102 - A Message Made From Bones

29

After retrieving the van where we left it near the pub, Oz arrives in the rusty blue chariot just as we reach the abandoned hotel. I rip open the van's back doors, quickly stepping aside for Kai and Faith to lay Jay on the floor, and then we file in on either side of him.

We're silent for a long moment as Oz pulls onto the street.

Then he asks, voice calm, even though the faintest hint of fear flickers in his beady, green eyes as he stares at Jay's limp body on the floor, "So... how did it go?" He scans our faces through the rearview mirror.

"We're all still kickin', so I'd say it was a success," Faith sighs, giving the werewolf an encouraging clap on his shoulder. "The Doc is still out there, though."

"That fuckin' weasel," I mutter. My frustration tastes sour on my tongue, and every bump in the road clangs through me, stoking my irritation.

My eyes haven't left Jay; his lids flutter open and shut as he weaves in and out of consciousness. His cheekbone is split, and there is another cut on his opposite brow that won't take but a day to heal.

I reach down and stroke his hair, brushing it to the side of his face. It is all I can do to appear unfazed when, internally, my blood is boiling, and my mind is racing with a plan to hunt down the Doctor.

"He keeps escaping," I observe numbly, more to myself than anyone, yet feel the weight of everyone's attention. "Makes him dangerous," I add. "And that buyer—especially if this is about the prophecy." Kai's eyes narrow on me, but I don't balk from her scalding-hot glare. "The Doctor will keep coming for him. Or send someone in his place. Your guard can never be let down until the Doctor is dead."

"So what do you propose I do to protect him?" Kai asks tightly.

"Turn him on his side," Moira chimes in, grabbing his legs while Kai and I roll him onto his shoulder.

Once he's repositioned, Moira drifts to his head and meticulously examines his scalp for any hidden wounds.

"Well," I continue, hooking loose strands of my hair behind my ears, "I had plans to get as much information from the Doctor about the prophecy. Then we'd know how to prepare for it. But now I'll need a few days to find him."

Kai's lips thin into a hard line. "You? Why you? You are why he was out at the bar in the first place!"

There's that blame I've been waiting for.

"I'm sorry." The words are dry in my throat, but I'm surprised at how steadily I deliver them. "Let me fix it."

She lowers her chin like a dog ready to charge. "Why. You."

"Because it's my job," I say, willing my voice calm, yet firm.

Kai sneers. "I'm a Slayer, too—"

"Who doesn't have my training. You'll fuck it up."

"Quinn trained me by the book—"

"Jay admitted that your training was censored by your mother."

Kai's mouth snaps shut, and I give her a minute to try another argument. I have half a mind to think she'll lunge for me instead—

"We don't need your help," she says at last.

"Jay should have a say in that," I respond, my tone sharpening.

"We've got to get better at this new vampire situation," Faith cuts in, her words cleaving the tension between us. "As if the Turok-han weren't hard enough. Too bad there ain't more than one Scythe."

I finally tear my gaze from Kai to look at my sister Slayer. "We need more firepower. Relocate to the Sanctuary and ask them for help," I suggest. Nina's establishment is well off-the-radar and well-resourced—but Faith's troubled expression reveals exactly what I hoped she wasn't thinking: