Demon Accords 05.5: Executable (5 page)

PE was the second-to-last class of the day for me and Jonah.  We were both changed and loitering in the gym as most of the class arrived.  So we watched Trey Johnson, Micah Issacs, Kevin Otts, and Steve Randal arrive with Jessica Connors and Lisa Tesslor.  The football team and cheer squad were well represented.  Then I saw Sarah come in.  She went to Mrs. Bockman, our PE instructor, who took her slip, then rummaged in her office for spare gym clothes.  Sarah disappeared into the locker room along with the cheer girls.

The volleyball net was set up, so Jonah and I started passing a ball back and forth to warm up.  Trey and his football buddies came out of the boys’ locker room and began their own warm up on the other side of the net.  Jessica Connors, Lisa Tesslor, and a girl named Alli Monroe came out. Jonah missed the ball as he gazed at Jessica’s long, tan legs. 

The Connors family owned a car dealership, and I heard they had a summer place with a big boat on Lake Champlain. From Jessica’s tan, it was easy to see she’d had a sun-filled summer. The cheer girls automatically went to the same side as Trey and company, but Alli joined us.  As a member of the varsity volleyball team, Alli would have been welcome on Trey’s side, but her older sister, Emilee, worked as a waitress for my aunt, and Alli was starting work there soon as well, so she preferred our side.

More kids trickled out of the locker rooms, automatically separating themselves according to status.  Basically, you had to be approved by Trey to be on his side; otherwise, you ended up with us.  It wasn’t a fair mix, as most of the athletes were on Trey’s team, but Jonah, Alli, and I added enough ability to make it interesting.

Coach Bockman was counting up players when Sarah came out.  I looked over when I heard Coach speak.  “Ah, Williams there you… are.”

The reason for Coach’s verbal pause was obvious.  Dressed in tight spandex volleyball clothes, Sarah was a surprise.  She looked... sexy.  Not the long-legged, skinny model look that Jessica embodied, but a defined, muscled look that screamed physical capability. The tight material of her blue jersey even showed the outline of an actual six pack—or maybe an eight pack.  I had thought she was kind of cute before, but this was different.  She reminded me of an Olympic caliber sprinter.  Someone on Trey’s side wolf whistled; maybe Steve Randall.

“Ah Sarah, we’re doing a module on volleyball.  Have you ever played?” Coach said, shooting a glare at the football players.

“Nothing formal, Coach. Just some games with people from my mom’s workplace,” Sarah answered, looking at the class, who were all looking at her.  She ignored everyone’s stares although her eyes narrowed a bit when she met my gaze.

“Alli, help Sarah with the rules and techniques, would you?” Coach called, sending the new girl our way. 

“Sure, Coach,” Alli called back, immediately showing Sarah the proper way to pass a ball.

“Okay, ready to volley for serve?” Bockman asked.

“Nah, just give them first serve, Coach. We’ll get it back soon enough,” Trey said with a wink at Sarah.

Coach threw me the game ball, and I bounced it a few times as I backed behind the serve line.  Sarah and Alli were to my left in the back row and Johah and two other kids were up front.  Jonah was easily the tallest kid in the gym, so he sort of owned the front row.

I kept my eyes on Lisa Tesslor while I lined up my serve but sent the ball directly for Kevin Otts in the back row.  Despite being a ditz, Lisa would actually be likely to handle my serve.  Kevin, on the other hand, was an over-muscled moron who could be counted on to knock the ball into orbit or, in this case, the ductwork overhead.  Score one for our side.

I got the next shot as well, putting it between Otts and Trey, but closer to Otts.  Trey actually got a hand on it, but it bounced off Otts and the ball went into the net.

My next serve got too close to Micah Issacs, who was arguably one of the best athletes in school.  He passed it to Jessica, who set it for Trey, who aimed it for Sarah’s face.  It was a nasty spike and it would have likely hurt her except she somehow got a hand up in time and the ball went into our net.

“Good reflexes,” Alli told her while glaring at Trey.  Issacs served a scorcher that I just couldn’t get the right angle on, my pass going out of bounds.  He served at me again, but this time, I got enough on it that Allie managed to set it up to Jonah, who smashed it into the open space between Jessica, Lisa, and Steve Randall.

We rotated and our server, a quiet kid named Mark, gave them an easy serve that Steve Randall was able to set to Trey, who spiked it hard into the floor by Jonah’s feet.

The other side rotated, which brought Trey directly across the net from Sarah.  He made a show of looking her body up and down with a smirk.

“Sorry about the love tap earlier, babe.  I get a bit carried away.  Maybe I’ll give you private lessons later,” he suggested.

I was pissed, but judging from the tense lines of defined muscle in Sarah’s back and shoulders, she was even more so. 

Jessica had the serve, and she sent it directly to me in the middle of the back row.  I passed it forward, but it went at a bad angle, straight to a kid named Brian Kasinski, who was maybe our worst player.  He panicked and knocked the ball straight up over his own head.  Instead of moving out of the way, he just bent over and held his head.

Sarah, whose eyes were tracking the ball like a cat with a laser pointer, leaped up, putting one hand on Brian’s back for liftoff.  She got a good three and a half feet off the ground, which gave her ample room to blister the ball right into Trey’s face.  It bounced off his forehead and nose, went into the net, and then came right back into his stomach.

“Ooooooo,” I heard myself say as everyone else watched for Trey’s reaction.  He looked shocked, then his face went red with anger.

“Oh sorry,
babe
.  I get a little carried away sometimes,” she said to him.

We ended up losing by two points, but it was the best showing the outcast side had ever had and despite the win, Trey left the gym in a hell of a temper, slamming lockers and cursing at everyone.

Me, I was happy for the almost draw.  It massively sucked, always losing by mega points.  Coach Bockman preferred athletes to nerds, so she never bothered to even up the teams.  Today had been one of the better gym days so far this year, but I kept going back to the moment when Sarah had leaped so high in the air, my brain replaying the sight of her hand on Brian’s back, her touch so light, it had barley dimpled Brian’s shirt.  Almost as if she hadn’t needed to boost off him at all.

Global History dragged for the last period and I had trouble concentrating on old Mrs. Pelman.  Instead, I kept thinking about the new girl, her mother, and their almost-empty car.  The bell finally rang and I headed out into the hall, meeting up with Jonah and Rory near the front of the school.

Lockers slammed, kids yelled, books dropped, and the halls were a swirl of teenage confusion.  Up ahead of us, I spotted a figure that was quickly becoming familiar.

“Hey Sarah?  Coming back tomorrow?” I asked.  She didn’t hear me and my two friends hadn’t seen her, being caught up as they were in a discussion about Monday night football. 

“Sarah?”

She still didn’t turn, busy looking at her phone.  I tried a different tact.

“Hey Caeco.” 

Her shoulders tensed and she slowly turned to give me a deadly glare. Like, you know, if looks could kill and all that.

“You didn’t answer to Sarah,” I said in the storm cloud of her instant hostility.  Something that might have been chagrin flashed over her features before her face smoothed out to its normal, bland expression.

“What did you want?” she asked.  My pals had by this time realized I was talking to someone other than them—and a girl type person at that and stopped their own conversation to listen.

“I asked if you were coming back tomorrow.”

She frowned, confused.  “Of course.  I have school.”

I sighed, wondering at her weirdness.  “Never mind.  It’s just an expression.”

“Hey, good game today,” Jonah added.

“We lost,” she said, the frown back on her face.

“Yeah, but it was close, and you slammed Johnson right in the face.  That was awesome,” Jonah said.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Rory said.  “Brian Kasinski said you look like a Crossfit instructor.”

He made a muscle
-flexing gesture, but almost nothing happened to his bicep.

She looked a little flustered by his words, maybe mildly alarmed.

“Oh, yeah, well, that Johnson boy seems to be a douche bag.  But listen I gotta go; my mother’s waiting for me,” she said.

“Right. Well, later,” I said.

She frowned again, like my words didn’t make sense.  Shaking her head, she said, “Oh, right. Have a good evening then,” and headed left toward the visitor parking and parent pickup section of the parking lot.

“Weird girl,” I commented.

“Yeah, but I heard she looked hot in spandex,” Rory said, reducing the whole situation to the only point that teenage boys care about.

“True that, bitch,” Jonah said in his best gangster voice.

“A bitch is a female dog, and I am a classy, educated young man,” my little friend shot back.

“Yeah, but you’re my bitch,” was Jonah’s reply, which set Rory to sputtering as we all headed for the green Beast.

Turning my head, I saw Sarah, who didn’t like to be called Caeco, get into her mother’s Buick.  Neither appeared to speak to the other as the older woman put the car into drive and pulled out.  Weird.  More weird.

“James!  What are our three objectives?” Levi asked.  About five-ten and lean in his black instructor’s tee and loose black combat pants, Levi Guildersleeve was moving behind the circle of kids who were all focused on me and James, the little fourth grader in front of me.

“Ah, disrupt their thoughts, do damage and… ah,” James struggled for a moment, glancing my way with a panicky look.  I lifted one foot and wobbled slightly as if I was having trouble staying on just the single leg.  Recognition flared in his eyes.

“Put them off balance!” He finished triumphantly.

“Yes,” Levi agreed from his roving position just outside our circle.

“Mark, what are Krav Maga’s four steps to action?” he asked the sturdy blond kid he was now behind.  Mark’s expression was vacant for a moment as he tried to remember.  It was about his sixth class, but he was still having trouble remembering the basic principles—at least verbally. The physical part, he was doing fine with.

Another blonde, this one a cute fifth-grade girl who made all the boys nervous, held up her hand. 

“Lisa, what are they?” Levi asked.

“Perceive—the threat, Analyze—the situation, Formulate—a plan, and Execute,” she said, ignoring the admiring glances of the boys.  Instead, she looked at me while she answered.

Which made sense, as I was standing in front of her and Levi was behind them, roving like a circling shark.  But she smiled at me a lot, and even I recognized that it had to do with the fact I was a Senior in high school and Levi’s assistant instructor.  It was harmless admiration, maybe even a crush.  Of course, the first time she mentioned my name to an older sibling or friend, she would likely hear stories about me that would leave her afraid of me.  Maybe I could graduate high school before I saw that in her eyes. 

“Why?  Why do we do that?” Levi asked.

The other girl in class, Lisa’s friend Ellie, spoke up.  She wore glasses and had long, curly brown hair. “Because they’re bigger, faster, stronger and they know what we’re going to do.”

“Exactly!  Is Declan bigger, stronger, and faster than James?”

“You bet he is,” a chubby kid named Ben blurted out, which caused the rest of the class to laugh.  Levi laughed, too.  “Does he know more than James?”

“Of course, Mr. Guildersleeve. He’s an instructor,” Ellie said.

“So James, what could you do to put him off balance, disrupt his thoughts, and do some damage?”

James looked at me apprehensively, then snapped an awkward kick with his left foot at my groin.  It barely tapped my cup, but the thought was there.  He followed it with a jab at my eyes and a jab at my throat, then turned and ran toward the door, stopping after just a few steps to turn back toward Levi.

“Very good, James.  You attacked the soft, vulnerable spots on his body and escaped.  Getting out of a fight with bigger, stronger, faster, more highly trained individual is usually the best idea.  But let’s say the escape route is blocked.  What then?”

Lisa raised her hand.  Levi waved her forward.

She gave me a sly smile, then snapped her own foot up.  It was a much harder kick and without the cup, I’d have been on the floor.  She followed it with a roundhouse knee that pushed me back, off balance, rather than doing any damage.  Then she leaned away, left hand cupped around the side of her neck to guard it (theoretically from a knife attack) and side-kicked me with her right leg just above the top of my knee. 
Her
follow up started with the same finger strike to the eyes (her fingers just touching the skin of my forehead), a fist jab that brushed my nose, a hand strike that cupped my throat, and a double hand clap to my ears (her fingers spread like a Vulcan mind meld to avoid actually popping my eardrums). 

Leaving her hands in place, she dropped her stance low while pulling my head toward the top of her own skull for a head butt.  Her right thumb pressed on my left eyebrow, just above the eye that she would be gouging if this were real, while her left hand held the back of my head. Her right forearm and elbow slapped the left side of my neck, then just the outside of her forearm slid over and slammed the right side of my neck.  Her hands moved down to my right bicep and shoulder, holding me in Reference Point One while she delivered a knee to my groin and then a follow-through kick between my legs, both of which left me glad I had bought good protective gear.  She then moved my arm across in front of her, shifting her hands to reposition them in Reference Point Two, which left me off balance with her behind me, holding my arm and shoulder immobile.

“Lisa.  That was perfect.  Poor Declan is now blind, deaf, choking, with a busted nose, and will not stand upright for a week,” Levi said. “Not to mention his knee is hurting and his face has an excellent impression of the top of Lisa’s head.  That’s what I’m talking about.  Always, always keep pushing through the threat that you can’t get away from.  Never stop.  If you can escape like James, then that’s perfect, but you won’t always have that option.  Okay, Declan, get them set up for a weapons drill—sticks, I think.  Your choice.”

He left me to work the class through the remaining time, working at his desk then greeting parents as they arrived to pick up their kids, chatting and charming the moms.  I circled the kids up and Levi came over for a few words of conclusion, then dismissed them.  I straightened up the dojo while he disappeared into the back.  As the last kid left, Levi came out wearing his full sparring gear and carrying my own bag in his hand. He also had batons in his hands.

“Alright.  Get your gear on.  It’s time to see what you can do.”

We beat on each other for twenty minutes, neither talking, each focused on the other.  After a particularly brutal exchange, we both pulled away, breathing hard, which was odd.  Usually, the timer on the wall would let us know when each bout was over.  Krav Maga is all about survival, about inflicting damage on a bigger, faster, stronger opponent.  Constant pressure, always moving forward through your opponent, is one of the base principles.  So when we pulled back as if by unspoken agreement, it was unusual.

Levi studied me for a moment, then took off his headgear and grabbed a towel to wipe his face. 

“What’s up?” I asked him.  I’ve known Levi since he arrived in town seven years earlier.  He came in Rowan West one day, ate lunch, browsed the shop, and struck up a conversation with my aunt.  He had travelled a lot—actually still did for his book business—and he was very familiar with Ireland and had been there recently.  My aunt, desperate for news of her homeland, had talked about Eire with him for hours.  He came back the next day for dinner, and the day after that.  He’d been in my life ever since.  I knew Levi was ex-military, but I didn’t know whose military he’d served in.  His English was without accent and he was very much a student of the world.  He spoke French, Spanish, German, Hebrew, and Farsi as well as a smattering of Chinese.  The Krav Maga training had been his suggestion to my aunt; a channel for my youthful energy and frustration.  I was his first student, the studio and classes had come several years after I had started to train.

“What do you mean?” he asked, continuing to strip off his protective padding, effectively signaling that we were done.

“You were edgy all through the class. Even the kids picked up on it.  And your sparring seemed extra aggressive.  What’s going on?”

He paused, not answering, so I prodded some more.  Sometimes with Levi, it takes a few good jabs to get under his guard.   “You’ve had some kind of premonition, haven’t you?”

Levi had been fascinated with my family’s particular skill set since his first day in Rowan West and his perusal of the New Age and occult paraphernalia in the shop.  It took a few months, but he gradually built up the conversation about the supernatural world to the point where finally he asked outright if we were witches.  By that time he’d earned enough of my aunt’s hoarded trust to warrant a small measure of the truth.  But his fascination was personal; it seemed Levi had a bit of the Sight himself.  He got powerful premonitions about things and people.  Powerful in that they made him nauseous at times.  But they were mostly vague, unfocused.  Aunt Ash had tutored him a bit, which had helped, but ultimately, he just wasn’t strong enough to get more than a few feelings about events.  He claimed it had been enough to save him on more than one occasion, several times in combat and several more times when he had strayed too close to the workings of organized crime while in pursuit of some rare and expensive book.

Now he stared at me, eyes slightly unfocused
, before sighing in frustration.  “Yes,” he admitted.

“And it’s about me, isn’t it?” I asked, following a hunch of my own.

His slate gray eyes widened for a second before narrowing.  “Yes, some.”

“Does it involve a girl?” I asked.

Now he looked really surprised, eyebrows shooting straight up.  The answer was on his face.

“New girl moved to town.  She’s kinda my friend.  Aunt Ash says we have to help her,” I explained.

“Tell me,” he directed.  I thought about it.  Levi was pretty much family.  He ate dinner with us at least once a week, he was the only male adult figure in my life, and he attended all of our Solstice and Equinox ceremonies.  So I filled him in on the newcomers and Aunt Ash’s reading.  When I finished, he stared at me for a few moments.

“So what was your premonition?” I asked.

He was still thinking things through, so his answer was a little slow in coming.  “I keep seeing you fighting for your life.  I can’t see your opponents, but I do get flashes of a girl with you.  It’s not much, but it’s strong,” he said.  “Now that you tell me your aunt’s reading, it just makes me more certain than ever.”

“You’re worried you haven’t trained me enough,” I guessed.

“No such thing as training enough.  But I just worry.  Even the best-trained person can slip at the wrong time or not see something coming.  Lady Luck can be the biggest bitch, especially in combat,” he answered, pointing for me to proceed him into the back room. 

I stepped through just ahead of him, then felt him move.  Jumping forward three paces, I spun and faced him just in time to see him rushing at me with one of the rubber training knives.  Instinctively, my right hand covered my neck as I leaned back and kicked at his leading knee.  It was enough to knock him off balance and gave me time to grab a metal folding chair sitting near the bathroom door.  Rushing forward, I used the four legs of the chair to trap him against the built-in wooden equipment shelves, his knife hand trapped alongside his body. One metal leg was pressed against his throat, forcing him to use his remaining hand to hold the leg from further movement.  He studied our positions for a second, then grinned and nodded.

“Good response, but try to let others go first; don’t let them get behind you.”