Page 54 of Summoned
She snorts. “Fantastic.”
“I thought…” I bite my lip. “You’ve always surrounded yourself with unusual people. Maybe one of your friends might have an idea how to… deal with a witcher?”
She points a finger at me. “Hey,youdecided to summon the magical trickster, with a spell you got fromyourfriend!”
I huff and lean back onto the sofa, folding my arms. “Yeah, but you, unlike me, have always been around…” —I make a vague circular gesture, searching for the right words — “…eccentric types.”
Daria chuckles and shakes her head. “If that’s your way of calling me weird, you’re not the first.”
“I’m saying you used to hang up with people who believe in this sort of thing.”
That had been another reason I couldn’t be friends with her anymore. Some of her acquaintances were just too odd. Kids no one else wanted around. Daria alwaysstood by them, which was basically social suicide. We were already easy targets for the vultures. I didn’t want to be lumped in with them, not while I was doing everything in my power to climb up.
She pauses, thinking. “Maybe… There is someone. Lucy. She’s into all kinds of rituals, readings, and mystical nonsense. If anyone might know something, it’s her. Let me make a few calls.”
Daria jumps up from the sofa, her face bright with enthusiasm.
For the first time in forever, I don’t feel… alone.
* * *
According to the GPS, our destination is fifty-three minutes away. Luckily, it’s a summer day and traffic in Sofia is manageable, although I can’t say the same for the tension inside the car. I keep glancing around for strange shadows and sniffing the air, my heart pounding.
My fingers drum on the steering wheel as we wait at a red light.
Daria gives me a sideways glance. “Don’t worry, Niki. Lucy said this woman does a bit of everything. Exorcisms included.”
Exorcisms.A cold sweat prickles across my forehead. “I was right to assume your circle of acquaintances is still… interesting.”
“One of the perks of my job. I meet the most incredible people. Not sure I mentioned it, but I’ve been teaching yoga for the past two years.”
I turn toward her. “Professionally?”
“Yep. I’m a certified yoga instructor. I teach at a studioin our neighborhood.”
“And how do you balance that with uni?”
She laughs. “I don’t go to uni.”
My jaw drops.“What do you mean, you don’t?”
“I decided there’s no point studying something that wouldn’t make me happy.”
I don’t bother hiding my skepticism.“So, what? You plan to be a yoga instructor for the rest of your life?”
Daria shrugs, calm as ever. “I don’t know about ‘the rest of my life’… But at least for as long as it brings me fulfillment. Maybe one day I’ll wake up wanting to be a lawyer and enroll in law school.”
I clench my teeth against the words itching to leap out. She can’t be this naïve. Do people like her really not understand that life doesn’t wait? That education is meant for your youth? If you graduate at fifty, you’ve got maybe ten or twenty working years left—if anyone takes you seriously at all.
“What about you? What are you doing these days?” she asks.
“Studying architecture.”
“I’m not surprised. Your father’s such a big name in the field, and you’ve always been able to draw.”
I just nod. Whatdoessurprise me is her choice, considering both her parents are doctors. You’d expect her to follow in their footsteps. But I bite my tongue. We’re not here to discuss life choices. We’re here to find a way to keep our lives from spiraling out of control.
So I barely speak again until we arrive at our destination. The neighborhood is one of the poorest in Sofia—one of those places God seems to have forgotten. Not somewhere I’d set foot in, under any other circumstances.
