“Were they? I quit more than thirty years ago. The world has been fine without me.”
“Have youseenthe world lately?”
HE HAS A POINT.
“The world hasn’t been overrun by demons or monsters or eldritch horrors since I quit,” I amended. “Not until you invited this one to my front door. You don’t have to do this. There’s still time to—”
“Zip it,” he said. “You’re here to watch, not to make heartfelt speeches about the power of friendship like some dumpy, middle-aged Care Bear.”
It had been worth a try. Giving the villain a chance to change their mind was part of the script. As was their derisive refusal.
Because it was Alex, I tried one more time. “You’re smarter than this. You know what happens to people who conjure up ancient deities of death and destruction. The sucker who opens the way always ends up being the first meal for whatever monstrosity or devil or demonic wiener dog shows up.”
“Demonic wiener dog?” His forehead wrinkled, and then he laughed. For a moment, he sounded like the Alex I remembered. “The clerk at the city pound. He was trying to conjure hellhounds.”
“He kind of did.” I shook my head at the memory. “The hellhound just possessed the wrong dog. And then that little, yippy dachshund from hell burned and ate the guy. But hey, maybe your buddy Ringo won’t do that. Maybe he’ll just drive you mad and keep you as a pet. Or rip out your soul and wear it as a hat for ten thousand years. Or pluck your memories and snack on them like popcorn.”
“Typical Jenny.” He entered the gifts side of the shop and spun a display of personalized glittering keychains. “Did it ever cross your mind that I might know what I’m doing? No, of course not. You never trusted us. It was always the Jenny Winter show. You had to be the strongest and smartest, the only one who knows what’s best for everyone.”
“You’ve been dealing drugs to children, Alex. Mutating and controlling them.”
“Shut up.” His hate hit me like a train. He struck the display, sending glittering keychains flying. The rack crashed to the floor. “You don’t get to judge me. You shot a sixteen-year-old girl with your bow, then you stabbed her through the heart with that sword.”
Old friends were like family. They knew precisely how to hurt you. “The Guardians Council ordered me to kill a rogue Hunter.”
“Hope worshipped you,” Alex said bitterly. “Just like the rest of us did in the beginning. Hope dreamed of being just like the great Jenny Winter.”
Hope was supposed to have been my replacement. At twenty-three years old, after ten years as a Hunter, I was past my expected expiration date. The Council had a Hunter on six of the seven continents, and I was the oldest by a good three years. We all assumed it was only a matter of time before some machete-wielding gremlin or vengeful nereid ended my winning streak.
Along with Hope’s mentor, a middle-aged woman named Louise with a strong Fargo accent, I acted as a combination mentor/babysitter until she was ready for solo hunts. The Slay Team had even been involved with her early missions. She was smart and tough andfun. I liked her.
But she was too eager and too angry. She’d begun going on unsanctioned hunts, tracking and killing at least six people: criminals who’d avoided the police or gotten off on technicalities. When the Council tried to rein her in, she rebelled against them. She put Louise in the hospital with a concussion and a cracked sternum.
They sent me to stop her. I should have said no.
It had taken me five weeks to find her. Artemis could have told me where she was, but the goddess refused to get involved.
IWEPT FOR YOU BOTH, BUTICOULDN’T ABANDON HER ANY MORE THANICOULD ABANDON YOU.
Unspoken between us was my choice to abandon Artemis.
ALL CHILDREN BREAK FROM THEIR PARENTS. YOU CAME BACK TO ME WHEN YOU WERE READY.
There was no condemnation, no passive-aggressive guilt tripping. Not this time, at least. Only the goddess’s gladness at my return.
“Don’t say it wasn’t Hope’s place to be judge and executioner,” Alex continued. “That’s exactly what Hunters are. That’s exactly what you and the Council were to her.”
“I know.” My stomach hurt from guilt and regret I’d carried for thirty-three years. “They ordered me to kill my sister in Artemis, and I did. I should have tried harder to talk to her, to help her. It’s why I left, Alex. You know that. It’s why I ran away from everything I was.”
“Did you really?” he snapped. “Because here you are again, showing up with your sword and bow, ready to kill me just like you killed her.”
Madness limned his words. How much of that madness was from his connection with R’gngyk and how much came from his own jealousy and bitterness and resentment?
“I don’t want to kill you, Alex.”
His tentacle coiled around my wrist. I instinctively stepped into the hold, bringing my other fist up to strike.
My hand stopped halfway to his sternum. Icy pain electrified the nerves of my arm.
