by Holly Hook
Or for this storm to start.
Lightning forked across the sky as I turned down Olive Road. I checked behind me to see if Principal Adler were giving a chase through the curtains of rain, but I couldn't see that far. My only thought was to get home. Adler might be a dragon, but she didn't want to fight with my parents when I was around. She was desperate to force me to mature while they were desperate to keep their adopted daughter.
The sign for the Gonzalez Olive Farm appeared out of the rain. I shivered. A crazy thought hit me.
Had I caused this freak weather? Sven said I'd have magic. Fire magic, but he mentioned that other types could exist in dragons. Something about ancient lines. Principal Adler wouldn't have caused a storm that would allow me to get free. What other explanation was there?
I turned down the driveway, gasping for breath. I'd run the whole distance between the school and home, leaving Dirk somewhere behind. Would Principal Adler do anything to him? I felt bad for ditching the guy when he was trying to be a good friend. He'd gotten me a job.
The rain calmed as I slowed and walked up the driveway, weaving around puddles. I searched the rows of olive trees, which dripped with rainwater. The irrigation system still sprinkled them with Water Company juice. My parents had no expectation of rain today.
"Felicia."
I stopped. A low rumble of thunder sounded.
Sven.
I whirled in a circle, searching for him. Sven was what I needed right now.
"Where are you?"
"I'm to your left. No. Now I'm to your right. Stop turning around."
He had a calm, joking tone that calmed me down right away. "It's dangerous for you to be here." Then I spotted him.
Sven had climbed one of the olive trees to stay out of sight. His dark hair clung to his scalp, dripping with moisture. He hung on between two large branches. "I know it is. But I had to see you. Is everything clear?"
I checked behind me to make sure Principal Adler wasn't coming. How could I go back to school now? "Adler tried to take me into the caves," I said. "I don't see her now but I can't guarantee she won't come around. I'm hoping my parents out-argued her."
"She what?" Sven asked. He jumped down from the tree, landing with the grace of a cat. He might be human, but it was clear he'd trained his body for his entire life. His gray T-shirt clung to his chest, revealing the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Even his amazing abs showed thanks to the rain and now he was growing a faint beard to boot. He looked like a badass angel without wings.
"Principal Adler tried to lead me through the same door she took you through," I said. "She said they could make me mature faster. And that they wanted me to fight. They wanted me to help fight you and your family." The last part terrified me the most. I thought of the Beowulf poem. It was what Adler and the dragons wanted—and what Sven's family wanted. Death. Bloodshed.
Sven's eyes widened. He took my arm. I checked the road again, peeking through the drizzle. The sun peeked through the thinning clouds as the freak storm broke apart. One last rumble of thunder sounded and left nothing except for chirping birds and sparkling dew.
It was the first time it had rained in months. I stepped over a clear puddle in the driveway which was so hard that it had forgotten how to drink. I led Sven deeper into the farm, towards the chicken coop where our birds were out, pecking the ground and drawing out worms. They scattered as the two of us walked past. I had to get him away from anyone who might see.
"Felicia, what is with this weather?" Sven asked in wonderment. "Did you do this?"
"I don't know. It was sunny, and then when I was trying to break away from Principal Adler, it stormed. The wind got her to let go of me."
"That's strange," Sven said, eyeing me. "Maybe you're developing magic. Where are you taking me?"
The river ran right behind our property, but it hadn't been strong enough to supply the farm for a year. Mom and Dad rarely went back there anymore and so by default, Principal Adler didn't, either. But I wanted to go back there with Sven and sit on the covered dock.
I wanted him to tell me I wasn't a freak.
"You'll see," I said. "I wonder what the river looks like now." Once again, Sven's presence calmed me. How was he doing that?
The two of us walked through the east side of our farm, which was full of olive saplings of various ages, and along the chain-link fence meant to keep vandals and coyotes out of the farm and away from the chickens. We walked in silence as the sun returned and my tank top dried. I caught Sven checking me out as much as I was checking him out. Then I slipped my hand into his. Electricity arced between us, holding us together.
We had a spark.
A forbidden, dangerous spark.
And I'd never experienced something so alluring.
"You know," Sven said. "If your parents see me--"
"They might not know you're a Slayer," I said. "They will know you're new to the area. You didn't bring your Gem, did you?"
Sven stopped. He thrust his hand into his pocket. "My father insisted that I continue to scout. I return to school on Monday. Cowardice isn't acceptable in the Wiglaf Society. At least, not for men."
My jaw fell.
Sven nodded at me, expressionless.
"Your father wants you to go back to school? Where Principal Adler is?"
"Yes. But I'll handle myself. I don't want her to force you to do anything you don't want to do. You will mature eventually, but it's wrong to make you fight. And I never told him about her."
I swallowed. The sun heated my hair and my skin. Sven's shirt continued to cling to him. The sun reflected off his slicked-down hair and brought out the color of his eyes.
I had to know. "If he knew, would he make you go back to school?"
Sven hesitated. "Yes. He would."
"Sven!"
He cast his gaze to the saplings. "Wiglaf didn't accept cowardice, and neither should we."
"That's not fair. He's your parent. You're his son."
Sven swallowed. "You need to see what you're up against. You need to see what my family is like."
"Why?" I asked, incredulous.
"Because I want to convince them you're an ordinary Normal. I don't want them to think you're a threat. You need to know your enemy. The knowledge might save your life."
"Know my enemy? I don't even know my 'friends,'" I said, making quotation marks with my free hand. "And I can't walk into your house with your Gem glowing in your pocket."
Sven grinned. He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out his medallion. Jens's medallion.
The ruby hung in its ring of iron, but—
"It's not glowing," I said. "Why?"
"I might have done a switch," he said. "This isn't rare dragon treasure, but it looks the same. No one will notice unless they scrutinize it. And once my family sees you're not activating it, it may improve your chances for survival."
"You have spare rubies lying around?"
"Well, yes. I'm not supposed to do this. Tampering with any blessed Slayer tool is sacrilege." His accent returned. He was nervous.
Our lie was deepening. Sven and I were jumping into the pit together.
We might drown there.
"I don't want you to get in trouble."
"I won't," he said. "Do you have an excuse ready for your parents? At home, my family doesn't carry Gems. We only hunt out in the open. If you were in the caves and you met them, it would be a different story."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," Sven said at last. "What will you tell your parents?"
I glanced in the direction of the house. Tasha was right that I needed to rebel more—a lot more. If Mom and Dad knew where I was going, they'd die. "I'll tell them I hung out after school checking out Key Club," I said. "It's not like Principal Adler will tell them the truth."
Chapter Fifteen
Since I couldn't fit Sven on my bike, we walked to the Water Company, hand in hand. To avoid getting seen by any hidden dragon shifters, I knew all
the trails and shortcuts that went through fields and the backs of properties. My heart raced. Sven was about to take me to a house of Slayers.
"It's not as if they have your description," he told me as we took a trail along another field, which also had puddles and runoff due to the surprise rain. "Just smile and tell them we met in class. That's if anyone's at home and paying attention."
"Them?"
He said nothing to that. I had a niggling idea that Sven might lead me into a trap, but so far, I'd detected no lie in his eyes. He held my hand with emotion, and the kiss...that kiss was to die for. And besides, I'd saved his life.
And now he was trying to save mine.
Sven even put his medallion around his neck. It continued to do nothing in my presence. I led him down another trail and a tractor access to Water Road. The Water Company hummed as workers milled around, shouting to each other. Beyond it, the Manager's House stood with one set of curtains open. A kitchen light was on inside.
I prayed Sven was right about his family not wearing Gems while at home.
Morton let both of us inside the Company gates with a nod. Sven tightened his grip on my hand and led me away from the industrial buildings and across the lush grass. I gulped. "I take it you've already tested Morton?"
"Yes. He's Normal."
"So, how many girls have you taken home?" I keep my tone light.
Sven leaned close and spoke without a hitch. "You're the first. Let me show you the backyard before anything else."
"The backyard?" The Manager's House had a large fence around it.
"I have a key to the gate. Let me tell you, I hope a drone never flies over." Sven walked me around the house to the back. "It looks as if my father's not home, so I should be able to show you around. He works long hours. The Wiglaf Society doesn't like us to reveal what we do to outsiders."
"I'm an outsider." Check that. I was the worst type of outsider.
He placed his hand on a hinge. "I want you to see this."
Sven didn't smile.
And then he opened the fence door.
The backyard of the Manager's House was more extensive than it seemed on the outside. Even with the old family I hadn't seen it before.
"Welcome to the Training Yard," Sven said.
"The military could train here," I said.
The air smelled of new lumber, disturbed earth, metal, canvas, and many other things I couldn't recognize. Tire tracks on the ground told me that this had all gone up within the last few days. My gaze followed the tracks to a row of archery targets at the back of the yard which must all be at least a hundred feet away. A large, plywood shed stood nearby, awaiting a coat of paint. The metal roof shone in the sun as water dripped from its sides. Opposite the shed, a tent with a purple cloth canvas overstretched a good third of the yard. Underneath the tent, cylinder-shaped sandbags stood on pikes, ready to take a beating. I felt as if I'd stepped into a medieval courtyard.
"The military about five hundred years ago," Sven agreed. "Do you want to see me shoot?"
"Shoot?"
He eyed the targets. "Yes." Then he glanced at the house. "I can fire a crossbow."
"A crossbow. Do you also do sword fighting?" He'd mentioned that before, but I had to ask again.
"Of course." Sven answered as if I asked if he had to eat food. "Trainers sharpen my skills in that department. Stabbing inanimate objects helps, but there's nothing like parrying with a living being."
I imagined Sven donning knight armor once again. Visor up, he rode into battle with a sword raised. It was impossible not to imagine such a thing. His breeding demanded it. I wanted to reach out and touch him again, but he pulled a key from his pocket and opened the metal doors of the shed.
My attention snapped to the contents of the long structure.
"Come in," Sven said.
A big part of me didn't want to. It was a medieval-style armory that smelled of straw and heartless metal. Dozens of swords stood mounted on stands, some of them with warped blades just like the one Jens had tried to use on me. Jewels of all colors reflected off the handles in the pale light. A few of the blades sported rubies that glowed when I walked past and then faded again. Was that the long dagger Jens tried to use at the mall?
I quickened my pace as I followed Sven deeper inside.
Crossbows hung from the walls above the swords. Leather quivers of arrows leaned against the wall. There was enough here to supply a dozen people with weapons for a full siege. Opposite the weapons, straw-filled crates held thick chains and manacles that could hold an elephant. I glimpsed something that looked like an enormous bear trap. The cruel metal teeth reflected the light coming from outside.
"Sven, I want out of here."
He faced me with a grave expression. "You need to see this. I'm sorry. Let me grab a crossbow and then we'll get out of here." There was pain in his voice. It hurt him to show me this.
Sven was showing this to warn me. He was doing what he felt was necessary.
But it didn't stab me any less.
As Sven reached up to examine each crossbow, my legs carried me to the back of the shed. The urge to flee swept over me, but, I had to see what was here. He was right I had to know what I'd soon have no choice but to face.
The Olsens had six suits of real armor on stands, facing each other in a semicircle. Mounted on stands, they all had their visors down, revealing nothing but darkness within. Each suit of armor held a sword pointed into the ground and stood on the pride of dozens of generations. I reached out and touched the first suit, brushing the smooth chest plate and moving down the iron-clad arm. This suit held a sword with black burn marks. The same marks stretched across the armor's chest, faded with age, and wrapped around to the back.
My vision of Sven in armor returned, but this time he was charging me, riding a white horse with a sword pointed at my heart.
"Sven. Were these used?"
Behind me, straw crunched as he stumbled back. "Yes. They were used."
"Are they still?"
Leather squeaked. "They might be."
I sucked in a breath as ice spread through me. "Okay. I'll watch you shoot now." It wasn't his fault he was from this family. Telling myself that over and over, I turned so I wouldn't have to see the armor anymore.
But why did I want to get away?
Sven now wore the quiver over his shoulder. Arrows stuck out from behind his back. He also held the crossbow with confidence, pointed at the ground. Made of polished cherry wood, it also shone in the light.
He was every inch warrior.
"Let's get out of here," he said. "I didn't want to show you this--"
"I know," I said, trying to stop my trembling. We were even now. He had seen the horrors of the dragon lair. Now I'd seen the horrors of Olivia's Slayer Central.
Sven waited as if he wasn't sure what I'd do next. So I followed him out into the training yard. Once outside, I felt like I could breathe again because he closed and locked the doors to the shed, shutting the horrors away.
And hiding the tools meant to kill me and Principal Adler and who knew who else.
Sven smiled. His charm returned. "Have you ever seen anyone shoot?" he asked. "Any archery?"
"This is Olivia," I said. "The Gym teacher tried to get us some archery, but Principal Adler turned down the request." Now I knew why she banned everything that had even a bit to do with weapons. Even dull arrows meant to break canvas only were too unsafe to have in town.
"I'm not surprised." Sven retrieved several arrows from his crossbow and loaded them with precision. His muscular arms worked with skill and grace. "She wanted no budding Slayers in town."
"I thought they had to get born into it?"
"There are—what is that word?" Sven held me in his blue gaze.
"Wannabes?"
"That's it," he said.
"You're obviously not one."
He didn't thank me as I expected. Instead, once he'd loaded all the arrows, he pointed the crossbow at the target on
the far left. I watched as he squinted, zeroing in on his target. Sven took a deep a breath and held it.
"You're going to shoot those from here?" I asked.
Sven didn't answer. Instead, he fired.
The crossbow made a deadly, loud click as Sven remained still, calculating. A blur zipped over a hundred feet of yard, followed by a thunk. The center of the leftmost target sunk as the arrow found its mark.
Bullseye.
"Sven...wow..."
But without a word, he turned and fired at the next target.
Bullseye.
And the next.
Again, bullseye.
The next two.
Click. Click.
Targets shook, arrows in their round hearts. He hadn't missed a single one.
Sven lowered his crossbow.
"This is what we train to do," he said without a trace of a smile. "Our lives are spent preparing to take down dragons, no matter what form they're taking." He faced me and fired at the first target again. The arrow flew, and a horrific crack followed.
This arrow had split the first in two.
Slayers were pure death.
I took a step back. "I've seen enough."
Sven lowered his weapon, face contorting in pain. "I'm sorry I kissed you yesterday. I shouldn't have done that."
The ice inside turned to an inferno. "You're sorry?"
"I wasn't thinking. You didn't know what you'd face if we took it any further."
"But I did," I said. Was chasing me away again his version of trying to keep me safe?
"It's clear now you didn't," he said.
Before I could say another word, the back door to the house flew open with a bang. I jumped and whirled to find a stern, middle-aged man standing there. He wore a black suit and tie, but even his professional clothing didn't hide his well-built physique and military posture. He had dark hair that matched Sven's, but he had combed it back.
And he narrowed his eyes at Sven. His jaw trembled.
"Sven!" he shouted with enough ferocity to cause an earthquake. "What are you doing, showing the locals your hobby? You have work to do."
This was Mr. Olsen.
Sven's father.
The Slayer who was searching for the dragon den. He was home early.