by Danny Bell
“That is shockingly insightful for someone who used to think honey badgers help bees make honey.”
“Come on; we were in the same class when—”
“—when everyone else figured out it was an April Fools’ joke?” Olivia finished for me.
I squirmed a little. “Kids are impressionable.”
“We were seventeen.”
I amended my response. “Seventeen-year-olds are impressionable. Look, if we were all that city had, of course I’d be in the thick of it, but we weren’t. I’ve learned a thing or two since we drove out the Gardeners. One of those things is, if I fling myself at every perceived threat we run across without knowing what’s what, I’m going to burn out and be no use to anyone. That’s going to be bad news when I’m really needed.”
“So, when are you going to start applying that wisdom back home?”
It was an infuriating but fair question. Last year, I’d made a deal with Freyja to save the life of Olivia’s boyfriend, one that meant I would have to work for a top tier Norse deity. Galaxy-brained of me, right? What Freyja expected out me, besides punctuality and saying nice things about her cats, was to find a way to stop Ragnarök, the literal death of her fellow gods. Already I’m a first-class dipshit, but it gets better. The other part of that deal said that my enemies were now her enemies, and that meant I’d all but chased away the shadowy organization known as the Gardeners that had been harassing my friends and me. By that, I mean, of course, that I flung their used-car-salesman-of-a-leader into a wormhole where a legion of angry elf warriors kept guard, but I wasn’t trying to dwell on the details. The Gardeners had done their fair share of evil, but in hindsight, I could see why some people—not that I’m admitting to anything—might have viewed them as a necessary evil. I personally didn’t believe in such things, but their absence unquestionably made my job a lot harder. Their mission was to keep all of the stories the way they were written, and it was meant to be in service of protecting this world. This meant that part of their job was to keep things from those stories out of this world. As it turned out, there was already a lot of that sort of thing here, and since they weren’t around to police things, that job fell to me. And since I had named Los Angeles as my home, instead of, say, a zip code or even just the bookstore, the entire county fell under my protection. I was not specific. It’s a pretty big county.
Needless to say, I wasn’t doing an excellent job of it.
“Come on, that’s not fair,” I whined. “That world has superheroes. This one has us, and we’re not exactly the Avengers. We have three nerds, an elf, and a well-meaning supporting cast trying their best.”
“I’m not a nerd,” Olivia protested without much enthusiasm.
“But, I mean, kind of,” I countered.
Olivia smacked me with a pillow at the exact moment something slammed into the sliding glass window. The resulting bang nearly made me jump over the couch. Instead, I dug my heels into the cushions hard enough that Olivia furrowed her brows in my direction for disrespecting her couch.
I decided to investigate and peeked over the now tightly clutched pillow to see Chalsarda glaring at us from the yard, distorted through the aftermath of what I was guessing was a lemon that exploded upon impact. Most of the lemons were outside on a tree, one of them was out of place on the deck, but that detail seemed less important than the ironically sour look from my elven friend, who beckoned us out back.
“Not cool! I have to clean that!” Olivia shouted as we stepped out back.
Chalsarda, my impossibly beautiful and competent elf-friend, had been training my friends and me over most of the year to defend ourselves. She was a two-hundred-year-old elf, a master archer, and could outlift a bodybuilder and—Jesus Christ. I am literally friends with an elf, what the hell? My friends and I were an assortment of book nerds, theater kids, and board game enthusiasts. Some of us had access to magic, but that didn’t make us potential superheroes. Some of us have allergies.
“Hey! You made it!” Jason panted, waving excitedly in my direction. He was covered in sweat and breathing hard enough that I thought something in him might have been broken. It was maybe the shortest greetings he’d ever given me. Jason was a part of the aforementioned well-meaning support group. What he lacked in magical talent, he made up for in earnest run-on sentences. He was always on this weird cusp of maybe approaching something—like being in shape, but even getting whipped by Chalsarda everyday couldn’t seem to get him over the hump.
I’d been hoping they wouldn’t notice our return right away. I’d been kind of burnt out on the physical training side of things, but for the sake of being polite, I decided to deflect. “Looks like you’re really going for it. No Teague?”
“Ah. I got this,” Ann replied, looking only slightly less sweaty than Jason. Ann, however, was one of the aforementioned magical nerds, and she had become attached to Chalsarda from the moment they met. Unlike me, she had thrown herself headlong into her training. It hadn’t entirely made up for the fact that she was five-foot nothing and had roughly the natural strength of shower steam, but she had been doing her best to make up for it with heart. Both she and Jason unconsciously adjusted their glasses in a manner that almost seemed synchronized, and Ann pulled out her phone and scrolled for a moment. “So, this is what Teague said, her words not mine, just so we’re clear.”
An uncomfortable moment of silence later and Ann began to read aloud. “‘Hell nah, if you start training for trouble, you’re about to find trouble. Y’all out here acting like this is some Lord of the Rings shit when what you really need to be doing is getting good at running.’ Then there’s three crying-laughing face emojis, and then a gif of that kid who threatens people with the power of God and anime. I don’t think she’s coming. Oh! Before I forget, someone dropped this off at the shop for you.”
Ann pulled a thank you card sized envelope out of her back pocket with my name written across the front. If there was a card inside, it had almost certainly been ruined by now, and it was clear Ann had forgotten she had it until just now.
I muttered my thanks as Chalsarda approached me. “While it’s a shame that not all of your loved ones wish to take advantage of my training, they, at least, do not have an obligation to do so. You, however, have missed our last three sessions.”
I grimaced. “It is way too hot for all of this.”
“Elana!” Chalsarda snapped.
“Come on, that’s not fair, is it?” I sighed. “I think training’s cool and everything, but am I really obligated?”
“Only so far as you feel obligated to stay alive for the sake of everyone you’re trying to protect, we’ve been over this,” Chalsarda retorted.
It felt like a low blow, but I was self-aware enough to know I was feeling defensive about slacking off and this wasn’t the first time we’ve started this conversation. I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying something I’d regret and winced; biting your tongue really hurts.
“Magic can’t always save you, and you’re not as powerful as you think. I’d have thought you learned that by now.”
I spread my hands in surrender. “Look, you’re right. It’s just, between all the extra spooky stuff popping up around town, checking in with Freyja, and still trying to put in the hours at the store, the last thing I want to do in the five minutes a day I’m not dealing with everyone’s problems is push-ups. I’m here now, though, all right?”
My tone was a little more sarcastic than I intended, and Chalsarda began to study me for a moment. “Indeed, you are, and you’ll be pleased to know that today’s lesson doesn’t involve push-ups. Come.”
I sighed in resignation as I followed her out to the center of the back lawn, removing my coat and tying my hair back as I did. If Chalsarda was about to beat me up—and it wouldn’t be the first time—I wanted to get it over with. Cool as we were with each other in most aspects of our lives, she didn’t let me off easy when it came to training. If anything, she went extra hard on me, which I’m
sure translated to good teaching in her mind and made perfect sense. Her love language was thrust kicks.
“Since you have been absent and negligent in your training, I will catch you up with not one, but two lessons today,” she began, her tone stern. “Show me a boxing guard.”
I did as she asked and felt my stomach drop. If she was asking for this, it meant we were throwing fists, simulating what I might encounter in a typical fight where setting a person on fire would be a felony and probably get me thrown in jail. No using magic on regular folks, it was like, rule number one. “Only a villain does that,” Chalsarda had once said without a hint of sarcasm. The combination of one of Chalsarda’s humbling lessons and a fist fight meant the possibility of actually getting hurt and furthering my love affair with Advil. Still, I couldn’t say no. Chalsarda wasn’t a sadist, everything she did was meant to save my life one day. That didn’t mean I liked it.
“You may stay only so long as you agree to remain quiet and not interfere; I will hold you to this and treat your presence as a promise,” she addressed my friends before returning her attention to me. “Here I come.”
Her movements were almost too fast for me to follow and, rather than beginning with a jab or something I could feel out, she cocked her shoulder back like she was looking to knock me into next week. I panicked and my eyes shut on instinct, ducking my head. Nothing came and, for an extra half a second, I hesitated to rise. When I did, I found her palm pressed into my forehead at the same moment I looked up at her and was pushed over with the barest amount of force. I was off balance and tumbled over painfully.
“Let’s try that again,” she said without offering me a hand up, “and this time, tell me why you’re really dodging your training.”
I eyed her a moment from the ground, not eager to stand and somehow upset at not being punched. “There’s just a lot going on, you know?” I said, getting back into my stance. “And I have an absolute ton of reading I need to—”
Chalsarda didn’t wait for me to finish, coming in for a high kick. I raised both forearms to cover my face, knowing what even a sparring kick like that would do to me. With barely a kick to speak of, her entire body shifted at the last second and I found my left foot turned just enough to send me butt first into the grass, an act that was more embarrassing than painful. I caught looks from my friends this time, and their discomfort at how outclassed I was amplified my embarrassment.
“Don’t look to them,” she commanded. “I am your opponent, and we will do this until I am satisfied with your answer.”
Chalsarda wasn’t lying, not that she was capable of it. Every time I stood up, she was ready for me, shifting her attack quick enough to humiliate me again and again. Frustration began to take hold, leaving me more and more vulnerable each time until I shouted. “It’s just too much! God damn, give me a break! Maybe the reason I don’t want to do your shitty CrossFit or eat your gross ass Keto diet is because you’re forcing it on me!”
My shout seemed to surprise everyone, even myself. I was on the ground propped up on an elbow, the sun partially blinding me. I looked away from it, taking a second to calm myself down. The truth that I didn’t want to admit to anyone, most of all myself, was that I wasn’t afraid of hard work or even physical pain, it was my life was being chosen for me. What I eat, how I spend my time; that used to be something I was in control of and, whether or not I mean to, I’m rebelling.
“Look, it’s just…there’s a lot. I never know what the next thing is going to be, and I’ve been trying to be ready for anything. Sometimes I study. Sometimes I try to just get away. But coming to this yard, playing with sticks and doing crunches, it just feels like one more thing I have to be ready for. I have to be ready for monsters, and magic users, and who knows what else, and this is my limit, okay?”
“I know,” Chalsarda said softly, squatting down to meet me. “It shows in your movements, but you can’t anticipate everything. Reacting to what might happen will leave you exposed to what is happening. Be prepared for everything you can in the future, surely, but understand the value of focusing on what is happening in the present. React when appropriate and pick your spots. Can you do that?”
I nodded my head and clasped wrists with Chalsarda, who pulled me to my feet. “Can I not be a ball of anxiety and instead just pretend that I’m not a ball of anxiety? I can try, I guess.”
“Do you know your greatest strength in battle?” The question was tender and caring.
“My complete and total lack of regard for my personal safety? Annoying bad guys with awful jokes? Wait. Am I Spider-Man?”
“It is your ability to remain calm and focus,” she replied, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. “You do not panic, even when the odds are overwhelming, while others would scream and run for the hills. You have a gift, so use it.”
The sincerity and praise made me uncomfortable, and I tried to change the subject. “What’s the second lesson?”
Her sudden movements didn’t seem real somehow; they were too fluid and graceful as Chalsarda pivoted behind Olivia only to hip toss her into Ann, before rolling into Jason, twisting his wrist in a way that sent him face first into the ground with a surprised squeal. No one had even the time to register their shock and anger before she addressed me.
“The people you love are relying on you to be ready to keep them safe, and those who want to hurt you will not hesitate to target those you love. So be ready and be—” The words caught in Chalsarda’s throat as she said them, and I understood why. I knew where these words came from, and sometimes the ugly past can sneak up on you. “Be ready and be brave” were the words her former master had told me once and, if I’d remembered that lesson, my friend wouldn’t be reliving it right now. Her gaze shifted as she caught herself, a look of pain crossed her face for half a second, but I caught it. Recognizing that look made me feel sick, but Chalsarda was an expert at hiding the hurt, just maybe not always from me. The pain in her eyes was gone in a second, replaced by a cheerful mask of self-satisfaction. “I assume this means I shall see you all at the next lesson?”
“What the shit, lady?” Olivia grunted as she untangled herself from Ann.
“And you lot, she’s relying on you too, you know!” Chalsarda admonished. “Honestly, how long did you intend to let me torment her like that?”
“But you said…!” Ann’s protest sounded childlike and weak. She might as well have just whined “No fair!”
“And what? Would you have let your friend take a beating if an enemy had commanded you to stay out of it?” Chalsarda asked as she lifted Jason to his feet and dusted him off. “I was more than unreasonable there, you know.”
Jason gingerly rubbed his arm as he got close enough to me to not be heard by the others. “It’s cool that I made that sound, right?”
I laughed, more to make him feel better than from actual mirth. “Dude, you ate dirt. I don’t think there was a wrong sound you could have made there.”
“Right then.” Chalsarda clapped her hands together and beamed a smile at us. “Lesson’s over. Who’s up for cold tea and Santa Clarita Diet?”
Ah, her new favorite show, introduced to her by Claire. This was another lingering side effect of events of last Christmas. Chalsarda vanished for a couple of months, but since she came back, whenever she hung out, she really hung out. Not that I minded all that much, but this was a thing. If someone didn’t set a boundary, she’d hang out for as long as they let her. Literally. The record so far was four days, held by Teague and Olivia.
Jason excused himself from the post-beatdown activities to give himself enough time to get cleaned up before making a trek out to the valley to pick up an end table he’d found online. Ann and I stuck around, though she required Olivia’s shower before could officially socialize; and Olivia didn’t have a choice in hanging out or not. This was her place.
The cold tea was a delight and, really, I’d be cool with sleeping on the floor and giving Chalsarda my bed if she provided a steady stre
am of the stuff. If the whole shooting arrows at bad guys thing didn’t work out, she could always open a tea house. The show was funny, and I was grateful to Olivia for still letting me cuddle up on her, all things considered from this past year. Zombies aside, the cast was fantastic. According to Claire, it was Olyphan-tastic, because it had Timothy Olyphant. God, I hate that I’ll always have that in my head. At least I didn’t say that out loud.
Besides being a good show, mental exercises like this, consuming media without getting sucked in, were essential to most of us here. A lot of people who can travel never learn that it’s possible, but once you know there’s a way in, it becomes a lot easier to see the paths. The answer wasn’t just to ignore all media forever; fiction still played an integral part of our culture. By experiencing it, we reaped a host of benefits. It was a sort of training, learning to not only resist being pulled in but getting better at finding the openings. This was true, at least, for Olivia and Ann; I had no problems on that front. For me, it was more about learning to separate myself from every single problem in existence, understanding that I couldn’t solve everything. I still helped where I could, of course, but maybe I was meant to be more discerning or, at least, smart. The Gardeners held the belief that everything was supposed to happen as it did, with no deviations. That felt like an extreme end of the spectrum, and I was trying to not fall into the trap of ending up on the other end of it all. It was hard, I knew what my instincts were, but watching this stuff with friends, taking my time to learn more about each situation, was probably best for my long-term health.
Around the time the third episode began, there was a loud knocking on the door that sent me bolting upright. “Food!” I bellowed greedily.
“When did you order food?” Olivia asked.
“On my phone,” I said, digging a couple of dollars out of my pocket for a tip.
“That’s not a when,” Ann remarked as I opened the door.