29. Adam
Adam
Iris lies in the crook of my arm, yet me and the Slayer are completely restless.
A few days ago, I thought I had nothing to live for. Hell, a few hours ago, I even got my revenge on the vampire who put me in this situation. I should have felt relieved, maybe ready to move on.
Though there’s no way I could just let myself disappear, not when Iris needs me. Not when the fucking Slayer is having a mental breakdown right now.
The fight with that other slayer has him shaken to the core. I’ve never felt his fear before, not all the times he put himself in precarious situations, even when Warin ripped out our throat. He’s stayed pretty even-keeled.
Last night was different. The Slayer is absolutely terrified.
He’s playing it down for Iris and it has me scared shitless.
I couldn’t just be possessed by an ancient blood-thirsty weirdo who’s mated to the world’s hottest witch. At least that would feel like a severance for everything I’ve had to go through. No, now there’s a new big bad, and the Slayer is actually afraid.
I’ve seen him kill plenty of vampires and not once has he had an inkling of doubt. I’m not sure if it’s because they’re after Iris or if he’s unsure if he can win.
Iris didn’t ask for any of this, and yet, she’s the target.
There’s also a deep sadness for all the other humans who have been used as vessels for the slayers.
The witch didn’t want to say the words, but all of us know what needs to be done.
We need to kill the slayers and make sure they can never be brought back Earth-side again.
I’m not sure what life looks like after that, but if we don’t, there’s a good chance I’m dead and an even worse chance that Iris is going to suffer.
I can’t let that happen. I know what I have to do, and the idea sickens me, but it’s the only solid lead we have.
“We need to find out which families are tied to the spell books. It mentioned generational fortune. We find the families, we know who the slayers are, and we get the books to destroy,” I tell the Slayer, and he sighs.
Iris is passed out and I’m grateful as the Slayer speaks to me.
“This will not be easy. They are vicious killers, and they won’t give up. They could have told my secret to even more slayers. I’ve finally found my mate and they all want what I have. She doesn’t deserve this.”
He’s defeated, not even making fun of me for being annoying or saying that it’s a bad idea.
“So, what are you just going to give up? You sound like a real fucking bitch right now.”
“I know.”
“You need to get it together, Slayer. We’re all in this together, whether we like it or not. If you won’t stand up and do something about it, I’ll figure out a way to take my body back and do it myself.”
We run a hand down our face.
“We’re outnumbered.”
“Then we’ll need to get some bigger numbers,” I suggest and the Slayer groans, hating the idea completely.
“We’ll figure out what we’re looking for and we’ll come back to that idea as a worst-case scenario.”
I’m not too keen on the idea of working with the vampires either, but if that’s what we have to do, then it’s what will need to be done.
Exhaustion floods my system and sleep blessedly takes over. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let these motherfuckers win.
The sun and street noise trickle into my apartment and for one blissfully long moment it’s almost like I’m back to my normal life.
But as I glance down, feeling the weight on my arm that’s Iris, I’m brought to present day. She’s the one good thing that’s come out of this entire ordeal and guilt hits me for even hoping that my life was back to normal.
The Slayer is still retreated, his presence more calm and quiet than it’s ever been.
It’s nice, and equally terrifying all the same.
I’m not sure if it’s his own guilt or his fear that has him hiding away, but I can be the strong one now.
As much as I don’t want to work with him, share a body with him, and deal with this endless stream of bullshit, I don’t have any other choice.
The sooner I accept my fate, the sooner I can figure out what my new normal is, no matter what that looks like. If Iris is part of that new life, well, I consider myself fortunate.
I wasn’t someone who kept close friends, or had serious relationships, and I don’t think I ever realized how badly I was yearning for that connection, either.
It’s nice having someone give a shit about you, and I care just as much about Iris.
These vampire slayers are after us all, and we’ve got to figure something out fast.
Gently, I maneuver my arm, leaving Iris resting on the bed as I grab my laptop. I’m going to blame it on the high stake situation and not having done research in months, but I Google vampire slayer and of course the first hits are all about movies and mainstream media.
Where the hell do we even start?
Iris turns in her sleep, her long twists falling around her face as she scrunches her nose and blinks open her eyes. “Hey.”
“Morning,” I reply, shutting the laptop.
She bunches the blanket in her fists and moves her body so that her back is perched against the headboard. She looks at me inquisitively and I answer her question before she even gets the chance to ask.
“He’s processing? Sleeping? I’m not sure. Coffee?”
She nods and I make two cups out of the small machine I got for free off Marketplace a few years ago. It gargles, making noises that sound like it’s near death, but Iris doesn’t seem to mind as I hand her the cup.
Iris takes a sip, and glances at me over the lid of her mug. “Where do we even start?”
I run a hand through my hair, and it’s odd how different my body feels now that me and the Slayer are one. I’m stronger, I heal faster, but not immortal by any means.
“The Slayer said there are three slayers we need to be on the lookout for. If what I read in that book you showed me is true, it sounds like the magic has to be passed down by bloodlines, but maybe that’s not the case?”
“So, find the bloodline, find the spell books?”
“It was an idea. If we know who we’re looking for, it would be easier to identify the slayers. I’m not sure what good it will do us, but I don’t think we should just play defense either. Letting them come and attack us is too big of a risk.”
The witch on my bed looks defeated and scared and I wish I could make this all better, but the only way I know how is wholly inappropriate at the moment.
“We could pay my family a visit,” I say, even though the thought of going back there makes my stomach churn.
Iris gives me a small smile and shakes her head. “I’m not sure how much help they would be. I mean, based on everything we know, they knew about the family curse, but they couldn’t do anything about it until Oz gave your family the book.”
“I think we’re going to need to go further back into my family tree then,” I tell her, tapping my foot against the ground.
“I’m not even sure my grandmother is alive.
She wasn’t around much when I was little.
But her place isn’t that far from New Orleans, and I’m willing to try anything at this point. ”
“Only if you’re sure,” Iris checks in and I give her a sharp nod. “Let me wash up and we can head out. Uh, how are we getting there?”
“My bike’s out front,” I say and her brows furrow.
“Like a bike bike?” I shake my head and her eyes go wide for a moment, but she seems to accept the fact she’ll be riding on the back of my motorcycle. My car is still at my family’s house, but the bike was what I mainly used to get around the city, another online find for cheap.
The Slayer is worryingly quiet as I get dressed for the day.
Iris comes back out in the same jeans and crop top from yesterday, her wand seemingly hidden from view. “Ready?”
“I guess,” she says, not seeming confident in the slightest. The garage area opens and I hand her a helmet and place mine on, hopping on the bike and nodding for her to get behind.
She’s timid as she gets on the back, her arms wrapping around my waist as she squeezes me for dear life.
“I’ve got you, don’t worry,” I assure her, and she just holds on tighter.
“I swear, if after all this a motorcycle accident is what takes me out, I’m going to be pissed.”
With those last words, we take off and make our way toward the Bayou to see dear old grandma.
Iris doesn’t stop gripping on to me for dear life, not even when I park the bike in front of a rather well-cared for RV home. She has fake flowers planted on the outside of the property and mismatched chairs placed out front, but everything appears well-kempt.
I tap Iris’ thigh twice, indicating that it’s time to get off. Her leg trembles slightly before she removes the helmet and jumps down. It’s barely detectible, but I hear her say a small spell under her breath and I wonder what she cast.
“I haven’t seen her in years, even before I ran away. She hated my dad, which, well, you’ve met him.”
“Yeah, I have,” she says, lightly squeezing my biceps as I lift my hand against the door and knock two times.
I’m not sure what I expect, an old woman with scraggly hair with a half lit-cigarette and a mean attitude maybe, but that’s not what I get at all. This woman is hardly recognizable to me. She looks like a sweet, innocent grandma with her floral button-up shirt and garden hat on her head.
When her gaze meets mine, her eyes immediately drop to my arms, and she clearly identifies the Slayer’s markings.
“Adam?” she questions and I nod, not really knowing what to say. “Truly Adam?”
“Right now, yes,” I reply, and she looks around the RV park, before waving us inside.
The RV is small, but there’s a tiny nook with a table. Iris and I squeeze in on one side while the older woman sits across from us. I can’t help but nervously shake my leg underneath the table.
When I look up at my grandmother, her brown eyes are filled with tears.
“He was never supposed to find the book,” she says sadly, and it has me going ramrod straight. “Are you suffering?”
I lick my lips and I’m shocked that the Slayer says nothing; he has no comment, he just observes.
“It hasn’t been easy.”
“I was glad when I heard you ran away. The day you were born was the day I thought I’d gotten rid of that book. I tried everything. Fire, tossing it in the swamp, hiding it. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get rid of it.”
“But you did, eventually?” Iris chimes in and I’m grateful.
My grandmother swallows. “Maybe we should start from the beginning.”
“Yeah, maybe we should,” I reply, ready to buckle in for some sordid fucked-up family history lesson.