slayers
Friday night, and we're piling into the car, going out on patrol again. I've got shotgun, and Kendra and Faith curl up in the back, their eyes sharp and wary as we drive downtown, in search of a little action.
Gwen drives us, and as the streetlights make strange shadows on her face, she drills us, testing our knowledge. Best way to kill a Polgara demon. What night is the Feast of St. Vigeous? Who was the vampire known as William the Bloody and what did he do?
When we hit our usual hunting place, I've answered five, but Kendra's answered ten. Faith, as usual, didn't bother, and Gwen's mouth turns down when she chastises Faith for not paying attention. "You may think you can simply ignore your studies because you are second in line, but that could change at any moment," she says each time that Faith ignores her. She says it a lot. Faith's not exactly jumping to be the super-Slayer here.
Once she's done lecturing Faith, we're out of the car, weapons in hand.
Once we've slayed, we pile back into the car, wincing slightly as we sit down, and drive back to the compound. The sigils written on the road faintly glow as the car goes through the gate, and the guards nod to Gwen as we drive through.
After each patrol, we do the same thing. Shower in the group showers, and check each other for injuries. There's a bruise fading on my arm, already greenish brown. Kendra has a bigger bruise on her back, about the size of a man's boot. She winces as I scrub her back, but, soon enough, something as big as this'll be gone by morning. Faith chipped another tooth, and she spits blood into the drain as she washes her hair.
I kiss her before she gets a chance to wash out her mouth, and the iron tang makes that little scar on my lip ache in sympathy. It seems like every Slayer in training has to get a punch in the mouth, ripping out teeth and slicing up lips.
Faith bites down just a bit, cutting my lip with a newly jagged incisor, and my lip bleeds for her too. When we break apart, our lips are wet, and Kendra kisses us both.
If Gwen caught us, she'd raise hell, but in the showers, we smile with our blood red lips. Closer than friends, closer than sisters, the three of us are special.
The Watchers have worked out a system now, and they've been doing it for years. Every Slayer has the next two in line with her. They learn, she protects, and when she dies, the next one is right there. They call the next one in from the whichever safe house she's in, and the cycle begins again.
I came here when I was 12. I was supposed to be fourth in line, but two trainees had been killed in the past year. Rumor had it that Marisol, the next in line, was a bit careless about keeping an eye on the youngest of the three. Normally, the Slayer gets blamed, but for some reason, no one mentioned Eileen at all...
Gwen spent all of five minutes looking me over, and then Wesley showed me around the place. Eileen and Marisol were in the training room and once I walked in, I could tell why Eileen never got blamed.
Any other girl would've kept on training. She came over and hugged me. Six feet of peaches and cream skin topped off with a tumble of red curls, she picked me up like I weighed nothing and laughed as we were rushed off to another patrol.
That night, when I was in bed, crying because I killed a vampire and it wasn't like the books said, she pushed her single bed next to mine and held me all night. She kissed me and petted me and told me how special I was, how important the mission was, and how nice it was to have me here. She held me while I slept, ignoring Marisol muttering in Spanish, ignoring the tears drying on my cheeks.
Our beds stayed together for two years, and when a big vamp managed to turn her crossbow against her, I staked him with a broken table leg. Marisol had her back turned to us, and her smile when she staked a vamp told me more than anything she could've said. Kendra joined us the next day, and I hugged her just as tightly as Eileen would hug me.
Our beds stayed together. And when our backs were turned as Marisol fought, Kendra's smile mirrored my own.
After we shower, we dry our hair and get ready for bed, our three single beds pushed together and waiting for us. Faith puts on a single coat of nail polish, Kendra stretches, and I brush my hair, watching them.
We're special. We're important. We're all that stands between darkness and humanity. And we belong together.
The lights go out and we pile into bed, arms and legs tangled around each other. Kendra's hand slip between my legs, Faith traps my thigh between hers, and, together, we strive.
We're more than sisters.
We're more than friends.
We're more than lovers.
We're slayers.