shorter than Seth, meaning he was just shy of six-foot, and he had dirty blonde
hair with not a small amount of natural silver highlights. His hair was
beginning to thin and he had far too many wrinkles around his faded, weary blue
eyes. He was missing half of his left eyebrow and that eye was locked in a
permanent squint, but he stood proudly. He was past the prime of his life, he
knew it, and he wasn’t afraid to prove that he’d lived as long as he had for a
reason.
Seth almost hoped he could find a
reason to like this man.
“Tell me,” Seth began, letting his
arms fall back to his sides. The Slayer’s loaded crossbow was aimed at the
ground, but he wasn’t a fool—he’d seen many a vampire fall to their pride. “Is
there a reason you didn’t shoot first?”
“I’m new in town,” the Slayer
declared. “Still working out the lay of the land. You
answer my questions, maybe I let you live.”
‘Maybe’ always equaled ‘not in this
lifetime’ when it came to Slayers, but Seth opted to pretend that he was green
enough not to know that. The nameless Slayer wasn’t the only one who had
questions. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
Slayer’s eyes narrowed at the faint
undertone of suspicion he heard in Seth’s words, but he refrained from pointing
it out. “How big is your Family?”
Good question; that depends on how
you define it. Aloud, Seth replied, “You know I can’t give you a number. But
it’s established.”
“Nearest Pack?”
“Not sure.” That much, at least,
was the complete truth. He hadn’t bothered to research the location or size of
the nearest werewolf Pack. If they were a problem, after all, there wouldn’t be
such a solidly-established Family in the area.
“Have you seen other Slayers in the
area?”
Interesting
question. Slayers weren’t the tightest-knit group, but they certainly
communicated with each other more regularly than they did with the enemy. Seth
was beginning to think this Slayer was looking for someone or something
specific. “No.”
“Well, you’re not very useful, are
you?” Slayer asked, a mocking smirk curving his lips.
“You’re asking odd questions,” Seth
returned pointedly. “I always assumed that Slayers did their homework before
moving somewhere new.”
Slayer’s eyes narrowed darkly. It
was obvious that Seth hadn’t
tonight, it doesn’t seem so far away.
Shaking his head, Seth deposited
his phone back into his pocket and took a step forward before freezing. Suddenly
the messages his vampire-enhanced senses were sending him were actually
connecting with his brain, but it might already be too late. That depended
entirely on what kind of human he smelled behind him. A question that was
answered as quickly as he’d thought it, when the human—male—opened his mouth.
“Vampire,” the man called abruptly.
His tone made it clear that he wasn’t particularly fond of vampires, and the
age in his voice indicated that he’d come across one or two over the years. Without
even laying eyes on the man Seth knew he was a Slayer.
“If we’re going to communicate,”
Seth began slowly, holding absolutely still, “it might be easier if I turned
around.”
“As long as you keep it at a pace I
can see,” the Slayer replied coldly.
Seth carefully held his hands up,
palms open, and turned at a deliberately slow pace. The last thing he needed
was to have to deal with a trigger-happy Slayer. It was several tense seconds
before he was actually able to see the man, and he was unsurprised to note that
he didn’t recognize him. He could count the number of Slayers he’d encountered,
who were likely still alive, on one hand. That number was one, and the number
existed at all because Seth had seen a power and potential in that then-boy
that he hadn’t seen in half of the vampires he knew.
This Slayer was older, somewhere in
his mid-forties, which was actually rather impressive. He was only slightly
shorter than Seth, meaning he was just shy of six-foot, and he had dirty blonde
hair with not a small amount of natural silver highlights. His hair was
beginning to thin and he had far too many wrinkles around his faded, weary blue
eyes. He was missing half of his left eyebrow and that eye was locked in a
permanent squint, but he stood proudly. He was past the prime of his life, he
knew it, and he wasn’t afraid to prove that he’d lived as long as he had for a
reason.
Seth almost hoped he could find a
reason to like this man.
“Tell me,” Seth began, letting his
arms fall back to his sides. The Slayer’s loaded crossbow was aimed at the
ground, but he wasn’t a fool—he’d seen many a vampire fall to their pride. “Is
there a reason you didn’t shoot first?”
“I’m new in town,” the Slayer
declared. “Still working out the lay of the land. You
answer my questions, maybe I let you live.”
‘Maybe’ always equaled ‘not in this
lifetime’ when it came to Slayers, but Seth opted to pretend that he was green
enough not to know that. The nameless Slayer wasn’t the only one who had
questions. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
Slayer’s eyes narrowed at the faint
undertone of suspicion he heard in Seth’s words, but he refrained from pointing
it out. “How big is your Family?”
Good question; that depends on how
you define it. Aloud, Seth replied, “You know I can’t give you a number. But
it’s established.”
“Nearest Pack?”
“Not sure.” That much, at least,
was the complete truth. He hadn’t bothered to research the location or size of
the nearest werewolf Pack. If they were a problem, after all, there wouldn’t be
such a solidly-established Family in the area.
“Have you seen other Slayers in the
area?”
Interesting
question. Slayers weren’t the tightest-knit group, but they certainly
communicated with each other more regularly than they did with the enemy. Seth
was beginning to think this Slayer was looking for someone or something
specific. “No.”
“Well, you’re not very useful, are
you?” Slayer asked, a mocking smirk curving his lips.
“You’re asking odd questions,” Seth
returned pointedly. “I always assumed that Slayers did their homework before
moving somewhere new.”
Slayer’s eyes narrowed darkly. It
was obvious that Seth hadn’t
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