For Blood & Glory

by Cassandra Hendricks

  The creature appeared to be a derivative of both man and bull. Its massive body was covered in thick, matted fur that was heaviest around its clawed hands and hoofed feet. Its powerful legs were slightly bent at the knee, and its broad back was arched, giving it a slightly hunched appearance. Bile-colored, narrow-set eyes tilted toward the sky as it threw back its head and growled, revealing several rows of fangs ripe with saliva. If it wasn’t angry before, it certainly was now. Its head lurched forward and a set of fangs shot from its mouth. All instinct, Delilah slipped past a set of teeth that whizzed past her ear. Time to end this. Utilizing both blades, she chopped off the fanged extension, whirled back, and decapitated the monster. A thick torrent of green blood spewed from its neck as the massive creature’s head and body crumpled to the ground and disintegrated without a trace. Panting, Delilah returned to a defensive position, blades turning, eyes challenging the other monsters to step forward.

  Livid, the other two creatures materialized and roared, sprinting in her direction. With matched enthusiasm, Delilah charged them as well, blades slicing through the snow.

  A furious exchange ensued in which claws and blades collided. Snow swirled, flakes dancing as her swords swished, cutting flesh and silence. Delilah moved with the grace and style of an acrobat. The artful wielding of her blades, together with her third eye, helped her to evade most of the bites and blows. She felt confident that this would soon be over. But in a neglectful moment, Delilah’s boot slipped; she fell backward. The blunder cost her an open slice across her right arm, followed by a deep gash in her right thigh. She rolled sideways and got back to her feet, feigning right then darting left. The lacerations burned, but her anger burned brighter. An eye for an eye, she thought as she lunged, severing an arm. The injured Kredon howled and jerked in pain, and she finished it by burying the tips of her swords deep into its abdomen and slicing downward like a knife through warm butter. The Kredon fell backward, crashing into trees as steaming blood and entrails spilled unto the snow. Wasting no time, she whirled around intending to slice through the last monster’s gut, but was faced with its absence.

  A small cry cut through the silence and Delilah’s stomach dropped. She started toward the stroller when something slammed into her shoulder, right under her clavicle. Crying out, she dropped her weapons and gripped the massive horn protruding through her chest. Warm blood welled through her clothes and slipped between her fingers as her body was thrust into the air, feet dangling.

  Like meat from a skewer she was yanked and tossed. The stars above ran like a river as her entire body was sent careening toward the lot. With a whack, she landed atop the bough of a giant oak. Branches snapped and her fingers stung as she struggled to cling to something, anything, to keep from falling. No such luck. Her body slammed atop the hood of a parked sedan, knocking the wind right out of her. Dazed, she lay there bloodied and motionless as a screeching car alarm echoed into the night.

  The wind whipped past her, mussing her hair and stroking her cheek. Blinking, she moaned and tried to lift her head, but it felt as if it were strapped with weights. She managed a slight turn, eyes straining to focus. Beyond the billows of her own breath, she couldn’t make out much and concentration proved painful.

  It would have been easy to surrender to the agony. In fact, her brain pleaded with her to do so. Only, there was this feeling, this—nagging in her gut driving her to get up. Trouble was, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember why. Staying put seemed a much better option. It hurts. The thought drifted through her mind, triggering a memory. She heard her own voice now, child-like, uttering those very words.

  “It hurts,” she said.

  “And it’s going to. Nothing worth fighting for comes without pain. Without sacrifice.” It was the voice of her trainer, Satya, banging her stick against the ground for emphasis before placing it square in the middle of her back again. “You must learn to go deeper. Open the door and access that part of you that is forbidden.”

  “I can’t”

  “You can,” insisted Satya. “One day your life may depend on it. You must open the door.”

  Another gust of wind washed over her body, and with it a shrill cry and an odor. “The door,” Delilah whispered. Delilah’s body convulsed as she experienced a resurgence of energy. Get up.

  “Mattah,” Delilah whispered.

  “Ma’am?” said a voice. The sound of an engine hummed in the distance. Groaning, she lifted heavy eyelids and turned her head in the voice’s direction. Through squinted eyes she saw a young man in uniform, no more than twenty, exiting a motorized cart. He started toward her, a look of concern on his face, when the Kredon approached from his side. It growled at the human, flexing its muscles and baring teeth. The man screamed, cowering as he fell backward into his vehicle. The creature stepped forward but was halted by the sliver of a long frost-covered blade thrust and withdrawn through its chest. Angry, it spun around, and there was Delilah.

  Panting, she tossed her sword aside—she no longer needed it.

  The Kredon fired a lethal blow toward Delilah, but she checked it with her arm. The Kredon fired again and again. She parried, checking each and every blow before levitating. Eye level now, she whispered, “Looking for Lyrica?” The creature snarled, narrowing its eyes. Lyrica smiled. “She died a long time ago.” The creature shot it’s muscled arm in her direction and Lyrics arrested its blow with one hand and with the other grappled the creature’s throat. The melodious sounds of bones splintering and popping beneath her death grip delighted her. She choked the Kredon until its legs gave way and it fell lifeless in the snow, disappearing altogether.

  Her body, suddenly heavy, dropped to the ground; the power that overwhelmed her faded, as did her sword, which morphed back into a sphere. Chest heaving, she collected herself and noticed the security guard frozen in terror. Her aching body prevented her from mustering up any strength to offer explanations. He didn’t stick around long anyway, choosing to ditch the cart and run off on foot.

  Thoroughly exhausted and in pain, she trudged through the snow toward her screaming baby.

  “Sshh. My love, it’s all over now,” she said, peering briefly under the canopy. Sefira was fine.

  After packing her Jeep and securing her daughter, she sped off, bloodied and worn. Ten minutes into the ride she became overwhelmed with emotion, prompting her to pull to the side of the road. The overhead light clicked as she turned it on to get a better look at the damage. It looked worse than it actually was. Her shoulder suffered the most—it was still bleeding but already on the mend. Snatching a scarf from the backseat, she applied pressure to her wounds, wincing as she did, then punched the steering wheel, draped over it and cried. Tears ran down the steering column, plopping upon her knees. “Where are you? You promised me.” After taking some time to vent, she regained her composure and wiped her tears away. Her expression switched from that of self-pity to fortitude as she slowly recovered, lamenting the idea of having to leave the Nobles and that warm bed with the goose down pillows.

  Sefira

  15 Years Later

  “Tengo hambre, quiero comer un ‘blank’ para el almuerzo. Sky, could you complete that sentence for us?” Sky was in the middle of texting when Ms. Golnacheck called upon her. Dropping her cell on her faux wooden desk, she fumbled with the pages of her Spanish book. The gold charms on the teacher’s wrist jingled as she turned her back to the class and wrote the sentence on the whiteboard.

  “Umm…” Sky stalled for time, shifting back in her seat, tugging nervously at the fringe of her sleeve. Chuckles sprang like little geysers throughout the class. They weren’t mocking, it was just that Sky always seemed to have been caught off guard when she was called upon. Given some of her previous answers, Sefira had long since decided that this girl could not afford to goof off.

  Wishing to end her torment, Sefira leaned forward as discreetly as possible and whispered, “Bocadillo.”

  “Bocadillo,” Sky replied, nice and loud.


  “I’m glad you have the ability to multi-task, Ms. Chou, but texting is never appropriate in my class.”

  “Sorry, Ms. Golnacheck.”

  The bell rang, signifying the end of fourth period and the beginning of lunch. Books closed, chairs and tennis shoes squeaked, and conversation filled the room as students prepared to leave. Slow to rise, Sefira sat bent at the waist stuffing her red gingham backpack with pens and hand-outs from class when a pair of pink and white Converse sneakers planted themselves in front of her. She looked up to see Sky’s slender face beaming down at her. Adorned in knee-highs, a black leather schoolgirl skirt and many layers of blouses, Sky looked more like an H&M model than a student. Sefira smoothed out her wrinkled tee-shirt and stood up.

  “Hey, thanks for the save.” Sky was clearly pleased.

  “No problem,” said Sefira with a nod.

  “You’re new here, right? Been here what, a week or two?” she asked, a face full of sincerity.

  A week or two. If only. Sefira reached down, grabbed her backpack and placed it on her desk. “Actually, I’ve been here since the first day of school,” she said, zipping it up.

  “Really?” Sky’s eyes widened as she ran her fingers through her slick jet black hair.

  “Yeah.” Sefira slung her backpack over her shoulder.

  “So, um, let’s make it official.” The girl stuck a hand out. “I’m Sky Chou and you are…” Sky’s face screwed.

  “Sefira Carrington,” she answered plainly, wondering which direction this conversation was headed.

  “Sefira—yeah. I wasn’t sure how to pronounce your name. What is that? Like uh, Native American or something?”

  “African actually.”

  Sky smiled. “It’s a pretty name.”

  “Thanks.” Done with the pleasantries, Sefira cut to the point. “Were you—going to ask me something?”

  Sky’s arms folded. “Yeah—yeah I was. What are you doing for lunch?”

  Nice. “Nothing special. Probably having un bocadillo.” Sefira chuckled.

  “What?” Sky’s brows furrowed.

  Sefira scratched her temple. “Uh, nothing.”

  “Well, why don’t you come hang with me, and I’ll introduce you to a few people?”

  Sefira bit her lip, pulling on the straps of her backpack with her thumbs. It did beat straddling the steps on the far corner of the North lawn with a lunch in her lap. “Okay,” she answered, as a small knot formed in her stomach.

  Sky smiled. “You forgot something.” Pages crinkled as she picked up Sefira’s Spanish book from her desk and handed it to her. Clearly, the girl was no linguist. At least, not when it came to Spanish. But, she was pretty darn good at interpreting the unspoken. “Don’t worry,” she added, “you’ll fit right in.”

  Together, they walked through the crowded indoor hallways of John A. Eisenhower High’s Language Arts building. Of all the buildings, this one was Sefira’s favorite. It seemed that each classroom had a personality of its own. Like other buildings, the classroom doors were large, rectangular clunks with small windows embedded in them. However, the teachers in this building allowed their students to use their creative license to express themselves. Within reason, of course. This resulted in bold reds, greens and purples splashed upon some of the doors and adjoining exterior walls, while others were graced with hand-painted murals of legendary poets and novelists akin to rock legends. These backdrops were used to feature students’ work. Scores of good essays, projects and exams were pinned to the walls for motivation’s sake. In fact, Sefira’s work in Language Arts and even Spanish were no stranger to the wall and they were passing some of it now. She wondered if this girl knew that? Probably not, as Sky barely knew she existed. Which, of course, left Sefira wondering if Sky were sincerely interested in getting to know her or if this was more like an hour’s worth of repayment for helping her in class. She hoped the former were true.

  Finally, they emerged through the heavy metal double-exit doors into the wonderful world of teenage angst. A crow dove down and picked up some rather large cracker crumbs, then flew off toward the main quad area, which was where they were headed.

  This school didn’t have first and second lunch, like the last one she’d attended. Everyone ate at the same time. The result—a very crowded lunch period. Worse, it was hot outside, so today, people herded like cattle under the shaded corridors, brushing shoulders as they shuffled toward the lunch tables. Sefira and Sky were no exception, so when the couple in front of them decided to stop in the middle of the walkway and make-out they were quite annoyed.

  “What are they—like, twelve?” asked Sky when they were out of earshot.

  “I know.”

  “If my mom caught a guy gnawing on my face like that, I’d never see the light of day again.”

  Sefira chuckled. “Tell me about it.”

  “So where are you from?”

  “Originally? Or—um.” Sefira glanced at Sky who looked rather confused. C’mon, get it together, 'Fira. “I tend to move—a lot. The last year or so I was in Davis.”

  “Okay, the Bay area. Must be hard, moving so much. Let me guess—military family?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  They walked up to three guys and two girls sitting around a long, rectangular blue fiberglass lunch table. “Everybody, this is Sefira. She’s new here. Sefira this is Erin, Danielle, Jordan, Alaina and Xavier.” The crew was an eclectic bunch and they greeted her in turn. “Scoot over, guys, make some room.” Sky pushed her book bag under the table, then grabbed Sefira’s and did the same. Settling in, Sefira observed her company.

  Xavier was a nice-looking guy clad in a faded tan shirt, baggy pants, and brown boots. The short brown twists peeking through his camel-colored Kangol hat were wild yet neat. He distinguished himself from the crowd right away.

  “I’ve seen you around,” he said. He got up from the table, took a bite of his apple and walked over to Sefira. He used his butt to bump Sky to the side, sitting backwards between the two.

  “Excuse me,” said Sky, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to introduce myself to the little lady here.” He smiled at Sefira. “What year are you?”

  “A junior. You?”

  “A junior as well. We already have something in common.” Xavier revealed dimples and pearly whites. Everything he said was up close and personal; he was obviously a playful flirt. Sefira shifted her glance, slightly uncomfortable.

  “So what classes are you taking?” A small voice was heard from within the clique. Alaina—a very cute, thick girl with a honey mustard complexion, a huge Afro, and glasses.

  “I’ve got Chemistry, English, Trig, World and Spanish 3.”

  “Heavy schedule,” she said, looking impressed. “AP?”

  Ugh. “Yeah, they’re AP classes.”

  “Looks like we’ve got another brain in the house,” said Xavier.

  “Who do you have for chem?” asked Alaina.

  “Harding.”

  “He’s tough.” She stirred her pink yogurt with her plastic spoon. “My sister had him two years ago. You can borrow her notes if you want—he teaches the class the same way every year.”

  “Thanks, appreciate that.” Sefira looked around the table, feeling compelled to say something. “So, anybody here on the track team?” she asked.

  “Nah, they’re pretty good though.” Erin piped up across from her. He was Filipino, with long hair, kind eyes and a dazzling smile. “You thinking about trying out?”

  “Yeah, I used to run a little back home,” she answered.

  “And where’s that?” asked Danielle, a tall blond with red streaks running through her hair.

  “Well, um—”

  “She’s travelled the world, guys,” Sky cut in, offering some of her chips around the table.

  Sefira interjected. “I wouldn’t say the—”

  “Don’t be so modest,” interrupted Sky. “She’s been to Japan, In
dia, Europe, South Africa. This is just a pit stop for her.”

  “Really?” said Alaina, leaning forward.

  Would they be disappointed to find out “the world” was more like the continental U.S. and she was fresh off the plane from Davis High School in Northern California?

  “Yep,” answered Sky. Alaina started to ask a follow-up question, but Sky changed the subject, turning to Sefira. “Aren’t you gonna go get something to eat?”

  “Who needs food when you’ve got me? I can satisfy your hunger.” Xavier inched closer.

  The group laughed. “Shut up, X!” said Danielle. “You’re gonna scare her away.”

  “It takes a little more than that to scare me,” answered Sefira.

  “See, she’s good,” said Xavier, laughing as he launched his apple core into a wastebasket as if it were a basketball.

  “But you’re right. I better go grab something before the good stuff is gone.” She got off the bench. “Would you guys mind keeping an eye on my stuff?”

  “Gladly.” Xavier smirked.

  Sky elbowed him. “We got you,” she said.

  Sefira couldn’t help but smile this time. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

  It didn’t take very long for Sefira to grab a bite to eat and return to the table. She was starved, so she didn’t say too much—mostly listened.

  As the group sat around and talked about weekend plans, Sefira watched as clusters of students walked by, all in their own world. Right away she spotted the Skaters, the Alternatives, the New Republicans, the Blacks (who consisted of a little bit of everything and everyone), the nerds, rich kids, etc. She wondered where this group fit within the social universe. Personally, Sefira took pride in doing her own thing, but if a typecast were required she figured she fell somewhere between the nerds and jocks.