Second Chance (17 page)

Joss cursed and turned around to see Sven, his eyes furious slits, his chest heaving in breaths that suggested that he’d been running just a few seconds before. Joss’s heart beat once before he dove after Morgan’s stake. Sven was on him before his fingers even brushed against the wood, snapping Joss’s left arm like a twig. Pain lit up Joss’s entire world and he screamed at the brightness of it all, at the excruciating hurt. Clutching his useless arm to his side, Joss fell to the ground. Then Sven dove toward him. In a moment of sheer desperation, Joss reached out with his good arm to find something, anything, to defend himself with. His fingers closed over something familiar and warm, and just as Sven was falling on him, mouth wide, fangs exposed, Joss brought the stake back to his chest and forced it upward, piercing Sven’s heart.

Immediately, he shoved Sven’s corpse from his body, pulling Morgan’s stake free. He stood and approached Curtis with a determined step. Curtis was struggling against the tree, his arm almost free, cursing at Joss in that strange language. But Joss didn’t care. He only cared about the reason he was doing any of this. He only cared about right and wrong. He gripped the stake in his fist and whispered, “For you, Cecile. Every time.”

As he thrust the stake forward, Curtis howled. The silver pierced his skin and plunged deep into Curtis’s chest. Then Curtis went still.

He withdrew Morgan’s stake and noted with interest that his fingers weren’t shaking at all. He’d killed the beast with a steady hand.

From behind him came the sound of someone clapping. He turned to see Ash, Morgan, Paty, Cratian, and Abraham watching him with shining, proud eyes. Abraham offered him a nod before putting his cell phone to his ear. “This is Abraham. We need a cleanup on the southern end of Central Park.”

Morgan limped over to him and gave him a brotherly hug before looking down on Curtis’s remains. “One thing’s for sure, little brother. The next time I get attacked by an oversized canary, I’m calling you.”

“Y
ou are so slow! Come on, Joss. Half of this stuff is for you! Pick up the pace.” Paty was walking in front of Joss, heading down the sidewalk toward the brownstone. In her arms were three boxes, and looped over her arms were four big bags of clothing, split between each arm. Joss was lugging three bags and two boxes—but with one arm in a cast. The boxes were piled so high that he almost couldn’t see Paty in front of him. She had claimed that the shopping trip was a celebration, and that the clothes were gifts for Joss. But only two pairs of pants and three shirts were his. Most of the shopping had been for Paty. And now Joss was her injured pack mule.

To his dismay, his toes caught on an uneven bit of sidewalk and Joss tripped. He caught himself before he fell, but the packages went down, falling around him in thumps. Joss grumbled, but a moment later, Morgan appeared, chuckling. “Doing a bit of shopping, little brother?”

Joss rolled his eyes. “More like Paty’s shopping. I’m just carrying.”

Morgan grabbed most of the boxes and three of the bags. “One word of advice, kid? Never go shopping with a girl. Even one who carries a stake.”

As Morgan moved along after Paty, Joss gathered the remaining packages, noted Morgan’s advice, and followed suit. It was time to head back to the brownstone, time to pack, time to get ready, and time to go home. The event filled Joss with mixed feelings. On one hand, he was proud of himself, of them, for having taken care of the vampire brothers as assigned. On the other, the only thing awaiting him at home were his parents, and neither of them seemed to have much of a place for Joss in their lives anymore. It was difficult to look forward to spending time with people who treated him like the Invisible Boy. It was impossible to face the fact that his parents would never change. Cecile’s death had shaped them into something that Joss couldn’t comprehend, and in ways, didn’t want to comprehend. He just wanted to have something to look forward to whenever he set foot in those four walls he referred to as “home.”

As he walked, trailing a bit behind Paty and Morgan under the weight of Paty’s shopping bags, someone fell into step beside him, their paces matching immediately. He turned his head and blinked, a bit surprised to see Dorian walking along beside him. The corner of Dorian’s mouth lifted in a small smile. “It’s good to see you, young sir.”

Joss glanced at Paty and Morgan, but they seemed completely oblivious to Dorian’s presence. The strange sensation came over him that Dorian was somehow making them not notice him. He looked back at Dorian, wondering if Dorian had ever controlled his awareness in that way. The idea that anyone could have that kind of power frightened him. Even if Dorian seemed relatively harmless. It was bad enough that vampires could tap into the dark recesses of a human’s mind and hear every whisper of thought that they had. It was worse that Dorian might be able to do more.

Because he was more than a vampire. Joss just didn’t know how much more, or what that meant, exactly.

Dorian kept his eyes straight ahead, as if he knew where they were headed and was totally okay with that. “I thought we might discuss where exactly I got the stake that I gifted you with, and why exactly I gave it to you. I believe we’ve put off this conversation for long enough.”

Joss stopped walking, stopped moving, stopped breathing for a moment, and turned to face Dorian, who mimicked his movements perfectly. It sent a chill up Joss’s spine. “I was hoping you’d say that, Dorian. So . . . go ahead. I’m all ears. Tell me about the stake.”

Joss looked up the street to where Paty and Morgan were still walking, and then back to Dorian, who’d already made his way half a block.

Without as much as a brief pause in his steps, Dorian continued his trek down the street, calling over his shoulder to a bewildered Joss, who still had no idea how Dorian knew that he even had nightmares, let alone wanted to discuss them. “Come, my friend. Let us talk.”

Joss hurried to follow after him, not knowing how he’d explain his absence to Morgan and Paty later, but too eager to understand how Dorian had come about Ernst’s stake, and why he’d given it to Joss, when the Slayer Society had not yet deemed him worthy of owning the instrument. He caught up to Dorian a block over, and silently, they made their way to a boutique hotel on a bustling street. The sign read simply
NIGHT
.

The doorman at Night Hotel opened the door for Joss and smiled. Just after Joss stepped into the lobby, Dorian appeared behind him, walking with him, as if they’d arrived here together on purpose. The doorman’s smile grew. “Good to see you back, sir. I see you found your friend. Shall I send up something to drink in a few minutes? The house red, perhaps?”

Dorian smiled and shook his head. “I believe that Mountain Dew will do just fine for my young friend here, Albert.”

Albert smiled. “Of course, sir. Anything.”

Standing sentinel in the black-on-black lobby were two large, white pillars. Black leather chairs filled the space, kept company by smidges of white in the animal skin chairs and orchids adorning the shiny glass tables. The carpet was black with white, old English monograms.
N
for “Night.” It was a cool hotel—old and funky, but so very modern— and he hadn’t yet left the lobby.

As they passed the front desk on their way to the elevators, a woman in her early twenties flashed Dorian a smile. “Good afternoon, sir. Shall I send up some of the house re—”

“No. Thank you.” Dorian held up a hand, cutting off her words. Joss thought that maybe the house red wine was the best thing that the hotel had. It had to be. Otherwise, why would they be practically shoving it down Dorian’s throat?

He slowed his steps. House red. That was what the bartender at V Bar had offered Joss. It was a code word. For blood. Because Dorian was absolutely a vampire.

And Joss’s stake was nowhere to be found. He was unarmed, and in the company of an enemy. What was he thinking?

As they stood waiting for the elevator, Joss wondered exactly what he was doing. He didn’t know Dorian at all, and yet here he was, following this strange vampire upstairs to his hotel room. As the door opened, music by The Cure pouring out from inside, Joss hesitated. Dorian stepped inside, holding the door for him. After a moment that seemed to drag on into eternity, Dorian lowered his head, locking his eyes with Joss’s. “Joss. It’s okay. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Had Joss heard right? It had almost sounded like Dorian had placed emphasis on the words ‘you’ and ‘me.’ As if Dorian might have something to fear from Joss.

Joss debated turning around and running from the hotel, but something in his chest settled, and a calm washed over him. Before he knew he was doing it, Joss stepped inside the elevator, and they were on their way to the penthouse floor. Beside him, Dorian smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Joss. We have so much to discuss. I’m not one to interfere unnecessarily, but this is important. More important than anyone realizes. Even you.”

“Even me?” Joss furrowed his brow in confusion. It all seemed so ominous. So surreal. And he still wasn’t sure what he was doing here, or why he was going along with this little field trip, when he knew that Dorian was a monster.

The elevator door opened, revealing a small foyer. It was wallpapered in something that resembled black and white speckled fur. To the left and the right were locked doors. Dorian explained, “There are two penthouse suites. I normally stay in the one to your left, the one with rooftop access, but important guests are at the hotel tonight, so I’m calling the smaller penthouse home for now.”

Joss stared in disbelief. “You . . .
own
this place?”

Dorian pulled out a key card and swiped it through the reader of the door on the right, smiling all the while. When he pushed the door open, Joss almost gasped. The walls inside were papered in black and white, featuring large, ornate thistles. The carpeting was rich black, and the room contained only an oversized black leather chair, reading lamp, and a small desk with a computer on it. It was the strangest hotel room that Joss had ever seen—not that he’d seen many.

Dorian led him out onto the balcony and closed the door behind them. Moments later, room service served them with a silver ice bucket, holding a two liter of Mountain Dew, and a single long stem glass. The man poured the glass full and handed it to Joss before turning to leave. Joss took a sip, and then looked at Dorian. “Don’t you want any?”

“I never drink . . .” He took a breath, one that felt like it went on for ages. “. . . Mountain Dew.”

They sat there, in the warm breeze, and Joss emptied his glass and said, “Why did you bring me here, Dorian? What is this?”

Dorian stood and moved to the edge of the balcony, peering over it to the traffic below. “You know what I am, Joss.”

Joss’s heart picked up its pace. Again, he thought of his stake and how much he wished he had it with him now. “Of course I do. You’re a vampire.”

Dorian’s shoulders lifted and fell slowly, as if he were taking a very deep breath. When he spoke, Joss could just barely make out what he was saying. “And yet I live.”

At first, Joss raised an eyebrow. Live? Was he expecting Joss to kill him? Hoping, maybe?

Dorian turned back to him briefly. Just long enough to direct his gaze to a small table near the door. On top of it lay a wooden stake. Joss’s stake. He picked it up.

Dorian looked up at the sky for but a moment, but when he turned back to face Joss, the glass dropped from Joss’s fingers, crashing on the floor between his feet.

Fangs filled Dorian’s mouth. He bared them at Joss, growling. “Go on! Do it, Joss! For both of us! Get it over with!”

Joss shook his head, but he wasn’t sure what message he was trying to convey. He was a Slayer. Dorian was a vampire with a death wish. What part of this was he having a problem with? Dorian nodded slowly. “Please, Joss. Please. I grow so very weary of all the tasks that lay before me. End this. Now.”

Joss swallowed hard, resisting the urge to grip his stake. Not yet, anyway. “Where did you get my stake, Dorian?”

Dorian’s fangs retreated, his shoulders slumped, as if in defeat. “Initially, from your great-great-great-grandfather. He was a nice man, if not a little on the stubborn side. He tried to kill me, and as he lay dying, he reached for his stake, to hold it as a small comfort as he passed from this life into oblivion. I handed it to him, watched him die, and then packed up the kit. The moment I touched it, I saw a face in my mind.”

Dorian stepped closer, looking as if he were examining Joss’s face the way one might examine a painting. Joss couldn’t help but wonder what Dorian saw between each brushstroke. Then Dorian stepped back with an apologetic glance. “Your face. I knew that I would find you someday, and that when I did, I had to give you that kit. I had to give you that stake. And then, once I realized that it had been taken from you, I knew that I would have to return it to your hand, to arm you once again with the tool that you will eventually use to take my life.”

Joss shook his head. He reached for his stake, but slid it into place at his back without so much as pointing it in Dorian’s direction. His words were merely a whisper in the night. “But . . . why? You’re a vampire. I’m a Slayer. It makes no sense for you to help me.”

A sadness settled into the corners of Dorian’s mouth then as he looked at Joss. “Because, my young friend. You’re the boy that I’ve been dreaming about. You’re the boy who’s going to end my life. And I am an impatient fool.”

Joss’s heart sank, betraying him.

Even though he trusted Dorian’s words—and oh, how he hated the fact that he did, not knowing whether or not that trust had been put in place by himself or Dorian—he thought about where he was, and the fact that if he screamed, he wasn’t sure anyone would come running to help him. After all, Dorian owned Night Hotel. He was fairly certain that the staff would do just about anything to protect him and his interests. Swallowing hard, he looked into Dorian’s eyes and ran a nervous hand over the back of his neck before speaking. “Dorian, are . . . are you going to kill me?”

A hint of a smile touched the corners of Dorian’s lips. He didn’t seemed surprised to hear Joss’s words, merely amused. As if he’d just listened to a joke that had tickled his funny bone many years ago. When the smile finally faded, he shook his head slowly at Joss, as if his next words were the most important that Joss would ever hear. “No. But I am going to warn you. Em knows who you are now, and knows that you still live. She will not touch you while I am at home in my fair city, but that won’t protect you once you leave. She will stop at nothing to make you suffer. You must be extremely careful, my friend.”

Dorian looked at him for a long, silent moment before turning away. His next words were a whisper. “Now go.”

Joss stood. He crossed the room, moved into the hall, and was all the way to the lobby before he realized that he’d done just what Dorian had told him to.

He felt hollow. He felt alone.