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Jon Elstad owned Iron-Fit gym, one of the few gyms in Starlight Hollow, and arguably, the best. I had signed up for a gold-level membership, which meant I had access to the pool, and to a one-hour per week training session with Jon himself. I had paid two thousand dollars for six months, and, like so many people, promptly ignored the fact that I had a membership at all.
But as Grams and I approached the doors, I began to get a little antsy. I wasn’t out of shape, not in the way that I couldn’t jog, do a decent day’s work, or hike an easy day’s hike. But I had the feeling that her idea of getting me in shape meant far more than just toning up.
Jon was waiting for us at the desk. He grinned at me. “Good to see you here. I always feel torn about people who buy a membership but never get their asses into the gym. Like I’m taking advantage of them somehow.”
“You aren’t. This is Morgance MacPherson, my great-grandmother. Grams, this is Jon Elstad, the owner of the gym. Grams wants to set up a training program with you. For me, that is.” I blushed, feeling self-conscious that it was taking my great-grandma to get me into motion.
“Whatever it takes! How do you do, Ms. MacPherson?—”
“Call me Morgance, young man. So you’re the owner?” She eyed him up and down, nodding with a smile. “You look in good shape. I assume you avoid steroids?”
“Of course,” Jon said. “I don’t believe in taking performance enhancers that wreck your body. Eating right, getting enough rest, incorporating meditation, and getting enough of the right kind of exercise for your body are the four pillars to health, in my opinion.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Can we sit?” She pointed toward his desk to one side of the counter.
“Of course. Layla, man the desk,” he called over to a woman who looked around thirty-five. She was wearing yoga pants and a crop-top that covered up more than it exposed. Her blonde hair was held back by a snug, wide headband. She looked in great shape, and had a pale tan that looked generated by bronzer rather than by the sun itself.
“Of course, boss.” She gave us a friendly nod, then took her place behind the counter.
Jon led us to his desk and we sat down in the chairs opposite. For a desk, it was clean—a few files resting in a wire-mesh inbox, pens, a notepad, and a laptop and mouse. He held up one finger, then brought up something on the computer. “All right, I have your initial intake information here. Has anything changed, regarding your health?”
“I was hurt with a bad concussion and some sprained neck muscles a couple months ago. I was attacked?—”
“I read about that in the paper. The King of the Olympic Wolf Pack was hurt, too. Badly, if I remember right. He belongs to my gym and I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“His brother didn’t tell you? He’s in a medically induced coma right now, and he’s been that way since we were both attacked. I’m still suffering occasional headaches, and some neck strain, but if I’m careful, I’m all right. But he…we’re not sure.” I decided to sum it up that way. The surgery was experimental and I wasn’t sure if Kyle wanted the information out there. I had no idea what kind of enemies Faron might have and I didn’t want to give them any ammunition.
“All right. So what can I do for you?” He turned to Grams. “What do you want her trained in, and why, if I might ask? It helps if I know the end goal.”
“The end goal is to prepare her to hold her own against demons. I know that you can’t guarantee that sort of training, but we want her hardened and capable of fighting back against what can be brutal creatures. I can coach her in magic, but I can’t give her the physical training.”
Jon raised his eyebrows, glancing at me. “That sort of training…I can do it—or provide it, but I can’t make the horse drink at the river. Elphyra, you have to be willing to put in the work, and that happens when you show up and follow through. All the desire in the world isn’t going to do any good when I’m demanding you give me another dozen push ups and all you want to do is sit on the sofa and eat a bunch of chips.”
I snorted. “You watched Dance Moms, too?”
“Yeah, and I have to say, at least Kenzie was honest about it. But seriously, if you aren’t willing to do the work, save us both the time and frustration.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. “I can make you into a confident and self-sustaining warrior, but is this worth it to you?”
He asked good questions, I had to give him that much. I thought about it for another moment, then nodded. “I’m willing to put in the work. Onward, fearless leader!”
Grams played the Cheshire cat, her smile taking up most of her face. “I’ll retire to the coffee shop next door and read. Join me when you’re done.”
I turned back to Jon. “Okay, where do we start?”
“You’re not going to try to sneak out of this?” he asked, draping a towel around his neck.
“Nope.” I shook my head. “Trust me, Grams has a good reason for wanting me to get into shape, and so do I. I needed this push to get moving.”
He riffled through the files in his bottom desk drawer, then pulled out a sheet and paperclipped it to my file. “All right, let’s assess where you’re at. That way I can draw up a plan to specifically target your strengths and weaknesses.”
He led me over to a treadmill. “Let’s start with the treadmill.”
I eyed it with suspicion, but stepped aboard. “Ready, willing, and able.”
And with that, we got on with the assessment.
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