Summoner Rising

by Melanie Mcfarlane

  I slip inside the office, and see the same pile of folders stacked tall. Mine isn’t on the desk so it must be in the pile. There’s no time to worry about not making a mess, and frankly, I’d like to ruffle Miss Nelson up a bit, thinking someone’s gone through all her things. Although, I’m pretty sure I’d be her number one suspect. Finally, I come to my name in the pile. I slip out the folder and open it on the desk. It’s empty. How is that possible? The last time I saw this file, it was full of paper. Could she have anticipated this and destroyed everything?

  “Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice startles me.

  I spin around and come face-to-face with a teacher I’ve never seen before.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asks.

  “I was looking for Miss Nelson.” I hastily turn from her desk.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t hear? She left on an extended leave. It was a personal matter. I’m her replacement, Missus—”

  I don’t wait for the woman to finish as I push past her into the hallway. “I’m sorry. I’m late for class.”

  “Did you want to talk about something?” she calls after me.

  “No.” I shake my head, tripping over my feet as I stumble out of the office. “I’m fine.” I practically run down the hall, putting as much distance between me and the new counselor as I can.

  I manage to get through the rest of my day by avoiding as many people as I can, busy trying to think of who Miss Nelson could be. Is she part of this Senate Katya told me about? But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would they have killed my mother? Could she be part of another group of summoners? Then why would they still be after me? None of it makes any sense.

  After school, I realize I have to walk, as Tryan and Liana dropped me off. I begrudgingly carry my backpack with me and make my way home. On the way home, I pass by the cemetery and decide to take a break inside.

  I keep to the edges of the cemetery, away from where a small funeral is gathering in the center. From a distance, I can see the sadness that consumes the handful of people standing nearby, and in their faces, I see my own loss.

  I slip over to the Cantar mausoleum, and lean against its cold stone walls. What would my mother think if she could see me now? Would she be happy I was learning about my heritage, or furious I was getting involved in a past she tried to run away from? I let out a sigh and lean my head against the wall as I continue to watch the funeral.

  “Someone you know?” I startle at the voice of the cemetery worker from over my shoulder.

  “No,” I grumble, tossing him a dirty look as I turn and walk behind the mausoleum.

  “Oh?” He grins, standing in my way. “Just a morbid hobby?”

  “What are you talking about?” I say, agitated. “Get out of my way.”

  He inches closer to me. “I’d watch out around these parts; strange things happen to good people around here.”

  “Who said I’m a good person?” I shoot back. “And what business is it of yours?”

  “I’m the caretaker of these parts,” he says. “This family appointed me to the task.” He motions toward the family mausoleum. I look up at the angel, perched atop to guard the dead.

  “I’d say you’re the morbid one then,” I say. “And this is my family.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re a Cantar? You should know more than anyone to watch out around these parts.”

  “How long have you been a caretaker for my family?”

  He flashes me a grin. “We’ve buried many a summoner here.”

  He leans toward me, lowering his glasses. The stench of his breath burns in my nostrils, and I look into his eyes—dark eyes—clouded with swirling black smoke. I step back and bump against the mausoleum, and he leans closer to my face.

  “You seem to enjoy your work.” I side-step away from him, but he follows me.

  “I don’t know any demon that wouldn’t enjoy burying a summoner.”

  Constantine’s words run through my mind: Never trust anyone. “Get back,” I sputter. “Don’t touch me.”

  He shakes his head for a moment and steps back. “We’re just talking.” I shoot him an odd look, and he quickly changes his tone. “It’d be a real shame if something happened to a nice girl like you,” he says. “Be careful.”

  “Maybe if my family knew you wanted them dead—”

  “Whoa.” He puts up his hands. “I don’t want any of you dead, even though I’m sure you’d be delicious. If it weren’t for this job, I’d be stuck in the netherworld, and the deal was no eating the bodies of summoners. No one’s interested in letting a ghoul through—unless there’s war or famine because of all the extra bodies lying around. We’re the bottom feeders of the netherworld—living off dead flesh. When they offered me this job in exchange for a permanent possession, I jumped at the chance. Here I can feast whenever I need to.”

  “So that’s the deal? You watch over the graves, and they let you take over this poor man’s body?”

  A smile creeps across the caretaker’s face. “You like it?” He reaches his hand out to shake mine. “We found him a couple of towns over. He was a solitary fellow—but I wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He was worse than some demons. Many a child was buried in the woods around him.”

  I shudder at the thought. Good riddance. “Do you know anything about the Cantar history?” I change the subject—couldn’t hurt to get a first-hand perspective on things. “I mean, like way, way back to the founding days of this town.”

  “I was here back then; of course I didn’t have a human body as that was before we had our deal. I think they were attracted to this place—the new world—what with all its demons, drifting around the west, untouched.”

  “Demons were free to roam, back then?”

  “We were always tied to the netherworld, released through other means by those who lived on this land before any settlers. Once the summoners arrived, things became more structured. Rules were put into place. We no longer had free reign.”

  “I bet some demons didn’t like that.”

  “We tried to sabotage the summoners, and they were driven out of town, long ago, shortly after the town was founded. Suspected of witchcraft—they were easy targets with their weapons and books on demonology. That was the year of the big hurricane. It wiped out the majority of the families in town. And when the Cantar’s returned, their house was one of the only ones left standing. They rebuilt the town and attracted new people. Their history of witchcraft was buried with those lost in the hurricane.”

  “Well, we know they weren’t witches.” I laugh nervously. But witchcraft did sound awfully like the dark arts mentioned in the article I just read.

  The caretaker shrugs and leans in toward me again, taking a deep breath as he does. “You smell different than most summoners I’ve met before. It’s familiar, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  A chill makes the hair on my arms stand up. I push past the caretaker, and a cold zap runs through my shoulder as it brushes against him. I quickly round back to the other side of the mausoleum, looking for a way to get away without disturbing the funeral, but I turn and see that the ceremony is ending.

  As the people disperse, the boy and man from the chapel stand above the grave, reading the last rites as the coffin begins to lower. Behind the crowd’s back, a flash of white light surrounds the pair and follows the coffin into the grave. As the coffin stops, the light disappears. What was that?

  The boy and the man leave the now-empty cemetery, and I can’t help but follow them. I need to see where they live and find out what they are. Could they be part of the Brotherhood of the White Light? If so, why did they come back? Maybe they never left in the first place.

  They walk toward my side of town at a brisk pace. I break out in a run as I try to keep up; I’m only a few blocks away from home. As they get closer to my street, they slow down and park on the main road, next to the woods. I hide behind a post office box as they enter the
woods.

  I swallow, watching the woods apprehensively as the pair disappears between the trees. There’s no time to worry about wendigoes or dark figures in the trees. It’s now or never.

  I slowly enter the woods, stepping carefully between logs and tall grasses. For a second I think I’ve already lost track of the pair, but then the boy’s blond hair appears up ahead.

  They go deeper into the woods while I keep my distance and stay behind the trees. Sometimes the man looks down at the ground as if he’s tracking something. Other times he just stands there, looking far above, as if he expects something just to appear. After twenty minutes of slowly creeping along, I get bored and decide it’s time to turn back.

  Just then, the boy calls out, and I spin around in surprise. Did they see me? A flash of white light shines through the trees, nearly blinding me. The man is shouting at the boy, and before I can make out what they say, they disappear into the trees up ahead.

  What happened? What was that light? I have to know. I take off running after them, ignoring the branches as they whip against my legs. I can still hear the man yelling something at the boy, but he’s getting farther and farther away.

  I stop for a breath and lean against a tree. This was one of my more wild ideas. What was I thinking, chasing two strangers into the woods? As I calm down, I realize I’m completely lost. I never considered I might need a way out of the woods.

  A flash of white light zips past my face, and I duck reflexively behind the tree. Footsteps are approaching quickly, but there’s no time to run. I’ll have to face them or hide. I choose the latter. As I crouch between the grasses, they get within arm’s length.

  “I swear, Father,” the boy says. “I saw it, I really did.”

  “I’m sure you did, Eli,” the man says. “But we can’t run around haphazardly in the middle of the day. Let’s get to a clearing and regroup.”

  “But we’ll have to start all over,” the boy whines.

  “Better than losing the trail completely.”

  I hold my breath as I hear them walk away and when they’re out of earshot, I exhale. That was close. What could they be hunting in the middle of the day so close to the city?

  A branch cracks behind me. Oh no, they’re back! I turn around slowly, but instead of the boy and his father, I am face-to-face with the dark red eyes that stared me down in the restaurant. The beast hunches over as it watches me. It flexes its hands, revealing its long, sharp claws. Fresh blood drips from its chin, unless it’s something else—but I doubt it.

  “You need to go back,” I whisper, unsure if I can move. “You don’t belong in this world.”

  The beast tilts its head, listening to me. Does it understand what I’m saying? It shifts its weight, still watching me, then throws its head back and lets out a loud howl.

  My entire body springs to action, and I start sprinting through the woods, as fast as I can, to get away from the beast. I can hear footsteps behind me and panic sets in.

  “Help!” I scream, hoping someone is within earshot.

  My feet hit the path that cuts through the woods, and a piece of me screams out with gratitude. I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my feet hitting the gravel and the booming of my heart exploding in my ears.

  The light from the break in the trees is up ahead, so close I can almost reach it. I falter for a moment, stumbling on a loose section of gravel, and I topple forward over my feet. I fall to my knees, and cry out in pain as the sharp gravel rips apart my skin.

  I quickly look over my shoulder as I scramble to my feet. The wendigo is behind me, propelling forward as it grabs the trunks of trees and practically flies through the woods. A flash of white flies between us as the man jumps in front of the beast, holding his hands out. The boy is gone.

  “Run!” the man says to me.

  I scramble and start to limp down the path, but the howl of the monster screams out from behind me. I turn just in time to see the wendigo bring its long claws down against the man’s shoulder and a flash of white breaks through the trees, blinding everything around me. I turn back to the path and run, and a loud roar follows me. The trees behind me rustle, forcing me to run through the pain, not stopping until I’m safe. I don’t want to see what’s coming.

  Katya is standing behind the kitchen window, and she waves to me as I’m running. Her face quickly goes from happy to worried, and she disappears from the window, then reappears at the patio doors.

  As she slides the doors open, I collapse into her arms, nearly knocking her over. My lungs burn from the run and my heart feels like it will explode from my chest. I lie there, unable to speak as Katya runs her hand over my hair.

  “What is it, Daciana?” she asks. “What’s wrong?”

  But I can’t answer her; I just stare out toward the woods, taking in the full severity of the monster that I let out last night. Tryan was right. The wendigo is nothing like the imp.

  Katya cleans me up and gets me into bed. I still can barely talk as the wendigo haunts my thoughts. This is beyond anything I could have imagined.

  “Now, Daciana.” Katya sits on the edge of my bed. “You must take a breath and tell me what has happened.”

  I try to take a breath, but it catches in my throat. How do I explain what I’ve done? As my eyes meet hers, I know I don’t have a choice. “There’s something in the woods,” I begin. “But that’s not where it started.”

  I backtrack to my evening with Brennan, and explain what happened in the café. She flinches when I mention the alcohol, but her disapproval quickly changes to shock when I bring up the wendigo.

  “How could you not tell me this?”

  “Tryan and Liana said they were taking care of it. Plus, you were gone and I’m telling you now.” She starts to talk again, but I cut her off. “Just wait, it gets worse. I just saw the wendigo in the woods.”

  Her mouth drops open. “Why were you out there when you knew this monster was on the loose?”

  “I was following a boy and his dad.”

  “What?” Katya shakes her head. “You aren’t making sense.”

  Ugh. I backtrack again to the day in the hospital when I saw the flash of white light. When I mention the father and son, she looks downright concerned.

  “You’re telling me you could see these lights?” she asks. Her eyes widen slightly at the edges. I nod. Katya looks away.

  “I will call Tryan and Liana to check in on that man and his boy in the woods,” she says, tucking me into bed. “There’s no telling if they’re still alive.”

  “I wish Constantine was here.”

  “Me too.” Katya sighs. “But he had urgent business back home, and I did not want to take you away from your friends for your birthday party.”

  “Oh, my birthday.” I groan, lying back on my pillows. “No one will come anyway.”

  “Then the two of us will party the night away.” She smiles and leaves.

  My mind is racing, but I manage to fall asleep. When I wake up, it’s dark outside; I slip into the hall and see Katya asleep in her room. I get a drink and slip back into my room. I notice I missed a call from Tryan, so I quickly call him back. The phone rings a few times before I hang up. It’s after midnight; he might be sleeping.

  My phone rings for half a second. It has to be Tryan. I dial him again.

  “Yeah, what?” Liana’s voice comes from the other end.

  “Uh, can I talk to Tryan?”

  “No.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  “We’re busy working.”

  “Obviously you have time to answer.”

  “You keep calling.”

  “Let me talk to Tryan!” My voice vibrates with my anger.

  “Listen, Dacie.” Liana’s voice cuts with arrogance. “The big kids are too busy dealing with important stuff to talk right now. We’re still in the woods, cleaning up another one of your messes, so I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Wai
t,” I say. Then I hear Tryan’s voice say, “Who are you talking to?” followed by a click, then silence.

  My body fumes as I redial my phone. This time it goes straight to voicemail. Argh! I phone back three more times without leaving messages, before I throw my phone on my bed and lean back on my pillows with my head in my hands. I hate Liana.

  Eventually, I fall back asleep. My dreams are filled with taunts from a hidden long-legged blond with no eyes, and a smirk on her face. I spend the entire time chasing after her as I try to wring her neck.

  In the morning, I wake up in a panic. I’ve slept in and am going to be late yet again for school. I get dressed, throw my hair in a ponytail, and run downstairs. Katya is in the kitchen, calmly making breakfast and watching the news.

  “What’s the rush?” she asks.

  “I’m late for school.”

  “No school for you today,” she says, pointing her spatula at the television. “Too dangerous.”

  I turn my attention to the TV and watch a news report on a string of pet thefts in town. Fifteen cats and dogs all were stolen from their homes overnight.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay,” I say. “Unless you’re telling me I’m going to be mistaken for a poodle because of my bad hair today.”

  “Don’t be daft,” she says. “It’s the wendigo. This is just the beginning. After yesterday, you are lucky you are alive. Two strikes, Daciana, you know what a third is.”

  “I’m out?”

  “Exactly.” She turns and serves me a plate with eggs and toast. “No more risks. You’re staying in until that thing is caught.”

  “I highly doubt it will show its face in the middle of the day at high school.” I poke my fork at my eggs.

  “It has your scent now,” she says. “It will seek you out.”