He knows what I can do with a crossbow, which I don’t have on me at the moment. He’s not angry, unlike Staten. But he’s not pleased to see me either. Worry and something else passes over his face. Is he scared? About me getting hurt?
“I’ll stay out of the way and do as you guys tell me. I thought that someone was hurt, and you could use my help.”
“Someone is severely injured. But I don’t want you to see it. It’s not good.”
“Blood and gore doesn’t scare me.”
“It should.”
“Are you trying to keep something from me?”
“It’s for your own protection.”
“I can handle it.” I don’t need to be coddled. They’re hiding whoever is injured, and maybe I can help. Barreling past Manny, I stroll to where Staten and Bronx are standing.
There on the ground is a naked guy. His manly parts are covered by Bronx’s grey T-shirt. Protruding from his side is a silver-tipped arrow. Blood pools on the ground, staining the grass red.
I’m curious as to why the young guy is naked, and why there is an arrow poking out from him. Manny comes to stand by my side and shushes me. He knows I have a million questions running through my mind, but now is the time to focus on the dying man in front of us.
Staten kneels and scoots behind him, then presses his hand on the guy’s shoulder, and lifts him to a sitting position. Bronx checks the other side of his stomach, checking for the arrow. It’s not a through and through. Gently, Staten grasps both shoulders and whispers, “This is going to hurt, but the arrow must come out.”
The naked man’s breath hitches as his teeth clench.
Staten nods to Bronx, who grips the smooth metal shaft, takes a deep breath, and slowly inches it out. A growl escapes from the injured person. Tears swell in his jade eyes. Agony is plastered on his face, making me wince every time Bronx moves. Could this be a dragon in a human form? We’re the only ones who have these types of arrows.
The arrowhead is still embedded deep into his stomach. Blood flows rapidly out from the wound.
I drop to my knees and place what I hope is a comforting hand to the man’s face. His eyes flicker open and meet mine. Jade orbs shine back at me.
“Easy there, we’re here to help you,” I say as I brush sweaty strands of hair away from his pale skin. “What’s your name?” His eyes close. “Hey,” I say louder. “Stay with me.”
“McQueen,” he barely whispers.
Reaching back to Manny, I tug on his hem. “I need this.”
“If that is all it takes to undress me, you can do it at any time,” Bronx says.
I’m about ready to slap him, but both hands are clutching the arrow, and I don’t want to jostle him and more than necessary.
“Here, Brooklyn.” Manny strips out of his black T-shirt and hands it to me.
Placing it on the guy’s stomach around the hole I know is going to be vacant soon, I ask him, “You still with me?” I run my fingers through his matted hair. His breath slows.
Looking at Bronx, fear spreads across his face. “Maybe you can’t hear me, but dude, this is going to hurt. I’m going to pull it out on the count of three.” McQueen doesn’t move, and his eyes remain closed. “One.” Bronx yanks the arrow out.
McQueen’s stomach clenches as his face squishes in pain. “What happened to two and three?” he pants.
“Thought it would be better if you didn’t know it was coming.” Bronx shrugs.
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Staten says as his eyes flick to mine, then to Manny’s. “Let’s try to slow the bleeding down.”
Bronx tosses the arrow behind him then holds Manny’s T-shirt against the wound. He lays his hands over mine and presses down hard. Moving his body to get a better grip, he swivels his head to Manny.
Taking a silent cue from them, Manny crouches to my side. “Let them take care of it. Come on, let’s get you back to the academy before someone notices you’re out past curfew.”
“Will be he okay?” I ask.
“Time will tell.”
The long walk back to school gives me plenty of time to reflect on what I just witnessed and all that was said. Especially that wasn’t.
Manny and I opt to meander along the park paths instead of using the streets. Both of us lost in our own thoughts.
I saw a naked man with an arrow stuck from his gut. How did he get injured and shot with an arrow? Who shoots arrows at people? It’s one that I’ve never seen before. The shaft is made from high quality metal. The ones we have at the school are aluminum with titanium tips. The one I saw was made of solid titanium. Was it a game of sorts?
From the looks of his broken body, McQueen must have been in a fight or something. Bruises littered across his chest that otherwise would have been smooth. Large black and blue spots dotted his legs and arms.
Do the boys know him? From the tenderness of Staten’s hand, the deep worry in Manny’s eyes, and the set of Bronx’s shoulders, I believe they might.
We’re halfway back when he finally brings me out of my reprieve. “How are you doing? Care to talk about what happened back there?”
“Do you know him? McQueen, I mean?” I don’t know if he’ll tell me, but it’s worth asking.
Manny hesitates a long time. At first, I don’t think he’s going to tell me. Does it really matter? I guess not. But then he says, “Yes, we know him. Staten got a 911 text from him with nothing more, which is why he came to get me. He was on his way out, ready to search for him.”
“But if you didn’t know where he would be, how did you find him so quickly? Neither of you wavered on which street you would take. It was like you did know.”
He doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if that’s a bad or good thing. “I can’t answer that. I’m sorry, Brooklyn. There’s going to be some things about me that I’d love to share with you, but can’t. At least not yet, anyway.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay?” He glances my way.
“Yes. You’re not lying to me. You told me up front that you can’t say certain things about yourself. I won’t pry. You’ll tell me when you can.” I place my arm through his. “But tell me this. It isn’t bad, is it?”
“I hope someday I’ll be able to tell you. And no, it’s not all bad. I don’t think. You’re incredible, did you know that?” He hugs me.
The rest of the way back to school is in a comfortable silence. Manny drops me off at the lobby door. He pulls me to him. “Thank you for dinner. I hope what happened tonight doesn’t change your opinion about me. I still want to get to know you more.”
“I’d like that, too.”
He presses his mouth to mine in a searing kiss. Almost like he’s desperate to tell me something. His hands wander under my pink shirt as he backs us up against the building. He flips around so his back is to the brick, probably not wanting to have scratches on mine. He’s not wearing a shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.
My fingers tangle into his hair and then find their way to his tapered waist. His mouth leaves mine and slowly grazes his way down my neck and to my shoulder.
I’m hot, panting, and my head tips back. I’m grateful I’m not against the wall because my head would’ve smacked it.
I feel giddy as a schoolgirl who is making out with her boyfriend on the sly. Oh, wait. I am in school. And Manny is my boyfriend. And there is nothing wrong with our behavior.
We are sandwiched together and then I feel Manny’s hands tighten their grip on my waist. He quickly releases me and lifts his head. Pressing a light kiss on my forehead, he says, “I should go before things get carried away. While I still have some semblance of my sanity and don’t throw you on the ground here. You deserve better than that.”
“Maybe I want insanity.”
He swallows. “Another time, Brooklyn.” He taps the tip of my nose as if it’s a silent promise.
I shuffle down the stairs, sweat filming my skin from our make out ses
sion. It’s really late, and my bed is calling me. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. Manny and I didn’t make any plans to see each other, but I do have his digits, thanks to Bronx, so we could figure out something to do tomorrow. Maybe we can continue getting our kissing technique perfected.
I fall asleep, thinking of burning kisses, green eyes, and a naked young man with arrows jutting from his torso.
The morning comes way too soon. My eyes are puffy and tinged red. I don’t have the luxury of staying in bed all day like I want to. Mr. Lorimer will be pissed if I’m late. And I don’t want extra homework just to find out what he would do. Of course, I didn’t read the ten chapters that was the assignment in history either. Not a great way to start Level Two.
After showering, slapping on a light coat of makeup, and changing into fresh clothes, I trudge up the stairs and into the lobby. My face flushes as I walk out of the door and see the spot of our intense make-out session.
My stomach growls, so I head to the Lounge for something quick. Slipping into the room, I snag a bagel, cream cheese, and an apple. Just as I head to the cashier, Noelle stops me.
“Where were you last night after dinner?” she asks. “I stopped by to see if you wanted to study together. I waited for a bit, but you never showed. Give me your number, so I can get a hold of you for the next time.”
“Sorry, I had dinner with Manny, and then something urgent came up.”
She smiles a wicked grin. “I bet I know what came up.” My mouth drops open. “Don’t play coy with me. Anyway, you headed to class? I wonder what we’ll do in magic today. Thank the dragons we don’t have history every day. Reading ten chapters in one night would’ve been tough to do.” She looks sideways at me. “I take it you didn’t get any reading done last night?”
“I didn’t.”
“You can redeem yourself tonight then.”
And then we head to magic class.
We walk side by side to Hamilton Hall. Today is cloudy and my knuckles ache. It’s going to rain. I hope it doesn’t. That means that this afternoon we’ll be cooped up reading indoors. As we near the building for our class, more kids are standing on the lawns, refusing to let the dreary weather hinder their spirits and procrastinating from their next ninety minutes of torture. The college keeps the grounds in immaculate condition. Keepers are cutting the grass at least once a week, trimmers focus on the dead flowers and buds that line the sidewalks, and sweepers clear off the paths showing the cobble stone and pavers.
I’m a born and bred New Yorker, but today I’m seeing it with new eyes. As if a veil has been lifted. As if last night’s horrific scene never happened. I don’t have magic and dragons don’t exist.
My gaze lingers on the white marble buildings. It’s hard to believe that some of these structures have stood since 1754 when the university was founded. Columbia is the oldest institution of higher learning in the state of New York, and York Academy was established a year later.
Our phones buzz, signaling that our class is about to start—the latest technology that York administers to its students. Everyone, including staff, must carry a smart phone.
Noelle leads the way, and we march to class.
“No Sax?” I ask. “I would have thought you’d have him wrapped around your finger by now.”
“Oh, I do, but he’s meeting me there. Since we’re Level Two now, he wants to train more, so he’s hitting the gym. I think that’s where Reist is, too. You know that boy wants to join your elite squad ... if you know what I mean.”
Good to know that my alone time in the morning won’t be so alone any more. I’ll have to try to find another place to train. I dismiss that thought. Friends are supposed to help, and being around other people will be good for me. Tomorrow, my training resumes. Wait. Did Noelle infer that that Reist wants more than friendship from me? I can’t even think about that. I’m dating Manny. Bronx continues to badger me about going on a date with him. Ah, no way could I handle three guys.
When we enter the classroom, most of the kids are already there, some seated and some stand around chatting. Reist and Sax are both sitting on top of the tables, watching the door. They wave at us.
It’s still strange that I have friends who greet me and want to be more than my friend. Even with all my extra training, studying, and now being a Kill Shot, something is still missing. An empty void I need to fill. Maybe I just need to hang around them more, see where things to with my boyfriend, and be normal. Don’t draw attention to myself and be in the middle of the group. For so long I’ve been on the outside fringes of the bell curve. It’s high time I’m in the medium.
Mr. Lorimer calls the class to attention. “Yesterday, we did an exercise that is supposed to focus your magic and bring it forth,” he says. “For some of you, that happened. I want the magic users on this side of the room for the rest of the semester. As the weeks progress, and when magic is found, you may sit on the other side. But for most of you, it didn’t happen. You’ll pair off and continue that exercise. It’s imperative that you find magic. I told you yesterday what your options are if your magic doesn’t come. There is absolutely no shame if it doesn’t. Many instructors here are happy teaching, and maybe relieved that they aren’t out on the front lines. It’s not a bad thing; don’t take it that way. Every one of you is an asset to this school and to the Council.”
While I know what Mr. Lorimer says is true, my parents have both told me that they will still be proud of me if my magic didn’t appear. I’m relieved to know that I’m part of the small group who does have magic running through my veins.
I see the sorrow on my three new friends’ faces. I also see determination on Reist’s expression. And maybe lust in Noelle’s eyes over Sax? Oh, boroughs.
The instructor steps to the magic users. There are only five of us: three smarties, another girl with curly red hair, and myself. “Now, the next step is to create a larger flame,” he says. “While most of the ones I saw were about an inch, make it three or four. It takes concentration to bend your magic to your will.” He nods. “I’ll leave you to it. Be supportive and draw positive energy from one another. I’ll be over there for the rest of the time. If you need me, just holler.” He walks away from our group to supervise the non-magical students.
“Who wants to go first?” the one female smartie asks. She’s wearing cool cat-eye, black rimmed glasses. They pop out against her fair skin and blond hair. “I know I don’t understand what I did yesterday, so maybe we should talk about what we were thinking, feeling? Maybe that will help us better today.” She comes off as very clinical. I think I’ll call her Cats.
“I think that’s a great first step,” the red-haired girl says. “In fact, I should have suggested it. So, I’ll go first.” She doesn’t allow anyone else to interrupt her. “I calmed my breathing. Then, there it was, I felt a burst of air in my chest.” This one to me seems selfish. It’s like she was dying to tell us her story. She’s a bit snooty for my liking. I mentally call her Miss Snooty Pants.
The girls banter back and forth, sharing their stories and ignoring me. “Um, maybe we could go around the group and share our names?” I suggest, lowering my head so they can’t see my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“We should, sorry about that,” the black-haired guy smartie says. “I’m Brian. And that’s Chris.” He points to the other brown-haired dude, then thumbs over to Cats. “That’s Lexi. And this here is Madison, Madi for short.”
Of course you don’t use your full name, Miss Snooty Pants.
“Thanks. I’m Brooklyn.”
Lexi nods. “We know.”
“Chris and I were partners yesterday,” Brian says. He’s wearing a Columbia shirt. “I was watching when you girls found your magic, and it came faster than it did for us. Not sure what to make of that, if it’s normal or not. But man, it packed a punch, like something heavy sat on my chest and was ready and willing to burst, taking me with it.”
“Dude.” Chris slapped Brian’s back. “My experience was
similar. You know in those cartoons we would watch on Saturday mornings? How the anvil would drop from the sky and land on the poor guy, but the sorry sap would never die?” He points to his own chest. “Magic. Anvil. Here.”
All eyes turn to me.
“What was it like for you?” Lexi asks.
“It was a calm before a storm inside my body. Then something made me cramp on my side. You know when you run too fast, irritating but not painful. I pushed that feeling to the other side of my stomach and down to my toes. Think of it as how electricity runs on wires. Swallowing me whole. Becoming one with me.”
Just saying those words out loud make me feel the same as I had yesterday. I open my palm, and there sits about a four-inch bluish flame.
The rest of the group works on getting their flame to be larger than a dot. I see the struggles on their faces and body. It’s hard for them, unlike for me.
I sneak a glance across the room as Chris is attempting the flame once again. Reist is staring at me and I wave. Then I show him my flame. His eyes widen and he nods, giving me a thumbs up. If Noelle is right about him having a thing for me, he’ll do just about anything to get his magic to appear today, so he can join my group.
His face softens. He mimics the same pose I used yesterday. He’s clenching his jaw, determined. I can see something flicker. He’s almost got it. But it dies on his next breath.
I know his flame is right on the edge. It just needs something to tip it over and come alive. Reist watches me as I leave my group, and I plop myself next to him. “Try again,” I encourage.
He nods and steadies his breathing. It hitches when I lay my palm on his knee. Before I can remove it, he flips his palm over mine. He relaxes.
“You can do this,” I whisper.
I see a shimmer in his other palm. My magic responds to his, coaxing it forward. A small blue flame appears. I nudge him to look down. A smile grows on his face.
“Brooklyn?” Mr. Lorimer asks. “Could you come here a moment?” I nod and approach him while he finishes demonstrating something with a pair of students.
Dragon Slayers Page 7