Page 25 of Hot for Slayer
“With a politely worded refusal to rejoin?”
“With their heads cut off.” Another shrug. “I didn’tchooseto become a slayer. I was the youngest son of poor parents, and they sold me off to the Guild to feed my older siblings. Nothing was explained to me—I was molded and plied and ordered to slaughter what was described to me as a horde of beasts made in the devil’s image that threatened the very survival of humankind. But four centuries ago ... things changed, and I no longer wanted any part of that. I left. The Guild tried to punish me, but after a while they realized that no slayer was powerful enough to take me, and they quit. There aren’t too many vampires left, and all I want is to mind my business. I may be a loose end for them, but I’m a harmless one.”
Four centuries ago. The 1600s.
When the masquerade ball happened.
I can’t wrap my head around it. “So, we talked about the meaning of life or some shit at a dance, and you had fun, and you changed your mind about killing vampires because ...” I swallow. “Because you suddenly found me cute or something?”
“I didn’t suddenly find youanything. I always knew you were ... cute.” His lips curl as though it’s the first time he’s used the word in all his eons, and it tastes too saccharine in his mouth. “You’ve never not been ... that, to me. And no. That’s not the reason.”
“Then what—”
“I spent years killing your kind. Then, at the ball, I exchanged a few words with you. And for the first time since I was turned into a slayer, I realized that you were not as soulless as I had been taught. You were rational. You had feelings. You thought of more than just your own desires.” He crosses his arms, unapologetic. “So I decided to do my own research.”
“Which would be . . . ?”
“You seemed wise. And interesting. But at the start, I didn’t mean to spare you. I just wanted to observe you. To learn more.”
“And?”
“I observed. Always from afar. And there was a lot of you to study. I learned that you didn’t kill indiscriminately. That you helped weak people carry heavy bags. That you shared your wealth and defended innocents and offered to walk your neighbor’s dog when she broke her hip.”
Oh my God. He’s talking about Mrs. Cole and Pumpkin, in the 1930s. “He was a very cute dog,” I say, numb.
Lazlo is so unreadable, I cannot tell whether he shares my opinion of Pomeranians. “I watched you, and your simple, mundane acts of kindness. They were small, but they made all the difference for those who received them.” He pauses for a moment as if waiting for me to protest, to roll my eyes, to scream at him for spying on me for centuries. But I have nothing to yell about, and he continues, “I had been raised to ... I was told that vampires were a detriment to this world. But it was obvious that you made others’ lives easier. And looking at you, I couldn’t help but think that the world was better. Becauseyouwere in it.”
“But you still tried to ...”Kill me,I want to say. Because he did. For centuries. Over and over.
“After I formed my opinion of you, I focused on the rest of your bloodline. Two other women who, like I said, don’t hurt innocents. I decided to spare them, too. But after that ...” For the first time, I sense some hesitation. As though what comes next, he’s not too comfortable with. Something harder to admit. “I missed you. Watching you. Observing you. I just ... liked you. It was a new feeling for me, wanting to knowsomeone. Wanting to be known by them as I truly am. So I tried to do that.”
“You tried to . . . what?”
“To talk to you. To explain that I no longer wished to kill you.”
“When?”
“In Italy. Then in Derbyshire, during the nineteenth century. In Turkey, a few years later. Thailand and Indonesia. A few more times, too.”
I remember. Or, more accurately: I remember him coming after me in all those places. Of course, I thought that it was part of a slayer’s hunt. Not that he was trying to ... to what? Get to know me better? “You stabbed me. As recently as Berlin.”
His eyebrow lifts. “And you impaled me in Colombia. Aethelthryth, for people like us, that’s the equivalent of pinching. And after a while, hunting you became the only way to be close to you. I wanted to spend time with you, but I could only do it as the slayer tasked with bringing an end to your bloodline.” He looks out the window. “I gave myself permission to show myself to you once a decade. And the remaining time, I just stuck around. Made sure you were okay. Not that you haven’t proven over and over that you can take care of yourself, but ...” He shrugs again, and for the first time since becoming a vampire, I understand something very important.
I may notneedto breathe, but I still need tobe ableto breathe. And right now, I just can’t.
“Basically, you had a crush on me,” I summarize, my voice raspy.
After several heartbeats, he nods. “I suppose so. It wasn’t ... sexual. Not at the start. But then ...” He bites the inside of his cheek, bashful. “I liked you a lot. As a person. Asa woman. You were beautiful. And whenever we were close, despite the fact that violence was involved, you felt ... good.” I wonder if I’m imagining it, the slight flush dusting his cheeks. “I don’t know you well, Aethelthryth, but I know you better than you do me. And yesterday morning, even after I woke up and couldn’t remember anything, everything I felt for you was just ... there. And it still is.”
It still is.
He can’t possibly have said— No.
Because: “You’re a vampire slayer.”
“In retirement.”
“So, what . . . what would you like to do? Now that . . . What would you . . . ?”
