Slayers (13 page)

Read Slayers Online

Authors: C. J. Hill

BOOK: Slayers
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“Each one of those lights represents a life. A mom tucking her kids in. A dad up doing the dishes. You’ve seen D.C. at night. It’s a blanket of lights for as far as you can see. More than half a million lives. Now imagine those lights extinguished.”
She couldn’t. It seemed impossible.
“When the dragons roar, they put out an electromagnetic pulse,” he said. “Think of EMP as a radio wave that destroys anything nearby that runs on electricity. One blast from a dragon, and lights, phones, televisions, cars, computers—they’re all ruined. Trucks won’t be able to get groceries to stores. The water supply will be cut off because water pumps have electric parts. So imagine the city plunged into darkness, crippled, and with dragons swooping through the streets. The people won’t stand a chance. How many cities will Overdrake have to destroy before the government buckles and surrenders to him?”
Tori stared out at the lights. “You said that enough bullets might kill a dragon. The one thing I know about D.C. is that it’s well armed.”
Jesse nodded even though she knew he wasn’t conceding the point. “Let’s say a few dozen bullets delivered at the same time to the heart will kill a dragon. Let’s say Overdrake hasn’t thought about that fact and hasn’t given the dragon any bulletproof reinforcements on its underbelly. How many people will die before the dragon does? A hundred? A thousand?”
He was trying to guilt her into saying she would stay and train even if it meant risking her life and taking a few fireballs in the face and who knew what else—after all, tonight was only the beginning for her. “A dragon only needs to eat one person to feed on,” she said. “Why would it kill a thousand?”
“Because that’s what Overdrake wants. He wants bloodshed and confusion. He wants to threaten the leaders of the country. And he’ll use his mind link with the dragons to get what he wants.”
Tori looked at the forest and didn’t answer.
Jesse pressed on. “But what if the dragon only did kill one person at a time? Would you walk away from the fight then? What if that one person was your father? He works in the capital, doesn’t he?”
She let go of Jesse’s hand and groaned, exasperated.
“If someone could help your father, but didn’t, what would you think of that person?”
She still didn’t answer. It was all too much. She didn’t want to think about her father in danger, didn’t want to admit Jesse was right.
“I know it feels overwhelming right now. We were all shocked when we first found out.” He gestured toward the lights. “But those people need us. They’re all somebody’s father, mother—somebody’s child.”
Off in the distance, the city lights twinkled like a small constellation that had fallen to earth. Thousands of people must live there, and it was only a small town. “We should let the military know about the dragons—” she began, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Telling people about our talents only puts us at risk. All it would take is one informant to sell us out. If Overdrake finds us, he’ll kill us, and then …” Jesse gazed back at the lights again.
“I could tell my father,” Tori said. “He wouldn’t do anything to put the Slayers at risk—not when I’m part of the group.”
“Exactly.” Jesse fixed her with a gaze. “Your father wouldn’t put
you
at risk, which is why you can’t tell him any of this.” Jesse leaned back, and then with a resentment she hadn’t expected, told her the story about Ryker Davis, the boy whose parents had fled instead of letting their son be trained. “Dr. B keeps saying that one day Ryker will find us, but he hasn’t shown up yet.” Jesse shook his head as though to dismiss the subject. “None of our parents would let us fight dragons. They wouldn’t believe it’s the only way to defeat Overdrake. But right
now it is.” Jesse’s dark eyes didn’t waver from her face. “We need you, Tori.”
She grasped the rock ledge so hard that tiny chunks of it crushed in her hand like sand. Her life wasn’t supposed to be this way. She signed up for dragon camp, not saving the country. Still, it would be hard to walk away from all of this now. “Okay,” she said, “but no more fireballs in my face.”
“Practice only makes perfect, if it’s the right kind of practice. Fire is involved when fighting dragons. If you get burned in the face it means you weren’t paying attention … or sometimes that your team members weren’t paying attention.”
She tilted her chin down and gave him a disparaging grunt.
“It’s not that big a deal. Everyone has been burned at one time or another.” He stopped, correcting himself. “Well, everyone but Dirk. He says he can sense fireballs coming, but I think he’s just lucky. And fast. It’s the main reason Dr. B put him in charge of the A-team. You want a captain who’s not going to be killed by the first fire blast.”
Tori blinked at Jesse. “You’re not making me feel better about being a Slayer.”
“The scars aren’t that bad.” He pointed to his brow. “Look, I have one right here.”
She leaned closer. A faint white line crossed his forehead above one eyebrow. “It’s not that bad because you’re a guy. It only makes you look tough. It wouldn’t have the same effect on me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying your looks are more important than saving lives?”
Of course she wasn’t. Because that sounded shallow. “Couldn’t we wear welders’ masks or something while we practice?”
“We wore helmets the first year,” he said. “They just got in the way.” He picked up her hand and held it up for her to see. “Now that you’ve been exposed to the simulator, your skin will be extraresilient.
Your hair will, too—eventually. Once the old growth is gone.” He tilted his head, examining her. “I’m sure you’ll look fine with short hair until then.”
She pulled her hand away from him. She didn’t feel comforted.
“You need to know about a few other things,” he said. “Protecting your powers means taking care of your body. You can’t do drugs. Not the illegal kind, but also not alcohol or tobacco. It interferes with the part of your brain that receives and implements the dragon’s signal.”
“Not an issue,” Tori said. She’d never felt the urge, not even for a moment. Could her body have known all along what she was supposed to do?
“If you take enough drugs, or anything that’s strong enough to make you pass out, you’ll destroy the neuropathways in your brain that access your powers. They’ll be gone, permanently.” Jesse’s voice dropped. “That’s why Langston Overdrake drugged Dr. B’s brother. He was trying to make Nathan lose his powers, but Overdrake gave Nathan too much and killed him.”
The words settled in Tori’s stomach like rocks. Nathan had been so young. He hadn’t even known about the dragons.
Jesse took a thin phone out of his pocket and handed it to Tori. “Now that you’re part of us, you’ll need this. It’s a satellite phone. Always keep it with you. That way your team can get ahold of you.”
She fingered the sleek, black phone, flipped it open, and looked at the screen. It was expensive—just like the motorcycles and no doubt many of the other camp extras. “How is Dr. B financing all this? Who’s giving him his funding?”
“He has a benefactor who helps out. Dr. B won’t tell us anything about him except that his name is Sam. Or her name is Sam. He’s vague about that point, too.”
“Sam,” Tori repeated with dissatisfaction. “That’s it? And it doesn’t bother you that you don’t know more?”
“Dr. B is big on secrecy. The Slayers aren’t listed anywhere on camp records. We’re not allowed to tell one another where we live or to contact one another outside of camp unless it’s an emergency. We won’t tell you our real last names, and we’ll do our best to forget yours.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “It won’t work, what with your father being Senator Hampton. Anyway, if your dad makes his bid for a presidential run, your picture will be splashed all over the media.”
“He hasn’t decided whether to try for a nomination yet,” Tori said out of habit. It was the family’s stock answer whenever anybody brought up the subject, even though her father was already interviewing staff for his campaign.
Jesse ignored her assertion. “Your government connection made us a little nervous at first. We were afraid the CIA had learned something about us and sent you to see what we were doing.”
“Oh,” she said, seeing that conversation in the cafeteria in a new light.
“The secrecy is for the group’s protection,” Jesse said. “If Overdrake caught one of us, it’s better if we can’t tell him much about anybody else.”
She barely heard the last part of Jesse’s explanation. Her mind was stuck on the
If Overdrake caught her
thought. Jesse was basically implying that she might be stalked, kidnapped, and tortured for information.
This was
so
not getting easier to handle.
“I guess it goes without saying,” Jesse went on, “that you’ll have to come back here every summer for training. You’ll also need to go to college in the D.C. area so you’re close by when the attack happens.”
Tori gripped the phone, somehow unable to put it into her pocket. Putting it into her pocket meant she accepted all these rules. “I’ve been taking French since seventh grade so I could do a study abroad program there. You’re saying I’ll never be able to go?”
“Sure you can go. Right after we kill the dragons. I’ll drive you to the airport myself if I’m still alive.”
If he was still alive. He said it so casually, like he’d already resigned himself to the possibility he might not survive. It made her heart squeeze in her chest. What chances did any of them have? Jesse wasn’t just asking her to stay, he was asking her to lay down her life.
Tori’s throat felt tight. All of her choices, her freedom, was draining through her fingers.
Down below them, the city lights continued to glow steadily against the darkness. Each light represented a life. A happy, oblivious life that had no idea of the sacrifices she was being asked to make.
She didn’t know if she could do it.
B
rant heard the beeping of his cell phone and put his other call on hold. He knew Ethington wouldn’t like the interruption—considered himself too important to wait for anyone—but that was too bad. Brant had been expecting this text, and besides, it wouldn’t hurt to remind Ethington that he was a supplier, not the buyer. Brant paid him well enough, so he could also make him wait. News from Dragon Camp took precedence, especially now that the eggs were so close to hatching. Brant would have put the devil himself on hold in order for an update on what his enemies were doing.
Brant, after all, was a careful man. His father had told him time and again never to underestimate the power of something that could kill you. His father had been referring to the dragons, but the advice applied to other aspects of life, too.
The Slayers, for example. They were an unexpected complication. Granted, they were only a group of teenagers with a few powers and a misguided sense of justice, but they were still dangerous. He wasn’t about to forget that.
Brant flipped open his cell phone and scanned the message. No wonder the text had been late. There was important news. Leo and Danielle hadn’t come back this year. Good. Any reduction in their forces was encouraging. Less bloodshed that way.
His gaze involuntarily went to the picture of his son and daughter that sat on his bookshelf. Brant didn’t want unnecessary death. Especially not for teenagers, mere children, really. That was the difference between him and these knights-in-training; he would prefer not to hurt them, but they had no qualms about destroying him or the dragons.
Their whole purpose was to eradicate the masterpieces of the animal kingdom. Ironic. In their free time, they were probably all petitioning to save the spotted cheetah and humpback whale. But not the dragon. Humankind had always hated dragons because they couldn’t beat them. People pitied only what they could easily slaughter. Perhaps that was why he pitied the kids at Dragon Camp. Their lives were in his hands, and they didn’t even know it.
Brant stared at the picture of his children again, at the smiles that trusted him. He had promised he wouldn’t hurt any of the Slayers if he didn’t have to, and he was trying to keep that promise. At least for now. Promises were like laws; smart men knew when to break both.
Killing the Slayers now however, would be bad for a lot of reasons. He wouldn’t want that sort of thing traced back to him. Not before the dragons were hatched and ready for their work. After that—well, then he would be at war with the government, and death was an unfortunate side effect of any revolution. Change always had a price tag. But once he took over, the people would realize he was a better ruler than the disorganized, self-interested mob that called themselves Congress—men who didn’t know anything, being led by a president who knew even less.
Brant still remembered watching the U.S. president on television when he was a boy. Everywhere the U.S. president went—Europe, the Middle East—the media clamored around him. Cameras in hand, they waited for whatever words this leader would bestow on them, like eager seagulls waiting for falling food scraps.
“When will he come to St. Helena,” Brant had asked his father, “so that he can meet with you?”
“He won’t come here,” his father answered, barely hiding his scorn. “The United States’ presidents don’t consider us important enough to visit. He probably couldn’t find St. Helena on a map of the Atlantic.”
The indignity of that slashed into Brant’s pride, even back then. “You’re more powerful than he is,” Brant said. “You can control dragons. You could destroy entire cities if you wanted.”
“Yes,” his father said. “But nobody knows that.”
That had been Brant’s first lesson on power: It was impossible to wield power unless people knew you could destroy them. If leaders didn’t have that knowledge, they never respected you.
That would change soon enough. Brant wasn’t going to waste his power like so many of his ancestors had done. They should have ruled nations instead of hiding away on an island. But he would set that right. And Overdrake’s children would finally have the legacy they deserved.
Brant scrolled down and read the rest of the message. Rosa and Bess had been sent to see if they could persuade Leo and Danielle to return to camp. This proved that not only were the Slayers woefully inexperienced, they were naive, as well. They should have realized as soon as Leo and Danielle didn’t reenroll for camp that not only had their powers vanished, but their memories had fled, too. Surely Dr. B had discovered that piece of information in his studies. By some odd twist of the brain, when the neural pathway to a Slayer’s
powers withered, his mind twisted his memory of the powers, making excuses for what he could no longer understand.
Dr. B must have learned this; he just didn’t want to accept it.
Brant scrolled down, reading the rest of the text, and then his thumb froze on the phone. So another Slayer had finally made her way to the camp. Victoria Hampton. No one knew her power yet. She seemed reluctant to be involved at all. He studied the snapshot his contact had forwarded to him. She was beautiful, the senator’s daughter.
Brant leaned back in his chair and tapped his thumb against the phone. He knew Senator Hampton. The Republicans hoped he’d make a presidential bid next election.
Dr. B had always given the Slayers strict instructions not to tell anyone about their powers—not even their parents. As far as Brant knew, the children had kept this confidence. He’d never heard any whispers of rumors about dragon attacks from any of his sources in the government. But would Dr. B alter his tactics if he had the ear of such a powerful senator?
This could change everything.
Brant picked up his phone and texted a message back to his source. He ended it with two words. “Watch her.”

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