Summoner Rising Page 5

  “What does that file say about me?” I ask, wondering if reports from California made it all the way here. Phrases like socially withdrawn, and emotional detachment come to mind from my last counseling session.

  “Nothing yet.” She holds the folder out to me. “Want me to add something?”

  I shake my head and smile, about to look up at her as the secretary comes in. “You can go back to classes, Dacie.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Be good.” Miss Nelson winks.

  In the cafeteria, Brennan stands up waving his hands in the air at me. I hesitate as I quickly glance over the occupants: Zack, Sophie, and no Chantal. I make my way through the crowd.

  “I heard you got in trouble in art,” Brennan says as I sit down. “Are you still allowed to go to the dance?”

  I shrug. “The principal didn’t say.”

  Brennan’s face relaxes. “Good.”

  “Where’s Chantal?” Even though I don’t want to see her, her absence is rather odd.

  Brennan rolls his eyes. “Who knows? I asked to borrow her notes after first period, and she flipped out on me. I think she has a crush on that new guy from your Art.”

  “Who, Tryan?” I can feel my pulse begin to race at the thought of them together.

  “Yeah,” he continues, “she’s been asking around about him, and this morning I saw her throwing herself at him.”

  I shake my head. “I think you’re wrong.”

  “Well, whether I am or not, that’s their problem.” He turns back to Zack and Sophie. “You guys want to double date with Dacie and me?”

  I glare at Brennan. “It’s not a date, remember.”

  He shrugs, but I feel myself backed into a corner. How could I be so naïve? “You know what? I need to go home early tonight, so I’ll just meet you guys there.”

  “What?” Brennan looks shocked, and I’m sure I catch Zack hiding a smirk out of the corner of my eye.

  “Yeah, sorry. This whole fire thing, you know.”

  “This sucks.” Brennan starts to play with his food, and I have the satisfaction of being back in control of my life again. Now if I could only extend some of that to my new abilities, everything would be better.

  I head home and look through my closet for something to wear to the dance. It’s sparse, to say the least; I’ve never needed anything more than a T-shirt and jeans before. A box of my mother’s things pokes out from under some bags at the back of my closet. All she owned were skirts, dresses, and other revealing items. I pull out the box and find the least revealing one at the bottom: a simple black cocktail dress. Perfect.

  Downstairs I seek out Katya to help me get the wrinkles out of the dress. It’ll be amusing to see the shock on her face when I tell her I’m going out for the second night in a row. I can’t find her in the kitchen, so I go into her studio. She’s not here either, but something feels strange, so I look around.

  Toward the back of the studio, there’s a large easel covered in broadcloth. I pull off the cloth, and find a half-finished painting underneath. The scene is a dark city street with a lamp illuminating one area. There’s nothing else in the street.

  I practice my talent and stare at the painting, focusing on the street. For a moment, the figure of a man appears, standing in the distance. I gasp and blink, but when I look back, he’s gone.

  “Daciana?” Katya calls from the front entry. “Are you home?”

  I quickly cover the painting back up and hurry out of the studio. I nearly run into my great-aunt and Constantine in the kitchen. He’s got a large sword, which usually hangs in our study, lying across the table as he sits polishing it.

  “What were you doing in there?” Katya asks, as she puts away groceries. That’s one thing I can give her credit for—she keeps the house well stocked with food. I put the dress on the counter and help them out.

  “I was looking for you,” I say. “There’s a school dance tonight, and I’m going.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Katya says, clapping her hands and running over to kiss my cheeks. “We need to go shopping for something to wear.”

  “I found this dress of Mom’s.” I point to the counter. “Can you help me get ready?”

  “Of course!” Katya says. She looks like she’s in heaven.

  After what feels like hours of primping, I’m impressed with the outcome. Katya has added soft curls to my long dark hair, and applied makeup to my pale face. My mother used to dress me up when I was little, but as I got older, I avoided it completely, not wanting her to turn me into her. The fact that she won’t see me like this makes my heart twinge a little, and brings a tear to my eye.

  “A Cantar lady never cries, dear,” Katya says. “Hold your head high and your emotions in. There, look at you. Perfection.”

  I look back at the mirror and swallow down my tears before they can show. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. I go downstairs and Constantine is waiting for me at the table; he looks up and nods in approval at my makeover. I quickly eat some supper while waiting for Brennan to pick me up.

  “What’s this boy like?” Katya asks.

  “You met him,” I say between mouthfuls.

  “Yes,” she says, “but he wouldn’t let me read his leaves—polite otherwise. What do you know of his family?”

  “Nothing.” I laugh, almost choking on my food.

  “This is no laughing matter,” she explains. “Family line is important. You can’t just pair up with the first person you come across.”

  “Pair up?” I say. “What century is this? Listen, Brennan might be interested in me, but the feeling is not mutual.”

  “Then why get all dressed up?”

  “I just thought it would feel nice to be like everyone else,” I say, looking down at my food.

  “Is that what has been going on?” Katya exclaims. “My dear, you will never be like everyone else. You are much too special.”

  “Thanks,” I grumble, looking up from my food, “that makes me feel real—” I stop in the middle of my sentence and almost drop my fork when I see the missing imp crawling on the window outside the kitchen.

  “Don’t mumble,” Katya says. “It’s not polite.”

  “I have to run,” I say, standing up from the table.

  “I’ve told you,” Katya lectures, “here we ask to be excused from the table, and what about your date?”

  “I’m meeting him at the dance,” I say, grabbing my bag and running out the back door.

  Outside, I scan the side of the house for the imp, but it’s not there. I run out into the backyard, searching for the creature. “Hello?” I call out.

  “Shhh,” a voice says from behind the trees at the edge of the woods. “Over here.”

  Its hairy claws and twisted face peer out from behind a tree. I run over to it, keeping a safe distance. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why didn’t you come after me before?” the imp asks.

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

  “What are you, some newbie?” the imp says, looking me up and down. “You are, aren’t you?” I fold my arms, not sure what to admit to this creature. “Well, you’re in luck; I need you to send me back right now.”

  I shake my head. I refuse to admit to this thing that I have no idea how to do that.

  “Are you serious?” Its eyes grow wide. “What kind of summoner are you?”

  “One with somewhere to be,” I say. “Hang out here, and I’ll find you when I get back. Oh, and be quiet, or my great-aunt will find you.”

  “That might be too late!” it says. “It’s not safe out here. I need to go back. Send me back right now!”

  The imp lunges at me, and I grab it by its shoulders, holding it out from me as it kicks and bites at me. Thankfully, my arms are longer than it is, so it can’t connect. The creature is no heavier than a large cat. I carefully carry it over to my little car and pop the hatch open. Inside, I wrap the little creature in
a blanket, securing it with my booster cables.

  “Let me go,” it screams as it wiggles. I close the hatch to stifle the sound and climb in the driver’s seat.

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll figure this out after the dance.”

  The decorations in the school gym are beyond anything I could have imagined. Lights bounce off glitter-filled balls that spot the ceiling like a faux night sky. Lasers shoot out from the corners, emitting multi-colored streams of light to the pulse of the music. A DJ sits on the stage, looking down from behind his throne of speakers and turntables while his beats rebound off the walls. This is my first time at a school dance. It looks pretty cool.

  I move along the edge toward groups of people, trying to see if I can spot Tryan anywhere. Maybe he’s not coming. I should’ve expected that this wouldn’t be his thing. What’s he doing right now? I start to think about the kiss in the woods, when Brennan interrupts my thoughts.

  “Oh, come on,” Brennan teases. “Dance with me. Just one song?” He puts on a pouty face and makes me laugh.

  “Okay, but just one.”

  He grabs me by the hand and pulls me out onto the dance floor. I’ve heard this slow tune many times before on the radio. I’m glad I recognize it.

  As Brennan pulls me closer, he smiles at me. Chantal is watching us intently from the wall of the gym. I wish she’d realize we’re just friends, but I’m not sure Brennan feels the same.

  As Brennan spins me around, I see other familiar faces. Sophie and Carter are dancing close by. Miss Nelson isn’t far off, mingling with students, probably making sure no one’s groping. And then I see him: Tryan. He’s watching us from the other end of the school gym. He’s not just watching; he’s staring. My breath catches in my throat as I remember our kiss the other night—the kiss that sparked the neighborhood.

  He starts to walk toward us and as he gets behind Brennan, I stop dancing. I can feel that same pull I’ve felt every time we get close. It’s almost like there’s magnetism between us. I grunt at the pun, and Brennan looks at me confused; then Tryan taps his shoulder.

  “May I cut in?” Tryan asks as he takes my hands, not waiting for Brennan to answer. I barely notice Brennan as he stands there looking confused before Chantal runs out to save his pride.

  “Lovely night for a dance,” Tryan whispers to me with his accent. A shiver runs down my spine.

  “Yes,” I manage to whisper back.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  I shake my head, unable to say anything more. His touch against my hands and his body moving mine along makes me feel on fire so that I can barely breathe, let alone speak. And I can’t stop staring into his face.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he says quietly.

  “You have?”

  “You’re surprised?” he says. “Well, I’ll admit I’m a little surprised as well. I’ve never had someone stuck in my head like this before. Then there was that kiss. It was something else.” He spins me around, slightly lifting my feet from the floor, pulling me against his body. My stomach knots in butterflies from the sensation. The song ends as I land.

  “Thank you for the pleasure of this dance,” Tryan whispers in my ear, and I close my eyes at the sensation of his breath. When I open them, he’s still staring at me as he begins to walk away. Our hands are still touching, stretching out, until at last our fingers part and I feel the bond snap apart.

  A new song comes on and the dance floor between us crowds with people. Before I can move again, he’s gone.

  “What was that about?” Brennan says from behind me. I turn and see Chantal with him.

  “I don’t know.” I shake my head from the daze.

  “I think he seriously likes you,” Chantal says, watching my face. Hers looks relieved that my attention is somewhere away from Brennan. I think about Tryan again: his touch, his breath, his kiss. The gym is suddenly too small and it’s hard to breathe. “I’ll be back,” I say, running past dumbfounded Brennan and Chantal’s look of glee.

  Miss Nelson is standing near the doorway. A look of worry crosses her brow as I approach her. “Are you okay, Dacie?”

  “I just need some fresh air.”

  She nods. “This way.”

  She pulls me into the lighted foyer of the school and out the double doors at the front. I sharply turn and lay my back against the cold brick of the exterior. I stretch my fingers along the rough texture as I take deep breaths, trying to hold myself up for fear of fainting. What is this feeling I get from being around Tryan? It’s as if I can’t control myself.

  “Just breathe,” Miss Nelson says. “Did something happen in there? It looked like you were having fun when I saw you dancing.”

  How am I supposed to explain my feelings to her? I barely understand them myself.

  “It was just so stuffy,” I say. “I’ve never been to a dance before.”

  “Is that it?” She laughs. “It gets better, trust me. Want to take a walk around the school, then go back in? I’ll join you.”

  “No.” I shake my head. I feel drained. “I’m just going to go home.”

  “You know where my office is if you ever need to talk.”

  I quickly gather myself together and walk to my car. I can’t go back in the gym like this. If I see Tryan again, what will I say to him? I’ll look like a fool, stumbling over my words. Plus, Miss Nelson is nice, but she suffocates me with her attention.

  As I walk into the school parking lot, I notice a dark blur run between two cars. I was so caught up in the school dance I forgot about the imp.

  “Hey!” I quickly run after the creature. He’s standing at the end of the two cars laughing at me. Suddenly, I forget all my angst from the dance.

  “I told you to stay in the car,” I whisper firmly. The imp jumps up and down on the spot then runs behind the cars. “Come back here!”

  The imp darts around and jumps on top of the vehicles in the parking lot. “I warned you,” he says. “I really, really did. I told you not to leave me, but you just had to go to your little human dancie-dance. Well, I need to get back. It’s not safe out here. Something’s off. Something’s not right. Take me back right now!”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” I say, exasperated.

  “How do I know you mean it this time?” he asks with his eyes narrowed, staring at me from the hood of a car.

  “You’ll just have to trust me.” I lunge at him, landing on the hood as he runs over the cab toward the back. “Get back here, you little—”

  “Missing something?” Tryan appears from the back of the car. He’s holding up the imp by the scruff of its collar.

  “You let me down right now,” the imp yells. “If you don’t, you’ll be sorry.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tryan says, turning the imp face-to-face with him. He stares the creature down and for a moment, something flickers in Tryan’s eyes, but he’s too far away for me to see.

  “Oh, no!” the imp cries out. “Save me summoner! Save me! Don’t let this evil tovaros kill me. Save me, pleeeeease!”

  “What are you doing?” I ask Tryan. I’m shocked that not only is he holding the imp, but he’s not surprised to see it.

  “I’m catching him for you,” Tryan says. “What I want to know is how you let this little guy out before your seventeenth birthday?”

  I look awkwardly at Tryan, processing his words, and wondering how he can stand there so calmly. The imp kicks at him and tries to bite at his arm, but Tryan holds it straight out, unflinching. His arm span beats mine, easily.

  I’m confused more than anything. “How do you know about this stuff?” I motion toward the imp.

  “I know a lot more than you give me credit for,” Tryan says. “Now, where’d you park?”

  Tryan sits in the backseat of my car with the imp, whom he’s strapped in beside him. The creature doesn’t stop wiggling about, and I can’t help but laugh from the front seat when I look in the rearv
iew mirror.

  “Don’t you touch me, you evil tovaros,” the imp hisses. “I know what you are. I know what you’ve done. I can see all your conquests through your eyes and smell death on your skin. You are very bad indeed.”

  A shadow falls over Tryan’s face. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice filled with regret. “I’m going to make sure Dacie sends you back where you belong.”

  “She doesn’t even know what she’s doing,” the imp complains. “What if she paints me into an ocean and I drown—or worse, what if she paints me into a bottle? I’ll be stuck in there for eternity granting wishes to every future summoner that lets me free!”

  “Well obviously you’re going to have to help a little,” I say to the creature.

  “I know the laws of summoning,” Tryan says quietly. “I’ll help you.”

  “Ah, yes,” the imp says. “You expect me to trust my life in the hands of an assassin.”

  “Are you a summoner, too?” I ask Tryan, ignoring the complaints of the imp.

  “Sort of,” Tryan says, avoiding my eyes in the rear-view mirror, looking out the window. “Will we be able to get into your aunt’s studio?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I’ve dealt with things like this before.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” I ask.

  “Four years,” he says, still staring out the window.

  “For all of high school?” I ask, shocked.

  “I’m not seventeen, Dacie,” he says. “Which brings me back to my first question, how did you do this before your birthday?”

  “I have no idea how I did this, it just happened,” I say. “And what do you mean you’re not seventeen? How old are you?”

  “I’m nineteen,” Tryan says, glancing up at the mirror, watching my reaction.

  “What are you doing in high school?”

  “I missed a lot of classes last year hunting down things like this.” He motions to the imp.

  “You hunt them?”

  “Used to,” Tryan says. “Look, right now we need to get this thing back where it belongs. I’ll answer all your questions later.”