The Demonstration
The next day was Saturday, but instead of sleeping in like a normal person, I was up early and in the backyard, swinging my rattan through the air, smacking them against the tire dummy I’d set up in the corner. I didn’t need the practice, but beating on something was a good way to focus, to forget the strangeness of the night before, though I still couldn’t shake the eerie feeling whenever I remembered the dryad’s last warning.
More of us have disappeared. More vanish with every breath. And they are coming closer.
“Ethan!”
Dad’s voice cut through the rhythmic smacking of wood against rubber, and I turned to find him staring blearily at me from the patio. He wore a rumpled gray bathrobe, his face was grizzled and unshaven, and he did not look pleased.
“Sorry, Dad.” I lowered the sticks, panting. “Did I wake you up?”
He shook his head, then stepped aside as two police officers came into the yard. My heart and stomach gave a violent lurch, and I tried to think of any crimes I might’ve committed without realizing it, or anything the fey might’ve pinned on me.
“Ethan?” one of them asked, as Dad watched grimly and Mom appeared in the door frame, her hands over her mouth. “Are you Ethan Chase?”
“Yeah.” I kept my arms at my sides, my sticks perfectly still, though my heart was going a mile a minute. The sudden thought of being arrested, being handcuffed in my own backyard in front of my horrified parents, nearly made me sick. I swallowed hard to keep my voice steady. “What do you want?”
“Do you know a boy named Todd Wyndham?”
I relaxed, suddenly aware of where this was going. My heart still pounded, but I kept my tone light, flippant, and I shrugged. “Yeah, he’s in a few of my classes at school.”
“You called his home yesterday afternoon, correct?” the policeman continued, and when I nodded, he added, “And he spent the night at your house the day before?”
“Yeah.” I feigned confusion, looking back and forth between them. “Why? What’s going on?”
The policemen exchanged a glance. “He’s missing,” one of them said, and I raised my eyebrows in fake surprise. “His mother reported that he didn’t come home last night, and that she had received a call from Ethan Chase, a boy from his school, on the afternoon before his disappearance.” His gaze flickered to the sticks in my hand, then back up to me, eyes narrowing slightly. “You wouldn’t know anything about his whereabouts, would you, Ethan?”
I forced myself to be calm, shaking my head. “No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Sorry.”
It was pretty clear he didn’t believe me, for his mouth thinned, and he spoke slowly, deliberately. “You have no clue as to what he was doing yesterday, no idea of where he could have gone?” When I hesitated, his voice became friendlier, encouraging. “Any information would be useful to us, Ethan.”
“I told you,” I said, firmer this time. “I don’t know anything.”
He gave an annoyed little huff, as if I was being deliberately evasive—which I was, but not for the reasons he thought. “Ethan, you realize we’re only trying to help, don’t you? You aren’t protecting anyone if you hide information from us.”
“I think that’s enough.” Dad suddenly came into the yard, bathrobe and all, glaring at the policemen. “Officers, your concern is appreciated, but I believe my son has told you all he knows.” I blinked at Dad in shock as he came to stand beside me, smiling but firm. “If we find anything out, we’ll be sure to call you.”
“Sir, you don’t seem to realize—”
“I realize just fine, officers,” Dad said, his polite smile never wavering. “But Ethan has already given you his answer. Thank you for stopping by.”
They looked irritated, but Dad wasn’t a small man and had this stance that could be compared to a friendly but stubborn bull; you weren’t going to get him to move once he’d made up his mind. After a lengthy pause—as if hoping I would fess up at the last second, perhaps—the officers gave curt nods and turned away. Muttering polite “ma’ams” to Mom, they swept by her, and she followed them, I assumed to the front door.
Dad waited a few seconds after the back door clicked shut before turning to me. “Todd Wyndham is the boy who came over the other night. Anything you’d like to tell me, son?”
I shook my head, not looking at him. “No,” I muttered, feeling bad for lying, especially after he’d just gotten rid of the policemen for me. “I swear I don’t know anything.”
“Hmm.” Dad gave me an unreadable look, then shuffled back into the house. But Mom appeared in the doorway again, watching me. I saw the fear on her face, the disappointment. She knew I was lying.
She hesitated a moment longer, as if waiting for me to confess, to tell her something different. But what could I say? That the kid who’d spent the night with us was part faery, and this creepy new breed of fey were after him for some reason? I couldn’t drag her into this; she would flip out for sure, thinking I was next. There was nothing either of them could do to help. So, I averted my gaze, and after a long, achingly uncomfortable pause, she slipped inside, slamming the door behind her.
I winced. Great, now they were both pissed at me. Sighing, I switched my rattan sticks to one hand and went in myself. I wished I could smack the tire dummy a while longer, but keeping a low profile seemed like a good idea now. The last thing I wanted was a grilling session where they would both ask questions I couldn’t answer.
Mom and Dad were talking in the kitchen—probably about me—so I slipped into my room and gently closed the door.
My phone sat on the corner of my desk. For a second, I thought about calling Kenzie. I wondered what she was doing now, if the police had shown up on her doorstep, asking about a missing classmate. I wondered if she was worried about him…or me.
What? Why would she worry about you, you psychopath? You’ve been nothing but a jackass to her, and besides, you don’t care, remember?
Angry now, I stalked to my bed and flopped down on it, flinging an arm over my face. I had to stop thinking of her, but my brain wasn’t being cooperative this morning. Instead of focusing on the demonstration and the missing half-breed and the creepy Fey out to get us both, my thoughts kept going back to Kenzie St. James. The idea of calling her, just to see if she was all right, grew more and more tempting, until I jumped up and stalked to the living room, flipping on the television to drown out my traitorous thoughts.
* * *
The day passed in a blur of old action movies and commercials. I didn’t move from the couch, afraid that if I went into my room, I’d see my unblinking phone and know Kenzie hadn’t called me. Or worse, that she had, and I’d be tempted to call her back. I lounged on the sofa, the remains of empty chip bags, dirty plates and empty soda cans surrounding me, until late afternoon when Mom made an exasperated comment about rotting brains and bumps on logs or something, and ordered me to do something else.
Flipping off the television, I sat up, thinking. I still had a couple of hours till the demonstration. Wandering back to my room, I again noticed the phone on the corner of the desk. Nothing. No missed calls, texts, anything. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
As I reached for it, though, it rang. Without checking the number, I snatched it up and put it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Ethan?” The voice on the other end wasn’t Kenzie, as I’d hoped, though it was vaguely familiar. “Is this Ethan Chase?”
“Yeah?”
“This…this is Mrs. Wyndham, Todd’s mother.”
My heart skipped a beat. I swallowed hard and gripped the phone tightly, as the voice on the other end continued.
“I know the police have already spoken to you,” she said in a halting, broken voice, “but I…I wanted to ask you myself. You say you’re Todd’s friend…do you know what could have happened to him? Please, I’m desperate. I just want my son home.”
Her voice broke at the end, and I closed my eyes. “Mrs. Wyndham, I’m sorry about Todd,” I said, feeling like an ass. Worse than an ass, like a complete and utter failure, because I’d let another person down, because I couldn’t protect them from the fey. “But I really don’t know where he is. The last time we spoke was yesterday at school, before I talked to you, I swear.” She gave a little sob, making my gut clench. “I’m really sorry,” I said again, knowing how useless that sounded. “I wish I could give you better news.”
She took a shaky breath. “All right, thank you, Ethan. I’m sorry to have bothered you.” She sniffed and seemed about to say goodbye, but hesitated. “If…if you see him,” she went on, “or if you find any information at all…will you let me know? Please?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “If I see him, I’ll make sure he gets home, I promise.”
After she hung up, I paced my room, not knowing what to do. I tried surfing online, watching YouTube, checking out various weapon stores, just to keep myself distracted, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t stop thinking of Todd, and Kenzie, caught in the twisted games of the fey. And it was partly my fault. Todd had been playing a dangerous game, and Kenzie was too stubborn to know when to back off, but the common denominator was me.
Now, one of them was gone and another family was torn apart. Just like last time.
Picking up my phone, I stuck it in my jeans pocket and snatched my keys from the desk. Grabbing my gym bag from the floor, I started to leave. Might as well head to the demonstration now; it was better than standing around here, driving myself crazy.
The silver coin on the desk glinted, and I paused. Sliding it into my palm, I stared at it, wondering where Meghan was, what she was doing. Did she ever think of me? Would she be disgusted, if she knew how I’d turned out?
“Ethan!” Mom’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Your karate thing is tonight, isn’t it? Do you want anything to eat before you go?”
I stuffed the coin in my pocket with the keys and left the room. “Kali, Mom, not karate,” I told her, walking into the kitchen. “And no, I’ll grab something on the way. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Curfew is still at eleven, Ethan.”
Irritation flared. “Yeah, I know,” I muttered. “It’s been that way for five years. Why would it change now? It’s not like I’m old enough to make my own decisions.” Before she could say anything, I stalked past her and headed outside. “And, yes, I’ll call if I’m going to be late,” I threw back over my shoulder.
I could feel Mom’s half angry, half worried gaze on my back as I slammed out the front door, making sure to bang it as I left. Stupid of me. If I had known what was going to happen at the demonstration that night, I would’ve said something much different.
* * *
The building was already full of people when I arrived. Tournaments had been going on for most of the afternoon, and shouts, ki-yas, and the shuffle of bare feet on mats echoed through the room as I ducked inside. Kids in their white gis tied with different colored belts threw punches and kicks within taped-off arenas; from the looks of it, it was the kempo students’ turn on the mats.
I spotted Guro Javier and made my way over, weaving through students and onlookers, gritting my teeth as someone—a large kid with a purple belt—elbowed me in the ribs. I glared at him, and he smirked, as if daring me to try something. As if I’d start a fight with the brat in front of two hundred parents and about a dozen masters of various arts. Ignoring the kid’s self-satisfied grin, I continued along the wall and stood next to my guro in the corner. He was watching the tournament with detached interest and gave a faint smile as I came up.
“You’re very early, Ethan.”
I shrugged helplessly. “Couldn’t stay away.”
“Are you ready?” Guro turned to me. “Our demonstration is after the kempo students are finished. Oh, and Sean sprained his ankle last night, so you’re going to be doing the live weapon demo.”
I felt a small, nervous thrill. “Really?”
“Do you need to practice?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” I thought back to the few times I’d handled Guro’s real swords, which were short, single-edged blades similar to a machete. They were a little shorter then my rattan, razor sharp and about as deadly as they looked. They’d been in Guro’s family for generations, and I was a bit in awe that I’d be wielding them tonight.
Guro nodded. “Go, get ready,” he said, eyeing my holey jeans and T-shirt. “Warm up a bit if you want. We should start in about an hour.”
I retreated to the locker room, changed into loose black pants and a white shirt, and carefully removed my wallet, keys and phone, ditching them in the side pocket of my gym bag. As I pulled my phone out, something bright tumbled to the floor, striking the ground with a ping.
The silver token. I’d forgotten about it. I stared at the thing, wondering if I should stuff it in my bag or just leave it on the floor. Still, it was my last connection to my sister, and even though Meghan didn’t care about me, I didn’t want to lose it just yet. I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket.
I stretched a bit, practiced several patterns empty-handed, making sure I knew what I was doing, then headed out to watch the tournament. The other kali students were starting to arrive, walking by me with brief nods and waves before flocking around Guro, but I didn’t feel like socializing. Instead, I found an isolated corner behind the rows of chairs and leaned against it with my arms crossed, studying the matches.
“Ethan?”
The familiar voice caught me off guard. I jerked my head up as Kenzie slipped through the crowd and walked my way, a notebook in one hand and a camera around her neck. A tiny thrill shot through me, but I quickly squashed it.
“Hey,” she greeted, giving me a friendly but puzzled smile. “I didn’t expect to see you around. What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” I countered, as though it wasn’t obvious.
“Oh, you know.” She held up her camera. “School paper stuff. A couple of the boys in our class take lessons here, and I’m covering the tournament. What about you?” Her eyes lit up. “Are you in the tournament? Will I actually get to see you fight?”
“I’m not fighting.”
“But you do take something here, right? Kempo? Jujitsu?”
“Kali.”
“What’s that?”
I sighed. “A Filipino fighting style using sticks and knives. You’ll see in a few minutes.”
“Oh.” Kenzie pondered this, then took a step forward, gazing up at me with thoughtful brown eyes. I swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat and leaned away, feeling the wall press against my back, preventing escape. “Well, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Ethan Chase?” she mused with a small grin, cocking her head at me. “I wonder what other secrets are hiding in that broody head of yours.”
I forced myself not to move, to keep my voice light and uncaring. “Is that why you keep hanging around me? You’re curious?” I smirked and shook my head. “You’re going to be disappointed. My life isn’t that exciting.”
I received a dubious look, and she took another step forward, peering into my eyes as if she could see the truth in them. My stomach squirmed as she leaned in. “Uh-huh. So, you keep your distance from everyone, take secret martial arts classes, and were expelled from your last school because the library mysteriously caught fire with you in it, and you’re telling me your life isn’t that exciting?”
I shifted uneasily. The girl was perceptive, I’d give her that. Unfortunately, she was now treading a little too close to the “exciting” part of my life, which meant I was either going to have to lie, pretend ignorance or pull the asshole card to drive her off. And right now, I didn’t have it in me to be a jerk.
Meeting her gaze, I shrugged and offered a faint smile. “Well, I can’t tell you all my secrets, can I? That would ruin my image.”
She huffed, tossing her bangs. “Oh, fine. Be mysterious and broody. You still owe me an interview, you know.” A wicked look crossed her face then, and she held up her notebook. “In fact, since you’re not doing anything right now, care to answer a few questions?”
“Ethan!”
Strangely relieved and disappointed at the same time, I glanced up to see Guro waving me over. The rest of my classmates had gathered and were milling around nervously. It seemed the kempo matches were wrapping up.
Nice timing, Guro, I thought, and I didn’t know if I was being serious or sarcastic. Pushing away from the wall, I turned to Kenzie with a helpless shrug. “I gotta go,” I told her. “Sorry.”
“Fine,” she called after me. “But I’m going to get that interview, tough guy! I’ll see you after your thing.”
Guro raised an eyebrow as I came up but didn’t ask who the girl was or what I’d been doing. He never poked into our personal lives, for which I was thankful. “We’re almost up,” he said, and handed me a pair of short blades, their metal edges gleaming under the fluorescent lights. They weren’t Guro’s swords; these were different—a little longer, perhaps, the blades not quite as curved. I held them lightly, checking their weight and balance, and gave them a practice spin. Strangely enough, I felt they had been made especially for me.
I looked questioningly at Guro, and he nodded approvingly.
“I sharpened them this morning, so be careful,” was all he said, and I backed away, taking my place along the wall.
The mats finally cleared, and a voice crackled over the intercom, introducing Guro Javier and his class of kali students. There was a smattering of applause, and we all went onto the mats to bow while Guro spoke about the origin of kali, what it meant, and how it was used. I could sense the bored impatience of the other students along the wall; they didn’t want to see a demonstration, they wanted to get on with the tournament. I held my head high and kept my gaze straight ahead. I wasn’t doing this for them.
There was a brief gleam of light along one side of the room: a camera flash. I suppressed a groan, knowing exactly who was taking pictures of me. Wonderful. If my photo ended up in the school paper, if people suddenly knew I studied a martial art, I could see myself being hounded relentlessly; people lining up to take a shot at the “karate kid.” I cursed the nosy reporter under my breath, wondering if I could separate her from the camera long enough to delete the images.
The demonstration started with a couple of the beginner students doing a pattern known as Heaven Six, and the clacks of their rattan sticks echoed noisily throughout the room. I saw Kenzie take a few pictures as they circled the mats. Then the more advanced students demonstrated a few disarms, take-downs, and free-style sparring. Guro circled with them, explaining what they were doing, how we practiced, and how it could be applied to real life.
Then it was my turn.
“Of course,” Guro said as I stepped onto the mats, holding the swords at my sides, “the rattan—the kali sticks—are proxies for real blades. We practice with sticks, but everything we do can be transferred to blades, knives or empty hands. As Ethan will demonstrate. This is an advanced technique,” he cautioned, as I stepped across him, standing a few yards away. “Do not try this at home.”
I bowed to him and the audience. He raised a rattan stick, twirled it once, and suddenly tossed it at me. I responded instantly, whipping the blades through the air, cutting it into three parts. The audience gasped, sitting straighter in their chairs, and I smiled.
Yes, these are real swords.
Guro nodded and stepped away. I half closed my eyes and brought my swords into position, one held vertically over one shoulder, the other tucked against my ribs. Balanced on the balls of my feet, I let my mind drift, forgetting the audience and the onlookers and my fellow students watching along the wall. I breathed out slowly and let my mind go blank.
Music began, drumming a rhythm over the loudspeakers, and I started to move.
I started slowly at first, both weapons whirling around me, sliding from one motion to the next. Don’t think about what you’re doing, just move, flow. I danced around the floor, throwing a few flips and kicks into the pattern because I could, keeping time with the music. As the drums picked up, pounding out a frantic rhythm, I moved faster, faster, whipping the blades around my body, until I could feel the wind from their passing, hear the vicious hum as they sliced through the air around me.
Someone whooped out in the audience, but I barely heard them. The people watching didn’t matter; nothing mattered except the blades in my hands and the flowing motion of the dance. The swords flashed silver in the dim light, fluid and flexible, almost liquid. There was no block or strike, dodge or parry—the dance was all of these things, and none, all at once. I pushed myself harder than I ever had before, until I couldn’t tell where the swords ended and my arms began, until I was just a weapon in the center of the floor, and no one could touch me.
With a final flourish, I spun around, ending the demonstration on one knee, the blades back in their ready position. For a heartbeat after I finished, there was absolute silence. Then, like a dam breaking, a roar of applause swept over me, laced with whistles and scraping chairs as people surged to their feet. I rose and bowed to the audience, then to my master, who gave me a proud nod. He understood. This wasn’t just a demonstration for me; it was something I’d worked for, trained for, and finally pulled off—without getting into trouble or hurting anyone in the process. I had actually done something right for a change.
I looked up and met Kenzie’s eyes on the other side of the mats. She was grinning and clapping frantically, her notebook lying on the floor beside her, and I smiled back.
“That was awesome,” she said, weaving around the edge of the mat when I stepped off the floor, breathing hard. “I had no idea you could do…that. Congratulations, you’re a certified badass.”
I felt a warm glow of…something, deep inside. “Thanks,” I muttered, carefully sliding the blades back into their sheaths before laying them gently atop Guro’s bag. It was hard to give them up; I wanted to keep holding them, feeling their perfect weight as they danced through the air. I’d seen Guro practice with his own blades, and he looked so natural with them, as if they were extensions of his arms. I wondered if I’d looked the same out there on the mat, the shining edges coming so close to my body but never touching it. I wondered if Guro would ever let me train with them again.
Our instructor had called the last student to demonstrate knife techniques with him, and he had the audience’s full attention now. Meanwhile, I caught several appreciative gazes directed at Kenzie from my fellow kali students, and felt myself bristle.
“Come on,” I told her, stepping away from the others before Chris could jump in and introduce himself. “I need a soda. Want one?”
She nodded eagerly. Together, we slipped through the crowds, out the doors, and into the hallway, leaving the noise and commotion behind.
I fed two dollars into the vending machine at the end of the hall, choosing a Pepsi for myself, then a Mountain Dew at Kenzie’s request. She smiled her thanks as I tossed it to her, and we leaned against the corridor wall, basking in the silence.
“So,” Kenzie ventured after several heartbeats. She gave me a sideways look. “Care to answer a few questions now?”
I knocked the back of my head against the wall. “Sure,” I muttered, closing my eyes. The girl wouldn’t let me be until we got this thing over with. “Let’s have at it. Though I promise, you’re going to be disappointed by how dull my life really is.”
“I somehow doubt that.” Kenzie’s voice had changed. It was uncertain, now, almost nervous. I frowned, listening to the flipping of notebook paper, then a quiet breath, as if she was steeling herself for something. “First question, then. How long have you been taking kali?”
“Since I was twelve,” I said without moving. “That’s…what…nearly five years now.” Jeez, had it really been that long? I remembered my first class as a shy, quiet kid, holding the rattan stick like it was a poisonous snake, and Guro’s piercing eyes, appraising me.
“Okay. Cool. Second question.” Kenzie hesitated, then said in a calm, clear voice, “What, exactly, is your take on faeries?”
My eyes flew open, and I jerked my head up, banging it against the wall again. My half-empty soda can dropped from my fingers and clanked to the floor, fizzing everywhere. Kenzie blinked and stepped back as I gaped at her, hardly believing what I’d just heard. “What?” I choked out, before I thought better of it, before the defensive walls came slamming down.
“You heard me.” Kenzie regarded me intently, watching my reaction. “Faeries. What do you know about them? What’s your interest in the fey?”
My mind spun. Faeries. Fey. She knew. How she knew, I had no idea. But she couldn’t continue this line of questioning. This had to end, now. Todd was already in trouble because of Them. He might really be gone. The last thing I wanted was for Mackenzie St. James to vanish off the face of the earth because of me. And if I had to be nasty and cruel, so be it. It was better than the alternative.
Drawing myself up, I sneered at her, my voice suddenly ugly, hateful. “Wow, whatever you smoked last night, it must’ve been good.” I curled my lip in a smirk. “Are you even listening to yourself? What kind of screwed-up question is that?”
Kenzie’s eyes hardened. Flipping several pages, she held the notebook out to me, where the words glamour, Unseelie and Seelie Courts were underlined in red. I remembered her standing behind the bleachers when I faced that creepy transparent faery. My stomach went cold.
“I’m a reporter,” Kenzie said, as I tried wrapping my brain around this. “I heard you talking to someone the day Todd disappeared. It wasn’t hard to find the information.” She flipped the notebook shut and stared me down, defiant. “Changelings, Fair Folk, All-Hallow’s Eve, Summer and Winter courts, the Good Neighbors. I learned a lot. And when I called Todd’s house this afternoon, he still wasn’t there.” She pushed her hair back and gave me a worried look. “What’s going on, Ethan? Are you and Todd in some sort of pagan cult? You don’t actually believe in faeries, do you?”
I forced myself to stay calm. At least Kenzie was reacting like a normal person should, with disbelief and concern. Of course she didn’t believe in faeries. Maybe I could scare her away from me for good. “Yes,” I smirked, crossing my arms. “That’s exactly right. I’m in a cult, and we sacrifice goats under the full moon and drink the blood of virgins and babies every month.” She wrinkled her nose, and I took a threatening step forward. “It’s a lot of fun, especially when we bring out the crack and Ouija boards. Wanna join?”
“Very funny, tough guy.” I’d forgotten Kenzie didn’t scare easily. She glared back, stubborn and unmovable as a wall. “What’s really going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“What if I am?” I challenged. “What are you going to do about it? You think you can save me? You think you can publish one of your little stories and everything will be fine? Wake up, Miss Nosy Reporter. The world’s not like that.”
“Quit being a jerkoff, Ethan,” Kenzie snapped, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not really like this, and you’re not as bad as you think you are. I’m only trying to help.”
“No one can help me.” Suddenly, I was tired. I was tired of fighting, tired of forcing myself to be someone I wasn’t. I didn’t want to hurt her, but if she continued down this path, she would only rush headlong into a world that would do its best to tear her apart. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
“Look.” I sighed, slumping against the wall. “I can’t explain it. Just…leave me alone, okay? Please. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”
“Ethan—”
“Stop asking questions,” I whispered, drawing away. Her eyes followed me, confused and sad, and I hardened my voice. “Stop asking questions, and stay the hell away from me. Or you’re only going to get hurt.”
“Advice you should have followed yourself, Ethan Chase,” a voice hissed out of the darkness.