The drive to the range was done mostly in silence. There was still an air of awkwardness between us, totally understandable considering the circumstances that brought us together. The shortness of the drive did not allow us to really work past the awkward feeling and begin a conversation. So we drove in silence, with Dahlia staring out at the woods on the way to the trip where, ironically the movie The Blair Witch Project was shot. Or set. One of the two. I’ve actually never seen it, I just remember my parents telling me that growing up as we’d go to the range for practice Saturday mornings. Don’t judge. Some girls do lacrosse or ballet growing up, I did shooting. And ballet. I really had varied and weird interests.

The range was pretty empty when we got there, as I had expected it to be on a weekday morning. The facility was members-only in the first place, but with a respectable amount of space. Four Trap shooting houses, with public trap shoots on Wednesday nights and weekends at Noon. It’s honestly a sport that’s a great deal of fun, although I’m not sure that’d be the best thing to start a new shooter off on. 12 gauge can kick, which I suppose can be startling for a new shooter, and oddly enough I’ve never actually gotten around to getting any shotguns in a smaller gauge. I just never saw the need to buy a bunch of shotguns, despite being all over military surplus guns.

There was also an archery range there. I never actually was that heavily interested in archery, although I’ve been meaning to get into it. Next to there was the newest addition to the gun club, several shooting bays for 3-gun, IPSC, USPCA, and other action shooting disciplines. Despite my love for older guns, it’s hard to deny the fun in these sports. 3-gun especially has seen a surge in popularity recently given the new Keanu Reeves movie series that has him showing off a lot of the skills the sport uses. I’ve been caught up in work a lot recently, but I still try to shoot a couple matches a months. I still get weird looks though, considering a woman like me shooting Single-Stack with a Major power-factor gun. I know it’s not the most rational thought but it’s just hard not to like .45 as a cartridge.

I honestly don’t use the 200 yard range here that much, except when I feel like shooting a CMP match. I really wished they had a bit longer of a range for those here, honestly, but it’s a range in the central part of an already small state, so I suppose space really is at a premium. But shooting matches with historic military rifles is always fun, and a good way to flex on the baby boomers here that someone like me actually knows what she’s doing.

The biggest specific range is the 100 yard “general purpose” range they have, with enough space to hold large matches. It gets crowded on weekends, but there’s only a couple people and a bored Range Safety officer standing around, at least that I can see as I drive past to the pistol range.

I’ll admit, there are slight ulterior motives to starting Dahlia out on pistols. At my core I just really am not the most sociable person, and there’s like, always someone at the rifle range. So it means waiting for a cease fire before setting up targets, and inevitably someone will trying and start a conversation. And like, what do I talk about with them? I’m more than comfortable talking about guns, but that almost feels superficial and maintaining a friendly façade is downright draining. So for a weekday like today, the usually-empty pistol range means I have the whole thing to myself, I can post and pull targets by myself, and I don’t have to make small-talk.

There’s also the issue of target frames. For the rifle range you have to bring your own target frame, which is annoying trying to cram into my car, while at the pistol range you can use the ones set up for bullseye matches. It does limit you to shooting at 25 or 50 yards, but really if you cant shoot well at 25 yards you need to suck it up and learn not to be a horrible shot. In my opinion there’s too many people who exclusively practice ringing steel at 7 yards, pretty much spitting distance, with a Gucci custom absurdly decorated Glock and think that makes them some sort of operator. Call me old fashioned, but that just doesn’t do it for me. God, maybe I’m as bad as the boomers I keep ragging on? No, it’s them who are out of touch.

I pull up to a parking spot next to the walkway to the pistol range. As I dig through my truck for my Range bag, I hand Dahlia a set of eye and ear protection. We’re far enough from the rifle range where we probably wont need it until we start shooting, but for all I know she could be extra sensitive to sounds. Actually…

“Hey, is there anything I might need to know?” I inquire innocently.

“About what?” she replies, confused.

“You don’t have like, any cat ears hidden underneath your hair, do you? If you do I have a few sets of disposable foam earpro I might need to grab…” I say, voicing a valid concern. I’ve always wondered how things would work if cat girls had to wear ear muffs, although I never thought it would be something I’d have to consider in real life. It’s funny how life works that way

“Don’t be stupid, why would I do that?” She snapped back. Something about the way she worded it caught my attention.

“You mean, you can have cat ears when you’re looking all human-like?” I asked.

I had kind of been joking before, but if it’s actually possible, this is a game changer. I can just imagine all the cosplays I could make her… I mean, ask her to wear. But no. I shouldn’t. We were practically forced together in the first place, and I know if I had cat ears in front of me I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back. This sucks. And my one source of relief turned into the girl that’s currently giving me an annoyed look, waiting for me to lead the way to the range.

“I’m not doing that in public.” She said, inadvertently confirming that it’s possible.

I probably should drop the topic for now. Still, though, she’s not just a girl who can shapeshift into a cat. She actually can be a cat girl. This is amazing. This is revolutionary. This is… a train of thought I should stop going down. I came here to teach her how to shoot, not to fangirl out over the thought of cat ears.

The walk to the range, all 50 or so yard, was naturally uneventful. Because of the range rules for using their fancy-shmancy NRA bullseye match frames, I post a single-bull target on a piece of cardboard set in the metallic frame. Thankfully, because of how empty the range is, I can take my sweet time getting set up. Not wanting to crowd the table in front of our target, I take out the 22/45, leaving the rest of the guns in the case. Dahlia’s eyes go wide at seeing it.

“Is that a silencer?” She asks.

“A suppressor, yes.” I take out the mags, and a box of standard-velocity CCI .22lr. “Here’s how you load the mags.” I push down the follower. The Ruger mags aren’t too hard to load, but they do get a bit annoying after a while. Round by round, I load up a magazine of 10 rounds. As I load, I begin to explain.

“First of all, there are 3 important safety rules for firearms. Or 4. I mean, there’s a bunch more, but these are the ones people really remember. The first, most important one, is to treat every weapon as if it is loaded. With common sense, this kind of covers most situations. If you assume there’s a round in the chamber you’re less likely to do stupid stuff thinking it’s safe. On that note, if you find a gun laying around in my home, it’s probably safe to assume it is loaded, so it’s really the best way to approach things.”

“Why would you do that?” She asks, a suspicious light in her eyes. “And don’t you have that lockable room with them all?”

“I don’t keep them all in there. What if someone breaks in when I’m watching TV? Or cooking? What if someone breaks in when I’m in the shower, like in that one movie?”

“In the shower?” More incredulity.

“I keep it hidden of course. But I’ll be damned if some random serial killer stabs me in the shower without a fight.” If anything, my recent experiences with the paranormal have only reinforced my already deeply entrenched distrust of anything and everything. I might have been a bit afraid of horror-stuff growing up. And now that I know there’s stuff that goes bump in the night, it’s reassuring to know I can go bump back. Although I’m not actually sure if lead alone will work. Maybe I need to do some research? It’s definitely something worth exploring.

“Anyways, keep your booger hook of the bang switch until you’re ready to shoot. This is pretty much guaranteed to make sure things are safe, unless for some reason you bought a SIG or a Type 94. Actually, I have a Type 94, so just don’t touch that one until I’ve gone over it with you. There's this whole issue with the external sear bar being able to be pressed, causing...” A look of confusion from Dahlia. “ Third rule, don’t point it at anything you don’t intend to kill. Really, this is common sense. You’re much less likely to have a fuck-up if the gun is pointed in a safe direction. There’s always the possibility of a freak accident, but it’s really not common. And the fourth rule is to know your target and what lays beyond. Same thing as the third rule, really. Sending rounds downrange when you don’t even know what’s downrange is pretty irresponsible. So now, let’s actually get to how to shoot.”

With that I pushed the loaded magazine into the gun, facing towards the target, I grabbed the back of the gun and charged it. Bringing the gun out with both hands, the left hand slightly canted to allow a better grip on the gun, I aimed down the sights.

“Now the most important part is breath control, Or is it sight alignment? Might be trigger control too. I guess, just focus on your breathing, you want your heart rate to slow. While doing that, make sure the front sight post is squarely aligned with the notch in the rear sight, with the front sight post bisecting the target. When you have it all lined up, give the trigger a slow, steady squeeze.”

A practical demonstration is always helpful. I focused on the target, while also keeping an awareness of how my body is positioned. The back of the pistol firmly against the web of my hand between my fingers and thumb of my right hand, fingers firmly wrapped around the grip. My left hand was over my right, a bit higher on the gun to better manage the recoil, although recoil is negligible on a .22, especially with the heavy barrel of this target model. The thumb on my left hand is inline with the thumb of my right hand, both of which are in line with the barrel pointing downrange. And my left foot is slightly in front of my right, my body squared off towards the target and my knees slightly bent.

I focus further on the target, slowing my breathing in a manner that has long since become second nature. Since I just posted the target, with the intention of teaching her how to shoot, I choose to aim at the small brand marking in the corner. The tip of the front sight post level with the tops of the rear sight, and is straight between the notch on the pistol’s adjustable rear sight, as I see clearly with my dominant right eye. A ghost of this image is visible on my left eye. Both eyes are focused downrange, with the sights cutting the dot of a logo I’m aiming for in half in my vision.

I slowly breath in, hold it, and breath out, not so much feeling as much as sensing my heart rate lowering. I feel every sensation of my body, from my feet firmly planted on the ground, to the strain of my muscles dealing with the increased wait of the suppressor on the muzzle of the pistol, to the ever-present warmth at my core, a warmth which seems to circulate through my whole body and through the gun and target. A slight breeze brushes against my ears and through my hair. Slowly, my index finger tightens on the trigger, squeezing it slowly to the rear. The slight whisper from the barrel and the slide cycling back register in a corner of my mind that the gun has fired, but the noise would have been blocked out even if there wasn’t a can on the gun.

On second though I should have also gone over eye and ear protection. It slipped from my mind, but hearing loss really isn’t a joke. The constant “Eeeeeeeeeeeee” of tinnitus is enough to drive me mad at times. But with this gun I guess it’s not too big of a deal. I’ll deal with it later, I think as I empty the rest of the magazine in the same spot as the first round.

“So yeah, do it like that.” I say, pointing towards the spotting scope so she can see my shots. She crouches down, looking through it.

“I’m not seeing any there.” She says.

“Bottom right corner. I’m not going to use up a whole target just to shoot out the x at the center.”

“Oh…I guess that is impressive. So, you’re saying I should use magic to make the bullets hit in the same spot?” She says, with an almost sarcastic bent to her tone?

“What? It’s just marksmanship.”

“You were totally using magic. Do you really think me, your familiar, wouldn’t notice? Using your focus and mana, your energy, to shift the bullets back on target after you jerked the gun about a bit. Don’t tell me you weren’t aware you were doing that.” The slight smugness in her voice is really annoying.

“I just shot the same way I always do. “

“So you always use magic to cheat?”

“Sh-shut up.” I manage to squeak out, before signing, putting the pistol down, and sitting down to load more mags.

I brought her here to get to know her better but apparently, I’ve learned about magic instead assuming she isn’t just messing with me. Is it really that simple? I guess it does match up with how the Evil Eye worked, with intention being the key to it all.

Or she’s just teasing me.