Dragon Slayers

by Kristin D. Van Risseghem

  “And I know why.” She gives me a wicked smile. “You’ve been lipped locked with Manny Lauren since after the meeting.” I pale. “Don’t even. I saw you guys in the foyer.”

  My body burns, and I know it’s not all from the smooch. If she saw it, I wonder who else did. It doesn’t matter. Neither of us did anything wrong, now that I’m a Level Two.

  “Come find me after you look at your new calendar,” Noelle says. “We can go to class together.”

  “Okay.” I walk down the hall to my room, hoping that this isn’t the trick.

  As I pass other students getting ready, more stop and congratulate me. It’s confusing and makes me a bit uncomfortable with being in the spotlight. It’s as if a veil has lifted over everyone’s eyes, and they now are seeing me for the first time. I kinda like it.

  Brooklyn, don’t get ahead of yourself. Being Kill Shot is why they want to associate with you and nothing more.

  I log into my Mac and bring up the school’s website and then search for my schedule. Manny was correct in that my first two classes are academic: History and then Magic. Lunch break and then the rest of the day is Skills and Weaponry. With Bronx.

  Grabbing my black leather satchel and laptop, I head out and look for Noelle. She’s not in the halls.

  A girl stops me, I think her name is Nadia. She’s a smartie like me, but that’s where our common ground stops. “Hey, Brooklyn,” she says. “You headed to Hamilton Hall?”

  “Yep.” I keep looking for Noelle as I climb the steps.

  “What do you have first?”

  “Um.” I stop and turn around. “History.”

  “Bummer. I have Magic and then history. I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah.” What is going on with everyone?

  I make it into the lobby and half of my class is milling about, comparing classes, gossiping, and making plans for the weekend already, even though it’s Monday.

  “Great, you found me!” Noelle bounces over to me and links my arm through hers. I almost drop my bag, but she catches it and securely places it over my shoulder. “Let’s boogie.”

  Noelle reminds me of a bubbly cheerleader. Maybe she was at her old high school. Her laughter is infectious, and I can’t help but smile at her sayings. She skips out of the building. I don’t as my feet barely keep up with her movements. People are staring at me, and I’m guessing I look like a rag doll being dragged by a child. Noelle is much shorter than me. In fact, at her full height, she stands well below my chin.

  “Hurry up, pokey. I want a good seat for class,” Noelle says.

  I hope to the boroughs that she means the back row where I’m used to sitting and keeping a low profile. I can’t recall her being in any of my classes in Level One, but then I was ignored by everyone and didn’t care who attended. But today, for some reason, I do.

  Don’t get your hopes up, Brooklyn.

  We enter the old brick building of Hamilton Hall. My classmates look a bit younger than the normal population since we are seventeen, but the college students think we’re prodigies. It’s not that out of the norm for seniors in high school to take college curriculum.

  Our history professor is seated at her wooden desk, fiddling with a stack of extremely thick books. Argh. No one is anxious to sit for ninety minutes in a stuffy room when the sun is shining, and we’re still on a high from last night. The room is almost empty, except for the few smarties sitting in the first row.

  I spy Reist sitting in the second to last row, and Noelle heads in his direction. We take the seats behind his.

  “You know Brooklyn, right Reist?” Noelle says in her high-pitched voice.

  “Yep, sure do.” He winks at me.

  Who are all these people, and what has been done with their minds? I’m definitely losing it.

  More students file into the room, picking seats. The back always fills first, and I’m glad that we came early. A few people wave in our direction, and Noelle and Reist both return their greeting. I know they aren’t waving at me. Or are they?

  A quiet boy sits next to me and shrugs a smile, then turns to the front of the room, waiting for class to begin. The bells chime as the teacher distributes the stack of books to the first student in each row.

  When I am finally handed mine from Reist, I notice the cover. It’s an embossed blue shield overlaid by a silver crossbow. Five navy crowns circle around the shield. It reminds me of Columbia’s logo.

  “Welcome to History Level Two.” The instructor is writing her name on the white board. “My name is Mrs. Kennedy Mercer. Don’t be daunted by the number of pages in this book. We won’t be covering it all. You’ll also be using this book in Level Three.”

  Mrs. Mercer is a younger woman, with slightly greying hair. She’s still attractive and is a bit overweight. She might not see many missions these days, but there is still a glimmer of warrior behind her striking ocean blue eyes that pierce us in our chairs.

  “As you know, and accolades to all of you for passing your mission last night, you have just taken the first steps into becoming a dragon slayer. This class will review our history from the ancient times through the latest technology we employ today.” She paces through the aisles as she speaks. “I encourage you to ask questions and keep up with the reading as there will be many papers and quizzes that will keep you concentrating during my class.”

  And with that brief introduction, she begins class.

  We are let out early by the time the hour mark comes. Our assignment is to read the first ten chapters of the textbook. I have a feeling it’s going to be my new BFF and will be going everywhere I go just to keep up on the readings. Mrs. Mercer also assigned us a two-page essay on why we applied to the school and what we see ourselves doing in the future.

  I head back to the dorms, but a hand stops me.

  “Aren’t you coming to the Lounge?” Reist asks.

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I say.

  “You have to,” Noelle whines. “All the kids will be there. And you’re one of us now.”

  “How do you figure that?” My eyes narrow. “Because up until last night, no one wanted to be my friend, let alone talk to me.” I know that came out harsh, but it’s the truth.

  “That’s because we were scared of you,” Reist says. “You come from the oldest slayer family in the boroughs. Many of us tried to get to know you, but you seemed to always disappear, or you never came to an event. After a while, everyone stopped trying.”

  Could I be the reason for my solidarity?

  “Yeah,” Noelle says. “That first day when all the newbs were gathered in the hall, you stood in the back row not taking a seat. I get that maybe you were nervous or shy, but the glare on your face told me that you wanted to be alone. I figured that you were forced to enroll because of your parents. It was expected of you. Eventually, you’d come around. But you didn’t.”

  “I saw the brave face you put on last night.” Reist swung his arms around Noelle’s shoulders. “You wanted us to know that you were there. That you weren’t just a nobody. You didn’t want to walk in the shadows any more. I told Noelle that, and that’s why she approached you first. Being alone this whole time must have been difficult. We didn’t want to bombard you with so much right away. And now that the three of us have all the same classes this year, we thought that you’d be willing to hang out.”

  I always thought it was them. All this time, it was me?

  “I don’t know what to say.” I look down at my black boots. No knives decorate them. “I think it’s all been a misunderstanding.” My eyes lift to theirs. “I’d like it if we could hang out.”

  “Awesome sauce!” Noelle raises her hand. “Don’t leave a girl hangin’ now.” I tentatively smack her palm. “Great, now let’s stop wasting time and get to the Lounge.”

  Instead of taking the underground tunnels, we opt for the sidewalks and take in the spring breeze and the warm temperatures. We don’t dally in the short walk across campus, and the looming buil
ding housing the Lounge comes into view. What most people see is the campus visitor center, but for the slayers, it’s the Lounge. A communal place where the York attendees can relax, play games, or hang out. It’s not where the main cafeteria is, but they do have a couple of food cafés and a coffee shop.

  As soon as we enter, Noelle spots the rest of her group that she normally hangs with. Unlike the last time I was here, conversations continue without so much of a glance my way.

  And then I see Manny off in a corner with Bronx and Staten. He told me that Bronx is a brother. I know they aren’t really blood related, but they could be. They both have dark, wavy brown hair in varying lengths. Staten is the tallest of the three, and Bronx is the shortest. All have very similar builds: muscles galore.

  It’s no wonder why so many newbs and Level Twos, myself included, swoon about them. Of course, everyone knows the three hotties who teach the lower Levels. We see them in passing or in the Lounge.

  Manny waves me over. I look at Reist and Noelle. She nods her head approvingly, but Reist wears a bit of a scowl.

  I causally wander to where Manny leans against the wall. “Brooklyn, this is Bronx and Staten,” he says. “Guys, this is Brooklyn.”

  “Hey, Sweetheart.” Bronx flashes me perfect, white teeth. “I hear you have me for Skills and Weaponry. Can’t wait to see what you’ve got under this.” He tugs at my shirt, fingers brushing my skin. My face flushes. “Ah, that’s so cute. Manny, you’re right. She’s adorable when she blushes.”

  “We still on for dinner tonight?” Manny asks, ignoring Bronx’s comment.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “And you didn’t invite me?” Bronx places a hand over his chest. “I’m heart broken.”

  “Knock it off,” Staten says. “We need to get to class.” His eyes flick down at me, and then he walks away.

  “Don’t mind Staten,” Manny says. “He’s always like that. So serious all the time. He’s going to give himself a coronary.”

  “Laters, Sweetheart.” Bronx grabs my hand and kisses it. I flush.

  “And don’t mind him, either.” Manny takes back the hand that Bronx just kissed. “He’s always the flirt. You’ll get used to it.” He tugs me down onto a couch. “You can’t leave campus, so we’ll have to just grab something here. I hope that’s okay with you?”

  “Why can’t we leave?” He mimics zipping his lips closed and tossing a key. “Okay, top secret stuff. I get it. I can cook for you if you want to swing over to the girls’ dorm.”

  “You cook?”

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “A little.”

  “Why? Because my folks are rich?” He shrugs, and I know that’s exactly what he’s thinking. “I made Chef teach me a few things. I won’t always live at home or be on a meal plan. No one else is going to feed me, and I needed to learn. Besides, I want to be independent from my parents.”

  “Now, I’m expecting the meal to be out of this world, so no pressure or anything.” He smirks. “I’ve gotta go, too. What time should I be at your place?”

  “Six?”

  “Six, it is, then. Bye, Brooklyn.” He rises from the couch and brings me to my feet. Then his mouth is crushing against mine.

  We break apart, and that’s when I notice the room is silent. Students watch Manny leave the Lounge, and then their heads whip in my direction. Noelle runs to my side.

  “Did I just see that?” she asks. Now my face is beet red. “How long has that been going on?” I shake my head. “Ah, come on. Spill it!”

  Chattering starts back up, and I lean into Noelle’s ear. “Since yesterday.” It comes out more like a question.

  “Could’ve fooled me. That was not the kiss from someone you just met. Are you guys dating?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, he’s really into you.” She pulls out her phone and checks the time. “We better get going to Magic class. We don’t want to be late on our first day.”

  My fingers run across my lips, and then it goes to where Bronx touched my stomach. I shake off my doubts and follow Noelle out. What was that lingering touch from Bronx about?

  “Class, I’m Mr. Lorimer, and I’ll be your instructor for Magic.”

  Noelle, Reist, and I are sitting in the back row where I’m sandwiched between them. Their reply as to why they want to be my friends seems reasonable, but I’m still leery about it. I want to be part of their group. Maybe I’m looking into this way more than anyone should. Take it as it is and be friends with them until they break my trust. Wow, that’s negative, even for me.

  “What do you make of him?” Noelle asks as she leans into me. Her chair inches closer to mine.

  “What about him?” I whisper back, opening my textbook and trying to pay attention to Mr. Lorimer. It’s not working. I’m checking him out like everyone else in the room.

  “Is it just me or is he, like, hot?” Noelle fans her face. “I mean, for an older guy.”

  “It’s just you, Noelle.” Reist rolls his eyes and then looks at me.

  “No. Brooklyn thinks he’s got it going on, too. Don’t you?”

  “Um. Well, I guess he’s not bad looking, if you’re into older guys.”

  “You should know.” Noelle jabs my side. My mouth hangs open. “You’re doing exercises with your lips and tongue? Save it for Manny.” She winks.

  Okay, Mr. Lorimer is kinda nice to look at. He must be in his early forties with light blond hair and grey eyes. I’d say he’s around my parents age. Tight fitting jeans adorn his long legs and when he turns around to write something on the white board, um, yeah. The girls in the room sigh, myself included.

  What can I say? He’s got a nice ass.

  Noelle grins like a Cheshire cat.

  “Why do we hunt them?” Mr. Lorimer asks with his back still turned as he continues writing on the board. “Anyone? This was covered in Level One.”

  One of the first-row smarties raises her hand. “It used to be for food, but now it’s for population control and saving the humans,” she says. “As our numbers grew and spread into towns, then into cities and now metropolises, we encroached on the area the dragons needed to survive. As retaliation, they wander into the cities and cause massive amounts of destruction.”

  “Very good. Now, who can tell us why they have magic? Anyone? Will I have to make participation part of the grade?” A few other hands go up into the air. “Good, because the next step is to randomly call on people.” He points to a guy sitting in the middle of the rows.

  “We don’t know how their magic works, but they use it to transform their bodies into humans. Because of that, we can only kill them when they are in their dragon forms.”

  “Excellent.” Mr. Lorimer nods. “Who will tell me about their transformations?”

  It’s like pulling teeth with this crowd. I know others don’t want to be in the spotlight, myself included, but he’s either going to get mad, or as he said, start calling on people. Word always seems to get back to the Skills instructors, and they have a way of dolling out punishments.

  My arm rises, and Mr. Lorimer calls on me. He nods for me to answer.

  “Unlike the stories in fairytales, they are born and not hatched,” I say. “Females carry the dragon gene and passes it to their children. Not all of them will be dragons. When the males of the pride are teenagers in human years, their bodies undergo the change. No one has witnessed this, so we don’t know enough about it. But we do know that to date, dragons have all been male. As they grow older as a human, their dragon forms also grow. Most fully-grown dragons are around ten tons.”

  “I heard the one slayed last night was about seven?” Mr. Lorimer asks. Most of us nod. “Excellent. It must have been almost an adult. Now, let’s move onto slayer magic.”

  We watch as Mr. Lorimer cups his hands and closes his eyes. Then when his fingers unfurl, a bluish-green flame dances on his palm. My eyes are fixed on the flickering. Level One teachers never showed us the magic some of us hold insid
e. We only read about it.

  This will be a very interesting class.

  “Are we going to learn how to do that?” Reist asks.

  Good, at least someone has the guts to ask.

  “Yes. This is ultimately why you are here,” Mr. Lorimer says. “Not all of you possess magic and during this course, we’ll see who does and who doesn’t. Don’t worry if you don’t. Sometimes magic takes a while to appear. I know some in Level Three still haven’t shown any signs. Other times, it won’t at all. In those cases, you can apply to be an instructor, or you can leave the school.”

  Rumbles circulate around the room. I’m sure I’ll get magic since my parents are on the council. Both of them possess it. And they have a lot more of it than the average slayer.

  “All right, please get into small groups of three or four and turn to page five of the text book. We’re going to start practicing your breathing and focus.”

  Everyone slides their tables to face one another. Of course, Noelle and Reist are in my group, along with the quiet guy.

  “Hey, thanks for letting me join your group. I’m Sachin, but everyone calls me Sax.”

  I look at Noelle, but she’s not looking at me. She’s openly staring at Sax. He’s not my type of guy but seems to be Noelle’s. Sax doesn’t make my stomach do summersaults the way Manny does.

  Sax has red hair and blue eyes with a smattering of freckles across his nose. His nose is a bit crooked but somehow makes him endearing. I wonder how he broke it. Too many fights? Skiing? Or is he clumsy?

  “Make sure that you follow the diagrams,” Mr. Lorimer says as he walks around the room. “Your buddies will check to confirm.”

  I flip to page five so the group looks like we are doing something because Noelle is still ogling Sax. The pictures look easy enough to follow. Turning to Reist I say, “Looks like it’s you and me. Place your hands on the desk, palms up. Then close your eyes and breathe.”

  He does and after a few seconds, he opens his eyes. “I feel stupid doing this.”

  “We all have to, so try not to think about it,” I say.