37. Iris
Iris
The sun is setting; the sky is a brilliant painting of cotton candy behind us.
The horizon seems to go on forever in this flat, desolate part of Texas.
My map is in one hand, my wand in the other as the Slayer walks beside me. He’s far more alert this time, a stake in one hand and a shovel in the other as our boots crunch against rock and sand.
“Should just be a few minutes this way,” I whisper as we head north.
I’m not sure that they could possibly set up any sort of cameras or anything in a deserted space like this, but what do I know?
The area is dead quiet, not even a bug chirping, which has my hackles raising even further. The Slayer notices as he whispers quietly to me.
“I don’t sense anyone near, do you?”
“No, no magic at least.”
He grunts in acknowledgment as we continue our walk until we’re standing right on top of the glowing orb on the map.
“Here,” I tell him, pointing at the spot. He thrusts the shovel down and immediately it reverberates against metal. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
With my wand, I stir up the dirt, whipping it away, exposing what looks to be an entrance of a tornado shelter. Panic fills me suddenly as I think back to crawling in that tunnel and how claustrophobic and terrifying that whole experience was.
The Slayer grabs my shoulders, steadying me, his eyes boring into mine. He’s wearing dark black gloves. The odd texture feels foreign against my skin, but it was our solution to him touching the book.
“You will stay here with your wand and your potions. You call out to me immediately if you see anything or are scared. Even a whisper that you’re afraid and I’ll come right back.”
I swallow thickly, hating that I’m being such a wimp.
“I’m coming with you,” I tell him, refusing to be out here alone and letting him go in by himself.
He doesn’t coddle me or tell me what to do, he just gives me a sharp nod.
“Wand and potion ready?”
Both are in my hands as he grips each side of the steel entrance, prying the doors open with his brute strength. Dust flickers out of the shelter, but otherwise it’s quiet.
I don’t trust it, not for a second.
My wand glows at the tip for light and the Slayer grabs my forearm, leading me down the concrete steps.
“Fuck,” he hisses out as we glance around. This isn’t just a tornado shelter, it looks more like a home.
Shelves line the walls, filled with different tomes and journals. The place almost seems like a well-preserved escape in time. There are different trinkets from different eras. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rug we were standing on isn’t a couple hundred years old.
The space is quiet, with a touch of eeriness to it. My gaze clocks on one shelf in particular. It looks like stacks of moleskin journals. I shouldn’t touch, but something deep inside me tells me I should. There’s a deep maroon book capturing my attention.
I swallow thickly as I open it.
1-28-1892
No sign of our brother, no luck finding his lineage either. It’s possible he’s stuck in the void.
Days are getting longer. There’s no hope for anything but destruction.
I grow tired.
The endless cycles are perhaps making me lose my mind. There’s no reason to live and I wonder what my purpose in this cruel world is.
Vampires are becoming far more rare, the hunt more delicate, but it’s not enough to hold my interest, not anymore.
My life is not my own, and there is no hope of stopping this endless suffering.
I just wish for it to end.
Maybe I’m just nosey, but I grab another journal and flip through the pages.
5-3-2003
My brothers won’t give up the hunt and I owe them everything.
But what if I didn’t? What if it could just all end?
“Slayer?”
He grunts in response, but doesn’t stop his perusal of the space.
“I think maybe this one doesn’t want to be—”
I don’t finish my sentence as a loud thud sounds above us, dust sprinkling from the ceiling upon impact.
“Get behind me. Be ready,” he directs and I don’t even hesitate as I do just that.
The pounding footsteps of the opposing slayer are loud. Jesse Georgiev is the name of his vessel. He’s the same slayer we met in the alleyway. His appearance is still imposing and makes me uncomfortable. I grab the back of my Slayer’s shirt and I can feel him stiffen under the fabric.
Jesse doesn’t speak right away, and he shocks me as he strolls around the space, taking a seat in a worn green recliner, flicking on a lamp that has to be from the twenties.
The warm golden glow of the light just makes him look even more intimidating. Yet, there’s something sad and broken about him, too.
“I suppose you’re here for my book,” Jesse says, steepling his fingers, looking at us like our plans are so transparent.
“It didn’t need to be this way,” my Slayer tells him and the other man nods.
“Essam is dead?” he asks, and my Slayer gasps.
That was his name? This is the first time I’ve heard any of them use an actual moniker outside of brother or slayer.
My Slayer tilts his head, confused by what the other man is saying.
“For now, and hopefully forever.”
Jesse scratches his beard, looking contemplative. I think back to his journals. They’re a juxtaposition to how he acted in the alley, but did he really try that hard? Our other encounter was brutal, and near deadly.
“You truly believe you can destroy the books?”
“We think we can, yes,” I chime in and I can tell the Slayer is pissed that I’m talking to his enemy.
“Do you think we will be stuck in the void forever or that it will erase our contract altogether?”
I’m sure the Slayer is going to say something stupid, and knowing concepts of magical deals, my guess was that they were put in the void as a bargaining chip to get them to agree in the first place. So, I tell him what he wants to hear and what I hope is actually true.
“My guess is that they put you in the void as a way to contain you, an in-between from one realm to this one. With no spell book, with no purpose in the mortal lands, you would just no longer exist.”
Jesse takes a deep inhale, pouring what looks to be gin into a glass and drowning it down, then immediately doing the same motion again.
“No one is meant to live this long surrounded by death, loneliness, and hate.”
“She is mine,” my Slayer says sharply.
Jesse laughs, nodding as he takes another sip.
“Yes, brother. She is not mine. I know this. She wants nothing to do with me. I see that now.”
“Then you will help us stop him?”
Jesse shakes his head, taking a deep and heavy sigh. “He is the oldest of all of us. He’s spent the most cycles in this place as well. He won’t give up easily. He’s grown petulant over the years, wondering why he hasn’t been given a prize for his service.”
The Slayer pushes me further behind his back, shielding me from this outsider.
“Don’t worry. I don’t want to take what is yours. In fact, I want to make your life easier.”
I know what’s coming next, but it’s clear that the Slayer doesn’t.
“End it for me. Destroy me and my book,” Jesse says and my Slayer stills.
“What?”
“This life has been too long. I can’t take it anymore.
This place,” he says, waving his hand around the small space.
“It used to be my sanctuary. Over all the years in the mortal lands, I’ve collected my prized possessions.
I’d stay here until the itch to slay rode me too hard that I couldn’t fight it anymore.
When I found you and the other brothers, I had hoped that things would be different, but they weren’t. ”
“You’re just giving up?” my Slayer questions, like he can’t even fathom the thought of just opting out.
Jesse laughs in a sardonic tone. “Thousands of years of suffering and for what? I just wish it to end. Make it painless?”
“This is a trick.”
Jesse sighs, lounging deeper into his chair. “No trick, brother. An act of mercy, please.”
“Do any others know of Iris, or just the brothers?” the Slayer asks, which is a very important question.
“You know he would never allow more competition. No matter what happens, he was going to kill me and Essam, anyway. This is under my terms. I’m ready. I’ve had far too many cycles as it is.”
My Slayer can’t seem to comprehend what he’s asking, but I do.
I got a small glimpse of it in his journals.
He’s been suffering for a long time. The promise of me was the one thing that kept him going, but having seen me with the Slayer, he knows it was all a false dream.
Years of loneliness, death, and sacrifice, he’s done.
I step around the Slayer and he grabs my arm.
“Quick sleep,” I tell him, holding the bag of pink sand.
The Slayer shakes his head, not wanting me to approach, but when I look at Jesse, I can see relief there.
“The man, your vessel. What of him?” I question, it’s the only thing holding me back.
“He’s been gone a very long time,” Jesse admits and my heart stills, because I can’t let that happen to Adam. “Please. Mercy.”
I give him a small smile, blowing the sand into his face, watching as he falls into a peaceful sleep.
“Do what you need to do,” I whisper softly, leaving the slayers in the shelter as I walk out. The hot air hits my face as a tear drips down my cheek.
It was the right thing; it was what he wanted, but it still doesn’t make this any easier. I should be elated that today went well, but it’s far easier to take out an enemy when they’re attacking you.
He won’t feel any pain. I can just hope that maybe I’m right and as soon as we destroy the books that they’ll be completely free of the void and finally reach eternal peace.
I wrap my arms around myself, squeezing myself tight as the Slayer’s presence wraps around me. He’s holding a worn satchel and hands it over to me.
“His book,” he says softly.
“Are you alright?” I ask him. He gives me a firm nod, but he’s hard to read.
There’s one Slayer left and then we’ll be safe, well, as safe as we’ll ever be.
“I can teleport us home,” the Slayer says and I take his hand in mine as he easily transports us back to our apartment.
It’s no surprise he lets Adam take control of the body the moment we get back home, and I’m kind of grateful for it. While the Slayer makes me feel safe and would protect me with his very last breath, Adam is a huge comfort to me.
If there’s anyone who can wash away the sadness of tonight, I think it just might be him.