I set the sketchbook on the ground next to the wendigo and start sketching the top half of the drawing. I’m nervous and my lines are crude, but I do my best to make it blend in with the rest of the sketch. I stare at the wendigo, suddenly unsure how to trap it in the drawing with my charcoals.
“Grab at its shadows,” Tryan says. “Use them to draw it in.”
I wrap my charcoals around the wisps of shadows emanating from the demon’s head. It begins to scream and fights harder against its constraints, so I work faster. Soon the lines of the shadows attach themselves into the drawing and begin to pull at the wendigo. The demon begins to break apart as the shadows pull away from it, filling the cell in the drawing. As the last ounce of the demon disappears, a loud howl fills the air. I quickly sketch in a roof, and seal the cell shut. Silence fills the air.
I stand up, stepping back from my drawing. Did I really do it? The wendigo can’t be seen in the picture, but the inside of the cell is now filled with black.
I look at Tryan and a smile breaks across his face. I laugh out loud and throw myself into his arms. Tryan spins me around in the air and when I land I remember who helped us.
“Eli!” I turn, but no one’s there. Both he and the man are gone.
“Where did the angels go?” I ask Tryan.
“Those weren’t angels.” He says, wrapping his arms around me. “Those were light summoners. Thank goodness they came.”
I tuck my chin against his shoulder, looking at the empty spot where Eli was just moments ago. It was good they were here, but how did they know? I guess I shouldn’t start questioning things, when everything finally feels like it will be back to normal.
School isn’t the same the next day. Liana stayed back at Tryan’s, insisting that she deserves one day to sleep in before she flies home tomorrow. She was able to convince the Senate that Tryan has a handle on everything, his summoner-tovaros bond being official.
I’m glad for a day alone with Tryan, even if we are in a school full of people. But as History begins, I lose my brief excitement. The teacher’s eyes light up as soon as he sees me at my desk.
“Miss Cantar, it’s nice to see you’ve graced us with your presence.”
I shrug, trying to sink in my chair as low as I can.
“Please, come to the front and let us know what you learned about your family.”
My stomach feels like a pit of stress. “I’m sorry. I don’t have my paper.”
He frowns. “Well, would you like to save some of your marks by enlightening us on some of the things you do know, to prove that you’ve actually done some work?”
I begrudgingly skulk to the front of the class and face my fellow students. Out of twenty-five, only three or four are paying attention.
“Well, the Cantar family came over from Romania.”
“What did they do there?” a nosy boy named Alexander asks without putting up his hand.
I furrow my eyebrows and look at the teacher, but he only shrugs.
“They were gypsies. So anyways, they came here and with four other families founded the town. The end.”
“Oh, I’m sure you found out more,” the teacher says.
“Well,” I pause, seeing I’ve lost two of the four that were paying attention. Suddenly, I realize I’m proud of my family. These people should care. We risked our lives for them and more, all just to keep the balance.
“They were run out of town, suspected of witchcraft.”
A few people look up from their desks. I continue.
“While they were away a large hurricane hit town, killing most of the residents. All of the other founding families were killed.”
Over half the class is paying attention now.
“Do you think they cast a spell on the town?” a girl I don’t recognize asks.
I shrug.
Another girl joins in. “Gypsies have powers, you know. I saw it in a movie once.”
“They returned after the storm and helped the town to rebuild,” I continue. “If it weren’t for them, the town wouldn’t be here.”
“I wouldn’t come back where I wasn’t wanted,” a boy says.
I smile. “I think they just wanted to keep the town and the people safe for the future.”
“Yep, they must have been witches,” another boy says.
The class breaks out into an argument.
“Okay, calm down,” the teacher says. “This is a class about history, not the supernatural. Thank you, Dacie. Good researching.”
I sit down and smile, proud of myself for speaking the truth. Well, mostly.
Once I get out of class for lunch, I’m brought back to reality. It feels like everyone is talking about me. People are whispering and I’m sure I saw a girl from my afternoon chemistry class pointing at me. I slide in across from Tryan with my lunch tray and poke my fork into my salad.
“Wow,” Chantal pipes up behind me. She spins around with her tray in one hand and her other entwined with Brennan’s. “You healed like superfast.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No, seriously,” Chantal says. “You were all messed up when I saw you.”
“Good genes.” Tryan pipes up. Chantal looks at him as if she just realized he’d been sitting there all along.
“Hmpf.” She shrugs. “Or magic.”
I almost blow my drink out my nose. Seriously, you tell one little story.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Brennan asks Tryan.
“Sleeping in,” Tryan says, folding his fingers under his chin and letting a smile cross his face. “She flies home tomorrow, really misses her fiancé.”
Brennan stares at Tryan, as if he has more to say, but Chantal pulls him away from the table. I look after them wishing things could be different. No matter how close normal seems to be, it always escapes my grasp.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, putting down my fork.
“After school,” Tryan says, and I resentfully pick up my fork. “We’ve missed enough school lately.”
When the bell rings, I practically jump from my seat and weave through the crowd to get to my locker and dump my books. I run outside and find Tryan leaning against his pickup, waiting for me.
“Where to?” he asks. As soon as the words leave his mouth, I know where to go.
“Give me the keys. I’m driving.”
When we pull up at the cemetery gates, Tryan raises an eyebrow. “This isn’t the first place that popped in my head,” he says.
I drag him out of the truck and through the gates. We walk together as I slowly lead him to the mausoleum. Shadows dance between the headstones, but I ignore them. Soon we are both standing in front of the large cantar sign.
“Is this where you take all the boys?” Tryan chuckles.
I punch him in the arm, then walk to the back where the hidden ladder is carved in the stone. I climb first, determined to show him something he’s never seen and give us absolute privacy.
From the top of the mausoleum, the entire town sprawls out below us. It’s not that the mausoleum is that tall, it’s just the way the cemetery is placed on a hill next to the town. I sit next to the angel who guards my ancestors while Tryan sits on my other side.
“I wonder how many funerals this angel has witnessed.” I bump into Tryan’s shoulder as I cross my legs.
“That’s kind of dark,” Tryan says. “This whole place creeps me out.”
“You chase after demons for a living, and you find a cemetery creepy?”
“You’d be surprised what sort of things skulk around these places.”
“I think it’s beautiful. Why do cemeteries have to be spooky or creepy or dark? It’s where people’s loved ones get to be forever. It’s like, when you die, at least you won’t be forgotten.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Who?”
“Your mom. You never talk about her.”
I shrug, but inside, my guts contract together.
What am I supposed to say about her? Mom was barely around. Mom liked to drink more than she liked her own daughter. “She did her best.” It’s all I can manage.
“What about yours?” I change the subject.
“Well … ” Tryan sighs. “My dad was a tovaros like me, and, as you can guess, my mom was a summoner.”
“You’re lucky you got to grow up with two parents.”
“I was. When I was thirteen they died. Not demons or anything, a car accident.” Tryan starts laughing. “All those demons they dealt with, some more terrible than others, and then it’s a car accident that takes them in the end.”
I sit next to Tryan in silence, listening to the muted traffic pass by on the highway. “Were they good parents?”
This time he shrugs. “I think so. At least they tried to be. It was hard to have parents that had demanding jobs, but I had a lot of family around, so I was kind of raised by everyone.”
The only family I know is Katya, and I just met her this year. Do I have a lot of relatives back in Romania? “It must have been nice to have so many people who loved you.”
Tryan grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. I rest my head on his shoulder. “You have lots of people who love you here.”
My guts tug again, but this time it’s a tingle. Is he saying what I think he is? I open my mouth, unsure how to reply, when we’re interrupted.
“What are you two kids doing up there?” a caretaker grumbles from below. My head jerks up, and I stare down at his old face, the skin pulled taut across his forehead and cheekbones, but wrinkled and drooping everywhere else. It’s not the ghoul assigned to watch over my family, it’s a new one.
“Friend of yours?” Tryan asks me.
“Friend of ours.” Eli and the man step out from the side of the mausoleum. “I’d like a word with you, tovaros.”
Tryan stands and helps me up. He climbs down the ladder and looks up at me with a warning glance. “Stay close.”
As we round the front of the mausoleum, Eli stays back with me while Tryan and the man move out of earshot. The caretaker goes in the opposite direction fussing with weeds around the surrounding headstones.
I bump my shoulder into Eli’s. “Thanks again for all your help, both in the hospital and yesterday.”
“No problem.” Eli beams at me, his white teeth flashing in his full smile.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “I was worried about you when your dad caught you talking to me. He seems kind of … easily angered.”
Eli’s smile falls from his face, and he looks down at his feet. “That’s not really my dad. He’s my uncle. I just call him Father, because that’s his title. My dad’s gone—he was killed a long time ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. I was three; I don’t remember him. My mom married his brother. He’s not that bad, just protective. Our kind isn’t supposed to like yours.”
“Well, I like you,” I say. His face lights up. “You know, I lost my mom. It sucks.” I am unsure why I’m opening up to Eli. There’s something in his innocence that makes me feel connected to him. “It was last year—she was killed by these guys who broke into our house.”
“Whoa, that really sucks,” Eli says, looking back up at me. His round eyes soften, and his small hand slips into mine. My body relaxes as he squeezes my hand.
“Hey, are you hitting on my girlfriend?” Tryan says, walking up to us.
“You better watch out.” Eli crosses his arms.
“Eli,” his uncle calls out. “It’s time to leave.”
Eli looks back at me. “Maybe we’ll see each other again.” He squeezes my hand one last time and runs after his uncle.
“What was that all about?” I ask, watching the pair of light summoners disappear in a flash of light.
“Senate stuff from back home,” Tryan says. “How do you know them?”
“Eli helped me when I needed him,” I say. “What do light summoners do?”
“You know how your kind summons demons,” Tryan says. “Well, their kind protects humans from demons. Their main job is to perform funerals, so they can protect the dead before they’re buried so they don’t get possessed. Sometimes they’ll step in if a demon is out of control.”
“What do they do if a summoner can’t get a demon to go back?”
“They kill it,” Tryan says. “And sometimes they kill the summoner too. Trust me, there’s a reason your kind does not want to mingle with light summoners. They are against everything demon summoners stand for.”
“I’m locking up early tonight,” the caretaker grumbles from behind us. The one I know has returned.
Tryan spins around at the sound of the old man’s voice and jumps in front of me. “What are you doing here, demon?”
“I have more right to be here than you.” The caretaker’s eyes cloud in a flurry of darkness.
“It’s okay, Tryan,” I say. He looks back at me in confusion.
“The Cantars put me here to watch over their dead,” the caretaker says through gritted yellow teeth.
“She’s a Cantar, and I’m with her.” Tryan clenches his fists.
“Let’s go.” I pull at Tryan’s sleeve. He reluctantly lets me pull him away, back toward the gates of the cemetery.
“That’s right Cantar,” the caretaker calls after me. “Keep the balance. But watch that one—I can smell the dead on him.”
“That guy is bad news,” Tryan says as we drive back to my house. “I can’t believe your family would allow a demon to watch over them. What’s his story?”
“I have no idea,” I say. “I’ve only met him once before. It sounds like he’s been here longer than the rest of us.”
“I don’t want you going back there. I don’t trust him.”
I remain silent the rest of the drive, unsettled with the idea that Tryan thinks he can tell me what I can or cannot do. I’ve taken care of myself since I can remember; I’m not going to start taking orders from anyone.
When we pull up at the front of the house, everything is dark. Katya must be out. I stay quiet as I close the door and walk onto the front porch.
“Don’t be mad,” Tryan says grabbing my hand and pulling me back against his chest. He looks down into my face. “Demons aren’t trustworthy,” he says. “Just remember that.”
I relax my body against his and Tryan leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle, and I melt against him. The stress of this last month melts away.
A shiver runs through my body and Tryan mistakes it for a chill. “Let’s go inside,” he says, pulling my hand toward the door.
As Tryan grabs the handle, the door creaks open. It’s not locked? He looks back at me with a frown creased across his brow. I push past him into the house.
“Katya?” I call out into the darkness. Nothing. Lights flicker into the kitchen through the open patio doors on the other side of the house.
“Come on,” Tryan says pulling me outside with a finger to his lips. “This way.”
We slowly creep around the side of the house, following the flickering lights to the back yard. Between the tall fence and the wooden siding of the house, we’re sitting ducks. We slow down as we reach the back corner and Tryan grabs my hand.
“Let me go first,” he says. “Please. Trust me.”
I nod and hold back as Tryan passes in front of me. He peers around the corner, then holds up a hand for me to stop as he disappears into the backyard.
I shuffle around the corner, but Tryan is nowhere to be seen. Lights are hanging along the fence to the back of the property, flickering on and off.
“Tryan?” I whisper. No answer. I look back. Where is he?
“Tryan?” I call out a little louder this time.
“Surprise!”
The backyard lights up, and people jump out from the corners of the yard, hidden in the shadows where I hadn’t bothered to look. I’ve spent so much time avoiding the shadows that
I don’t pay them much attention anymore.
“Happy birthday,” Katya says, giving me a motherly hug.
“But it’s not my birthday until tomorrow.”
Liana pipes up behind me. “Then this party better go until midnight.” When did she get here?
“You knew about this?”
She smiles and walks away toward a table filled with multi-colored drinks topped off with tiny umbrellas. Katya can’t do anything plain.
“You like?” Katya says, motioning to the backyard full of people. Most of these faces I recognize from the halls at school, but I don’t know any of their names. I spot Brennan, Chantal, Sophie, and Zack at a table and Brennan waves. I wave back as Chantal grabs his arm and pulls it down to hers.
“I like,” I say, smiling as I turn back to Katya. Where did Tryan sneak off to?
“Constantine said he’ll be home soon,” she says. “He didn’t want to miss the party.”
“Is everything all right then?” I ask, wishing I knew more about the goings-on in our homeland. “Is the Senate upset still?”
“For now everything is fine,” Katya says. “It will all work out in the end. Always does. Anyways, don’t worry about things overseas. Enjoy your party. When it’s over, I have a present in my studio.”
“What kind of present?”
“A big, temperamental ifrit.” She smiles. “I came across him the other day and thought he would be great training for you.”
I shudder with excitement, remembering the first ifrit I saw, weeks ago before I knew anything about summoning or the fact that demons really did exist. Now I get to tackle one of my own. I wonder if I’ll be able to summon his power like Katya can.
“Thank you,” I say, taking Katya’s hands. “Really. Thank you for everything.”
“Go on,” Katya says, the bottoms of her eyes filling with tears. “Go enjoy.”
I make my way through the crowd, receiving tons of happy birthdays from my classmates. Some pull me onto the dance floor, where I let go and jump around with the rest of them. Others pull me aside into conversations about school, music, or what they’re going to do after graduation. I don’t even have a chance to feel awkward; everyone is treating me like I’m normal. It doesn’t stop either, not even as the party dwindles down to a few stragglers.
Summoner Rising Page 18
