by C. J. Hill
“Oh, yeah. The teams.” The memory of the parking lot—of Jesse and Dirk arguing because neither wanted her on their team—momentarily stung. “Did you ever decide which lucky team got me?”
He gave her a lazy smile. “That would be mine. Team Magnus.”
“Named after St. Magnus, who defeated dragons in Switzerland?”
His eyebrows rose in surprise, and she allowed herself a second of gloating satisfaction. He hadn’t expected her to know where the name came from.
“Right,” he said. “I’m showing you around because I’m your captain. Dirk is the leader of Team Beowulf, but no one calls it that anymore. They’re the A-team.”
He waited to see if she could guess where that name came from. She sifted through her mental files on dragon lore, but couldn’t make a connection. “Why?” she asked.
“There was an eighties show by that name. The star was a guy named Dirk Benedict. He’s a dead ringer for our Dirk, so the name was a natural.”
How was she supposed to have guessed that? “I see,” she said. “This camp combines dragon lore and eighties trivia. The perfect blend of all that is geeky.”
Jesse ignored the comment. “Shang, Bess, Rosa, and Leo are on our team,” he said. “Dirk, Kody, Lilly, Alyssa, and Danielle are on the A-team.”
It was going to take her a while to remember the names. Shang was the meticulous guy with black hair—and he’d called her odd. She wasn’t likely to forget that. Kody looked like a cross between a bodybuilder and a cowboy. Lilly and Alyssa were the blonde clones. “When did you say the other girls will be here?”
His expression at once grew somber, and she wondered why the missing campers were such a painful subject. “Tomorrow,” he said.
Perhaps he had dated one of them and it had turned out badly. Or … she couldn’t think of another explanation. It was love gone wrong or …
This went to prove what her mother had said about Tori all along. She was too much of a romantic. It was probably the other reason her parents had let her come to camp—they didn’t want her getting too serious with Roland over the summer.
The first time Roland had asked Tori out, her father had grimaced and said, “You remind that boy I have friends in high places. If he so much as brings you home past your curfew, I will have state troopers trailing you on all subsequent dates.”
What would her parents think if she started dating someone from Dragon Camp? After all, she’d met four guys so far, and each one had been handsome and buff and … she was staring at Jesse again and made herself stop. She gazed at the trees, at the cool, green branches held out like offerings.
Besides, Jesse was too uptight for her. Roland was outgoing, charismatic, and he smiled all the time. She would call him as soon as she had a free minute.
Jesse didn’t say anything else as they rode, although she caught him stealing glances at her a few times. Then the pathway narrowed, and Jesse’s horse took the lead. It would have been hard to talk at that point, so she didn’t even try. She just enjoyed the sequestered feeling of the forest and the absence of city sounds: the crowds, passing cars, and airplanes. The fragrance of growing things swirled around her, filling her lungs with the warm scent of summer.
The last part of the trail narrowed even farther. It grew rutted and bumpy where rainfall had carved through it, then leveled out into a clearing. A ring of boulders surrounded a fire pit in the middle of the clearing, and a stack of cut wood sat next to it. Behind the circle of boulders, a large, gray shed stood guard over the clearing. Grass, bushes, and a few yellow and white wildflowers dotted the ground. Several of the trees showed burned patches, evidence of some past fire.
“This is the Easter grounds,” Jesse said, walking his horse around the stone circle. “It’s a straight shot, so you can’t get lost even in the dark.”
She nodded, not sure why he’d given her this information.
“We come up here in the dark,” he said, “when we go running at night.”
“You don’t use a lighted path?”
“There’s enough light to see.”
“Oh.” She imagined everyone running with their flashlights jiggling out in front of them.
“Now you’ve seen it, so you’ll have a mental picture of it when we run up here tonight.”
Tori looked around the clearing and the uneven path that led to it. Yep, she had a mental picture. She had a mental picture of herself sitting on her bed going through text messages instead of running.
Jesse glanced at his watch. “I’d better take you back to camp now. Dr. B won’t be happy if I make you late for your dragon mythology class.”
So he knew her class schedule, too. Didn’t these people have any sense of privacy?
Jesse rode his horse back down the trail, and Tori followed, enjoying the graceful lilt of Noche’s gait and the way his black coat gleamed in the sunlight. She and Jesse didn’t talk again until they got to the wide part. Then Tori, partially to be polite and partially because she was curious, said, “So do you live around here?”
“D.C.,” he said.
“What do your parents do?”
He shot her a look as though she’d asked how much money they made. “My parents are teachers.”
She pretended not to notice the edge in his voice. “That must be nice when you need help with your homework. What grade are you?”
“I’ll be a senior.”
So he wasn’t much older. “What school do you go to?”
He tilted his head, his expression guarded. “Why do you ask?”
“Just making small talk.”
He didn’t answer. He was studying her, though she wasn’t sure what he hoped to figure out.
She let out a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said in the parking lot. Really. But are you going to be this way the whole time?”
“What way?”
“Sullen. Moody.” She would have added another adjective, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what else he was.
“You think I’m sullen and moody?” he asked with as much astonishment as offense.
“Yeah. This is a camp. It’s supposed to be fun, but you’re acting like a drill sergeant.”
His eyes narrowed. “A drill sergeant? That would make this a military camp, I suppose?”
He was studying her again, waiting for her reaction. Suspicious. That was the other adjective that described him.
She forced a smile in his direction. “You know, you really need to work on your small-talk skills.” And then, because she didn’t want to try and resuscitate the conversation, she urged her horse to go faster. Noche happily galloped the rest of the way down the trail.
When Tori reached the field, it was empty. The rest of the campers must have found something more entertaining to do than wait for her return. Good. She rode Noche over to the stables, stroking his mane, and cooing words of thanks to him.
Booker, unsmiling, came out to meet her. “Where’s Jesse?”
Before she could answer, Booker looked past her. “Oh, there he is.”
She turned and saw Jesse riding across the field behind her. General’s mane swished in the breeze, and he held his proudly, like he was returning victoriously from battle. She had hoped she’d left Jesse behind on the trail, though she’d never checked to see if he had sped up to follow her. She hadn’t wanted to let him know she cared either way.
“Everything go okay?” Booker asked.
“Yep.” Tori dismounted and walked the last few steps to Booker. “Noche is a great horse.”
Booker grunted as he took the reins. “That’s true enough, but you weren’t riding Noche. This here is Bane.” Booker reached up to stroke the horse’s neck. The horse tossed his head and took a step backward, annoyed by Booker’s hand. “Got named for Dragon’s Bane, but it’s more accurate to say he’s the bane of my existence. Just plain ornery most of the time.”
“Oh,” Tori said, a little breathless at this information. Booker had given her the harder hors
e after all. “Well, he behaved himself for me.”
“I imagine he did.” Booker looked at Jesse as he said this.
“She’s had ten years of riding lessons,” Jesse said. “Of course she’s learned a few things about handling horses.”
“Of course,” Booker said, but it didn’t sound like agreement. “I’m sure that’s why Bane’s taken to her.”
Jesse dismounted and turned to Tori. “Mythology class is back up at the main camp. It’s in the building next to the cafeteria. You’ll need to take one of the carts, follow the trail we used to come down here, and park at the office.” His eyes didn’t leave hers. “No one else is allowed to use the carts or come out here, so don’t even mention this part of camp to anybody, okay?”
He waited for her to answer.
“Okay,” she said.
Instead of giving General’s reins to Booker, Jesse headed to the stable himself. “I’ll see you later,” he called.
Tori supposed this ended her orientation of Dragon Camp. Well, that was fine. It wasn’t like she wanted to spend time with him and his friends anyway. In fact, she planned on doing as little of it as possible from now on.
CHAPTER 6
Dr. B had told Jesse to text him after Tori’s orientation. “Tell me what you think of her,” he’d said.
Jesse fingered his phone, mulling over the question. Tori was either an excellently trained plant or a poorly trained Slayer. If she was a plant, then they had problems. If she was a Slayer, then she had problems. Tori would have to catch up on her training and do it fast. She’d have to learn strategies, skills, plans—and learn that the world held more dangers than she imagined. Right now she was just a babe in the woods.
The analogy made him grin. The woods surrounded camp and Tori was definitely a babe. The whole time she had shot targets, he’d found himself staring at her … at that Hollywood face, long legs, and smooth skin. Every time she’d flashed her green eyes at him, his concentration had fallen apart.
Yeah, that whole hot-girl thing was going to cause all sorts of trouble.
Beautiful girls were used to smiling and getting their way. Tori would probably question every order he gave and ditch the hard work.
On top of that, Lilly didn’t like her, which could turn every practice into a cat fight. And if the guys liked Tori, they would start pulling stupid stunts to impress her. That was why Dr. B had always told them not to get involved with one another. For the most part, they’d done a decent job of following that rule. This year might be different.
Jesse texted: She needs work.
A minute later, Dr. B wrote back: Then she’s come to the right place.
Maybe. Jesse slipped his phone into his pocket. If Tori wasn’t legit, it would be evident soon enough. And then Jesse would make a point of finding out who had sent her.
CHAPTER 7
Instead of going straight to class, Tori made a detour to the showers. Her jeans were dusty from the horseback riding and she was afraid her shirt smelled sweaty. And, of course, a person’s hair never looked good after being smashed into helmets most of the morning. Besides, who knew what the shower schedule would be like later? She took a brief shower—brief even by Jesse’s Spartan rinse, lather, rinse standards—then threw on khaki shorts and a casual top. She French braided her hair, applied a touch of makeup, and walked to the back of the rifle range where the carts were parked.
As she slipped behind the wheel, she looked up at the roof. Just like at the main office, a small camera peeked out of its eaves.
Did the camp have a problem with vandals or something?
She turned on the cart, backed it up, and glanced at the tree branches, checking for more cameras. Yep, there was another one, not far away.
It was only because she was scanning the area for cameras that she saw it.
Something was in the forest, watching her. At first she thought it was a person. It was tall enough. But when she turned to get a better look, it leaped upward. One moment a form was there, the next moment a blur of blue and red disappeared into the canopy of leaves.
She didn’t wait around to find out what it was. She took the cart out of reverse and pressed the gas pedal down, driving away from the spot as fast as she could.
Nothing pursued her. There was no sign, no noises from whatever had been in the woods. But her heart rate didn’t settle down for several minutes.
Dragon mythology class turned out to be a disappointment. It wasn’t that Dr. B was a bad teacher. He clearly knew a ton about history, and was good at asking questions that opened up discussions, but it was clear from the start of class that the rest of the students loved dragons; thought of them as flying hotrods or something.
Tori had come to camp in the hopes of understanding certain things about herself. Like why dragons always seemed to show up in her dreams, waiting outside her consciousness to pounce at her with gaping jaws. Sometimes when she went running through her subdivision at night, it wasn’t her heartbeat she heard thudding in her ears. It was a dragon’s. She could almost feel the deep inhale and exhale of its lungs, almost sense its presence hovering somewhere above her. If there was a way to vanquish these dragons, she wanted to know how.
Wasn’t that the whole point of this camp—to slay dragons, not enshrine them?
One guy even said, “Man, it would be so cool if they were real.”
It wouldn’t have been cool. It would have been awful. Tori had known this from the time she was four years old and she’d smashed her father’s glass dragon collection on the same day he’d brought it out of storage.
That was one of her earliest memories—her father yelling at her for destroying the figurines, while she’d stood there bewildered, wondering why he wasn’t thanking her. He, inexplicably, liked dragons.
In fact, on her eleventh birthday, her father had bought her two crystal dragons so she could start her own collection. Really, he should have known better than to give her that sort of gift.
Granted, she had read every dragon book around, and when she and Aprilynne were younger, they used to pretend they rode dragons. The two of them would rush through the house, arms outstretched, soaring in their imaginary world. It felt exhilarating and a bit wicked.
But Tori didn’t react well to the surprise theme of her eleventh birthday party. While the whole family sang “Happy Birthday,” Tori’s mother had brought in a cake frosted with fiery orange and pink flames. The crystal dragons stood in front of the glowing candles, peering at her with smug, treacherous eyes. Without thinking about it, Tori grabbed the dragons off the cake and threw them against the kitchen wall.
The crystal shattered with a chorus of cracks, then made popping sounds as the pieces hit the floor. She heard it perfectly because everyone stopped singing. They stared at her, open-mouthed, while pieces of glass skittered across the tile. She couldn’t explain to her parents why she’d done it. She didn’t know herself. She’d only said, “They looked mean.”
Her parents made her talk to a counselor for several months after that incident. The counselor, a woman who wore loud, flashy colors and had so many gold bracelets they tinkled like wind chimes, told Tori’s parents she was projecting her fears of failure, which she didn’t know how to deal with, into the shape of the dragon—a creature she couldn’t deal with. The counselor said Tori’s parents put too much pressure on her to be a high achiever, and it had created a deep fear of not measuring up to their expectations.
The counseling sessions ended abruptly after that. Not because her parents were insulted, but because they knew they’d never pushed Tori to be a high achiever. Her parents didn’t even insist she get straight As like so many of her friends’ parents. They just told her to do her best in school. Which she did, if she happened to like the subject. If not, Bs were fine. After all, why overstudy when her dad could get her into any university she wanted?
Tori’s father had decided she just had a vivid imagination and would probably grow up to be a writer. Tori’s mother
thought she had somehow transferred her own fear of dragons to her daughter. While Mrs. Hampton had been pregnant, she’d had a horrible nightmare about a dragon chasing her. For a solid year afterward, she couldn’t look at any sort of dragon without shuddering and feeling the chill of dragon claws against her spine.
She figured she must have said something about dragons during Tori’s formative years. Tori, in turn, internalized it and thought she needed to protect her family from this threat.
Tori liked that theory best, that her obsession with dragons meant she loved her family. Because she did. And that sounded so much better than being a writer or being unable to face failure.
Tori didn’t say much in Dr. B’s class. She even kept her mouth shut when he asked why dragon stories had shown up in so many societies.
Dragons had shown up everywhere, Tori thought, because they really existed once. If she had said that, her classmates would’ve spent the rest of the month asking about her position on fairies and alien abductions.
So she sat in her chair silently. It figured. Even here surrounded by a bunch of dragon nerds, she was the odd one.
The only good thing about class was that it was filled with people who were about her age, and who seemed decidedly nicer than Alyssa and Lilly. Which meant Tori could ask Dr. B to transfer her to another cabin, and camp would get much better.
After class while Dr. B erased the white board, she went up to talk to him about it. When he noticed her, he stopped erasing and smiled at her. “Did you get situated in cabin twenty-seven?”
She tapped her fingers against the edge of her notebook. “Um, I wanted to talk to you about that …” How could she put this without insulting the longtime campers who came early every year to help him set up? “I’m not sure I fit in with the girls in twenty-seven. Do any of the other cabins have openings?”
The smile dropped from his face, and she knew her efforts at diplomacy had failed. She had wounded him with the question. “What’s the problem with cabin twenty-seven?” he asked.