Summoner Rising

by Melanie Mcfarlane

“I just meant because it’s a bar … ” Suddenly, I see Constantine in a different light. He’s more opinionated than the quiet gardener I had grown to know.

  “Come with me,” he says, walking to the bookshelf next to the desk.

  “Where are we going?”

  He reaches up to the fifth shelf and counts in seven books. “There we go.” Constantine turns to me and winks. “Sun Tzu’s, The Art of War.” As he pulls out the book, I hear a click. The bookshelf trembles then pushes inwards, revealing a narrow staircase that goes down.

  “After you.” He motions for me to pass through.

  As I descend the stone steps, my footsteps echo into the darkness below. Shadows whip around my feet, feeding on both my fear and the coldness of the unknown. When I step off the last step the room lights up, and the shadows scurry away into the corners.

  The floor is covered in mats, and the walls are lined with various weapons. The room has a dank smell to it: a mix of mud and sweat. I wrinkle up my nose as I walk across the mats.

  “Self-defense is the most important skill a summoner can learn,” Constantine says as he enters the room behind me. “Sure, you can study all the demons along with their weaknesses and strengths, and of course, you will learn to master your skill as a painter so you can trap a demon effectively, but if you can’t protect yourself from an attack, all the above is useless to you.”

  “I thought a summoner and their tovaros are practically immortal when together.”

  Constantine raises an eyebrow. “You would risk your life on practically?”

  I frown and shake my head.

  “Then let’s get started,” he says.

  Constantine walks around me, and as he passes my peripheral vision, the hair on the back of my neck rises. Suddenly, a sharp pain rips across my back, and I find myself on my knees, reeling from the blow.

  “What the hell was that?” I cry out in a strained voice, flailing on the floor, trying to reach my back.

  “Get up,” Constantine says.

  I slowly push myself to my feet on shaky legs, and spin around to face him. He still has that stupid smile on his face, but I can only glare back now.

  “A summoner must always be aware,” he says. “Trust no one. A demon can possess your closest friend at any time.”

  A shiver runs down my back. Any time? “How can you tell when someone’s possessed?”

  “They look different, like the shadows have settled just under their skin—sometimes it ripples a little. Then there are the eyes; you can always see it in their eyes.”

  The same shiver returns, this time breaking out in a cool sweat across the back of my neck. Possession? This is much more than just some imps running around. What kind of demons possess people—and why?

  I want to ask more questions, but Constantine circles me. This time I turn, not letting him out of my sight. My heartbeat bangs against my chest, and my breath comes out in short bursts as my adrenaline rises. My fingertips feel like they’re going to explode and my legs are still shaking.

  Constantine shoots toward me and before I can react, he’s knocked my legs out from under me. I lie on my back, gasping for air, as I stare up at the ceiling. A large circle is painted there, covered in symbols I’ve seen in the Book of Summoning.

  Constantine appears in my view, holding a hand out to me. I grab it, barely able to hold on as he helps me up. My knees ache, and my back hurts. I feel like we’ve been doing this forever and we’ve only just begun.

  “A summoner must always be able to read their opponent so that they can guess the next move before it happens,” he says, stepping back from me. “Focus, Daciana.”

  I catch my breath and crouch lower as I watch Constantine. I can feel frustration burning inside me as it reaches down through my limbs, filling my senses with electricity. I watch Constantine as he moves around me, his fingers twitching, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching. His arm muscle changes slightly, and I jump back just as the arm moves toward me. A look of surprise crosses his face, followed by approval.

  “Very good, Daciana,” he says. “You learn fast.”

  After a few more minutes of parrying, Constantine grabs two poles from the wall, throwing one at me. “Let’s see how you do with a little more in the mix.”

  He swipes at my feet, and I jump, but not fast enough. The pole hits my ankle, shooting pain up my leg. “Argh,” I cry out as I stumble. Constantine swipes at me again, knocking me onto my back, yet again.

  “A demon will not allow you time to recover in a moment of weakness—” he begins.

  “I get it,” I mutter. “A summoner must fight through the pain.”

  Constantine nods.

  It might be an hour or three that passes by, but all I know is when we finish, Tryan is no longer haunting my thoughts. Just the pain in my body remains. I haul myself out of the basement.

  “How was practice?” Katya calls from the kitchen, as I pass through the hallway to the staircase.

  “Hmpf,” I groan.

  I shuffle to the bathroom and start a hot bath. As I peel my clothes off, the mirror shows me that dark bruises cover the majority of my skin. I manage to get myself into the tub, where I soak my aching muscles. Damn you, Constantine. A summoner must look like a beat up piece of meat—you forgot that one.

  I nod off in the tub from exhaustion, then wake up to my stomach grumbling. The water in the tub is cold. How long have I been in here? I shiver as I crawl out.

  In my bedroom are a sandwich, glass of water, and ibuprofen. I smile, wondering which of my guardians left this for me. As I bite into the sandwich, I pull up my computer. There are two new emails in my inbox. A thought of Tryan flutters in my stomach and I excitedly click on the link, but my enthusiasm crashes as soon as I see both emails are from Brennan.

  Dacie,

  Attached are some yearbook pages that need sketches. Let me know if you have any questions.

  Brennan

  The second email arrived an hour later, and it reads:

  Dacie,

  Just checking if you got my first email.

  Brennan

  I roll my eyes and close the emails. Brennan’s persistent enthusiasm gnaws on the border of irritating.

  I put on clean clothes and crawl into bed for a quick nap. If Katya or Constantine needs me, they know where to find me. It doesn’t take long for sleep to consume me.

  I fill the rest of my weekend with more reading and self-defense classes. Between chapters, I proudly take down Constantine once. He’s quick to remind me I’m there to learn how to defend—not attack. It makes me smile.

  On Monday morning, I look over my skin, as I get dressed. The bruises are vibrant across my pale skin, like a watercolor painting across a blanket of new snow. The marks are still tender, making me wince as I put my backpack on before going downstairs. On my way out of the house, I grab an apple and quickly run to my car. I’m excited to get to school. Even though I’ve been busy with training, I didn’t forget that Tryan would be back today.

  But it’s not Tryan I see at my locker. It’s Brennan. He excitedly waves to me as I walk inside the school. “Did you get my email?” he asks, when I get closer. “I waited all weekend to hear back from you.”

  Email? Last time I checked the running total was fifteen. I stopped opening them after the first five. “I did,” I say, looking past Brennan, trying to spot Tryan anywhere. The only familiar face I see is Chantal, who glares at me. I turn back to my locker, without directly looking at Brennan. “Sorry, I was busy with homework.”

  “All weekend?” he says doubtfully.

  “Special project.” I slam my door shut and turn away. “Catch you later.”

  As I pass by, I ignore Chantal. Maybe she’ll finally get the hint that I’m not her competition. There’s only one person I’m interested in at this school, and it’s not for romantic purposes. It’s only because he has answers that can help me understand my new role.

>   I don’t see Tryan in the hallways or any of my classes throughout the morning. The unknown makes me anxious. Finally, lunch arrives, but by the time I get to the cafeteria, it’s packed. I scan the crowd, but the only person looking my way is Brennan, waving at me like an idiot. I nod back, but take my lunch outside to eat alone.

  The sun beams down on me, making me sweat as I try to eat my lunch. It’s hotter out today than I expected it to be for late fall. But the heat is second to my much larger concern. Where could Tryan be? Maybe things didn’t go well with the Senate. Will he never be allowed to come back?

  The bell rings, and I toss the rest of my lunch in the garbage, before making my way back to my locker. Great. Chantal is there waiting for me with her arms crossed. I maintain eye contact, before opening my locker door in front of her face.

  “Excuse me,” she says with a snotty tone.

  “What?” I ask from behind my door.

  “What’s your problem?” she says, pulling my locker door open further so she can see me. “You’re being a bag lately.”

  “I am?” I ask, grabbing my Drama binder and slamming my locker door. “You haven’t been kind to me once since I met you.”

  She looks startled and steps back. “I’m not here about me. It’s not nice how you ignore Brennan. He’s been so nice to you.”

  “You of all people should be glad I’m ignoring Brennan.” I brush past her, to make my way to my next class.

  Chantal reaches out and grabs my arm, coming right down on a tender spot where Constantine whacked me with a bamboo pole, after we stepped our sessions up a notch. “Ouch!” I recoil, pulling myself out of her grip and cradling my arm against my body.

  People in the hallway stop to watch. I turn back to Chantal, embarrassed. In her defense, she barely touched me. But her face is scrunched together in confusion, as she looks from my arm to my face.

  “What’s wrong with you?” She’s borderline apologetic.

  Brennan pushes past Chantal, and stands between us, shielding me. “Leave her alone, Chantal.”

  “I barely touched her.”

  “Come on, Dacie. Let’s go.” Brennan gently guides me away from a shocked Chantal, toward Drama.

  For a moment, I feel sorry for Chantal. How was she to know I was covered in bruises under my sweater? But I keep my head up and stare straight ahead, as people in the hallways part for us. I didn’t ask for Chantal to stick her nose where it didn’t belong—I wanted to be alone.

  We pass by Art and Music, on our way to the far corner of the basement where Drama resides. Brennan and I take a seat in the back row of class, before he speaks to me again. “Are you okay?” he whispers.

  “Thank you for saving me back there.”

  A smile crosses his face. “You seem off lately. I just want to look out for you.”

  “Have you seen Tryan?” I ask. I cringe at the tone of desperation in my voice.

  A frown crosses Brennan’s face. “No. Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

  I shake my head and turn back to the front of the room. “We’re not dating, you know. It’s not like that.”

  Brennan doesn’t answer.

  After a brief lecture from the teacher, she chooses volunteers to do some improv. I lean back to watch the show when the soft tune of Beethoven plays in my ears. Tryan? I slip out of class and follow the notes down the hall. Pausing outside the double doors of the Music room, listening to “Moonlight Sonata,” I know that it has to be Tryan playing it on the other side. I can’t help myself as a smile spreads across my face. Before entering the room, I take a deep breath.

  “You’re back!” I say, walking inside. I have so many questions for him. Why did the Senate call him back? What was he supposed to report on? Tryan stops playing and leans out from behind the piano. He looks nervous, barely smiling.

  “I thought something happened to you,” I say, running over. “I even went over to your house and saw—” Before I let myself go into my next line of questions I freeze. A girl stands up next to Tryan, and puts her arm on his shoulder—she’s scowling at me as if I’ve just interrupted the maestro himself.

  “Dacie,” Tryan says, running his hand through his hair. “This is Liana.” He looks like a child caught raiding the cookie jar.

  The girl tilts closer against him; she’s tall and lean like something that has just walked out of a fashion magazine. Suddenly, I realize how frumpy I look in my T-shirt, jeans, and Converse shoes. My hair feels stringy, and my nose too big. I can’t stop staring at the girl standing next to Tryan, and I can’t seem to make any words come out of my mouth.

  “Dacie?” Tryan says again. I manage to tear my eyes away from the girl and look over at him.

  “Sorry,” I grumble. “Wrong room.”

  I back out of the Music room and practically run toward Drama. As I turn to at the end of the hall, I bump into Brennan.

  “Hey. I looked over, and you were gone.” He quickly replaces his smile with a thin line of concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I look back to the Music room as Tryan comes out the door, pausing when he sees Brennan and me standing together at the end of the hall. Liana is right beside him.

  Brennan follows my gaze then looks back at me. “Oh, crap.”

  “Dacie.” Tryan pleads, walking toward us.

  “Listen, man,” Brennan steps in front of me. “I don’t think she wants to see you.”

  “Get out of here,” Tryan says.

  “What’s going on out here?” Our teacher appears at the door. She looks from Brennan and me to Tryan and Liana before continuing. “Brennan and Dacie, get back to class. Tryan, don’t you have a class to get to?”

  Tryan’s eyes flicker at me, then back to the teacher. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I slip into the Drama room behind Brennan, looking back. The teacher closes the door and rolls her eyes. “Boys like that are trouble, Dacie. I advise you to get back to your schoolwork.”

  The class snickers and my face gets hot, but I slink to the back of the class before I have to make eye contact with anyone. Brennan follows and sits next to me.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers.

  I cross my arms and give him a nasty look. I didn’t ask for his help. I certainly don’t need anyone in my personal business. Instead of answering, I open my notebook and start sketching.

  “Fine.” Brennan lifts his hands in the air. “Kill me for caring.”

  I stare down at my notebook in frustration. Who is that girl and why is she with Tryan? The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Is she his girlfriend? Is she a summoner? Thoughts swim wildly in my head like a pen full of sharks, each attacking the other for my attention. I grip the pencil in my hand tighter until it snaps, snapping me from my stupor. I look down at the paper and see a face, covered in shadows. I don’t remember drawing it, and even freakier, it’s moving right before my eyes.

  The bell rings, and I jump from my seat. Brennan gives me a quizzical look, but I ignore him and look down at the paper. The face has stopped moving from behind the scribbles. I am seriously losing my mind.

  I leave class and go straight for my car. But of course, like in most of my escape attempts, Miss Nelson hovers like a guard, near the exit.

  “Dacie.” She waves me over.

  “What?” I respond. A frown crosses her face—or is it surprise? I have no patience for pleasantries. Why can’t people just leave me alone today?

  “I hear there was an incident with you and Chantal this morning.”

  Seriously? I shake my head. “You heard wrong.”

  I walk past her and push open the door. She doesn’t call after me, as I cross the schoolyard into the parking lot. I know she can’t make me stay; it’s not as if I’m some little kid. I get to my car and fumble with my keys in my bag, dropping them on the ground. Bah! I grab them, and stand up, only to see Tryan holding his truck passenger door open for Liana.

  “Daci
e,” Brennan calls out.

  I’m unable to tear my eyes off Tryan, who looks in my direction while Brennan shouts after me. I wish I could disappear. Where’s a demon when I need one? Brennan steps in front of me, blocking my view. Argh! Can’t everyone just leave me alone?

  “Hey, do you want to go out later tonight? We could go over some yearbook stuff and get a bite to eat?”

  “Brennan, you need to—” Tryan’s eyes catch mine, over Brennan’s shoulder. My heart skips a beat as my voice catches in my throat. For a second, it looks like he’s going to run over to me, and maybe, just maybe everything will be all right. But in the next second, Liana leans through the truck window, and kisses him on the cheek. Instead of landing its next beat, my heart trips and falls against my ribs. Ugh.

  “What about tomorrow?” Brennan asks. “Totally friends. It’ll be my treat, I promise.”

  “Fine,” I whisper, tearing my eyes away from Tryan. I can barely form words right now. My mind is elsewhere, and I lack the energy to fight anymore. “Tomorrow.”

  “Awesome.” Brennan beams. He waits until I get in my car and close the door, before walking away.

  Tryan’s truck drives away, leaving me in the parking lot, sitting still, fixated on my steering wheel. I twist my grip back and forth, repeatedly. Get your shit together, Dacie. I swallow my pride and look up, only to see Miss Nelson watching me from the school doors. As I drive out of the school parking lot, I manage to hold back the onslaught of tears that threatens to fall.

  “Home so early?” Katya calls from the kitchen.

  I ignore Katya, and turn for the stairs. I managed to make it all the way home without crying, realizing I was ridiculous to get upset about Liana. It’s not as if I’m interested in Tryan; I just need his help. My reflection in the rearview mirror of my car showed me that I look like hell, and I don’t want to have to explain why because I barely understand myself.

  “Come help me with the party planning,” she calls again.

  “No thanks.”

  “It’s your party, not mine,” she adds.

  I pause on the steps, then give in, and make my way to the kitchen. Katya has the table covered in papers. Some show decorations, while others look like events. She stares at me for a moment, but looks away without mentioning my puffy eyes. There is a god.