Third Strike Read Online Free PDF Page A

her.
    There had been no sign of Uncle Abraham since the family reunion broke up. He hadn’t even said good-bye or wished Joss good luck at all. That fact bothered Joss more deeply than he would ever admit to. He wanted his uncle’s approval—as a man, as a Slayer—but he was beginning to wonder if he would ever truly be the recipient of it. Just when he’d thought they were making headway, Abraham stepped back again, taking his approval with him. Joss loved his uncle . . . but despised him at the same time. It was horrible, being torn in two like that. And he was ashamed to even admit those feelings to himself.
    He moved to the head of his bed and dropped quietly to the floor, removing a loose floorboard beneath where he lay at night. Even as he slipped the letter inside, Joss told himself that he shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be keeping anything at all that might expose the existence of the Slayer Society. He’d been taught to burn all letters until they were nothing but ash and memories, so that no human would ever know that there was a secret organization in existence, protecting them from bloodthirsty monsters. But he couldn’t help it. His job was utterly thankless. Sometimes he felt so unappreciated, as if he might as well not be doing anything at all to combat vampires, for all the praise it brought him. So late at night, whenever he was feeling sad or angry or bitter or alone, as the moonlight filtered in through the curtains, Joss would pull out the letters from the Society and his journal and read the words that proved to him that he was doing the right thing. Because he was. Even if he sometimes questioned whether or not vampires were the evil creatures the Society made them out to be.
    An image flashed in his mind. The face of a teenage boy. He had black hair that hung in his eyes. And fangs. His name was Vlad. And Joss didn’t know how that image made him feel. Guilty, mostly. And sad. And a little alone. He should have felt pride—he knew that. But mostly, he just felt confused.
    Shaking the image away, Joss returned the loose floorboard to its place and stood, running a hand over the back of his neck in thought. He had to get out of the house for a while to visit Paty, but he wasn’t certain how to do so without his parents suggesting that he take Henry along with him wherever he was going. Then in an instant, he had it. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission. And his parents would just have to deal.
    As quietly as he could manage, Joss slipped out his door, along the hall, and down the stairs to the kitchen. He tied the garbage bag closed, lifted it from the can, and mumbled in his mom’s direction, “Taking the garbage out.”
    He wasn’t even sure that she’d heard him. It was as if the moment Aunt Matilda had left the premises, Joss’s mom had retreated once again inside of her cocoon. The sorrowful glaze had returned to her eyes. The mourning of Cecile had resumed. Joss’s heart cracked further as he opened the back door. His family was broken, and he wasn’t at all certain how to mend them.
    He hadn’t lied to his mom—he was taking the garbage out. It’s just that he’d failed to mention that once he dropped the bag in the can beside the house, he was going to keep walking until he rendezvoused with a fellow Slayer. Because Joss had a job to do. And though he wished that he had time to sit with his mom and coax her from her cocoon, he didn’t. People were dying, and it was up to Joss to save them. Because if he didn’t, they would all be dead soon. Including his family.
    Dropping the bag in the can, Joss moved around and away from the house as quickly and quietly as he was able to, not wanting to be seen by his dad, who would inevitably have chores for him to do. Luckily, no one and nothing stopped his escape, and before Joss knew it, he was walking down the road, the sun gently