The Slayer and the Sphinx

By Adam Bolander

Porter Collins is a Slayer with no mercy. Sarah Heisen is a sphinx with no freedom. Brought together in a life altering accident, they find themselves hopelessly lost in the wilderness. Once mortal enemies, they must now rely on each other if they wish to survive. Going against everything they've ever known, they travel together, beginning a journey that is destined to change the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam Bolander
• Release date: Jun 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476099767

Adam Bolander

Adam Bolander grew up struggling with several learning disorders. All his life, he'd always had one dream: to be a well known author. Though it took him until his junior year of high school to actually begin writing, he has since then published three books, with several more on the way. All of Adam's books are appropriate for ages 12 and up. They contain no sexual content, no foul language, no drug use, and only mild violence.

Book preview

Chapter One

(Reya)

Reya ran, her footsteps echoing loudly in the narrow alleyway. The only light came from the streetlamps by the road, which made it hard to see. The smell of rotting, sunbaked garbage was heavy in the air, threatening to make her sick, and she forced herself to hold her breath until she was clear of it.

Running while holding my breath, she thought. Only one of the many useful skills I’ve picked up.

It had rained a couple hours ago, and the ground was still wet, so she wasn’t worried about leaving footprints. If she were lucky, the slick ground would be enough to throw them off her trail— because they were right behind her!

She could hear them chasing her. Their footfalls were even louder than hers, and there were several of them. How many? She had counted three when they’d first spotted her, but there were probably even more now. There were always more.

Her breath came in ragged gulps, but she didn’t let herself slow down. She was faster than they were. She could outrun them. She was starting to get tired, though. Her hair streamed out behind her like a flag, a fiery red beacon to the ones chasing her, and she cursed herself for not bringing a hat.

This way, a voice behind her shouted. Don’t lose it!

Defiance fought against terror inside her. If they caught her, she was dead. It was as simple as that. But all those years she’d spent living on the streets hadn’t been for nothing. Reya knew her way around these back alleys better than anybody else. She’d stayed alive this long, and that wasn’t going to change tonight.

She spotted a dumpster sitting against the wall in front of her, and the fire escape above it. Without pausing, she jumped on top of the trash can and then onto the rusty catwalk. She climbed the ladder with astounding agility, stopping on the roof and looking down at the narrow street three floors below. Less than half a minute later, a man came into the dim light, his long black coat billowing out behind him. He ran past the dumpster, just like she’d hoped, as did the one that came behind him.

That’s two of them, Reya whispered, watching them until they were lost to sight. Where’s the third?

He’d most likely been left behind during the chase. Not many people could keep up with her. In fact, she was impressed that those two had managed it for so long. Either way, she needed to get back to shelter before they realized they’d been tricked. Taking a few steps backward, she got a running start and jumped to the next building.

Her home was about half a mile west of where she was, and she didn’t want to spend a minute longer than she had to out in the open. Her feet hit the roof of the next building running, and she vaulted over the next gap as well. She moved with more confidence now, knowing that she could pass right above the men and they wouldn’t even notice her. It was amazing, really, how people never thought to look up.

She was soaring over the gap between another two buildings when she saw him. Like a shadow come to life, suddenly another figure was running beside her. His black coat fluttered behind him like a cape, and she caught of flash of white when he gave her a taunting smile. He matched her pace perfectly, and when she jumped they landed in flawless synchronization.

Reya skidded to a halt, breathing heavily. Her pursuer stopped as well, but he didn’t seem to be out of breath at all. He stood up straight, his cold blue eyes glaring at her underneath a mop of raven-black hair. He couldn’t have been more than a year younger than she was.

Reya clenched her fists, pushing her fear away. I don’t want to hurt you, kid. Just get out of my way!

The boy laughed. Kid? I’m a Slayer. He raised his hands to fight as well. And Slayers don’t just step aside for things like you.

Reya’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Fine, then. Take this!

Reya threw herself at the young Slayer, and a set of needle-sharp claws sprouted from her fingertips. She lashed out with them, but the boy merely sidestepped her attack. With a growl she came at him again, swinging her right hand first, then her left. The boy leaned away from her right hand, and then caught her left one before kicking her in the stomach.

Reya sucked in her breath as she fell to her knees. A kick from any normal person wouldn’t have been able to hurt her that much. But this boy wasn’t a normal person. He was a Slayer, trained from birth to kill Mythics like her.

She needed to get away!

Before he could react, Reya jumped up, performed a back flip, and landed several feet away from him. She didn’t stay there long enough to see what he would do, she turned and ran, jumping between buildings as adrenaline turned her blood to fire. How could he be so strong? So fast? He couldn’t be older than sixteen. Reya had fought Slayers twice his age without breaking a sweat. It wasn’t natural.

She moved in what she hoped was an unpredictable pattern, jumping between buildings randomly while still making steady progress towards her home. If she could just get to the abandoned hotel, she could hide from him until he gave up and left. She’d have to leave, of course. If she stayed, she’d only find more Slayers breathing down her neck. For now, though—

Reya misjudged the distance between buildings, and her foot caught on the ledge, sending her sprawled out on her face. She got to her hands and knees, breathing frantically, and chanced a look back. Almost unbelievably, the Slayer wasn’t anywhere in sight. She got back to her feet, knees bleeding from the fall, and looked around. No, he wasn’t hiding somewhere. He really was gone. After that show he’d put on earlier, had she really lost him that easily?

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, she thought. Just get home before he comes back!

And there it was, only one building away. Reya ran for it, jumping the gap and crashing through the boards covering the window. She rolled when she hit the floor, throwing up a thick cloud of dust. She coughed, but couldn’t help but laugh with relief. She’d made it! She got shakily to her feet, her heart still pounding in her chest. She wasn’t in the clear yet. She had to get deeper inside the building. The Slayers would probably look here for her. If she could just stay out of their sight long enough, eventually they’d give up.

Her hand groped in the darkness for the wall. There had been a fire years ago, long before she’d moved in, but for some reason the old place had never been torn down. Since a lot of the floor had been burned away, it was risky to move around in the dark. Tonight that could work to her advantage, though. If the Slayers decided to search the building, they might collapse the floorboards and take care of themselves.

Suddenly, the boards over another window imploded, and Reya spun around just as the Slayer from before landed. He rolled into a crouch, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Reya’s feet were glued to the floor as he stood up. I knew you’d lead me back to your den. How many other monsters are you squatting with in here?

We are not monsters! Reya snarled.

The time for subtlety was over. If she was going to survive the night, she had to hit this kid with everything she had. She lunged at him as fiery red fur sprouted from her body, the same color as her hair. When her hands touched the ground they had become paws, and two long, white tipped tails whipped back and forth behind her. Reya had revealed her true form: a fox the size of a small horse.

Now that’s more like it! the Slayer laughed, reaching into his pocket. When he withdrew it, he was holding a sword.

Reya growled and pounced at the Slayer, aiming for the jugular. He spun to the side and swung his sword, cutting a gash along her cheek. Blood stained the fur on her face when she landed. She spun around, using her powerful tails to strike the young man. It threw him several feet backward, and she jumped to pin him to the ground. The Slayer’s foot shot up, connecting with her chest, and he kicked her over his head, flipping her upside down in the process. He sprang to his feet and swung his sword, slicing the white fur off of the tip of her tail. Reya snapped at him, but retreated when he swung his sword at her face again.

Slayer dog! she spat.

Kitsune scum, he retorted.

Reya spun, trying to hit him with her tails a second time, but the Slayer caught them in his hand. With a grunt, he turned around and yanked them over his shoulder, pulling Reya into the air and slamming her down again. The rotten wood floor shattered, and she fell down to the story below. Dust and soot filled the air, choking her and making it impossible to see.

No! she thought, scrambling to her paws. Her front leg hurt, probably dislocated. It can’t end here. Not like this!

She heard a thump nearby as the Slayer came down to join her. She could barely see him through the dust. His blade reflected the dim light, though, and she managed to duck before it hit her.

Why are you doing this? she gasped, still trying to catch her breath. What did I ever do to you?

A cold gust of wind wafted through the room, blowing the dust away and revealing the Slayer’s ominous scowl.

Because of what you took away from me, he answered, advancing on her.

I didn’t take anything from you, she protested, retreating, her leg still throbbing with pain. I’ve never seen you before in my life!

It doesn’t matter, he said. You monsters are all the same.

Please, she begged him, don’t! Just let me go!

He ignored her and raised his sword. No more innocent people are going to suffer because of you.

A final, desperate anger rose up in her. She wasn’t just going to lie down and die. She was going to take him with her! She lunged at him, going for his throat again. The Slayer didn’t even blink. He merely stepped to the side, raised his sword, and swung it down. Cold steel met warm flesh, and Reya’s body fell to the floor in a heap. Her head rolled a few feet before coming to rest, her lifeless eyes staring back at him, stuck forever in a shocked expression.

The Slayer pulled out a rag to clean his blade, and then reinserted it into his pocket. The enchanted fabric expanded to fit the weapon without leaving any suspicious bumps in the coat. Then he picked up the kitsune’s head and made his way to the window. Without any hesitation, he stepped over the edge. A strong wind kicked up, catching him halfway to the ground, and set him down gently. He turned when he heard footsteps coming from the other direction.

Porter, we lost… oh, the other Slayer said when he noticed what was in the young man’s hand. His companion came running up behind him, puffing with exhaustion.

You already got it, huh? he said, stopping to lean on the wall. Good job!

It fooled you two, he said tossing the head into a nearby garbage can. If I hadn’t been there, it would have gotten away.

Sorry, the first Slayer said.

Never mind, Porter said, shaking his head. Let’s just get back to Red Castle.

There was a bright yellow flash, and all three trench-coated men were gone. Above them, Reya’s body lay bleeding on the floor of the abandoned hotel where nobody would ever find her.

Chapter Two

(Sarah)

Morning dawned on the Heisen manor, bathing the lush green lawns with light. A few statues in the yard watched over a family of ducks as they waddled towards the nearby pond. A cool breeze wafted over the property, making the cottonwood trees at the southern edge rustle. As the sun rose higher, it eventually found a window on the east side, four stories above the ground. The curtain had been drawn tight, but it still managed to find a single, tiny crack and let itself into the house through it— right onto the face of a sleeping sphinx.

Sarah squirmed, trying to ignore the sudden light that interrupted her dreams, but found it to be a losing battle. Finally, she raised her head, yawned, and then stood up. Her sheets had been wadded up around her into a nest, and she kicked them lethargically away and leaped down onto the floor.

Good morning, sunshine, she murmured, stretching her forepaws out in front of herself. A thick rug hung from the nearby wall, and she stood up on her back legs and ran her claws through it. Glancing at the mirror, she took a moment to groom the feathers on her wings back into place before pushing open her door and padding into the hallway.

The sweet smell of bacon and eggs wafted down the hall, making her mouth water. Mrs. Rasta must already be awake, then. She quickened her pace, her stomach already growling at the promise of breakfast.

Good morning, dear, the old banshee greeted her as she came into the kitchen. She hovered in front of the stove, her toes dangling exactly six inches above the floor.

Morning, Mrs. R., Sarah replied. Is breakfast almost ready?

Just a few more minutes, dear. Mrs. Rasta turned to face her. You should go speak to your parents, though. They’ll be ready to leave any minute now.

Leave? Sarah echoed, looking at the maid in surprise. Where are they going?

Oh dear, the banshee said, turning back to her cooking, they forgot to tell you again? If you hurry, you can catch them before they go out the door. I’m sure they’d like to give you a proper goodbye instead of leaving a note like last time.

Yeah, right, Sarah growled, but turned and ran from the kitchen anyway. She knew her parents had a reason for wanting to leave without her noticing.

The young sphinx ran into the marble floored entryway, her claws scraping against the stone as she skidded to a halt. Her parents were already there, their hands loaded with suitcases and bags.

Wait! she called, halting them. They may have wanted to leave unnoticed, but they’d never just ignore her when she called to them.

Sarah, honey, her mother said, setting her bags down on the floor. We were worried you wouldn’t be up in time to say goodbye again!

Both of her parents were in their human forms, dressed in their best human clothes. That could only mean one thing…

You’re going on another business trip, aren’t you? Sarah demanded, stepping back to avoid her mother’s hug. Can I come this time?

The answer is the same as it has always been, her father answered, looking anxiously at the door. You’re not old enough.

I’m sixteen! she spat, glaring at him. Most parents let their kids drive when they’re that old, but you’ve never even let me out of the house!

It’s dangerous out there, her father insisted, reluctantly setting down his bags as well. If anyone were to see you—

I can hide just as well as you two!

Before either of her parents could argue, she recited the spell she’d known since birth. Her wings and fur shrank into her body and she stood up on two legs, clothes materializing to cover her.

See? she asked defiantly, putting her fists on her human hips.

You still have a tail, her father pointed out.

Sarah turned around to look, and groaned when she saw he was right. She released the spell, falling down on all fours again. I want to go with you, she pleaded. I’m so sick of it here!

How can you be sick of it? her mother asked. You’ve never seen anything else.

When both her daughter and husband gave her a flat stare, she looked away. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, she mumbled.

Sarah, Mr. Heisen said, getting down on one knee and putting a hand on Sarah’s shoulder, we’re only doing this to protect you. All it takes is one slip up for the Slayers to be all over you.

You two have never had that problem, Sarah grumped, using her wing to brush her father’s hand off.

Neither of us were allowed out of the house until we were adults, he reminded her sternly, so don’t think we’re making you do anything we haven’t had to do ourselves.

Sarah huffed and turned as if to leave. She had known it was pointless trying to convince them to bring her all along, but she’d had to do it. Mr. Heisen was CEO of a very successful lock making company, which meant that he and her mother were constantly leaving to conduct business. That was the source of the family’s wealth, which they insisted was solely to keep Sarah living in comfort. After sixteen years of never once getting to leave the mansion, though, Sarah found what she wanted more than anything else was to go with them.

Sarah, please, her mother said, don’t be like that. We’ll bring you back something nice this time, all right?

Whatever, she said, refusing to look at them again.

After a few seconds of silence, Mrs. Heisen asked, Can we have a kiss goodbye?

Sarah sighed, but turned around. She wanted to be angry at her parents for leaving her behind again, but she knew they were right. The Slayers were out there, and if one of them so much as glimpsed her true form, she was dead. The transformation spell was difficult to get right, even after sixteen years of practicing it, and it took even longer to be able to hold it for extended amounts of time.

It’d better be something really cool, she grumbled, putting her front paws on their shoulders so she could kiss their cheeks.

It will be, I promise, Mr. Heisen said, picking up his bags again. Now come on, or we’ll miss our flight. Be good for Mrs. Rasta, Sarah.

And with that, the door closed behind them, leaving Sarah alone in the huge house yet again.

Well, almost alone.

I’m sorry, dearie, Mrs. Rasta said, floating into the room. Come on, I’ll make you something special for breakfast.

Sarah walked in silence for a few seconds, staring at the floor, but finally she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Why can’t I ever go with them? she demanded. It’s so boring around here!

I’m sure you could find something to do, dear, Mrs. Rasta said, as she always did. Why, it’s not every child who gets to grow up in a house this big!

They reached the kitchen, and Sarah sat down while the maid began to get out the ingredients.

Most children are allowed to go outside once in a while, though, Sarah reminded her.

It’s not that bad, Mrs. Rasta insisted. I stay here all the time too, you know.

Yeah, I know, but you weren’t born here. You actually got to see the world before my parents hired you.

That’s true, she agreed reluctantly.

What’s it like out there? Sarah pressed her, coming to stand beside her. What did you see?

I saw many things, Mrs. Rasta said, grimly. Some were incredible, others were incredibly horrible. In my opinion, the good things are not worth the pain the bad things bring.

Like what? Sarah urged her.

Mythics like us always have to look over their shoulder. Even ones that can disguise themselves like your parents aren’t safe. You end up not being able to trust anybody, because you don’t know who might be a Slayer. And then when they finally do find you, they… She broke off, as if suddenly remembering where she was. The old banshee composed herself, and gave Sarah a gentle smile. I think you’re much better off in here, dear.

Sarah frowned and went back to the other end of the kitchen. She trusted Mrs. Rasta, but her warnings didn’t faze her one bit. Her parents had books— an entire library. Sarah had spent her whole life reading about the world outside her mansion. The buildings, the cities, the natural wonders that words and photographs just couldn’t describe. She was tired of reading about them. She wanted to see them with her own eyes!

Sarah sighed. There was no use dwelling on it. Until her parents decided otherwise, she was stuck here.

I wish Misoki was still here, she grumbled.

Mrs. Rasta started, and then turned to look at the young sphinx. If I were you, she said dryly, I would not say such things when your father is around.

My father can go bite his own tail, Sarah sneered. Misoki was the only friend I’ve ever had. It’s his fault she’s gone.

Your father is a great Mythic, Mrs. Rasta said sternly, waving her wooden spoon at Sarah. That werewolf was putting dangerous ideas into your head. He did that for your own good.

Sarah scowled and looked away. It had been more than two years since the young werewolf had left, and Sarah hadn’t gone a single day since without wishing her friend would come back. Not that she’d be welcome after…

No use dwelling on that either, she thought. There was always one thing that would cheer her up, though.

Hey, Mrs. R, she said with a bright, empty smile, after I eat I’m going to go outside and practice flying.

You most certainly are not, young lady! the banshee snapped. You know you’re not allowed to do that!

I’m only two years away from being eighteen, Sarah whined, stretching her wings out behind her. I bet they’re strong enough.

A sphinx’s wings don’t mature enough to fly until they’re eighteen, and not a day sooner! the banshee said. You know that.

Oh come on, Sarah wheedled, her spirits rising already. How am I gonna be ready then if I can’t practice now?

For the last time, no!

As the two Mythics argued, neither of them noticed the tree branches outside the window rustle. They shook again, and a figure in a dark coat dropped out. Making sure to keep out of sight of the window, the man hurried away until he was off the manor grounds completely. When he was safely in the woods, hidden by the shadows cast by the rising sun, he pulled a small mirror out of his pocket.

Master Mortoph, he spoke into it. Slowly, his reflection disappeared and was replaced by the image of the Master Slayer. The scouts were right, sir. There are two monsters in that house. A sphinx and a banshee.

How old is the sphinx? Mortoph asked.

A teenager, the Slayer answered. About fifteen or sixteen, I think.

A banshee would not be raising a sphinx that young by itself, Mortoph said, his voice confident. That means there are more inside. Good work. I will inform the others, and assign someone to deal with them.

Who, sir? the Slayer asked, curiously.

There’s a boy named Porter, Mortoph answered. He’s the youngest Slayer to be promoted in years. I think a family of sphinxes would be the perfect challenge for him.

Chapter Three

(Porter)

Weapons at the ready, Granger ordered.

Porter raised his wooden sword, pointing it at the young man facing him from the other side of the mat. The other boy drew his own sword with a dramatic flourish, grinning at him.

Begin! Granger said, waving his hand and stepping backwards off the mat.

The other boy made the first move, his slanted eyes gleaming eagerly as he darted forward. Porter knocked his attack aside with a swing of his sword, and then rapped him on the shoulder.

One strike! Granger declared, holding up a finger on his right hand to keep score.

Porter’s opponent grinned, taking a couple steps back. Porter let him do it, and then held his sword out in a defensive position. The Asian boy rushed at him again, ducking to anticipate a head strike while thrusting his weapon up towards Porter’s chest. Porter stepped out of the way, and then smacked the other boy on the head.

Two strikes, Granger announced, holding up another finger.

Chuckling under his breath, Porter’s opponent retreated back to the other side of the mat and took up a ready stance.

You want to make the first move? Porter offered.

In answer, the Asian boy took a step out, threw himself onto the ground, and somersaulted past Porter. Porter spun around and deflected the attack as the Asian boy rolled back to his feet. The boy swung again at Porter’s chest, and their wooden blades crossed. They stayed like this for a few seconds before his opponent abandoned the contest of strength. He dropped to the floor, swinging his leg out in an arc, and knocked Porter’s feet out from under him.

Son of a… Porter thought as he fell. At the last moment, his free hand shot out, catching him. He thrust upwards, sending his entire body into the air, and flipped so that he landed on his feet. As he descended, he swung his sword again, slamming it onto the Asian boy’s head a second time.

Three strikes! Granger declared, holding up a third finger. Porter wins!

The Asian boy sat on the mat for a few seconds, stunned, before shaking his head and grinning up at Porter.

I have a taught you well, he said, rubbing his head.

Yeah, Porter said, a smile rising to his own face, you wish you were good enough to teach me that. He held out his hand and helped the other boy up. Good fight, Ozzie. You’re getting better.

Oh, big deal, Ozzie said dramatically, dropping his weapon on the floor. I may as well be fighting the wind.

Would you like some advice, Ozzie? Granger said, stepping forward to pick up the discarded sword.

I think I have an idea how I could beat him, Ozzie replied. He held his hands out dramatically. I could catch him while he’s asleep, chain him from the ceiling by his toes, and then skin him alive.

Granger gave Ozzie a stern look, and the boy paled a bit. Not funny? he asked, sheepishly.

It may have been, Granger said, if I weren’t afraid you would actually do it.

Of course I wouldn’t! Ozzie said defensively. Not to Porter, anyway. He hooked his elbow around Porter’s neck. Me ‘n him? We’re like brothers.

Is that the only reason? Porter teased him, slipping easily out of the headlock.

Ozzie shrugged. Sure, I guess there’s the thing about you somehow breaking out and stabbing me with every pointy object in a mile radius, but… you know, details.

Those details will mean the difference between life and death in the field, Ozzie, Granger said, bringing the discussion back on point. You must be prepared for anything.

I’ll work on it, Ozzie promised before grabbing Porter’s elbow and towing him towards the door.

You need to be more respectful, Porter snapped, jerking his arm away from him. Even if Ozzie was his best friend, he had to learn how to behave around his superiors. When he looked at the old Slayer, though, he caught a flash of a smile behind his bushy red beard.

Care to fight someone closer to your own level, Porter? he asked.

Yes, sir, Porter answered, eagerly making his way back to the mat. He retrieved the sword he’d used before and turned to face Granger. Granger picked out a wooden blade curved to look like a katana, his weapon of choice.

You’re gonna get your butt kicked, dude, Ozzie called from the sideline, sounding eager to see it happen.

We’ll see, he replied. Keep score.

Ready, Porter? Granger asked. Porter held out his sword and nodded.

Granger leaped into action immediately, taking a step towards Porter and swinging his sword. Porter reflexively raised his own to defend himself, but realized what the old man’s plan was when their weapons did not touch. Granger diverted his attack at the last second, fluidly redirecting himself from an overhead strike to a lower one. Porter barely had time to block that one before it struck his sword so hard that it vibrated his arms.

Granger let his blade slide smoothly off of Porter’s and began another attack. This was his signature fighting style, where every single movement transitioned perfectly into the next one. He moved as gracefully as a dancer, his sword nothing less than an extension of his arm. Porter managed to block two more attacks before the old man finally landed one on his shoulder.

Point for Granger! Ozzie shouted, waving his scorekeeping hand wildly above his head.

The rest of the match didn’t last long. Granger moved in patterns predictable only to himself, striking blows on Porter wherever he was open. Porter didn’t land a single hit on him. He wasn’t upset, though. Granger was, after all, the third-in-command Slayer. Even if Porter was the youngest Slayer to be promoted in generations, he was still nowhere near Granger’s level.

Good fight, Porter, Granger said, shaking his hand. You’re more than a match for most people three times your age.

Still no match for you, sir, Porter said respectfully.

Granger chuckled good naturedly. Keep practicing. Skill comes with practice just as wisdom comes with age. He paused. Though I will say this: even I wasn’t as good as you are now when I was your age.

Porter fought to keep his face from breaking out into a huge grin. Porter had a lot of respect for Granger— some might even say the old man was his hero. But Porter was a Slayer. He was above childish things like that.

Let’s go, Ozzie urged him, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and dragging him out of the room.

I can walk by myself, Porter said, brushing Ozzie’s hand off. And you need to show Granger more respect.

I respect him, Ozzie shot back. I haven’t tried to shave his beard off yet, have I?

Porter groaned and rolled his eyes. The irritation didn’t last, though. The two young men had known each other almost all their lives, and were brothers in every way except blood. Porter had heard it said more than once that it was amazing how the two of them could be so close, being as different as they were. Porter was cold and determined while Ozzie was lighthearted and immature. And, in Porter’s opinion, the rumors that Ozzie was going insane were more than just rumors. Ozzie’s earliest memory was of his father being killed by a satyr while on a hunting trip, and it had done a number on his psyche.

In truth, that was the experience that brought him and Porter together. At about the same age, Porter’s family had been killed when a mischievous fairy had set his house on fire. As horrible as it was, those ordeals had allowed the two of them to bond together, forming a friendship stronger than two people with such huge differences had any right to have. In fact, that was the one thing most of the Slayers had in common: they had all suffered somehow because of the monsters. And they all had the Master Slayer, Drake Mortoph, to thank for opening their eyes to the real workings of the world. Master Mortoph was the one who brought them to Red Castle, trained them, and gave them a place within the Slayers’ ranks. Porter was honored to serve under him.

Are you done drooling yet? Ozzie sniggered as he unlocked the door to their room. I’ll admit, Granger’s pretty cool, but I think you’re taking it a little far here.

Shut up, Porter said, pushing his friend through the door and shutting it behind him. He’s one of the greatest Slayers of our time. And he actually takes the time to train us personally. How can you not look up to him?

Porter went to his side of the room and hung the training sword on the wall. Directly above it was his real sword, gleaming in the light coming in through the window. Just to the right was his black coat, hanging on a peg and waiting to be put on. It was their uniform. No Slayer went out into the field without one.

Because there’s one monster he’s never managed to kill, Ozzie said.

Oh, yeah? Porter asked. What’s that?

The flying pillow of doom!

Porter spun around just in time to catch Ozzie’s pillow before it struck him in the face. On the other side of the room, Ozzie nearly fell over laughing.

Seriously, man? Porter asked dryly, dropping the pillow on the floor. Maybe that’s why you haven’t been promoted yet. You need to grow up.

Ozzie went to retrieve his pillow, struggling to stop giggling. Porter glanced toward his friend’s bed, and saw something lying on the mattress right where the pillow had just been.

Is that a photograph? he asked curiously, taking a step closer to look.

There’s nothing there! Ozzie shouted, and suddenly he was between Porter and the bed. Nothing!

Um, Porter said, taken aback by his friend’s mood swing. There wasn’t even a hint of a smile on his face now. Are you okay?

I’m fine, the Asian boy insisted, turning around a putting his pillow back on his bed, covering up whatever it was Porter had seen. Peachy. Come on, let’s go get something to eat!

Before Porter could protest, Ozzie had grabbed him by the elbow, opened the door, and—

Ran face first into the man standing just outside it.

Ow! Ozzie complained, letting go of Porter to rub his nose. Watch where you’re going, man!

The man glared at him. You’re the one who… he shook his head. Never mind. Porter, you’ve been summoned by Master Mortoph. He wants to see you in the board room right now.

Porter didn’t need to hear another word. He took off running in the direction of the meeting room, nimbly weaving between other Slayers that were in his way. When the Master Slayer, Drake Mortoph, wanted to see to see you, you ran. A wide oak door blocked his progress, and Porter slid to a stop outside of it and knocked.

Enter, a strong voice called from the other side.

Porter pushed the door open and stepped through it. The room on the other side was long and narrow, with a table stretching across its entire length. Porter went to stand at the end closest to the door and bowed his head respectfully.

You summoned me, Master Mortoph? he asked.

I did, the Master Slayer answered, and Porter looked up at him. Drake Mortoph was a massive man, over seven feet tall, with limbs as thick as logs. He smiled at the young Slayer, a stark contrast to the cold look in his eyes. Porter had learned to ignore that over the years. Master Mortoph looked at everyone as if he wanted to cut their head off.

Sit, he said, and Porter slid the chair in front of him out and sat in it. On both sides of him was the Order, the top nine ranking Slayers. Granger sat two seats away from Mortoph, the only one between them being Dominic Vega, the second highest ranking Slayer.

I read the report for your last hunt, Mortoph said. He spoke softly, yet his voice filled the entire room. I am very impressed. You anticipated where the Kitsune would go and blocked its escape. Well done.

Thank you, Master Mortoph. Porter bowed his head again.

It has been years since the Slayers saw a recruit as promising as you. I can see great things in your future.

This was a metaphor, of course. For all his skill and power, even Drake Mortoph could not see into the future.

But I did not summon you just to flatter you, young man, he said, clasping his meaty hands in front of himself. I summoned you to offer you another assignment.

Already? Porter asked in surprise.

Mortoph nodded. We have received word today of a nest of monsters living not far from here. A banshee, and at least three sphinxes. Such an infestation must be destroyed at once.

Yes, Master Mortoph, Porter agreed.

Mortoph smiled again. Then you accept?

Porter didn’t even have to think about it. I do, sir.

Lend me your ear a moment, lad, another voice said from the other end of the table. Porter turned and saw Alexander Himaly leaning toward him. He was the oldest member of the Order, and his wisdom and advice were highly valued.

The sphinxes will be your primary target, he said in his creaky old voice. The banshee may put up a fight, but it shouldn’t give you much trouble. Its scream is its most dangerous weapon. Finish it off quickly and then focus all of your attention on the sphinxes.

Yes sir, Porter agreed with a bob of his head.

Good, Mortoph said, standing up. You will attack tonight. Granger will be accompanying you.

Granger? Porter’s heart skipped a beat in excitement. He was finally going on a mission with his… with the man who would be his hero if he were a child!

Granger stood up and turned to Porter. "Go and get ready. I’m sure you are up to this, but we can’t run into a monster’s nest unprepared.

Yes, sir, Porter said, nodding energetically. He looked to Mortoph.

You are dismissed, Porter, he said. Make the Slayers proud.

Yes, Master Mortoph, Porter said, practically jumping out of his chair. Thank you, sir!"

He left the conference room and rushed back to his dorm.

What’s gotten into you? Ozzie asked when the door flew open.

Got another assignment, Porter told him. Three sphinxes and a banshee. I’m going with Granger!

One of Ozzie’s trademark grins broke out on his face. Ooh, Porter and Grange, sitting in a—

Porter rounded on him. Go ahead and finish if you feel like losing a couple teeth.

Ozzie backed away and lay down on his bed, laughing under his breath. Porter looked over just in time to see him take something out of his pocket and put it under his pillow.

You know, he said slowly, not wanting him to freak out like he had before, they do room checks every week or so. If you’ve got something you don’t want them to see, you probably shouldn’t keep it under—

They found out about my junk food stash months ago! Ozzie interrupted him, jerking his hand back out from under his pillow. I got bathroom duty for a week because of it, remember?

That’s not what I… Porter shook his head and sighed. Granger was waiting to leave. He’d find out what Ozzie was hiding when he got back. Taking his black coat down from its peg, he swung it around and slipped his arms through the sleeves. His sword slid easily into the expanding pocket, just like it always did. A few other things went into the numerous pockets on the inside, just in case they were needed. Finally, he buttoned up the front and turned to Ozzie.

Wish me luck, he said.

Cut off their toes and bring them back for me, okay?

Porter shut the door behind him and hurried away to the front gate where he knew Granger would be waiting. Red Castle was protected by many different spells, which made teleporting in and out of the place impossible. They would have to stand just outside the gate to do it.

Are you prepared, Porter? Granger asked when he arrived. His katana was sheathed across his back.

Yes, Porter said.

Then may fate smile upon us, the old man said, somberly, as we go out to hunt this night.

With that, he reached out and took Porter by the shoulder. There was a bright yellow flash of light, and when it faded the two of them were gone.

Chapter Four

(Sarah)

Is everything all right, dear?

Sarah looked up and saw Mrs. Rasta hovering outside her bedroom door.

I’m fine, she answered, setting her chin back down on top of her paws. She was lying on the floor of her bedroom, staring out of the window.

Honey, the kindly old banshee said, drifting in to float above her, I know it’s frustrating, but your parents are only doing this for your protection.

They could have taken me to one of the Sanctuaries, she said without looking at her maid. I wouldn’t have to stay inside all the time, even when they were gone.

Getting to the Sanctuaries can be hard, Mrs. Rasta said. You can’t teleport inside them, so your parents would have to—

I know, they’d have to take me there themselves, Sarah interrupted, scowling at the moon outside her window. Because that would be so horrible!

Sarah, you know how dangerous that would be!

Sarah sighed. Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Mrs. Rasta didn’t say anything for a full minute. Then, hesitantly, she said, Perhaps there is something I should tell you.

Sarah finally turned to look at her. What?

The banshee took a deep breath, as if second guessing herself. If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret, all right? Your parents asked me not to say anything.

That last sentence piqued Sarah’s interest, and she nodded.

Your parents aren’t just on a business trip, Mrs. Rasta confided. They were going to make a quick stop by the office to check in, but after that, they’re going to… her voice trailed off.

They’re going to what? Sarah prodded her.

They’re going to one of the Sanctuaries to purchase a house, she finished.

Sarah stared at the old banshee for a few seconds in shock. Then she leaped to her paws, eyes wide with excitement. A house in a Sanctuary? she exclaimed. And we’re going to, like, move there?

A smile broke out on Mrs. Rasta’s face. Yes, child. They didn’t want me to tell you so that it would be a surprise. They hope to move in before the year is over.

Oh my gosh! Sarah started pacing back and forth, unsure of what to do with herself. Which Sanctuary? Did they tell you? What’s it like?

It’s called Jellaska Kob Lertan. That’s Dwarvish for The City under the Hill. I’ve never been there, but I hear it is one of the most comfortable Sanctuaries in the world.

And there’ll be other Mythics, Sarah babbled, unable to calm down. I’ll be able to leave the house. I’ll be able to make friends!

Yes, Mrs. Rasta agreed, then held up a warning finger. But you mustn’t tell your parents I told you. When they come home, you have to act surprised!

I will, Sarah agreed, nodding her head energetically. I promise!

Good, Mrs. Rasta smiled. Now come on, I’ll fix you some dinner.

As they made their way down the hall, Sarah couldn’t stop herself from asking even more questions. Have you ever been to a Sanctuary? What was it like? Do you think Jellaska Kob Lertan will be the same?

I’ve been to one Sanctuary, yes, the maid answered. But I wouldn’t ever want to go back. Many of them are little more than holes in the ground where desperate Mythics go to hide.

R- really? Sarah asked, giving her a startled look.

Mrs. Rasta nodded. There’s very little food there, and sickness is often a very big problem. It’s no wonder, truth be told, that most Mythics choose to live in the human world like your parents do.

A dark mood crept over Sarah’s heart. We wouldn’t have to, if they weren’t here.

What do you mean, dear?

I mean the humans! Sarah spat. Why is it that the whole world belongs to them? It isn’t fair that all the Mythics have to hide so one race can have everything. It’s selfish!

Mrs. Rasta sighed. Sarah, you mustn’t think such things. It’s not the entire human race’s fault. Most of them don’t even know we exist. It’s the Slayers that make us live this way.

The Slayers are human, Sarah insisted grumpily. That makes it the humans’ fault.

Sarah stared sullenly at the floor beneath her paws as she walked, and Mrs. Rasta gave her a concerned glance from above.

But anyway, I don’t think the dwarf city will be like that, she said, bringing the conversation back on point. They say the richer Sanctuaries are very comfortable. You won’t be living in a mansion anymore, but there will probably be a nice neighborhood and a town.

A town? Sarah exclaimed, eyes lighting up again. A whole town inside a mountain? Will it have a…

Her voice trailed off when a strange scent wafted into her nose. Tilting her head back, she took a deeper breath, and then looked at Mrs. Rasta.

What are you making for dinner? she asked.

I’m not sure, Mrs. Rasta admitted. I haven’t started anything yet.

Sarah stopped. Then what’s that smell? She asked. It smells like something’s burning.

Burning? Mrs. Rasta asked, coming to a stop in midair as well. What do you—

Before she could finish her sentence, a section of the wall next to them exploded. Both Sarah and Mrs. Rasta were thrown to the side, slamming into the opposite wall. Sarah fell to the ground, her head spinning and her ears ringing. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear shouting.

Sarah? Sarah!

She groaned, and opened her eyes. The hallway was clogged with smoke, which made it hard to see, but she could still make out Mrs. Rasta hovering right in front of her.

Are you all right? she asked, her voice seeming to draw nearer with every second. The ringing went away, and Sarah shook her head to clear it.

What happened? she asked, dumbly, only now noticing the flames that were creeping across the walls.

Mrs. Rasta shook her head frantically. There’s no time, Sarah. You have to go. Can you stand?

I- I think so. She got to her paws, her legs trembling after the scare. Mrs. Rasta drew closer, and grabbed the sides of Sarah’s head.

Run, girl, she said. Run as fast as you can, and don’t look back!

Sarah backed out of her grip, and saw that the fire had already spread to the ceiling.

What’s going on? she demanded. Her mind was finally processing everything around her, and the terror was beginning to sink in.

Run, Sarah! the maid insisted. I’ll hold them off. Just go before they find—

I’m afraid it’s too late for that.

A chill ran down Sarah’s spine, making the fur on her back stand up, and she spun around to see a man walking towards them. The flames parted before him, leaving him safe, albeit charred, ground to walk on. He was wearing a black trench coat that somehow seemed impervious to the fire. He was…

A Slayer! Sarah screeched, trying to back away but finding her path blocked by a blazing wall.

The Slayer regarded her coolly, and then reached behind him and drew a long, curved sword.

I will take the banshee, he said. Porter, can you handle the sphinx?

Yes, Granger, another voice answered, and a second Slayer stepped up to join him. He glared at Sarah with so much hatred in his eyes that she almost felt like the fire itself would freeze because of it.

He looks like he’s my age, she thought, her brain still struggling to make sense of everything she was seeing.

The younger Slayer drew a sword out of his pocket, and brandished it at her.

Stay away from her! Mrs. Rasta yelled, breaking Sarah out of her trance. She shot forward to stand between Sarah and the boy, but the older Slayer moved to intercept her. The banshee sucked as much air as she could into her lungs, and then released it into a scream that made the floorboards in front of her crack. The Slayers both dodged out of the way, but Sarah cringed and suddenly wished she had hands to cover her ears with. The older Slayer dropped to the ground, rolled under Mrs. Rasta’s levitating feet, and sprang back up behind her. Before she could react, he jumped into the air, his sword reflecting the firelight as he swung it, and sliced through her neck. Mrs. Rasta immediately went silent as her head fell free of her shoulders. It thudded to the floor, and her body hung suspended in the air for a moment before joining it.

Sarah screamed. Mrs. Rasta, the only person she’d ever known besides her parents, was dead! Heat bombarded her from every angle as the fire continued to spread, but she still felt like her paws were frozen to the floor by solid ice.

Do it, Porter, the older Slayer said. We don’t have much time.

Yes, Granger, the boy said again, and threw himself at Sarah.

Mrs. Rasta’s lifeless eyes were open, staring at Sarah, forevermore unseeing but still trying to tell her something. Run, they seemed to say. Run.

RUN!

Sarah snapped out of her stupor at the last moment, and just narrowly avoided being beheaded by the young Slayer’s blade. Still blinded by fear and panic, she spun around and ran further into the mansion. She could hear the Slayer’s footsteps coming right behind her.

Be careful! she heard the older Slayer yell. The house is coming down any minute!

Somewhere deep inside of her, she knew that this was the wrong thing to do. She was only taking herself deeper into the mansion, farther away from any possible exits. She needed to get to the first floor, where she could try to get out through a window or something. Her fear addled brain wasn’t listening, though, and her paws just carried her further and further into the huge house.

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind ripped through the hallway, icy cold despite the fires. It hit Sarah with enough force to lift her off her paws and send her hurtling down the hall, completely out of control, until she struck another wall. Weakened as it was by the fire, Sarah crashed straight through it. There was no room on the other side, so she fell straight down to the first floor, where she landed with a grunt. Smoke filled the lower floor as well. Sarah could feel the flames singing her feathers, so she tucked them tight against her body as she got back up. Fortunately, the Slayer’s magic attack seemed to have given her some distance.

Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get out, she muttered, trying to get her bearings. The mansion she’d grown up in was completely alien to her, now that it was covered in flame. Still, if she was right, then the Slayer had chased her into the northern corner of the house. There was a door somewhere nearby. If she could just get to it, she could escape.

The burning mansion seemed to emphasize the if by letting out a long, eerie groan. Somewhere further in, she heard a crash as a part of the roof collapsed.

Stay calm, she said, fighting the urge to panic again. You’ll be fine. Just start looking for—

You’re not getting away from me!

Sarah froze, and looked up at the hole she had made when she’d flown through the wall, and saw the Slayer standing in it. Lit from behind by the ominous firelight, he looked like nothing so much as a demon risen from the depths of hell.

He was still up there, though, which meant that Sarah had a few precious seconds to escape before he reached her. She spun around and tried to run in the direction the door was in, but before she could take two steps another gust of freezing wind blew into the room. It swirled around her, whipping the fire into a blazing hot tornado around her, stopping her in her tracks. Behind her, the Slayer jumped down from the hole, and slowly made his way toward her.

Please, she begged him, hardly able to speak through the smoke, don’t.

I’ve killed a hundred monsters already, he said, his eyes cold and cruel. Why would I spare you?

He wouldn’t. There was no point in begging, Sarah realized. It was all going to end here, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could only watch as he slowly walked towards her.

I fight for the human race, he said. To protect it from monsters like you.

Sarah sobbed quietly, her tears sliding down her cheeks and hissing as they splattered on the hot floor. It was good that her parents weren’t here. They, at least, would be spared the Slayers’ wrath a little bit longer. The thought wasn’t much comfort, but it was all Sarah had as the Slayer raised his sword. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, waiting for the end to come.

The manor groaned again, and suddenly there was a crash that shook the floor and threw up a cloud of soot and dust. Sarah coughed, recoiling instinctively. She shook her head, trying to clear the ash out of her eyes, and then looked around. There was a big pile of smoldering wood in front of her, and a hole in the ceiling revealed where it had come from. The fire had weakened the structures so much that the floor above them had collapsed.

The Slayer lay in front of her, his leg trapped underneath the pile of burning wood. Sarah watched him for a few seconds, waiting for him to jump up and free himself, but he didn’t move.

Good riddance, she thought at last. With him out of the picture, she could focus on getting out of the house.

Porter! a startled voice shouted from the other end of the hallway. Sarah looked and saw the older Slayer making his way toward them, his sword drawn. The debris blocking the hallway was slowing him down, but it wouldn’t take long for him to reach her. As he came, the house groaned again.

The mansion is collapsing, Sarah thought, her brain kicking into overdrive. No time to run. What can I do?

The answer came to her almost instantly: teleportation. She’d never used it before, but she’d seen her parents do it several times. It seemed simple enough. Or she hoped it was, at least. The Slayer was drawing nearer. She would only have one chance.

She closed her eyes, remembering what her parents had told her about it. Summon the magic, and then imagine yourself being someplace else. She’d never left the mansion, though. Where was she supposed to imagine herself being?

Porter, I’m coming!

Anywhere, she decided! She imagined herself being anywhere else in the world besides the flaming deathtrap that used to be her home! Around her paws, a ring of yellow light shot up from the floor. It was working! And not a moment too soon, because when she looked up she saw the Slayer’s hand reaching out towards her. Closer, closer… and then it was gone.

The light grew brighter, and Sarah