“Wheezy!” Honora Wyndam-Pryce declares. “And Leo? Why, this is as pretty as a poem.”
18
HONORA WEARS GORGEOUS OXBLOOD LEATHER boots that hit midcalf. Her dress is black, her dark hair shiny and long in loose waves. She has the most perfect cat-eye liner I’ve ever seen in person. It’s like she walked straight off a runway and into my gym. Where I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes, bedhead, and just-been-crying-about-my-dead-dad eyes.
She takes in what we’re holding and her face positively lights up. “Oh my God. Those aren’t—are those Wheezy’s books of poetry?”
I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole. But thanks a lot, Buffy. It doesn’t do that anymore.
“Go to hell, Honora.” Leo’s voice is as sharp as I’ve ever heard it. I’m shocked out of my humiliation by the force of his anger. He isn’t looking at me, but he shifts almost imperceptibly closer.
“Can’t, darling. Didn’t you hear? It’s closed for renovations.” She grins at us, twirling as she takes in the room. “Has this place always been so depressing? Remember when we trained here, Leo? The parties we’d throw right under their noses. Epic. Harry Sirk made a mean magical cocktail. You’d literally float the rest of the night.” She sighs wistfully. “Too bad he’s dead. I miss him.”
I stand up, grabbing the journals and holding them to my chest. “Speaking of things we miss, why don’t you go back to wherever you’ve been the last two years, so we can keep missing you?”
Honora puts a hand to her heart. “You wound me. I thought I’d be welcomed back, seeing as how I’m the only one out there actually doing anything. Unlike the Council. How’s hiding treating them? Sure are protecting a lot of innocents holed up in the castle here.”
/> “You have no idea, do you?” Leo shakes his head. “Athena is—”
I put a hand on his shoulder, rushing to cut him off. “A medic. I put together a medical center for the castle.” I assume she hasn’t spoken to her mother yet, and I don’t want to tell her I’m a Slayer like some sort of brag. It’s mine. I’m not about to discuss it with Honora, and I don’t care at all about impressing her.
She raises one expertly sculpted eyebrow. She may say she’s been out protecting people, but it doesn’t look like she’s been roughing it. “Good for you.” I can’t tell if she’s sincere. I doubt it. “Leo, when did you get back? We thought you were dead.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Are you kidding? I don’t know why you’re both acting like this. I’m so happy to see you.” Now she sounds . . . almost definitely sincere? “Our years together were so fun. I’ve missed you guys.”
“I think you remember them really differently than I do.” I never liked Honora, even before that awful day. She was always pushing limits, finding little ways to rebel. I hated how disrespectful she was of Watcher society when I would have given anything to be trained like her.
An unexpected memory of Honora jumping, dancing, laughing in the middle of flashing lights is triggered by her smile, though. The concert I had remembered being at with only Artemis and Jade—Honora snuck us in. I had forgotten that part. Or repressed it.
“Listen,” she says. “I’m not here for a social call. I passed through Dublin and there’s a lot of chatter in the underground parts of the city.”
Leo’s face betrays nothing of what we did there. “Oh?”
“Some big demon trouble.”
Maybe she’s onto the gambling ring and whatever else is happening down there. If she knows we were involved, our secret is as dead as a hellhound in a pit fight. She’ll tell her mother, who will tell my mother. “What kind of trouble?”
“The bloody, high-body-count, deadly-demon kind of trouble. He left dozens of bodies in his wake. I think he came this direction. I wanted to make sure you’re all okay, then see if the Council has heard anything.”
So, not the pit. A different threat. Fantastic. I definitely don’t already have way too much to worry about.
“What kind of demon?” Leo asks.
“Pylean-human hybrid. Male. Neon-yellow skin, black horns, real nasty piece of work.”
I cover my startle with a cough. “Sorry. Wow. What has, uh, he done?”
“Kills other demons. Men. Women. Even a few kids. Pure murderer. Heard anything?”
“No,” Leo says. Which is the truth, from him.
I try to square what she’s saying with my conversation with the Coldplay demon. My instincts were that he wasn’t a threat. And while I’m not totally confident in those Slayer instincts, they’ve been pretty on point so far. Plus, you can’t fake the kind of fear he showed when I threatened to call Sean. I can’t imagine a demon on a murderous rampage would be utterly terrified of the man I saw at the pit.
Not wanting her to ask more questions, I scramble to only give her the information her mother will have. “We had a hellhound here the other day, but we think it was a stray.” No one has mentioned the second one, which means my mother didn’t say anything. Which continues to be troubling. The more I think about it, the more I suspect she’s not worried because she knows the hellhounds aren’t after us. But how could she know that? If she knew about the demon in the shed, I’d already be toast.
Honora perks, obviously intrigued. “Hellhound? Why was it here?”