Wraithsong (18 page)

“
Now,” he says, stationing
himself behind me, “wrap your other hand around the pistol and
align both thumbs to point downrange.”

“
Okay.” I try not to think
about the fact that I’m wrapped in Anthony’s arms. I don’t want to
think about him right now in that way when I’m here to learn these
skills so I can save my mom. And besides, I hate him.

He encases his hands around
mine and lifts the pistol up. “Now, hold the gun very firmly, and
identify your target. Feet shoulder width apart, dominant foot
forward.”

I take my stance. “Like
this?” I feel strong.

“
Perfect,” Anthony
says.

“
Now, focus your eyes on
the center of the target.” His cheek brushes against mine ever so
gently. He shaved. No scruff. I curse under my breath at how easily
distracted I am.

“
Aha,” I say.

“
See the red dot?” Anthony
says.

He smells so good. What’s
wrong with me? I scold myself for letting Anthony have this effect
on me and remind myself that he might still be my enemy. With sheer
willpower, I concentrate until all I can see is the red dot in the
center of the board. “Yes, perfectly. Red dot in focus.”

“
Now, place your finger on
the trigger, but don’t pull it yet,” Anthony says, loosening his
grip around my hands, but still holding his hands there.

His chest is pressed
against my back, and I remember what he looked like when I saw him
shirtless on the beach. Focus, Sonia! Breathing steadily, I move my
index finger from the outside of the trigger guard to the inside.
For one who never thought she’d hold a gun in her hands, it comes
surprisingly natural, and it actually feels like I’ve always known
how to use it.

“
Slowly squeeze the
trigger. Don’t jerk it. Jerking the trigger will throw off your
aim,” Anthony whispers in my ear, but I’m too focused now to let
that sidetrack me. He adjusts the protective guard over my ear and
takes a step back.

I squeeze the trigger. Bam!
The buzz of the explosion sends blood whirling through my body and
I can’t help but smile, the kind where my cheeks cramp up. “I did
it.” Carefully, I hand Anthony the pistol, fling my glasses and ear
guards into the dirt, and sprint up to the target.

“
Sonia!” I hear Anthony
yell after me, but I don’t stop. “Sonia, you can’t just run into
the range! You could get shot!”

At the target, I see that
the bullet has entered and exited through the red dot, and not just
anywhere on the red dot, but perfectly in the center. I touch it,
feeling the torn edges of where my bullet passed
through.

I see Anthony running
toward me, all the way, waving his hands frantically, yelling at
the other shooters to stop shooting. “You can’t just run into the
range like that. You could get killed!” he yells at me. He stops
and looks at the target. “See, told you. Let’s have you try the
semi-automatic setting.”

“
Great,” I say, excited to
advance to the next level already. “So…all Huldras have perfect
aim?” I suppose it makes sense since I’ve never missed a goal in
any sport.

“
Yes, it’s in our blood.”
We run back to our stall.

“
If we all have perfect
aim, aren’t we just going to kill each other if we start fighting?”
I ask.

“
Possibly, but have you
heard of a Darkálfar?” He picks up the pistol and adjusts the
setting to semi-automatic.

“
Yes…?
Maybe. More like a Darkelves, though,” I say, remembering a vague
mention of
Darkelves
from the mythology section in my history class. I
sit down on the bench.

“
Maureen works mostly with
Darkálfars, the…evil elves.” Anthony lifts the pistol up and shoots
a three-round burst with one hand, all hitting the center of the
red dot in the distance.

“
Are they all evil?” I ask.
“They can’t all be evil…?”

His eyes harden. “Yes,
every one. It’s in their nature.” He lowers the weapon. “They come
from the dark realm of Svartalvheim, meaning ‘black elf
home.’”

“
Another realm?”

“
Yes, have you heard of the
nine realms in Norse mythology?”

“
Yes, one of them is
Valhalla, correct?” I say.

“
Exactly.”

I want to ask whether or
not those realms really exist, but if the Darkálfars exist, it’s
self-evident.

“
How many Darkálfars are
there?” I ask.

“
I’m not sure,” Anthony
says. “Could be dozens, hundreds or even thousands. Maureen has
kept a lot of information from me. Your mom’s not the only one to
keep secrets.” He glances at me, his eyes dark.

“
Are all the Darkálfars on
Maureen’s side?”

“
Not that I know of, but
she could quite possibly have recruited them all to fight for her
in this battle.”

“
Do you mean a literal
battle?” I say.

He hesitates.

“
Just tell
me—please.”

“
Let me explain something
first. Maureen has told me hundreds of times that her father beat
her as a child. He was also abusive in many other ways.”

“
I’m sorry to hear that,” I
say, not really feeling sorry.

“
Since then, she has sworn
never to let anyone have power or control over her again and in
trying to accomplish this, she has decided she needs to have the
ultimate power.”

“
Then she must be more
powerful than everyone,” I say.

Anthony nods. “Something
like that. Now how she’ll manage to do that, I don’t have the
faintest clue. But if she can control enough people with her and
Olaf’s flairs, and her army of Darkálfars, it might not be such a
far-fetched goal.” He sits down next to me, his thigh resting
against mine.

I try not to notice. “So
we’re two, and they are…an indefinite number?” I turn to face him.
With an indefinite number of possible Darkálfars on Maureen’s side,
I can’t imagine ever winning the battle against her and
Olaf.

“
Yes.” He doesn’t look at
me, but the muscles in his face tense.

All hope vanishes from my
core. “Don’t you think we’ve already lost?”

“
I’m not willing to give up
on your mom’s life just yet, are you?” Anthony says, his eyes
passionate, and now looking straight at me.

Point taken.

“
I
have
heard rumors that there are Lightálfars, too,” he
says.

“
Are the Lightálfars the
good guys?” I ask.

“
I think so, especially
since Maureen doesn’t associate with them.”

I feel a small flicker of
hope emerge in the hopelessness that had previously paralyzed me.
We need to find them. Surely, if there are Darkálfars in our world,
then there must be Lightálfars as well.

“
Now, let’s focus on your
lesson, shall we? We can talk about this later.” Anthony places his
hands on the tabletop and rises to his feet.

I stand up, pick up the
Beretta, raise my right hand while aiming at the target, and pull
the trigger. Bam! Bam! Bam! All bullets through the same hole in
the center. Perfect! Maybe being a Huldra has its benefits after
all.

Chapter 20

After school the next day,
Anthony takes me directly to a shooting range he made himself,
situated in the middle of a forest. There, he teaches me how to
shoot a rifle, and after that he tells me he is going to show me a
few basic self-defense moves. I like learning how to shoot a
rifle—it’s easy—but self-defense lessons probably won’t come as
effortlessly. I’m used to being graceful, but not to being
aggressive.

“
The
human, Huldra, and
Darkálfar
bodies are all very similar. What I teach you
today may be applied to all species.”

“
So how many species are
there?” I ask.

“
Many, but only what I’ve
mentioned are in this war. Focus, Sonia.”

I can’t help but wonder
what types of beings these other species might be.

“
There are several points
on the body that will cause a great deal of pain, if hit properly.
Since you’re not a large person, you need to go for the most
painful ones immediately. A forceful blow to just one of these
areas can put a quick end to the fight.”

Anthony stands close to me
and my pulse quickens. Why can’t I just not care? He presses his
palm squarely between my eyes.

“
A forceful blow that lands
squarely on the forehead can knock an attacker’s head back, causing
whiplash.” He takes a step back. “Hitting the eyes is very painful,
and it can also damage the opponent’s vision, giving you time to
harm them further.”

“
Okay,” I say.

He grabs my shoulder and
presses the heel of his hand against my nose. “A direct hit to the
nose can lead to it fracturing and bleeding.” His hand presses
against my collarbone. “Striking the collarbone with adequate force
will break it and disable your opponent. A powerful kick to the
knee or groin is equally disabling.” He doesn’t touch me
there.

I nod.

“
There are two methods of
attack I want you to remember.”

“
Two, got it,” I
say.

“
When you hit a smaller
area like the nose, eyes or groin, it’s better to use your fist…”
Anthony shapes my hand into a fist and continues, “your elbow…” he
touches my elbow, “or your foot.” He steps back. “When aiming for
the head, chest or stomach, an isolated strike is best.”

“
How?” I say.

“
With a knuckle punch. It’s
very similar to a normal punch, but you focus the force of the
strike into your knuckles instead of your entire hand.”

Anthony shapes it into a
fist again. His hands are warm, and he traces my knuckles with his
fingertips.

“
Don’t tuck your fingers in
all the way.” He helps my fingers release. “Then you strike your
larger target directly with your knuckles. Don’t try to use this
style to hit a person’s head since the hard bone might damage your
hand.”

He teaches me a few more
self-defense techniques and then we’re ready to put my newfound
knowledge to the test.

“
Take a wide stance and put
your dominant foot forward,” Anthony says.

I take my
stance.

Looking down at my feet, he
says, “Don’t turn your toes outward like in ballet.”

I turn my toes straight
forward and it feels unnatural.

Now make a fist with your
hands and keep them close to your face.” He shows me how. “You want
your weight to be on the balls of your feet, not in your
heels.”

“
That’s the only thing that
comes naturally to me.” I’m getting frustrated. This is hard
work.

“
Come on, Sonia, hands up
to your face.”

Oh yeah, I forgot about
that. I lift them up again.

“
I’m going to come at you
slowly.” He moves in my direction and presses his fist straight
toward my face. I duck.

“
Good,” he says. We
continue moving slowly for about fifteen minutes. My stamina isn’t
what it should be, and my muscles are already shaking from
fatigue.

“
Now let’s try the legs.
Kick me,” he says.

I lift my leg and kick him
in the side. I do it for a few minutes, but find myself
winded.

“
Harder, Sonia.” His voice
is impatient.

I kick harder, but he
doesn’t move at all. My legs are tired.

“
Do I have to say
harder?”

I clench my teeth and take
a deep breath. This time I give it all I’ve got, but he moves out
of the way so fast that I miss him completely. I fall belly-down on
the forest ground. “Hey!”

His eyebrows arch, but he
doesn’t smile. “Not fast enough.”

Now I’m angry. He’s playing
with me, and by his mischievous expression, I would say that he’s
enjoying it. I stand up and come at him, kicking the side of his
knee, but his leg feels like concrete. He charges toward me and
deftly moves to my back, grabbing me from behind. His cheek feels
warm against mine and I hate that my mind is lingering on that
instead of trying to improve my fighting skills. He’s holding me so
tight that I can’t wiggle free.

“
Come on, Sonia, what would
you do if this were a real situation?”

“
I don’t know,” I yell,
struggling to get out of his grip.

“
Think. If your mother were
lying on the ground dying, what would you do? Don’t practice
half-heartedly.” His voice is stern. “Do whatever it
takes.”

I scream and then elbow him
in the gut as hard as I can, but it’s to no avail—he’s too strong
for me. I’m furious now and hit him several more times, but nothing
is working. He’s got me in a deadlock and I’m quickly running out
of steam. How can I get out of this? I do the only thing I think to
do and turn toward him and lick his cheek. The surprise attack
shocks him, and I see my opportunity. I lift my foot up and stomp
his as hard as I can. He yells out in pain and I elbow him in the
stomach again. He’s taken off guard so he loosens his grip around
me. I fling my arms open and I’m free.