Starlight

Persistence - James

"I'm so sorry, James," Maya says.

To be honest, she does looks as apologetic as she tells me, but it doesn't cover how sorry I felt for myself at eight o' clock last night, waiting for close to half an hour under the moon - alone.

An emotion I can't identify takes hold of her features, and I know what it was has upset her.

"Could we.....do something else?" She looks up at me through her lashes hopefully. I sigh; I am seriously weak.

"Why not?"

Maya grins at me and glances around at the classroom, spotting her friends, who give her the thumbs-up.

"What shall we do?" she murmurs, looking down at her work and then back at me. "And whatever it is, we're going to have to do it tomorrow; I'm - busy tonight."

A troubled expression crosses my face. "Well.... I don't know -"

"What would you say...," she starts, pursing her lips in indecision, "if I told you I wanted you to take me on a hunt?"

"No way."

"And why not? I'm a big girl, James. I can make my own choices. I'm sure I'll be fine with you there." She smiles crookedly, eyes mischievous.

You may be able to make your own choices, I think, though this may be your last - but I can't reject her. Not Maya.

"Because I don't have an argument against that," I begin slowly, and she grins, realising she has won this time, "it's a yes. But don't think you got away with it. In return, you have to let me watch you do your witchy business."

In response, she nods her head, smiling widely. "It's a date."

* * *

The first thing I say when I get into the house is, "Are you ready for training?"

As always after he gets back from work, my father is dressed in his gear - baggy trousers and a vest top. I frown; he looks as if he was just about to start without me.

"I was waiting for you," he explains, as if having read my thoughts.

I nod. "Let me get changed," I tell him, bounding up the stairs.

Five minutes later, I am making my way to the basement. There are three rooms down here - one we use for weapon training, the second for target practice, and the third for general work-outs. The sound of knives being sharpened - the high-pitched, scraping noise that rings out - tells me that we are in the weapons room today.

I push the door open, catching the hilt of the dagger spearing through the air, towards me, on reflex. My father stands in perfect throwing stance - one leg forward, in a lunge, body tense - and his concentrated expression melts into a smile as he straightens up.

"Not the least bit rusty, are you, Son?" he says happily.

"No," I reply, aiming it back. It whizzes towards him, blade first, to where Father's hand darts up and grabs the hilt, just as I had.

Like my own weapons room, knives, spears, axes - every weapon imaginable - line the walls, gleaming in all their newly-sharpened silver glory. The only difference is that these are much more deadly.

"What are we doing today?" I ask.

He takes a deep breath, raking a hand through his dark hair, cropped close to his head. "I need to tell you something before we start," he says, stepping forward.

I raise a brow. "Is it that important?"

He nods, locking eyes with me. "I'm going after her."

Ernessa. He means Ernessa. I'm speechless.

"James - I know it's sudden, but I need to do what's right now. I finally realise that." He falters. "Say something."

Thoughts fly through my mind so fast that reeling them in is impossible. "I - I don't know, Dad," I murmur, lowering my gaze. Then something occurs to me. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

He sighs. I know my father; he won't back down. He's going to do this, no matter what I think.

"I won't let it," he says, voice deep. Watching him, I notice a determined glint that wasn't there before.

"Don't leave me alone," I whisper, although I am the one who walks away.

I don't really feel like training anymore.