Lyri
02-09-2006, 06:07 PM
LONDON, AUGUST 1969
Richard Carrington knocked on the stained oak door and waited.
“Come in,” boomed an authoritive voice.
Richard opened the door and allowed the young girl that accompanied him to enter first, closing the door behind them.
“Ah, Richard, Miss Littleton. Please, sit down,” Harold Travers said, glancing up from his writing.
Richard held her chair, allowing Grace Littleton to sit down before he took his own seat.
Neither of the guests said anything as Travers ignored them and continued to write.
After five minutes, past in silence, Travers capped his pen and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, studying them both.
Grave shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, sneaking a look at Richard out of the corner of her eye.
“How are you, Miss Littleton?” Travers asked finally.
“Oh, fine. Thank you, sir.” Grace’s voice shook with nerves.
“How is your training?”
“My…?”
Richard interrupted. “Grace is excelling in both demonology, and weapons training, as you know, Mr. Travers. She is one of the most capable girls I have seen in quite some time.”
“Yes, Richard. I’m sure she is.” Travers rook off his glasses and polished them, looking at Grace again. “I understand you have a birthday coming up, Miss Littleton.”
“Yes, sir.” Grace nodded. “I turn nineteen next week.”
Travers seemed to think the sentence over before continuing.
“Miss Littleton, you do realize that a girl your age has little hopes of being Chosen?”
Graces eye brows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”
“In all of my time working for the Council, I have only come across one Slayer who was Called after her eighteenth birthday. She survived less than seven months.”
“I would make a good Slayer, sir,” the Potential said, leaning forward in her chair. “I only need a chance to prove it.”
“Grace,” Travers dropped all pretence of formality. “You have been training as a Slayer-in Waiting for almost ten years, and in that time six Slayers have been Chosen and you have been overlooked every time. It seems obvious to me that the Powers that Be do not think your destiny is to be the Slayer.”
“But I have been preparing to become the Slayer for more than half my life.” Grace turned to her Watcher, pleading. “Richard, please don’t let them take this away from me.”
“I’m sorry, Grace. There isn’t anything I can do,” Richard told her, his eyes filled with sympathy for his charge.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Grace turned back to the head of the Watchers Council.
“What am I supposed to do now? I can’t lead a normal life.”
“We understand that, Miss Littleton,” Travers said slowly, formality back in place. “This is why we are giving you the opportunity of joining us.”
“Excuse me?”
Richard gawped. “Us? You want her to be…a Watcher?”
“Given her situation and that she has had no experience living in the outside world, not to mention the fact that she has no family of which to speak, it seems unwise to just toss her out onto the streets.”
Richard stammered. “Well…well, yes, I would agree with that.”
“It is the Council’s decision to bring Miss Littleton into the fold,” Travers told them. “That way, she can use what she has learnt to guide and train future Potentials. Perhaps even a future Slayer.”
“What would I have to do?” Grace asked.
“Mr. Carrington would remain in place as your teacher and guide. Only, instead of teaching you in the ways of the Slayer, he will be tutoring you as a Watcher.” Travers studied the girl. “Do you accept?”
Grace looked at her Watcher, who returned her gaze without a word before she looked into the steel grey eyes of Harold Travers.
“I accept.”
------------
Twenty-four years later
March, 1993
Closing the book in front of her, Grace Littleton ran her hands over the red leather cover and sighed with satisfaction.
After seven months, she had finally finished translating the journals of the last Chinese Slayer into English.
The girl, Xin Rong, had served at the turn of the century, but her journals had only been recovered a year ago, having been misplaced during the Boxer Rebellion.
Grace had excelled in languages during her training at the Watcher’s Academy and she had been placed in the linguistics department once she had graduated.
It was Grace’s job to translate all journals into English, the chosen language of the Council. Grace had also translated demonic texts and prophecies, including the Pergamum Codex, which was one of her greatest achievements.
Of course, like most Watchers, she had been assigned to Watch over Potential Slayers during her twenty years as a qualified Watcher, but of the three girls under her care, none had been Chosen to become the Slayer.
Two of the girls had committed suicide to avoid being Chosen, and one had joined the Council, once she realized she would never be Called.
Lydia Martin now worked as Grace’s assistant as she continued her studies.
But the fact that she had never Watched the Slayer never bothered Grace. She was happy to work on her books, figuring out translations non one else could.
Which was why she was so shocked when the head of the Council knocked on the door of her office late one afternoon.
Looking up, Grace removed her glasses as Mr. Travers entered without waiting to be invited.
“Quinten,” Grace said in greeting. “What can I do for you?”
Quinten Travers too a seat across from her desk and glanced at Lydia, working in a corner.
“Miss Martin, would you excuse us, please?”
Lydia looked from one Watcher to the other before rising from her chair. “of course.”
She left the room without another word.
“What’s the matter Quinten.” Grace asked, a small smile on her lips. “You’re acting very mysterious.”
“The Slayer is dead,” Quinten said, getting right to the point. “It happened last night. I have yet to get al of the details, or speak to her Watcher directly, but we have confirmation.”
Grace nodded her head slowly, smile gone. “I’m sorry. She didn’t last very long. I assume the new girl has been identified?” Quinten nodded. “All of the girls on the list are fine candidates.”
“She isn’t on the list.”
Grace’s eyes grew wide with shock.
“She isn’t on the list? Quinten, are you sure? It has been years since we’ve had an unknown girl receive the Calling.”
“Yes, Grace, I know. I believe the last girl was sometime in the sixties.”
Grace remembered the girl well.
The Russian Slayer was the last girl to be Called whilst Grace was still in training.
she had cried herself to sleep the night Richard had told her.
“Has she been located?”
Quinten nodded. “Yes, she is in New Zealand. She has no idea about any of this.”
“Of course not,” Grace realized. “Who is being sent to her?”
“That is the reason I came to see you, Grace.” Quinten shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The Council has decided that it should be you who should be sent as her Watcher.”
Grace gasped. “Me? But I have never Watched an active girl. Surly there is someone better suited than I? Giles, perhaps?”
“Rupert has just been sent on assignment to Ireland. He won’t be available for several months.” Quinten smiled at Grace. “It is the Council’s decision that you should Watch this girl.”
Grace nodded. “Of course, if that is what the Council wishes.”
“You’re flight leaves in two days. Council Operatives will meet you at the airport and take you to the girl. They will also have a place for you to stay, and anything else you might need, you may ask them.”
Again, Grace nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Quinten stood up. “I know things will work out, Grace. We have faith in you.”
“Thank you, Quinten.”
Grace watched as he left the room.
-------------
Dragging her suitcase behind her, Grace surveyed the crowded airport, trying to spot the Operatives the Council said would be waiting for her.
Not yet accustomed to the weather of New Zealand, Grace paused to remove her jacket of her trouser suit, cursing herself for wearing the outfit in the first place. Resuming her search, she finally spotted two men standing near the entrance of the terminal. She was sure she recognized one of the men, so she made her way over and stood before them.
No one said anything as they studied each other, trying to decide if they had found the person they were looking for.
“Miss Littleton?” one of the men asked in a heavy New Zealand accent.
Grace nodded. “Yes, I am Grace Littleton.”
The other man nodded. “Miss Littleton, I am John Fairchild, and this is my associate, Scott Charles. We’ve been sent to help you settle in.”
Grace shook hands with both men, and smiled at Fairchild. “I think we met at a conference a few years back.”
Fairchild nodded. “That’s right. Of course.”
Grace allowed Charles to take her suitcase from her, which he lifted and carried with ease, while she had struggled under the weight.
Grace frowned at the back of his head as they began walking, remembering a time in her life when she had the hopes of becoming stronger and more powerful then any mortal creature. But she shook her head. That time had past, she had a new destiny now.
Looking up at the men, the Watcher started her questions.
“Have you identified the girl?”
Charles nodded. “Yes, madam. Her name is Jenna Robinson. She’s sixteen years old.”
“Have you approached her? Told her of her Calling?”
Fairchild answered this time. “No, Miss Littleton. We thought it best to wait for your arrival.”
“Yes, of course,” she conceded. “And please, call me Grace.”
“As you wish.”
The three of them reached a car and Fairchild held open the passenger side door for her, as Charles put the case into the boot, before climbing into the back seat.
Fairchild started the car and pulled out of the airport car park. “We’ve found you a house not far from the girl’s family home. Paid for by the Council, so there will be no rent or mortgage. I’ll take you there so that you can settle in.”
“No,” Grace said, a little too quickly. “Take me to the girl. She must now about her destiny.”
“But, Grace,” Charles said from the back seat. “You’ve had a long trip. You must be exhausted. Surely a few hours rest won’t do any harm?”
Grace twisted in her seat to look at the Operative. “It is imperative that we get the Slayer into training as quickly as possible, Mr. Charles. Everyday Jenna spends oblivious to her Calling is another day for the demons and the vampires to have free reign of this city. A city she has been Chosen to protect. It will take us some time before Jenna is able to face the darkness alone, so her training must start as soon as possible.”
Charles nodded but said nothing more.
Fairchild breathed a heavy sigh. “It has been a long time since we’ve had a Slayer who wasn’t a Potential.”
“I know,” Grace agreed. “Through my research I’ve come to realize that those in training before their Calling have usually reigned longer than those who were not. There are exceptions, of course, but I just hope that this girl does not live up to my findings.” She watched as Fairchild made another turn. “Do you know where the girl is?”
He nodded, hands gripping the wheel. “She works a part time job serving tables at a local beach side restaurant.”
Grace was appalled. “She has job? That will never do.”
Charles leaned forward between the two front seats. “She also goes to school and lives with her parents and baby brother.”
Fairchild snorted. “This is why I think only the girls in training should be able to become the Slayer. If we know who they are, we can get them away from their families before they even get the Calling.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “We don’t know how the Choosing works, John, and I doubt we ever will. Whoever Chose this girl, be it the Powers that Be, or some other presence we are as yet unaware of, they Chose her for a reason and it is my job to train her to accept that responsibility.”
The two Operatives nodded and they continued the rest of the way in silence.
Jenna Robinson lifted the pile of dirty dishes off the table that the young couple had just vacated. Another group of people had occupied the table before she had even finished wiping it down.
“Can we get some menus?” one of the men said, not even sparing her a glance.
“Just one minute, please,” Jenna responded as she hurried away.
Dropping the dishes onto the counter with a clatter, she took a few seconds to run her fingers through her long black hair.
“Table five needs clearing,” Max, her boss, ordered.
“I haven’t had my break yet, Max,” she said quietly.
“Clear table five and I’ll consider it,” he spat.
Jenna had to fight back the tears as she handed out the menus and rushed to clear table five. She had been working for almost six hours without a single break. She knew she should be exhausted, yet she wasn’t. But there was no way she was going to tell that to Max. Because she was the youngest person on staff, her boss thought he could treat her however he wanted. But Jenna knew it had to stop.
Gathering the dirty plates, she turned and walked determinedly to the kitchen, intent on demanding her break.
Two steps from the kitchen door, a woman called her name. Jenna turned to face her. “Yeah? Who are you?”
“My name is Grace Littleton. I’m your Watcher.”
Jenna frowned. “What’s a Watcher? And why do I need one?”
The British woman smiled. “My dear, you are the Chosen One.”
“Chosen One? Chosen what? What does that even mean?”
“It means if you want to follow your destiny, you need to come with me.”
“My destiny. As the Chosen One,” Jenna repeated. “Are you crazy, lady?”
The woman in front of her just smiled. “You are the Slayer. If you want to find out what that means, then follow me.” Grace walked out of the restaurant.
Jenna watched her retreating back, chewing on her lower lip.
“Why are you standing there looking like a fool?” Max said, coming up behind her. “Go give table nine their coffees.” She handed him the dishes in her hands. “Jenna, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Max, I quit.” Untying her apron, she dropped it onto the floor and ran out of the restaurant. “Hey, Miss Littleton,” she called, spotting the woman standing beside a parked car with two men. She ran up to them.
“I wanna know what it means.”
--------------
Jenna ran her hands through her hair, looking up at Grace Littleton, who stood in front of her.
“Say that again?”
Miss Littleton sighed. “I do not know what you are finding so difficult to understand.”
Jenna barked out a laugh. “Maybe it’s the part where some middle-aged British woman comes to my work and tells me that I’m some Chosen One, a girl who’s supposed to fight vampires. I mean vampires? It sounds like something from a novel.”
Miss Littleton sat down beside the teenager on the sofa. “I don’t know how to explain it any better, Jenna. What I have told you is the truth, not a story. I’m not insane. I am a Watcher, who works for the Watchers' Council of Great Britain. A Council who trains and guides the Slayer and girls-in-waiting to take over as the Slayer.”
Jenna’s head snapped up from where she was staring at the floor. “Wait, training to take over? I took someone else’s job? What happened to her?”
Grace seemed to pale a little. "She was killed…in the line of duty. Protecting the innocent.”
“She died?” Jenna spat. “For real?”
“Jenna, the Slayer is THE Slayer, until the day she dies. There is never more then one Slayer at any time.” Grace paused. “And at this very moment, you are the Slayer.”
“Can I pass?”
“There is no pass, Jenna. If you do not accept your destiny as the Chosen One, then the world will be without a protector, until you live out your normal life and die. That could take decades.”
Jenna felt her eyes well up. “I can’t escape this, can I?” She saw the Watcher shake her head. “What would happen if I did ignore it?”
Grace took a deep breath. “I can’t really tell you that, because I honestly don’t know. It could be that the darkness of this world will realized there is no Slayer and take advantage of that fact. Or, they may find out that you are denying your destiny and hunt you down. If that happens, you will have two choices.”
“Which are?”
“You can stand back, and allow them to kill you, or you can fight back and accept that you are the Slayer.” Miss Littleton’s lips turned up in small smile. “But you can avoid all of that by becoming the Slayer now, and not later.
Slowly, Jenna nodded her head.
----------------
“No, Jenna. Damn it!”
Dropping her stance, the Slayer’s Watcher put her hands to her head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Littleton. I’m trying as hard as I can.”
“Then you must try harder!” Grace yelled. “Out in the field, facing an enemy, you will not be given any reprieve. A move like that and your career will be over before it has even begun.”
Jenna collapsed to the floor. “Is it really my fault I can’t do it? My body just won’t bend that way. It doesn’t feel natural.”
“Then make it natural,” Grace said sternly. “This should be one of the best defence positions that you will have. This should be instinct to the Slayer.”
“But every Slayer is different!” Jenna almost screamed. “In the past weeks, if you have taught me anything it is that every Slayer is different. This move might have worked for the Slayer who came before me or whatever, but it does not work for me.”
Grace slid to the floor beside her charge. “But it worked for me.”
“What?”
Grace sighed loudly. “A little over thirty years ago, my Watcher came to me and told I had the potential to become the Chosen One. So, I went into training. My Watcher convinced my parents to allow him to take me to boarding school, which was actually just a way for him to train me as a Slayer without my parents’ interference.” She made herself more comfortable on the floor. “I was in training for more than half my life. Six Slayers were Called during those year and I was overlooked every time. A week before my nineteenth birthday, the head of the Council called me to his office and informed me that I had grown too old to be Called. Not many Slayers have been Called after her eighteenth birthday. But at the time, I felt hurt and betrayed. All I ever wanted was to be the Slayer and that one wish had been denied.”
“So, what happened?” Jenna asked, clearly interested.
“The head of the Council asked me to join them, to become a Watcher; I have been doing that ever since.”
“How can you be okay with something like that? Me, I didn’t want to become the Slayer, I had no idea what it meant. But you. You were working towards that one thing for so many years and you didn’t achieve it. That must have been so hard.”
“For a while, it was. I accepted the job as Watcher, but for the longest time I refused to study, refused to listen to what I was being taught.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“The Slayer at the time came to visit the Council about six months after she was Called. A tiny little blonde thing who seemed startled by everything around her.” Grace looked at Jenna. “She was like you. No idea about Slayers or vampires. She was so timid and weak, frightened by almost everyone who spoke to her. That night, when she needed to patrol, I volunteered to go with her. She didn’t know the city, and I had the training of a Slayer, so I could at least hold my own while she took care of the threat.” She smiled at the memory. “When I saw her fight, she was like liquid. She moved so fast I could barely follow her. I stood in awe as she killed vampire after vampire.” Jenna grinned as she studied her Watcher, captivated as Grace went on. “I was amazed at how this timid little girl, only fourteen years old, could be this warrior. I decided at that second that I wanted to be the one responsible for turning a meek little girl into a Chosen warrior.”
“Like me?” Jenna said.
“Like you.” Grace stood up and ushered Jenna to do the same. “Now, let’s see if we can’t sort out that problem we’re having.”
Jenna put the stakes into the pockets she had sewn into the inside of her jacket, as well as one into the pocket she also sewn to the right thigh of her black pants.
It was three weeks later and she was going out on her first patrol.
“Miss Littleton, I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“Nonsense, of course you are. You are the Slayer, Jenna. You were born to do this.”
“I-I-I’ve never faced real vampires. Shouldn’t I at least have a trial run?”
Grace put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Jenna, the world has been without an active Slayer for six weeks while you have been in training. We can’t afford anymore time to pass. You need to be on active patrol.”
Jenna took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.” She walked towards the front door. “Wish me luck.”
Grace just smiled as the door closed behind her.
“You’re going to need it.”
-----------------
Jenna gripped a stake tight in her fist as she walked down the pitch black ally.
She had been out on patrol for almost two hours and had yet to see a single vampire.
“Maybe there are no vampires in New Zealand?” she said aloud. “Maybe they’re all in Australia and I’ll have to move.”
Something growled to her right and she spun quickly, falling into her newly acquired defensive stance, staring at the yellow eyes as they vampire stepped out of the darkness.
“Just what I was looking for,” the vampire mumbled around his fangs. “dinner.”
Jenna tried to force her heart out of her throat as she stared down her enemy. “I’m not here to be dinner,” she said, flashing her stake.”
“And who do you think you are?”
Her lips curled into a smile. “I’m the Slayer.”
“Slayer doesn’t exist. It’s a myth.”
“Then come on. What are you afraid of?”
Growling, the vamp rushed at her, swinging his fist.
Jenna ducked and the punch sailed over her head. With the vampire off balance, she kicked at his knees.
It stumbled and the Slayer slammed her knee into his face. Blood seeped into her pants.
“You bled on my pants,” she said as she yanked him up by his hair. “Now you really have to die.”
She plunged her stake into his heart and stepped back, watching as he combusted into ashes.
Her heart was racing with the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She couldn’t help the giggles that escaped from her lips
Applause exploded from somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, another stake already in her fist.
“I’m on a roll, you might as well come out,” she said to the darkness.
The figure stepped from the gloom and Jenna lowered her weapon.
“Miss Littleton, what are you doing here?”
Her Watcher smiled at her. “I came to see how your first night was going.”
Jenna beamed. “I just staked my first vampire,” she said, clearly proud of herself.
“I saw. You did very well.”
“Should I move on? I mean, I’ve only been out here for a little while. There might be more vampires out there.”
Grace shook her head. “No. I think you’re finished.”
“I am?”
Grace’s arm whipped out so fast, Jenna didn’t have time to react.
The fist connected hard with her jaw, and the Slayer slammed into the wall behind her.
“Miss Littleton?” she asked, regaining her balance. “What are you doing?”
“You think you can just walk into this life? Become this magnificent being? Why should you get this chance and not me?”
Jenna blinked. “What? I don’t understand.”
“You selfish little girl. You don’t deserve to be the Slayer. No one deserves to be the Slayer.”
“I didn’t decide to become the Slayer. It doesn’t work that way, you know that.”
“You think I care about that?” Grace said in disgust. She pulled a dagger from the back pocket of her faded blue jeans. “I have spent years, looking for brats like you, all of them wanting to become the Slayer. I didn’t let them, of course. Why would I? None of them deserved it.”
“You killed your other charges,” Jenna realized. “Potentials you were supposed to be looking after. You murdered all of them.”
“All except Lydia. We were living at the Council; too much suspicion would have been raised if she had died there. Had she become the Slayer, I would have found a way. Bu she was too much of a …what is it you say now? Too much of a geek to be Chosen.”
Suddenly, it hit the Slayer, what this was all about. “You want to be the Slayer. You’re still pissed because you weren’t Chosen. But that’s not my fault.”
“Of course it is, Jenna. I have to get rid of as many Slayers as I can. None of you deserve this responsibility.”
“But you do, right?” Jenna said. “You’re the only one who does deserve it.”
Grace smiled. “Of course. I was the only one who was truly worthy enough to call herself the Slayer. But I was overlooked, every time.”
“You can’t be the Slayer now,” Jenna said quietly. “You’re too old.” The second the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
She could sense Grace’s anger, as the Watcher began to close the gap between them.
Jenna fell into her defensive stance again, ready for the attack, which came in the form of Grace’s fist, heading for her right temple.
Jenna blocked the blow with her fore arm.
But she wasn’t expecting the kick that connected with her knees and she crumpled onto the ally floor.
“I know all your weaknesses, Jenna,” Grace said, looking down at her. “I did train you, after all. I trained you to leave your abdomen and lower body exposed as you fought, to leave your blind spots open to attack. I knew that if in couldn’t kill you, some creature would have before too long.” Grace grabbed Jenna’s right arm and twisted it behind her back, pulling hard.
“You had this planned from the beginning,” Jenna grunted through the pain. “You were planning on killing me from the moment you met me.”
“I was planning on killing you since the moment I was told I was to be your Watcher.” Grace pulled harder on the Slayer’s arm, until the bones began to grind.
“Why train me? Why show me everything, tell me what a Slayer was if you were just going to kill me anyway? You could have killed me that day in the restaurant.”
“Because I wanted to kill a Chosen warrior, Jenna, not a meek little girl.”
Grace’s words reminded Jenna of the conversation they had had a few weeks before. “You told me you wanted to train a warrior, like the Slayer you patrolled with all those years ago.” She struggled against Grace’s hold and heard the audible pop of her shoulder slipping out of the socket. She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out.
But Grace was laughing too much to hear the sound. “Are you really so stupid, Miss Robinson? There was no Slayer. I made her up to convince you to continue your training. I couldn’t very well have you back out, now could I?”
Tears filled Jenna’s eyes as her arm grew limp. “I was right, that day we met. You are crazy, lady.”
“Too bad you won’t live to tell anyone.” Grace lifted the dagger and stared into Jenna’s eyes.
“I hope you burn in hell,” the Slayer spat. “You don’t deserve to live.”
“I deserve to be the Slayer.”
Grace brought the dagger down, and plunged it into Jenna’s neck.
The Slayer screamed as her jugular was severed and blood poured from the wound.
Grace lowered the girl to the ground and cradled her as she bled out, and died in her arms.
“It should have been me.”
------------------
“How can something like this happen!?” Quintin Travers screamed at the two men seated before him. He slammed his fist down onto the desk. “How can you allow this?”
“With all due respect, sir,” John Fairchild said quietly. “It was you who assigned her to the girl.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, thank you, John,” Quintin said, grinding his teeth. “But it was your job to look after them.”
“We didn’t expect to have to prevent the Watcher from murdering the Slayer,” Scott Charles snapped back. “That’s not something that’s in our job description.”
Travers sighed and removed his glasses. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”
“What have you done with Miss Littleton?” Fairchild asked.
“She’s been taken to a secure location until we can decide what must be done with her.”
“When we found her at the house, she was crazed,” Charles said. “Extremely disturbed. Jenna’s body was lying in the middle of the kitchen, as if she couldn’t decide what to do with it. I think that’s what finally sent her over the edge.”
Fairchild nodded. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to make her do something like this?”
“From what we have been able to get out of her, it seems Grace has been harbouring some envy towards the Slayer, all Slayers. She still hasn’t come to terms with the fact that she was never Called.”
Fairchild’s eyes grew wide. “She was a Potential?”
Travers nodded. “Yes, for almost ten years. It was my father’s idea to bring her into the fold, as a Watcher. He thought should be able to use what she had learnt to teach other Potentials or Slayers. Instead she used it to kill them.”
“You’re sure she murdered the others in her care?”
“That is the assumption we’re going on, yes,” Quintin said.
“What about Lydia? She never harmed her.”
“Lydia lived and trained at the Council. I feel Grace would have thought it too big a risk to try anything here.”
Charles ran a hand across his short black hair. “This is not something I expected to see from a Watcher. That poor girl…”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Quintin called.
The door opened and Lydia popped her head into the room.
“Ah, Lydia. Please come in.”
Charles rose from his seat and offered it to the girl, which she gladly accepted.
“The other Watchers wish to know what you want us to do with Miss Littleton’s things. Her journals and such.”
Travers’ face grew angry. “I want all records of Grace Littleton removed from this establishment. I want her name removed from the history books. All of her journals and manuscripts are to be burned or otherwise destroyed.”
The two Operatives nodded in agreement, but the junior Watcher was outraged.
“Sir, all of the work she has accomplished. You can’t seriously be considering having it all destroyed?”
“That is exactly what I am considering. I don’t want anything connected to that woman left within these walls. Her name will be removed from our records. As will that of the Slayer.”
Now the Operatives did object. “Sir, please,” Fairchild said. “This is not the girl’s fault. Don’t punish Jenna for something she had no control over.”
“She may not have served long,” Charles added. “But she has earned her place beside her fellow Slayers. Regardless of the circumstances of her death.”
Quintin nodded. “Yes, quite right. Very well, Jenna’s name will remain in the line, however there will be no mention of her Watcher, and, as I have said before, all records of Grace Littleton are to be destroyed.”
But Lydia still objected. “But sir, she has just finished translating Xin-Rong’s journals. And the Pergamum Codex…her Latin translation is the only copy to still exist. The original text was lost during a demonic attack. How can we destroy those?”
Quintin studied the former Potential for a few seconds. “You’ve been studying with Grace, yes?” Lydia nodded. “You know everything she does in those departments?” again, she nodded. “Then I am putting you in charge. You will take over all of Grace’s duties. It will be up to you to translate the journals into your own hand.”
Lydia beamed and struggled to finds the words. “Thank you, sir,” was all she could manage.
Travers went straight back to business. “What we have learned today stays in this room. You will not discuss it with anyone, or speak the name Grace Littleton again, do you understand?” the three people nodded. “It will be as though she never existed.
All records of Grace Littleton were removed from any document within the Council. All of her work, her translated journals, were destroyed, only to be replaced by the works of the Watchers reassigned to the linguistics department.
Lydia took it upon herself to work on Xin-Rong’s journals, during which she developed her fascination with the vampire known as Spike, that vampire who took the life of Xin-Rong.
Lydia started her thesis on the demon shortly after completing her translation.
The only book the newly appointed head of Linguistics could not bring herself to destroy was the Latin translation of the Pergamum Codex. The book of prophecies was too important to simply burn with the others, so Lydia passed it on to someone outside of the Council, with the clear instructions to keep it hidden.
The man promised to keep it safe until such times a future Watcher might need it to protect his Slayer.
Jenna Robinson’s name joined the list of fallen Slayers, but without any details of her life, or death, or the name of her Watcher.
She may have only slain one vampire, but she was still a Chosen One.
The End.
*
Richard Carrington knocked on the stained oak door and waited.
“Come in,” boomed an authoritive voice.
Richard opened the door and allowed the young girl that accompanied him to enter first, closing the door behind them.
“Ah, Richard, Miss Littleton. Please, sit down,” Harold Travers said, glancing up from his writing.
Richard held her chair, allowing Grace Littleton to sit down before he took his own seat.
Neither of the guests said anything as Travers ignored them and continued to write.
After five minutes, past in silence, Travers capped his pen and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, studying them both.
Grave shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, sneaking a look at Richard out of the corner of her eye.
“How are you, Miss Littleton?” Travers asked finally.
“Oh, fine. Thank you, sir.” Grace’s voice shook with nerves.
“How is your training?”
“My…?”
Richard interrupted. “Grace is excelling in both demonology, and weapons training, as you know, Mr. Travers. She is one of the most capable girls I have seen in quite some time.”
“Yes, Richard. I’m sure she is.” Travers rook off his glasses and polished them, looking at Grace again. “I understand you have a birthday coming up, Miss Littleton.”
“Yes, sir.” Grace nodded. “I turn nineteen next week.”
Travers seemed to think the sentence over before continuing.
“Miss Littleton, you do realize that a girl your age has little hopes of being Chosen?”
Graces eye brows shot up. “I beg your pardon?”
“In all of my time working for the Council, I have only come across one Slayer who was Called after her eighteenth birthday. She survived less than seven months.”
“I would make a good Slayer, sir,” the Potential said, leaning forward in her chair. “I only need a chance to prove it.”
“Grace,” Travers dropped all pretence of formality. “You have been training as a Slayer-in Waiting for almost ten years, and in that time six Slayers have been Chosen and you have been overlooked every time. It seems obvious to me that the Powers that Be do not think your destiny is to be the Slayer.”
“But I have been preparing to become the Slayer for more than half my life.” Grace turned to her Watcher, pleading. “Richard, please don’t let them take this away from me.”
“I’m sorry, Grace. There isn’t anything I can do,” Richard told her, his eyes filled with sympathy for his charge.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Grace turned back to the head of the Watchers Council.
“What am I supposed to do now? I can’t lead a normal life.”
“We understand that, Miss Littleton,” Travers said slowly, formality back in place. “This is why we are giving you the opportunity of joining us.”
“Excuse me?”
Richard gawped. “Us? You want her to be…a Watcher?”
“Given her situation and that she has had no experience living in the outside world, not to mention the fact that she has no family of which to speak, it seems unwise to just toss her out onto the streets.”
Richard stammered. “Well…well, yes, I would agree with that.”
“It is the Council’s decision to bring Miss Littleton into the fold,” Travers told them. “That way, she can use what she has learnt to guide and train future Potentials. Perhaps even a future Slayer.”
“What would I have to do?” Grace asked.
“Mr. Carrington would remain in place as your teacher and guide. Only, instead of teaching you in the ways of the Slayer, he will be tutoring you as a Watcher.” Travers studied the girl. “Do you accept?”
Grace looked at her Watcher, who returned her gaze without a word before she looked into the steel grey eyes of Harold Travers.
“I accept.”
------------
Twenty-four years later
March, 1993
Closing the book in front of her, Grace Littleton ran her hands over the red leather cover and sighed with satisfaction.
After seven months, she had finally finished translating the journals of the last Chinese Slayer into English.
The girl, Xin Rong, had served at the turn of the century, but her journals had only been recovered a year ago, having been misplaced during the Boxer Rebellion.
Grace had excelled in languages during her training at the Watcher’s Academy and she had been placed in the linguistics department once she had graduated.
It was Grace’s job to translate all journals into English, the chosen language of the Council. Grace had also translated demonic texts and prophecies, including the Pergamum Codex, which was one of her greatest achievements.
Of course, like most Watchers, she had been assigned to Watch over Potential Slayers during her twenty years as a qualified Watcher, but of the three girls under her care, none had been Chosen to become the Slayer.
Two of the girls had committed suicide to avoid being Chosen, and one had joined the Council, once she realized she would never be Called.
Lydia Martin now worked as Grace’s assistant as she continued her studies.
But the fact that she had never Watched the Slayer never bothered Grace. She was happy to work on her books, figuring out translations non one else could.
Which was why she was so shocked when the head of the Council knocked on the door of her office late one afternoon.
Looking up, Grace removed her glasses as Mr. Travers entered without waiting to be invited.
“Quinten,” Grace said in greeting. “What can I do for you?”
Quinten Travers too a seat across from her desk and glanced at Lydia, working in a corner.
“Miss Martin, would you excuse us, please?”
Lydia looked from one Watcher to the other before rising from her chair. “of course.”
She left the room without another word.
“What’s the matter Quinten.” Grace asked, a small smile on her lips. “You’re acting very mysterious.”
“The Slayer is dead,” Quinten said, getting right to the point. “It happened last night. I have yet to get al of the details, or speak to her Watcher directly, but we have confirmation.”
Grace nodded her head slowly, smile gone. “I’m sorry. She didn’t last very long. I assume the new girl has been identified?” Quinten nodded. “All of the girls on the list are fine candidates.”
“She isn’t on the list.”
Grace’s eyes grew wide with shock.
“She isn’t on the list? Quinten, are you sure? It has been years since we’ve had an unknown girl receive the Calling.”
“Yes, Grace, I know. I believe the last girl was sometime in the sixties.”
Grace remembered the girl well.
The Russian Slayer was the last girl to be Called whilst Grace was still in training.
she had cried herself to sleep the night Richard had told her.
“Has she been located?”
Quinten nodded. “Yes, she is in New Zealand. She has no idea about any of this.”
“Of course not,” Grace realized. “Who is being sent to her?”
“That is the reason I came to see you, Grace.” Quinten shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The Council has decided that it should be you who should be sent as her Watcher.”
Grace gasped. “Me? But I have never Watched an active girl. Surly there is someone better suited than I? Giles, perhaps?”
“Rupert has just been sent on assignment to Ireland. He won’t be available for several months.” Quinten smiled at Grace. “It is the Council’s decision that you should Watch this girl.”
Grace nodded. “Of course, if that is what the Council wishes.”
“You’re flight leaves in two days. Council Operatives will meet you at the airport and take you to the girl. They will also have a place for you to stay, and anything else you might need, you may ask them.”
Again, Grace nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Quinten stood up. “I know things will work out, Grace. We have faith in you.”
“Thank you, Quinten.”
Grace watched as he left the room.
-------------
Dragging her suitcase behind her, Grace surveyed the crowded airport, trying to spot the Operatives the Council said would be waiting for her.
Not yet accustomed to the weather of New Zealand, Grace paused to remove her jacket of her trouser suit, cursing herself for wearing the outfit in the first place. Resuming her search, she finally spotted two men standing near the entrance of the terminal. She was sure she recognized one of the men, so she made her way over and stood before them.
No one said anything as they studied each other, trying to decide if they had found the person they were looking for.
“Miss Littleton?” one of the men asked in a heavy New Zealand accent.
Grace nodded. “Yes, I am Grace Littleton.”
The other man nodded. “Miss Littleton, I am John Fairchild, and this is my associate, Scott Charles. We’ve been sent to help you settle in.”
Grace shook hands with both men, and smiled at Fairchild. “I think we met at a conference a few years back.”
Fairchild nodded. “That’s right. Of course.”
Grace allowed Charles to take her suitcase from her, which he lifted and carried with ease, while she had struggled under the weight.
Grace frowned at the back of his head as they began walking, remembering a time in her life when she had the hopes of becoming stronger and more powerful then any mortal creature. But she shook her head. That time had past, she had a new destiny now.
Looking up at the men, the Watcher started her questions.
“Have you identified the girl?”
Charles nodded. “Yes, madam. Her name is Jenna Robinson. She’s sixteen years old.”
“Have you approached her? Told her of her Calling?”
Fairchild answered this time. “No, Miss Littleton. We thought it best to wait for your arrival.”
“Yes, of course,” she conceded. “And please, call me Grace.”
“As you wish.”
The three of them reached a car and Fairchild held open the passenger side door for her, as Charles put the case into the boot, before climbing into the back seat.
Fairchild started the car and pulled out of the airport car park. “We’ve found you a house not far from the girl’s family home. Paid for by the Council, so there will be no rent or mortgage. I’ll take you there so that you can settle in.”
“No,” Grace said, a little too quickly. “Take me to the girl. She must now about her destiny.”
“But, Grace,” Charles said from the back seat. “You’ve had a long trip. You must be exhausted. Surely a few hours rest won’t do any harm?”
Grace twisted in her seat to look at the Operative. “It is imperative that we get the Slayer into training as quickly as possible, Mr. Charles. Everyday Jenna spends oblivious to her Calling is another day for the demons and the vampires to have free reign of this city. A city she has been Chosen to protect. It will take us some time before Jenna is able to face the darkness alone, so her training must start as soon as possible.”
Charles nodded but said nothing more.
Fairchild breathed a heavy sigh. “It has been a long time since we’ve had a Slayer who wasn’t a Potential.”
“I know,” Grace agreed. “Through my research I’ve come to realize that those in training before their Calling have usually reigned longer than those who were not. There are exceptions, of course, but I just hope that this girl does not live up to my findings.” She watched as Fairchild made another turn. “Do you know where the girl is?”
He nodded, hands gripping the wheel. “She works a part time job serving tables at a local beach side restaurant.”
Grace was appalled. “She has job? That will never do.”
Charles leaned forward between the two front seats. “She also goes to school and lives with her parents and baby brother.”
Fairchild snorted. “This is why I think only the girls in training should be able to become the Slayer. If we know who they are, we can get them away from their families before they even get the Calling.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “We don’t know how the Choosing works, John, and I doubt we ever will. Whoever Chose this girl, be it the Powers that Be, or some other presence we are as yet unaware of, they Chose her for a reason and it is my job to train her to accept that responsibility.”
The two Operatives nodded and they continued the rest of the way in silence.
Jenna Robinson lifted the pile of dirty dishes off the table that the young couple had just vacated. Another group of people had occupied the table before she had even finished wiping it down.
“Can we get some menus?” one of the men said, not even sparing her a glance.
“Just one minute, please,” Jenna responded as she hurried away.
Dropping the dishes onto the counter with a clatter, she took a few seconds to run her fingers through her long black hair.
“Table five needs clearing,” Max, her boss, ordered.
“I haven’t had my break yet, Max,” she said quietly.
“Clear table five and I’ll consider it,” he spat.
Jenna had to fight back the tears as she handed out the menus and rushed to clear table five. She had been working for almost six hours without a single break. She knew she should be exhausted, yet she wasn’t. But there was no way she was going to tell that to Max. Because she was the youngest person on staff, her boss thought he could treat her however he wanted. But Jenna knew it had to stop.
Gathering the dirty plates, she turned and walked determinedly to the kitchen, intent on demanding her break.
Two steps from the kitchen door, a woman called her name. Jenna turned to face her. “Yeah? Who are you?”
“My name is Grace Littleton. I’m your Watcher.”
Jenna frowned. “What’s a Watcher? And why do I need one?”
The British woman smiled. “My dear, you are the Chosen One.”
“Chosen One? Chosen what? What does that even mean?”
“It means if you want to follow your destiny, you need to come with me.”
“My destiny. As the Chosen One,” Jenna repeated. “Are you crazy, lady?”
The woman in front of her just smiled. “You are the Slayer. If you want to find out what that means, then follow me.” Grace walked out of the restaurant.
Jenna watched her retreating back, chewing on her lower lip.
“Why are you standing there looking like a fool?” Max said, coming up behind her. “Go give table nine their coffees.” She handed him the dishes in her hands. “Jenna, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Max, I quit.” Untying her apron, she dropped it onto the floor and ran out of the restaurant. “Hey, Miss Littleton,” she called, spotting the woman standing beside a parked car with two men. She ran up to them.
“I wanna know what it means.”
--------------
Jenna ran her hands through her hair, looking up at Grace Littleton, who stood in front of her.
“Say that again?”
Miss Littleton sighed. “I do not know what you are finding so difficult to understand.”
Jenna barked out a laugh. “Maybe it’s the part where some middle-aged British woman comes to my work and tells me that I’m some Chosen One, a girl who’s supposed to fight vampires. I mean vampires? It sounds like something from a novel.”
Miss Littleton sat down beside the teenager on the sofa. “I don’t know how to explain it any better, Jenna. What I have told you is the truth, not a story. I’m not insane. I am a Watcher, who works for the Watchers' Council of Great Britain. A Council who trains and guides the Slayer and girls-in-waiting to take over as the Slayer.”
Jenna’s head snapped up from where she was staring at the floor. “Wait, training to take over? I took someone else’s job? What happened to her?”
Grace seemed to pale a little. "She was killed…in the line of duty. Protecting the innocent.”
“She died?” Jenna spat. “For real?”
“Jenna, the Slayer is THE Slayer, until the day she dies. There is never more then one Slayer at any time.” Grace paused. “And at this very moment, you are the Slayer.”
“Can I pass?”
“There is no pass, Jenna. If you do not accept your destiny as the Chosen One, then the world will be without a protector, until you live out your normal life and die. That could take decades.”
Jenna felt her eyes well up. “I can’t escape this, can I?” She saw the Watcher shake her head. “What would happen if I did ignore it?”
Grace took a deep breath. “I can’t really tell you that, because I honestly don’t know. It could be that the darkness of this world will realized there is no Slayer and take advantage of that fact. Or, they may find out that you are denying your destiny and hunt you down. If that happens, you will have two choices.”
“Which are?”
“You can stand back, and allow them to kill you, or you can fight back and accept that you are the Slayer.” Miss Littleton’s lips turned up in small smile. “But you can avoid all of that by becoming the Slayer now, and not later.
Slowly, Jenna nodded her head.
----------------
“No, Jenna. Damn it!”
Dropping her stance, the Slayer’s Watcher put her hands to her head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Littleton. I’m trying as hard as I can.”
“Then you must try harder!” Grace yelled. “Out in the field, facing an enemy, you will not be given any reprieve. A move like that and your career will be over before it has even begun.”
Jenna collapsed to the floor. “Is it really my fault I can’t do it? My body just won’t bend that way. It doesn’t feel natural.”
“Then make it natural,” Grace said sternly. “This should be one of the best defence positions that you will have. This should be instinct to the Slayer.”
“But every Slayer is different!” Jenna almost screamed. “In the past weeks, if you have taught me anything it is that every Slayer is different. This move might have worked for the Slayer who came before me or whatever, but it does not work for me.”
Grace slid to the floor beside her charge. “But it worked for me.”
“What?”
Grace sighed loudly. “A little over thirty years ago, my Watcher came to me and told I had the potential to become the Chosen One. So, I went into training. My Watcher convinced my parents to allow him to take me to boarding school, which was actually just a way for him to train me as a Slayer without my parents’ interference.” She made herself more comfortable on the floor. “I was in training for more than half my life. Six Slayers were Called during those year and I was overlooked every time. A week before my nineteenth birthday, the head of the Council called me to his office and informed me that I had grown too old to be Called. Not many Slayers have been Called after her eighteenth birthday. But at the time, I felt hurt and betrayed. All I ever wanted was to be the Slayer and that one wish had been denied.”
“So, what happened?” Jenna asked, clearly interested.
“The head of the Council asked me to join them, to become a Watcher; I have been doing that ever since.”
“How can you be okay with something like that? Me, I didn’t want to become the Slayer, I had no idea what it meant. But you. You were working towards that one thing for so many years and you didn’t achieve it. That must have been so hard.”
“For a while, it was. I accepted the job as Watcher, but for the longest time I refused to study, refused to listen to what I was being taught.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“The Slayer at the time came to visit the Council about six months after she was Called. A tiny little blonde thing who seemed startled by everything around her.” Grace looked at Jenna. “She was like you. No idea about Slayers or vampires. She was so timid and weak, frightened by almost everyone who spoke to her. That night, when she needed to patrol, I volunteered to go with her. She didn’t know the city, and I had the training of a Slayer, so I could at least hold my own while she took care of the threat.” She smiled at the memory. “When I saw her fight, she was like liquid. She moved so fast I could barely follow her. I stood in awe as she killed vampire after vampire.” Jenna grinned as she studied her Watcher, captivated as Grace went on. “I was amazed at how this timid little girl, only fourteen years old, could be this warrior. I decided at that second that I wanted to be the one responsible for turning a meek little girl into a Chosen warrior.”
“Like me?” Jenna said.
“Like you.” Grace stood up and ushered Jenna to do the same. “Now, let’s see if we can’t sort out that problem we’re having.”
Jenna put the stakes into the pockets she had sewn into the inside of her jacket, as well as one into the pocket she also sewn to the right thigh of her black pants.
It was three weeks later and she was going out on her first patrol.
“Miss Littleton, I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
“Nonsense, of course you are. You are the Slayer, Jenna. You were born to do this.”
“I-I-I’ve never faced real vampires. Shouldn’t I at least have a trial run?”
Grace put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Jenna, the world has been without an active Slayer for six weeks while you have been in training. We can’t afford anymore time to pass. You need to be on active patrol.”
Jenna took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.” She walked towards the front door. “Wish me luck.”
Grace just smiled as the door closed behind her.
“You’re going to need it.”
-----------------
Jenna gripped a stake tight in her fist as she walked down the pitch black ally.
She had been out on patrol for almost two hours and had yet to see a single vampire.
“Maybe there are no vampires in New Zealand?” she said aloud. “Maybe they’re all in Australia and I’ll have to move.”
Something growled to her right and she spun quickly, falling into her newly acquired defensive stance, staring at the yellow eyes as they vampire stepped out of the darkness.
“Just what I was looking for,” the vampire mumbled around his fangs. “dinner.”
Jenna tried to force her heart out of her throat as she stared down her enemy. “I’m not here to be dinner,” she said, flashing her stake.”
“And who do you think you are?”
Her lips curled into a smile. “I’m the Slayer.”
“Slayer doesn’t exist. It’s a myth.”
“Then come on. What are you afraid of?”
Growling, the vamp rushed at her, swinging his fist.
Jenna ducked and the punch sailed over her head. With the vampire off balance, she kicked at his knees.
It stumbled and the Slayer slammed her knee into his face. Blood seeped into her pants.
“You bled on my pants,” she said as she yanked him up by his hair. “Now you really have to die.”
She plunged her stake into his heart and stepped back, watching as he combusted into ashes.
Her heart was racing with the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
She couldn’t help the giggles that escaped from her lips
Applause exploded from somewhere behind her, and she whirled around, another stake already in her fist.
“I’m on a roll, you might as well come out,” she said to the darkness.
The figure stepped from the gloom and Jenna lowered her weapon.
“Miss Littleton, what are you doing here?”
Her Watcher smiled at her. “I came to see how your first night was going.”
Jenna beamed. “I just staked my first vampire,” she said, clearly proud of herself.
“I saw. You did very well.”
“Should I move on? I mean, I’ve only been out here for a little while. There might be more vampires out there.”
Grace shook her head. “No. I think you’re finished.”
“I am?”
Grace’s arm whipped out so fast, Jenna didn’t have time to react.
The fist connected hard with her jaw, and the Slayer slammed into the wall behind her.
“Miss Littleton?” she asked, regaining her balance. “What are you doing?”
“You think you can just walk into this life? Become this magnificent being? Why should you get this chance and not me?”
Jenna blinked. “What? I don’t understand.”
“You selfish little girl. You don’t deserve to be the Slayer. No one deserves to be the Slayer.”
“I didn’t decide to become the Slayer. It doesn’t work that way, you know that.”
“You think I care about that?” Grace said in disgust. She pulled a dagger from the back pocket of her faded blue jeans. “I have spent years, looking for brats like you, all of them wanting to become the Slayer. I didn’t let them, of course. Why would I? None of them deserved it.”
“You killed your other charges,” Jenna realized. “Potentials you were supposed to be looking after. You murdered all of them.”
“All except Lydia. We were living at the Council; too much suspicion would have been raised if she had died there. Had she become the Slayer, I would have found a way. Bu she was too much of a …what is it you say now? Too much of a geek to be Chosen.”
Suddenly, it hit the Slayer, what this was all about. “You want to be the Slayer. You’re still pissed because you weren’t Chosen. But that’s not my fault.”
“Of course it is, Jenna. I have to get rid of as many Slayers as I can. None of you deserve this responsibility.”
“But you do, right?” Jenna said. “You’re the only one who does deserve it.”
Grace smiled. “Of course. I was the only one who was truly worthy enough to call herself the Slayer. But I was overlooked, every time.”
“You can’t be the Slayer now,” Jenna said quietly. “You’re too old.” The second the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.
She could sense Grace’s anger, as the Watcher began to close the gap between them.
Jenna fell into her defensive stance again, ready for the attack, which came in the form of Grace’s fist, heading for her right temple.
Jenna blocked the blow with her fore arm.
But she wasn’t expecting the kick that connected with her knees and she crumpled onto the ally floor.
“I know all your weaknesses, Jenna,” Grace said, looking down at her. “I did train you, after all. I trained you to leave your abdomen and lower body exposed as you fought, to leave your blind spots open to attack. I knew that if in couldn’t kill you, some creature would have before too long.” Grace grabbed Jenna’s right arm and twisted it behind her back, pulling hard.
“You had this planned from the beginning,” Jenna grunted through the pain. “You were planning on killing me from the moment you met me.”
“I was planning on killing you since the moment I was told I was to be your Watcher.” Grace pulled harder on the Slayer’s arm, until the bones began to grind.
“Why train me? Why show me everything, tell me what a Slayer was if you were just going to kill me anyway? You could have killed me that day in the restaurant.”
“Because I wanted to kill a Chosen warrior, Jenna, not a meek little girl.”
Grace’s words reminded Jenna of the conversation they had had a few weeks before. “You told me you wanted to train a warrior, like the Slayer you patrolled with all those years ago.” She struggled against Grace’s hold and heard the audible pop of her shoulder slipping out of the socket. She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out.
But Grace was laughing too much to hear the sound. “Are you really so stupid, Miss Robinson? There was no Slayer. I made her up to convince you to continue your training. I couldn’t very well have you back out, now could I?”
Tears filled Jenna’s eyes as her arm grew limp. “I was right, that day we met. You are crazy, lady.”
“Too bad you won’t live to tell anyone.” Grace lifted the dagger and stared into Jenna’s eyes.
“I hope you burn in hell,” the Slayer spat. “You don’t deserve to live.”
“I deserve to be the Slayer.”
Grace brought the dagger down, and plunged it into Jenna’s neck.
The Slayer screamed as her jugular was severed and blood poured from the wound.
Grace lowered the girl to the ground and cradled her as she bled out, and died in her arms.
“It should have been me.”
------------------
“How can something like this happen!?” Quintin Travers screamed at the two men seated before him. He slammed his fist down onto the desk. “How can you allow this?”
“With all due respect, sir,” John Fairchild said quietly. “It was you who assigned her to the girl.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, thank you, John,” Quintin said, grinding his teeth. “But it was your job to look after them.”
“We didn’t expect to have to prevent the Watcher from murdering the Slayer,” Scott Charles snapped back. “That’s not something that’s in our job description.”
Travers sighed and removed his glasses. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”
“What have you done with Miss Littleton?” Fairchild asked.
“She’s been taken to a secure location until we can decide what must be done with her.”
“When we found her at the house, she was crazed,” Charles said. “Extremely disturbed. Jenna’s body was lying in the middle of the kitchen, as if she couldn’t decide what to do with it. I think that’s what finally sent her over the edge.”
Fairchild nodded. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to make her do something like this?”
“From what we have been able to get out of her, it seems Grace has been harbouring some envy towards the Slayer, all Slayers. She still hasn’t come to terms with the fact that she was never Called.”
Fairchild’s eyes grew wide. “She was a Potential?”
Travers nodded. “Yes, for almost ten years. It was my father’s idea to bring her into the fold, as a Watcher. He thought should be able to use what she had learnt to teach other Potentials or Slayers. Instead she used it to kill them.”
“You’re sure she murdered the others in her care?”
“That is the assumption we’re going on, yes,” Quintin said.
“What about Lydia? She never harmed her.”
“Lydia lived and trained at the Council. I feel Grace would have thought it too big a risk to try anything here.”
Charles ran a hand across his short black hair. “This is not something I expected to see from a Watcher. That poor girl…”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Quintin called.
The door opened and Lydia popped her head into the room.
“Ah, Lydia. Please come in.”
Charles rose from his seat and offered it to the girl, which she gladly accepted.
“The other Watchers wish to know what you want us to do with Miss Littleton’s things. Her journals and such.”
Travers’ face grew angry. “I want all records of Grace Littleton removed from this establishment. I want her name removed from the history books. All of her journals and manuscripts are to be burned or otherwise destroyed.”
The two Operatives nodded in agreement, but the junior Watcher was outraged.
“Sir, all of the work she has accomplished. You can’t seriously be considering having it all destroyed?”
“That is exactly what I am considering. I don’t want anything connected to that woman left within these walls. Her name will be removed from our records. As will that of the Slayer.”
Now the Operatives did object. “Sir, please,” Fairchild said. “This is not the girl’s fault. Don’t punish Jenna for something she had no control over.”
“She may not have served long,” Charles added. “But she has earned her place beside her fellow Slayers. Regardless of the circumstances of her death.”
Quintin nodded. “Yes, quite right. Very well, Jenna’s name will remain in the line, however there will be no mention of her Watcher, and, as I have said before, all records of Grace Littleton are to be destroyed.”
But Lydia still objected. “But sir, she has just finished translating Xin-Rong’s journals. And the Pergamum Codex…her Latin translation is the only copy to still exist. The original text was lost during a demonic attack. How can we destroy those?”
Quintin studied the former Potential for a few seconds. “You’ve been studying with Grace, yes?” Lydia nodded. “You know everything she does in those departments?” again, she nodded. “Then I am putting you in charge. You will take over all of Grace’s duties. It will be up to you to translate the journals into your own hand.”
Lydia beamed and struggled to finds the words. “Thank you, sir,” was all she could manage.
Travers went straight back to business. “What we have learned today stays in this room. You will not discuss it with anyone, or speak the name Grace Littleton again, do you understand?” the three people nodded. “It will be as though she never existed.
All records of Grace Littleton were removed from any document within the Council. All of her work, her translated journals, were destroyed, only to be replaced by the works of the Watchers reassigned to the linguistics department.
Lydia took it upon herself to work on Xin-Rong’s journals, during which she developed her fascination with the vampire known as Spike, that vampire who took the life of Xin-Rong.
Lydia started her thesis on the demon shortly after completing her translation.
The only book the newly appointed head of Linguistics could not bring herself to destroy was the Latin translation of the Pergamum Codex. The book of prophecies was too important to simply burn with the others, so Lydia passed it on to someone outside of the Council, with the clear instructions to keep it hidden.
The man promised to keep it safe until such times a future Watcher might need it to protect his Slayer.
Jenna Robinson’s name joined the list of fallen Slayers, but without any details of her life, or death, or the name of her Watcher.
She may have only slain one vampire, but she was still a Chosen One.
The End.
*