Summoner Rising

by Melanie Mcfarlane

I shudder at the thought of seeing those beady red eyes again. After I eat, I go up to my room and try to call Tryan again, but I still get his voicemail.

  “Tryan,” I say, finally leaving a message. “If you can’t take one minute to call me back and let me know you’re okay, well, then just don’t bother to call me back at all.”

  I click my phone off and throw it on my bed, instantly regretting the message I just left. It wasn’t Tryan who was being a jerk last night, it was Liana. But that doesn’t excuse him for not calling me back.

  Katya appears in my doorway and looks from the phone to me. Her forehead creases to match her frown, but I just look away. She can’t cut me off completely from the outside world. That would be torture.

  “Let’s do some weapon training,” she says.

  “Really?” I jump off my bed in excitement. “Yes!”

  I follow Katya to the training room, and she holds her hands in the air. “Which weapon do you want to learn about?”

  I glance around the room. There are swords, like the one Constantine uses, and there’s a mix of daggers, arrows, and different kinds of firearms. I reach out for a handgun and Katya eyes me carefully.

  “Are you sure you are ready for a gun?”

  I touch my fingers across the cold steel, but it feels foreign to me. I remember the men who killed my mother. They had a gun. I quickly recoil from the firearm, as if its touch burns my skin.

  I spin around the room, looking carefully at all the weapons. My eyes settle on a small crossbow, hanging on the wall. It’s not as daunting as the others that hang next to it, and it’s less threatening to me than the firearms.

  “This one.” I take it down from the wall. It has a leather strap at its end, and a trigger on the bottom.

  “Ah, yes,” Katya says. “That was your grandmother’s favorite. Now, bring it up to the den, you will first learn how to dismantle it and put it back together again.”

  “We aren’t going to shoot it?” I ask.

  “That’s the easy part. First, you learn to respect the weapon, and then you can use it. You need to understand, Daciana, a summoner’s strongest weapon is their paintbrush. We only use other alternatives in the direst of situations, and even then, we injure demons, we don’t kill them.”

  “Why not?” I ask. “If something like the wendigo is so dangerous, why don’t we just kill it and be done with it?”

  “When a demon dies, another one is born to take its place,” she says. “It is all about maintaining the balance.”

  “Fine,” I say, “we kill the wendigo and a new demon comes. Big deal. At least the wendigo is gone.”

  “How do you think demons are born?” she asks.

  “I suppose when bad people die,” I say.

  “No.” Katya shakes her head. “Tortured souls become demons. All tortured souls were once innocent people, troubled, but still innocent. It’s not their choice to become a demon.”

  “So if we kill a demon an innocent person dies to replace it?” I ask. “That sucks.”

  “Balance isn’t always rational.”

  “I’ll say.” I hold up the crossbow and look through the scope.

  Katya laughs. “That is not how you use it. This one is special. You strap it to your arm and pull the trigger with your hand. That way you always have it ready at your disposal.”

  I spend the afternoon learning about the crossbow: how to assemble it and disassemble, how to care for it, and how to wear it. Between every activity, I pull my phone from my pocket to see if Tryan has messaged me or called. Nothing.

  Finally, I get to go back to the training room and practice shooting it. But shooting isn’t as easy as Katya made it sound. After my sixth miss, I yell in frustration.

  “What’s going on with Tryan?” Katya asks, unexpectedly.

  “Nothing,” I say. It’s not far from the truth.

  “I see how frustrated you are all day, getting mad over little things,” she says. “You keep looking at your phone, then get madder. Tell me, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t have time for boys and their games.”

  “Ha!” Katya laughs. “It’s usually the other way around.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, defensively. “He isn’t the one stuck in a house, waiting for a phone call while I’m out running around with some guy.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Katya asks. “Liana? Listen, you cannot run from your tovaros. Look at what happened to your mother.”

  “I’m so tired of people talking to me about my mother!” I yell.

  Katya stares at me in surprise, and I’m suddenly upset at myself for my words. I know she didn’t mean it, but Brennan’s words at school still run through my head.

  “I’m not my mother,” I say in a quiet voice. I unstrap the crossbow and put it back in its place. Then I turn and leave the training room, heading upstairs to my bedroom.

  I lie on my bed and check my phone again. No calls. Katya’s right, I’m on edge because of Tryan. Why won’t he call me back? I’m sick of sitting in this house doing nothing. I look out my bedroom window and make a plan. When it gets dark, I’m going to show everyone I’m not my mother.

  I call Tryan one last time and leave a voicemail, “If you want to see me then you can find me in the woods at midnight.” There. See what happens when you don’t call me back.

  I hang up the phone, toss it on my bed, and go to my desk to start reading up on wendigoes. Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot on the subject. Some notes say they don’t like daylight, which would explain why the wendigo was hidden in the woods when I saw it last. Others say that they like to eat people. I shudder. So much for the domesticated animal theory. As for weaknesses, it doesn’t give me anything more than to try to injure it from a distance to render it immobile before attempting to paint it back to the netherworld. I sigh and slam my book shut. It’s only 11:30 p.m. and I still have half an hour before I meet Tryan. I can’t wait that long.

  I sneak out of my room, dressed in black to hide myself in the darkness, and slink down to where I left the crossbow. The training room lights up as soon as I step foot in it, illuminating the walls around me.

  The crossbow hangs on the wall, where I left it after my outburst. I need to get over my mom issues at some point, but I’m just not ready yet. I grab some bolts and start to leave the room, but a glare from the gun rack grabs my attention.

  I walk over to the gun rack, eyeing the weapons. Would it hurt to take one for backup? I reach inside, feeling the cold steel of a handgun, and recoil again. No, I’m not ready for that yet.

  I sneak out of the house into the night, checking the clock in the kitchen before going outside. 11:45 p.m.—it won’t be long until Tryan joins me. I duck as I run through the yard, passing into the shadows of the trees, to begin my hunting mission. How hard can it be? The wendigo is larger than the targets I practiced on and all I have to do is make sure I don’t kill it.

  The woods are quiet and my footsteps sound like thundering elephants as I walk down the path. I slow down and remember that this isn’t a race. I need to take my time and focus like a summoner would.

  Up ahead, I can hear voices trailing toward me from my right. I creep up behind a tree and crane my neck as far as I can to try to hear what’s going on.

  “Let’s go back,” Liana says. “We’re supposed to be hunting the demon, not your stupid girlfriend.”

  Tryan’s voice follows. “If you had let me talk to her we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  I duck low and take a few more steps into the woods, freezing when I snap a twig under my foot.

  “Did you hear that?” Liana says.

  “Dacie?” Tryan calls out.

  “Shut up, you fool,” Liana says. “There’s a wendigo on the loose.”

  “We have to find her,” Tryan says.

  “Why do you always fall for the bad ones?” Liana asks.

  Bad ones?

  “I warned you to
leave when you were with Caterina,” she continues.

  Caterina?

  “Dacie isn’t like Caterina,” Tryan says. “You can’t even compare the two. Caterina was experienced. Dacie is just young and doesn’t know much yet. That’s why I’m here—so she doesn’t get hurt.”

  “Not like you to listen to orders.” Liana laughs.

  I turn back to the path, which is just a couple of feet behind me. Tryan’s only here because he has to be—this wasn’t his choice—it’s an obligation. I was so stupid to think a summoner and tovaros could be more than fate. I look down at the crossbow in my hands and almost laugh aloud, what normal girl meets a date in the woods at night to hunt a demon?

  When my foot hits the path, it touches something soft. I jump back and look down where I stepped. A dead rabbit lays there, splayed on all fours like an offering. I don’t remember that being there when I came through a minute ago. I kick the carcass with my foot and it flops over, displaying fresh blood. The wendigo!

  I instantly crouch into the defensive position Constantine taught me, and start scoping the area the best I can. It’s hard to see anything in the dense woods in the daytime, let alone at night, but I force my eyes to focus as I hold up my crossbow.

  The trees behind me rustle, and I spin around, shooting the crossbow into the darkness. Nothing. I continue to look around me, holding the crossbow out as it shakes in my hands. Another rustle followed by a twig snap. I turn again and this time when I shoot the crossbow, I hear something cry out and fall, and slowly make my way toward a whimpering sound from behind a nearby bush. I jump behind it, aiming my crossbow, only to find Liana.

  “You shot me!” Liana says, holding her leg and staring at me like she’s going to kill me.

  I lower my crossbow. “You snuck up on me!” I’m less apologetic than I am defensive. “I thought you were the wendigo! Are you okay?”

  “Help!” Tryan’s voice yells, farther away in the woods.

  “Go!” she says sternly.

  I run past her, deeper into the woods, trying to follow the direction where Tryan’s voice called. The further in I get, the denser it becomes. I end up stumbling over some fallen trees, tripping on a log, and losing my grip on the crossbow as I hit the ground. Dammit. I forgot to strap it on. I scramble around, grabbing at debris as I try to retrieve my weapon.

  The bushes next to me start to rustle, and my head snaps toward them.

  “Tryan?” My voice comes out slightly louder than a whisper.

  A loud growl fills the air, and I scream and jump to my feet as the wendigo breaks through and howls at me. I turn and start running, but trip and hit the ground again.

  The monster grabs me by the ankle, and I grasp at the dead leaves and sticks covering the ground around me. My hand lands on the crossbow, and I grab it tight and turn myself over, hitting the wendigo as hard as I can with the weapon. The wendigo lets go of me for just a second, which gives me enough time to load a bolt. As it turns back toward me, I aim and shoot—the wendigo recoils and lets out a howl.

  I jump off the ground and run past the monster, hoping to lead it away from Liana and get myself closer to home. I get a few yards away before I hear the trees crashing behind me. I stop and turn, aiming my crossbow at the wendigo as it flies into the air toward me. I let off a shot just before everything goes black.

  Slowly the word comes back into view, and I find myself racing through the treetops. My face stings from the whipping branches as I fly above the ground. Does the wendigo have me? I look around, but I’m alone—no sign of the demon anywhere. There’s a loud bang, crashing against my eardrums. It’s the sound of another heartbeat, beating out of rhythm from my own.

  Suddenly I stop, gripping a branch, and peer below. The heartbeat is close. As I focus on the target, I can slow it down to the point where the swish of the blood pumping through the heart is audible.

  Below, a person moves their hand through wavy dark hair. It’s Tryan! I need to tell him I’m here, and I’m okay. I flex my fingers anxiously on the branch, feeling a hunger bite from inside my gut. I want Tryan; I’m hungry for him.

  Pain shoots out from my chest. I rub my hand against it and feel something sharp. I glance down and see a bolt sticking out of my gut, with blood oozing out from the wound. When did this happen?

  A voice calls out to Tryan from a few yards away. It’s Liana. Thank goodness she’s okay. As she limps over, her heartbeat gets louder and louder, and my hunger switches toward her.

  Tryan gets up and moves toward Liana, and I see what he was guarding. It’s me. My body lies limp on the ground of the woods below.

  I shift on my branch. How can I be down there? What’s going on? My hand goes back to the arrow in my gut again, and I look down. This time I’m staring at the sharp claws of the wendigo.

  I scramble in the tree, and hear Tryan cry out. I look down and see he’s spotted me, and is grabbing his weapon. No! I scream, but all I can hear is the howl of the wendigo. My body might lie on the ground beside Tryan, but my mind is trapped in this monster.

  I turn away, flying amongst the treetops as I search out a sanctuary. I can hear other heartbeats, far off in the distance. I need to feed; my hunger is all-encompassing. How far am I from Tryan now? Miles? I break into a clearing, interrupting a campfire surrounded by people. Screams fill my ears as I grab on to the closest person. Finally, my hunger is satisfied as I feast.

  My head slams against my skull as I try to refocus on my surroundings. Where am I? Still in the forest? I try to shift my arm, but the pain in my stomach is too sharp—the arrow! My panic increases as I recall my last memories of the campers, their faces frozen in fear.

  I grab at my surroundings and feel bedsheets. I steady myself and focus my vision on the wall across from me. My thoughts come in so fast I can barely keep up with them as they swirl in my head like a whirlpool holding them under the surface.

  “Daciana!” Katya cries out. “She’s awake. Help, someone. She’s awake!”

  Katya runs from the room out into the hall, her cry for help echoing in the corridor. The white walls of the room come into focus and the beeps of machines surrounding my bed fill my ears. I quickly look down at my hands. Thank God, all signs of the wendigo are gone.

  “No!” Katya’s voice calls from the hallway. “You must stay. She needs you now more than ever.”

  Tryan’s voice enters the room. It sounds gruff and tired. “I’ll be back. She’s this far at least.”

  “Tovaros,” Katya says with an edge of warning.

  “We have work to do,” Liana’s voice pipes in. “I’ll bring him back later, I promise.”

  My head starts to spin, and I grasp at the bed railing. Tryan passes by my door, staring straight ahead as he leaves, followed by Liana, who looks into the room at me with concern. I must be dreaming if I think she’s concerned about me.

  Katya comes back to the room, but it’s too late. As if my body can feel Tryan pulling further away from our tovaros-summoner bond, the energy starts to drain from my body and follow him. I collapse against my pillow, just as Katya reaches my bed.

  “Daciana!”

  “The campers,” I manage to whisper. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself.”

  In the darkness of my dreams, I’m back in the woods, cascading across the treetops, pulled toward the sounds of heartbeats all around me and driven by my hunger. But I know it’s not safe to hunt in the woods tonight. Something is different—there’s too much danger here even for me. My connection to this wendigo body is growing weak. Instead of feeling any bit of control, I’m nothing more than an observer stuck inside the monster’s head.

  I travel away from the woods to somewhere that’s not aware of my kind. It’s not long before I come across a lone farmyard with a single light flickering in the night, showing me a man walking across the yard with his dog. I take the dog first.

  I wake up to the sunshine pouring through the blinds of my hospital room
. I follow the rays as they trickle in, landing on my bed and jutting across my lap to the opposite wall, where Chantal is sitting. This must be a terrible dream. I push myself up, surprised and wondering if I’m still dreaming.

  “You were crying out in your sleep,” Chantal says, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

  “I don’t cry.” I push my words out through dry lips. “What do you want?”

  “Here,” Chantal says, jumping up and pouring me some water. The cool liquid dribbles down my lips as I try to gulp it back. A sharp stab rips across my ribs, and I cry out in pain.

  “Man, you’re in rough shape,” she says, putting down my cup as I lean back on my pillow.

  “Again, why are you here?” I ask, unable to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

  “I—uh,” Chantal begins, “well, it all seems trivial now that I see how rough you look, but, when I heard about your accident, I just had to come see you.”

  “So you’d have something else to gossip about?” I ask.

  “I guess I deserve that,” Chantal says. “Listen, I didn’t come here to bug you; I just wanted to say thanks for telling Brennan I like him. I’ve been somewhat rude to you since you got here and, well, that was nice of you. Not the way you did it, but nice nonetheless.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So, what happened to you? I heard you were attacked by a bear.”

  “I can’t remember,” I grumble. “I should probably get more rest.”

  “Yeah,” Chantal says, grabbing her coat. “You’re lucky, you know. Could have been way worse for you, not like those poor campers.”

  “Campers?” I say as she walks to the door. “Wait, what about the campers?”

  “Oh,” she says, “you didn’t hear? Whatever attacked you the other night got a small group of campers. Apparently, they’ll have to be identified by dental records.”

  “No,” I whisper. “Do they know what it was?”

  “A bear or cougar or something like that,” she says. “Been a long time since one came so close to town. Like I said, you’re lucky.”