Dragon Slayers

by Kristin D. Van Risseghem

  The muscles of his face relax. I’m not sure what he’s supposed to think about or if he’s thinking about anything. The book doesn’t indicate that.

  “Mr. Lorimer?” Reist asks as he spins around in his chair. “Can we sit on the floor or something? I’m not getting into the place I need to be. And I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be feeling.”

  Mr. Lorimer nods, and then tables are being moved out of the way. Wheels scrape against the white tiled floor.

  “I think I’m done with this,” Reist says. “Why don’t you try?”

  We now are facing each other, sitting crossed legged. I flip my palms up and lay them on my knees. Shutting my lids, I calm myself. Listening to my breathing. Reist was right: this is a bit weird, but I power through it. I think of it as yoga. I sit there for what seems like minutes until I feel eyes watching me. I squirm a bit and ignore the feeling.

  Then something in me cramps. It’s a pang in the side of my stomach, like I ran too fast.

  “Ah, Brooklyn. Maybe you should open your eyes.”

  The hesitant sound of Reist’s deep voice makes me open them. Floating in my palm is a tiny blue light.

  My magic.

  Around the room, someone gasps, telling me that they, too, have seen my magic. And then shouts are heard near the front of the room. A few of the smarties have also summoned their flames.

  My folks are going to be so proud. I’m ecstatic, but when I move, it extinguishes.

  Only about a third of the class manages to get a flicker of magic. Reist, Noelle, and Sax can’t produce any. I really don’t even know if Noelle and Sax tried doing the exercise. She told me after class that they have a lunch date, leaving me with Reist. He’s not bad, a bit bossy, but nice enough.

  Noelle and Sax walk with joined hands to the café. Is it really that easy? I’m not a prude, and I have kissed boys even before Manny, but I at least knew them before we did anything physical and that included holding hands.

  Then I remember Manny kissed me only after a handful of meaningless conversations that took place over eleven months.

  Eleven months!

  Oh, my boroughs, I am a prude. I giggle at my own made up swear word. My mom didn’t like me swearing. She said it was un-ladylike, so I made up words to replace the naughty ones. Boroughs kinda stuck with me.

  About half way to lunch, the doe-eyed couple ditches us. Probably off to go make out or something.

  “You still going to the lunch room now that the exhibitionists are gone?” Reist asks.

  I double check that they have disappeared. “Yes, I need my strength for Skills.” It’s four grueling hours.

  “So. You and Manny, huh?” He stops walking. I don’t comment. “I saw you guys kissing in the Lounge. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that guy is great. All American boy. He’s the most normal one of the brothers.”

  “It’s new.” I shrug and continue. I don’t need this to become awkward. Enough in my boring life is complicated. “You want to grab some pizza?” It’s an olive branch that I hope he doesn’t read too much into.

  “Sure. Come on, Kill Shot.”

  The café is bustling with students and teachers alike. It’s a circular room that has a bit of everything from sandwiches to pasta to salad to burgers. And if the more exotic foods are your flavor, Asian and Mexican choices are also served.

  It’s the first time I’m alone with Reist, and I have no clue where he normally sits or with whom. He’ll have to take the lead. He follows me to get my lunch, a sausage pizza, and he orders the same except for double meat and a side of fries. Spotting open seats near some of the faces I now am recognizing as my classmates—it’s amazing how much more I notice when my eyes aren’t glued to the floor—we join them.

  “How did you manage to snag Manny?” one of the girls asks me. Now, I feel bad that I don’t even know their names. “I mean, good for you and all, but. Never mind. He seems nice.”

  “Yeah, he is. We don’t know each other very well, since during Level One we didn’t get to hang out or anything.”

  “He’s always had a thing for you, though.”

  “He has?” I stop eating the slice in my hand.

  “Didn’t you know? He’d glance your way in passing and seemed to be near you all the time.”

  “I guess I never really noticed.”

  I stuff my face with a bite to dodge any more questions about my relationship with the Level One Skills trainer. The banter at the table is light, jokes are told, and someone lets it slip that a party is happening Saturday night. I’m not invited, or at least no one comes out to tell me I should go. And then the chattering stops.

  “Hey, Sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here in a place like this.” Bronx hovers directly behind me. The people around us stare at him. My body stiffens, and I keep my eyes facing forward. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away and not embarrass me. “Giving me the cold shoulder already? Normally, that happens the next day when I don’t call back.” I gulp. He did not just say that. “That’s okay. Manny can’t keep you all to himself. You’ll realize that eventually.”

  He saunters away. Then the table explodes with questions. “Do you know him?” “Was he saying what I think he meant?” And my favorite “Are you dating both of them?”

  I want to slide under the table and disappear forever. I don’t know if I can go to Skills and face him or have Manny in my room tonight.

  Bronx is just flirting with me, nothing more. I can handle him. I think. Do I want to be handled by him? Maybe. No, definitely not. I’m seeing his brother. I don’t date more than one guy at a time.

  Oh, boroughs. Manny is coming to my place.

  Double boroughs. I need to clean, figure out what I’m wearing, go buy food, make dinner. Sigh.

  If I leave now, I can pick up some food with enough time to drop it off at the dorms. Grabbing my tray, I stuff the rest of my pizza in my mouth and wave to Reist. “I forgot I have to do something quick. Meet ya at Skills.” I don’t know if he understood my garbling, and I run-walk out of the café and don’t look back.

  The campus grocery store should have everything I need to make flank steaks with a mushroom sauce. Grabbing a basket, I find some nice marbleized steaks, maple syrup, brown sugar, and mushrooms. Now, how am I going to get Jack Daniels? Maybe Manny can bring it for me. Just because we’re slayers and attending school under Columbia University doesn’t mean that a seventeen-year-old can buy alcohol.

  Triple boroughs. I don’t even have his phone number to text him. Maybe if I get to Skills, I can track him down. Dumping the groceries back in my room, I sprint across campus to the Training Center. Running into the women’s locker room, I strip and put on yoga pants and a tank top. Then scurrying to the room where Manny normally teaches, I burst through the doors.

  It’s empty. Well, there are students in there, but he’s not. Deflated, I check adjacent rooms to no avail. I shuffle down the hall and find the place where my Skills class will be.

  Bronx is standing near the window, his back facing me. His dark brown is hair slicked back. I can see his broad muscles stretching his grey T-shirt. Hmm. And his legs are quite fit in the snug black cargo pants.

  He turns as if he senses me and grins. “Well, look what we have here? It’s my soon to be favorite student.” He glances around the room. No other students have found their way into the class. “I’m going to work you so hard today.”

  I don’t respond to that. Instead, I blurt out, “Can you get me some Jack Daniels?”

  “Tell me why first. I like that you want to loosen up and possibly get me drunk. Are you planning to take advantage of me?” My mouth drops open. “Just kidding. What’s the liquor for?”

  “I need it to cook tonight. Manny doesn’t have my number, so I can’t ask him.”

  “Ah, this must be the dinner you’re cooking for him?” he asks. I nod. “He doesn’t drink alcohol. Last time he did, he lost his shit. Total destruction around the city. Took him days to recover.” Bronx clucks h
is tongue. “Light weight that is he.”

  “It’ll burn off. Do you think that’s going to be an issue?”

  “Don’t know.” He shrugs. “He hasn’t touched a drop for over a year.”

  Maybe I should rethink the menu. If his episode was that bad, maybe he shouldn’t drink or eat anything with it. I’ll tell him about it, and he can decide for himself.

  “I’ll get you some and drop it off at your room. Just save a couple of swigs for me.” He winks as he holds his hand out.

  “What?”

  “Your phone? I’ll program Manny’s number for you.” I hand him the white, sleek droid. Yes, I’m a droid gal, so sue me. “There you go.” He hands me back my cell.

  I glance at the two new contacts. He programed his own, too.

  “Now, I expect you to call me for that drink later.”

  The shuffling of feet disrupts our chat. The training room is large enough that it’s partitioned into sections and divided by screens. The graduating class has fifty students, but my Skills group only has seventeen. We practice together, but the school likes to keep the class size small for each instructor. Today, we will be doing one-on-one combat skills and then weapons. Tomorrow will be weapons and endurance training. The other small groups will have their own schedule, so we’re not all using the equipment at the same time.

  I notice Noelle, Sax, and Reist walking toward me. A scowl forms on Reist’s face but disappears as quickly as it came.

  “All right kids, pair yourselves, and that’s your partner for today. I want to see what you’ve got so don’t hold back. Remember to slap the mat if you surrender your match.”

  As the last students sort into couples, no one asks to be my partner. I would have thought Reist would have wanted to spar against me.

  “Um. Mr.—” I don’t know his last name, and it seems inappropriate to call him by his first name. It’s a bit too personal.

  “Vander, but everyone calls me Bronx,” he says. “Looks like you’ll be my partner for today. Since there’s an odd number. Besides, no one wants to go up against a Kill Shot.” He waggles his brows and steps closer to me. Then addressing the rest of us, “I’ll be walking around to see everyone’s form, so I know what I’m working with. Everyone else, I advise you also to watch and learn techniques.” He points to two students closest to him. “You guys are up.”

  The rest of us back away to provide ample space as they fight. It’s a free for all without gloves or padding, except the mat beneath our feet. I don’t know the people fighting, but they seem to be holding their own. They jab and punch each other, sometimes ducking out of the way at the last minute. A few moments into the match, Bronx tells them to stop and then explains how the kick would be more powerful. Then he demonstrates it. Just as I suspected, his thighs are thick with muscles and the force of his kick makes him spin 180 degrees, but it’s all controlled.

  A twosome of girls is next to spar. Their hits aren’t as strong as what we just witnessed from the boys. The shorter one—I think her name is Sabrina—takes a cheap shot to the other girl’s head. All is fair game. The hit lands across her opponent’s eyes and she goes down.

  “That’s enough. I know she didn’t tap out, but head injuries are series business.” Bronx squats next to the fallen girl and carefully nudges her to make sure she’s breathing and can stand. “Take it easy the rest of the day. If you feel a headache or light headed, let me know, and I’ll have someone walk you to the infirmary.”

  The first hour goes by with us watching match after match. Bronx critiques us as we all fight. And then it’s my turn against him.

  “When you guys go out on your next mission, someone will join your rank as a Kill Shot,” he says. “The more missions, the more who will become your close-knit friends.” He circles around me, stalking like a panther, quick and deadly.

  “Is that why you and Manny are close?”

  “Yes, we and Staten are all Kill Shots, but we have a lot more in common than you think. Come forward and show me your best moves.” He motions me with his finger.

  Bronx is almost six inches taller than me and weighs more than my scrawny frame. He’s big and bulky, but I’m smart and quick. He lands a couple of punches to my sides. I know he’s holding back, not really wanting to hurt me. My feet sweep his legs, but he’s ready for it and jumps at the last second. I hit, smack, and use my body weight to do anything and everything to land a punch against his hard body.

  A few times I do connect. I know I can’t defeat him with skills alone. Outsmarting him is the key. Not that he’s anything like a dragon. I’m almost slightly embarrassed as to what I’m going to do. My face reddens, and I hope my classmates think it’s from the workout.

  I let him hit me and shift my feet at the last minute to deflect some of the blow’s force. He doesn’t adjust his weight and falls on top of me. His body is hard against mine, even though I’ve cushioned his collapse. Our heads are even, our lips barely touching. His green eyes smolder. Then he blinks as if he’s clearing naughty thoughts. I bite my lower lip, and his eyes swirl with what I can only call excitement. His arms lock around my shoulders. We continue staring at each other. I lift my legs and wrap them around his taught stomach.

  Someone clears their throat. I break out of his dreamy eyes first. Turning my hips, I knock him off me. He wasn’t ready for that. He’s still frozen on his back, gazing into my eyes.

  I pat his cheek. “Gotcha.” I wink.

  I know it was a kinda a cheap shot to use my womanly ways, but honestly, most guys fall for it. Bronx included. So why not? It won’t help me against a dragon though.

  That concluded the one-on-one session. Yes, I am smug and strutting around because I did manage to take down our trainer.

  But that joy doesn’t last long.

  “I’ll give you that one, Brooklyn” Bronx says. “I was not expecting you to do something like that. Way to think outside the box. If you do that to dragons, sign me up.” He ambles away and motions for us to follow him to the next class.

  Weapons training.

  We rotate around the room. Some linger and chat with our group to see who bested whom. Of course, my antics against Bronx are the highlight. Not only did I take the Kill Shot, but I also brought our trainer to his knees. That spurred others to try to win against their instructor when they have their turn at combat.

  This area of the room has targets lined up against the far wall, and tables are set up fifty and one hundred feet away.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you what we’re going to be doing for the next hour.” He sweeps his hand over the display. “A few people at each target. Make sure you select something that you normally don’t use. You need to be great in all weapons, not just your go-to-choice.” He looks expectantly at me. “I’ll be walking around and taking notes as to which item you need to practice on. Remember, safe practices. Use protection.”

  A couple of guys snicker at his remark, and I blush when Bronx’s eyes meets mine.

  “Hey, Brooklyn,” Noelle says interrupting our staring contest. “Come over and practice with us.”

  I swing my non-existent hips all the while feeling stupid, but I get a chuckle from Bronx. What the boroughs am I doing flirting back with him? Boundaries, Brooklyn.

  “That was an awesome take down you did on Bronx.” Noelle leans in so Sax doesn’t hear. “I wouldn’t mind being under him, if you know what I mean.”

  I’m about to tell her to have at it but stop myself. “You’re up, Noelle,” I say instead.

  She picks up the bow and an arrow from the white folding table. We’ve been standing in the line for the fifty feet area. This is a longer distance than what I’m used to or been training on my own. I take a mental note to lengthen the space between my targets when I practice alone. Noelle is good with the arrows. It might not be her first pick, but she hits between the seven and nine range, and a few are land on the bullseye. When the table is empty of arrows, she trots over to the targets and plucks them
out to carry them back for me.

  I notch the first arrow. It’s different than the crossbow I’ve grown accustomed to. Bronx did say to step out of our comfort zone. Raising my arms, my eyes glance to make sure my right arm is parallel to the floor. I close my left eye and prepare to fire. Warmth spreads through me as I release my fingers. An unfamiliar twang from the bow resonates in my ears.

  The arrow slams into the ten position. I immediately retrieve another arrow, ready it, and send it directly next to the first arrow. My body is relaxed, and I take a page from this morning’s magic class and steady my breathing. A twinge runs through my right hand as I pull the arrow back.

  Cheers don’t interrupt my concentration. I sail another arrow toward the target, but something is amiss. It flies across the gym and lands in the fifth ring.

  “Again.” I notice that Bronx is standing to my right. “Concentrate.”

  My cockiness deflates. I pick up my last remaining arrow and set my position. Calming my breaths, I inhale and raise my arms. My eyes close for a brief moment. I exhale.

  A light wind tickles and floats some wispy chairs into my face. Spearmint wafts into my nose. I can feel Bronx pressed up behind me, blowing into my ear. His warm breath practically shatters my attention.

  The arrow goes soaring toward the ceiling and then plops to the ground, only ten feet away.

  “Were you distracted?” Bronx asks, barely a whisper so no one else can hear him. “Sometimes when you’re out on missions even the slightest hesitation or sound can make you lose your focus.” He inhales and almost nuzzles into my neck, sending chills down my spine. “That’s your first lesson. And I’m sure when you agree to go on a date with me, I’ll have many more to teach you.” He steps away from me as if nothing happened.

  “Holy hell, what was that?” Noelle asks. “What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing.” Did he just ask me out on a date?

  “That. Did. Not. Look. Like. Nothing.” She runs to catch up with me, because yes, I don’t want to answer her, and we need to get to the next station. There isn’t anything to tell her. I’m hot and flushed, and if I’m honest with myself, a bit confused. “What’s going on with you and him? I thought you and Manny are the thing.”