by B. B. Alston
“Are all of you from the Department of Good Fortunes and Bad Omens?”
January nods. “Our dress code is to wear whatever makes us happiest. We’re a free-spirited bunch.”
“Do you all make your own clothes?”
“A lot of us do. But honestly, if you go to the Duboise clothing website on the othernet you can almost always find exactly what your mind has dreamed up.”
That’s when I realize I’ve never seen anyone dressed like this during the day. “Do you guys only work at night?”
“We do, but it’s not that unusual. There are quite a few departments with nighttime business hours—the Department of Dreams and Nightmares, the Department of the Dead, and I believe the Department of the Unexplained as well. Oh, and the Department of Supernatural Health is always open twenty-four hours a day.”
A girl dressed like Santa Claus rushes over to January and clutches both her hands. “Let me guess. . . . Strawberries?”
January giggles. “You’re always getting your Futures and Histories mixed up. Strawberries Jubilee was my name yesterday. Tonight I’m January Winterfrost.”
The other girl nods her approval and then runs off to catch up with a group up ahead. One of them is wearing a fully inflated blue balloon.
The others have already stopped an elevator for us. I scan their faces for any sign of magician-hate, but they appear much more interested in each other’s costumes. January gives them her thanks as the elevator doors shut. I instantly recognize the elevator as Lucy.
“Not used to seeing you out and about this late at night,” says Lucy.
“She’s to meet with the Starlight Shaman himself,” says January.
Lucy coos. “That Director Horus sure has a dreamy voice.”
January blushes and they both laugh.
It surprises me when Lucy announces we’ve entered the Vanderbilt Hotel.
“Are we going outside?” I ask, thinking about the raincoat in my arms.
“Yes and no,” says January.
Finally, Lucy says, “Now approaching the Department of Good Fortunes and Bad Omens.”
The doors open to a huge circular room that I realize must be the inside of the large golden dome atop the hotel. The dome is split into halves—the walls on the right side show cute furry animals in green meadows filled with flowers of every color. Happy cherubs take aim at grinning couples, and children laugh and dance.
The left side of the dome is totally different. Ugly monsters twist themselves around dark spaces filled with angry green eyes. Some bare sharp fangs, others have sneaky grins. All the people on this side look sad, terrified, or furious.
I guess one side represents good fortunes while the other side represents bad omens. I just hope my visit falls on the good fortunes side of things.
There’s a big white pillar in the middle of the room. A black staircase wraps around it, leading up to the viewing end of a telescope that stretches up to the ceiling.
Most of the room is filled with curved tables arranged in concentric circles around the pillar. It reminds me of the solar system. If the pillar is the sun, then these tables are like the orbits the planets take, making bigger and bigger circles the farther you get away. The only difference is there’s a walkway that leads straight from the elevator to the pillar.
As January leads me to the pillar, I glance at the little stations spread out along the tables. Some have crystal balls that cloud up as we pass. A few have stacks of tarot cards, and others have bowls with small bones inside. On the bad omens side, I see a book titled Cursed or Blessed with Bad Luck? A Subtle but Important Difference. Further ahead a blazing fire burns with little pillows spread out around it.
January follows my gaze. “That’s for pyromancy. If you really concentrate and stare into the fire for long enough, you’ll start to see glimpses of the future amidst the flames. We’re trained in twelve different methods of fortune-telling.”
Once we go around the pillar, I spot a doorway with a plaque that reads Office of the Director.
We pause in the doorway. It’s pretty empty for an office. No desk or chairs or anything on the walls. There’s only a big, dark-skinned guy in deep blue robes and a matching blue African kufi hat embroidered with silvery stars. He sits with his back to us on a wide blue carpet with silver trim.
“Hello there,” he says in a deep, rumbling voice. The sound makes me smile—it’s like far-off thunder. “Welcome to the Department of Good Fortunes and Bad Omens.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Um, glad to be here?”
Director Horus stands and turns with a swish of his robes. Golden eyes gleam above his neatly trimmed goatee. “January, thank you for escorting Amari. Do me a favor and check the conditions.”
“Will do,” says January. Before leaving, she glances to me and says, “He always guesses my name right.”
Those golden eyes look to me now and Horus waves me inside. “Please remove your shoes and have a sit on my carpet.”
I do what he says, and we both sit cross-legged across from one another. If I wasn’t nervous about this meeting before, I certainly am now. “If you decide my being here is a bad omen, does that mean I’ll be kicked out of the Bureau?”
“Don’t worry yourself,” says Director Horus. “Tonight’s reading is merely a precaution. Atlantians like Chief Crowe see every oddity as an omen for calamity. So when a magician shows up at the Bureau around the same time it’s being attacked, it’s only natural that the chief would want answers.”
“Then you don’t think me being here is a bad omen?” I ask.
“I have learned to wait for what will be revealed to be revealed,” says Director Horus.
That isn’t exactly the “no” I hoped for. But then, it isn’t a “yes” either.
“It’s pouring outside,” says January from behind me.
Director Horus grins. “Perfect.” He stands and stretches. “Are you ready for a ride?”
I stand up too. “Um . . . sure.”
“Stand next to me on the center of the carpet,” says Director Horus.
January pulls open a hidden drawer in the wall, then reaches inside and takes out a long silver staff. She tosses it over and Director Horus catches it in one hand. January closes the drawer and then presses herself tightly against the wall. Almost as if she’s trying to keep out of the way.
Pieces begin to click into place in my mind. “Wait . . .” I say looking down at the fancy blue carpet beneath our feet. “This isn’t a flying—”
“Go!” shouts Director Horus.
The carpet comes to life beneath our feet. It bucks and wriggles and then jumps forward, bending at the edges to fit through the open doorway. We fly in fast circles around the top of the dome, while a crowd of upturned faces cheers us on. A panel slides away and Director Horus spins his staff until it becomes an umbrella that he opens with a flick of his wrist.
We dash out into blinding rain. I can sort of make out the lit-up windows from tall buildings. Enough to figure out that we’re rising higher and higher.
I grab hold of Director Horus’s arm. The rain comes at us sideways. I try to get a look to see how he’s handling all this rain, but I can only just make out the golden glint of his eyes. We continue like this, soaring through the storm until suddenly the rain stops.
Next thing I know we’re above the clouds, a starry night sky all around us. My teeth chatter as I pull my jacket on tighter. It’s cold up here.
Director Horus closes the umbrella and sets it down next to his bare feet. That’s when I remember my own wet feet.
“A beautiful night,” he says, staring up at the sky.
“I’m soaked and freezing,” is all I can manage at the moment.
Director Horus grins. “As am I. But what we’re here to do won’t take very long, I promise.”
How can he be so calm when I’m halfway to becoming an Amari popsicle? “What are we here to do?”
“We’re here to cast constellations.” He points to t
he stars above. “These constellations have been set for tens of thousands of years. They describe the history of our planet itself, moving ever so slowly with the passage of time.”
“What do they say?”
“I have no idea.” Director Horus laughs. “They’re written in language long forgotten. But as you are very young, your constellation should be easy enough to figure out.”
“My constellation?”
Director Horus nods. “Hold out your hand.”
I do. And then I watch as Director Horus reaches up to pluck a star right out of the sky. He drops the speck of twinkling light into my palm. Then another . . . and another. He continues until my hand is covered in a pile of warm, shimmering flecks.
Finally, he says, “That should be plenty.” And with one broad swipe of his staff he knocks loose the remaining stars from the sky. My eyes widen as they drop down around us like glowing dust. An inky dark sky now stretches out above us.
“Am I really holding whole stars in my hand?” I ask.
“Not the stars themselves, but their spirits. Every natural thing exists in two places, both here and there. If we are physically here, then we are spiritually there. Likewise, if the stars are physically out there, then it only makes sense for them to be spiritually here. Do you understand?”
“Not really,” I say.
Director Horus lets out a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish to learn more about these things, you are more than welcome to come try out for my department next summer. It’s been many a century since a moonstone badge has graced our doors.”
“That moonstone badge is only because I’m a magician, I think.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. From what I’ve heard, you’ve done quite well so far.”
I smile at that.
“We’ll begin with a look at your history,” Horus says next. “To understand where you’re going, we must first understand where your blood has been. Separate the stardust into two even piles on the carpet.”
I do as he says, carefully molding the mounds of light.
“Gather up the first pile of stardust and toss it as high as you can. Jump if it helps.”
I scoop up a pile, cupping it with both hands. Then I bend my knees and leap into the air, tossing the glowing sprinkles as far above me as I’m able. The glowing pile soars, exploding against the sky like fireworks and then re-forming into a woman with an elaborate headdress. It shifts into a crouching man with a spear lifted over his head. It changes again to a boy on the edge of a cliff, his gaze on the horizon.
I try to be patient as the images continue to shift above me, but my curiosity gets the best of me. “What do these images mean?”
“These are your ancestors. You are descended from great African tribal queens, from fierce warriors who protected the innocent, from renowned travelers who sought the thrill of adventure. Greatness, like all other traits, can be passed down in the blood, from parent to child.”
The image continues to shift, this time into a young girl on her knees before a man with a whip. It changes again to show men and women marching, even against the blast of a fire hose. “There is resilience in your blood too. The willpower to endure seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Though your ancestors were once slaves, their descendants fought for equal rights.”
At the sight, I hold my chin high.
Then I see Mama’s face in the starlight, smiling as she holds a baby in her arms. I hold my breath at the sight of Quinton’s proud face as he loads the briefcase that started all this.
“These are the people who know you best,” says Director Horus. “You’ve been greatly loved.”
My chin quivers. “I love them too.”
Director Horus spins his staff until the whole sky is filled with the faces of my ancestors all at once. “Not a single magician in your family history.” He spins the staff over his head and the stars wink out. “This is the history of your magic, Amari. Completely blank. As if the magic truly began with you. Fascinating.”
“It’s true then? I was born a magician?”
“Apparently so,” says Director Horus. “Though I’ve no idea what that will mean for you. So let’s move on to the present and future. Cast the second pile of stardust.”
I repeat the same motion as before, tossing the stardust high above my head. There’s another explosion of white light and a twinkling bird takes form.
“That bird represents you as you are right this moment. Notice it hasn’t yet taken flight, its wings are outstretched, its head turned upward. The pose suggests that you are capable of becoming truly special, reaching great heights—”
Director Horus goes quiet and steps forward. The bird isn’t the only thing being shown. The head of a snake emerges, and the creature winds itself through the legs of the bird, coiling up around it. The director stares intently, and I watch him, anxious to learn what this might mean.
A much larger two-headed snake appears. I jump when both its heads bare their fangs. Instead of backing down, the smaller snake shows its fangs too.
“This isn’t good,” says Director Horus. “I’ve seen that two-headed snake before. During my own castings while I was away in the Wandering Isles. It’s why I cut my trip short and announced my return.”
“What’s it mean?” I ask.
Director Horus lifts his staff to the sky and waves it in wide circles. The stars swirl above us until the image of a mighty elephant appears. “This represents the entire Bureau of Supernatural Affairs.” Seconds later the two-headed snake emerges, coiling itself around the elephant’s leg. It waits there for a moment before climbing up to the elephant’s neck where it strikes, bringing the animal to its knees.
This time when I shiver, it isn’t from the cold.
Director Horus narrows his eyes and strokes his chin. “Snakes have typically represented magicians in these constellations, chiefly for their potential to do great harm to the caster. You do not appear as a snake, likely because it is your casting. I must admit, however, I don’t know what a two-headed snake might represent. It’s puzzling. Whatever the case, it would seem you and the Bureau share a common enemy. And that concerns me.”
“Do you think the two-headed snake could be Moreau and his apprentice?” I ask. “That’s who’s planning to destroy the Bureau.”
“That would be the most logical guess,” he replies. “There is much in your constellation that isn’t clear. The snake that sought to protect you, for instance. I don’t suppose you have any idea who that magician might be?”
Dylan. It has to be. But I can’t give away his secret. “I don’t know.”
Director Horus frowns. “I’ll need to inform the chief about what we’ve witnessed tonight.”
“Do I get to stay?” I ask.
“Absolutely. I saw nothing to indicate that you are a bad omen for the Bureau. If anything, this constellation re-inforces the need for protective measures to be put in place to ensure your safety. I don’t advise you going home for anymore weekend breaks.”
“But what if I fail a tryout?” I ask.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But drastic measures would need to be taken. Whatever this two-headed snake represents, it has taken an interest in you, Amari. And that appears to be a very dangerous position to occupy.”
While I think on those words, Director Horus twirls his staff and the stars scatter, returning the night sky to normal.
“Before we go back,” I say, “could I ask you something? About my brother?”
Director Horus nods thoughtfully. “You want to know why Quinton came to see me on the night VanQuish went missing.”
“Yes,” I say. “Was it about his future?”
“He came to see me about reading the future, but not his own.” Director Horus sighs. “It’s why I had to refuse. Unless it is an emergency, I can never reveal the future of one person to another. Such things are as private as thoughts.”
“Was he asking about my future then?” I ask.
&nb
sp; “Not yours,” he replies. “Maria’s. Your brother wanted to know if she would ever betray the Bureau.”
24
I WAKE UP EARLY THE NEXT MORNING AND WAIT FOR Dylan near the elevators in the lobby of the director apartments. Since I’ve got no clue where the Van Helsings’ apartment is located, I figure it’s the best place to wait for him. A group of Junior Record Keepers awaiting Director Cobblepot shoot me nasty looks and mutter something about “unfair badges” and “stupid magicians,” but I ignore them.
Dylan and I promised to share whatever we learned, so that’s what I’m doing. But I’ve been dreading it all night. Maria, a traitor? When I finally spot him, I run over.
His eyes go wide. “Amari? What’s up?”
“Can’t talk here,” I say. “Come with me to the library.”
“Okay . . .” he says. “Should I be worried?”
“Just come on. It’s important.”
We take an elevator down to the library and dash into a study room.
“What going on?” he asks.
“I was casting constellations with Director Horus last night and I asked him about that meeting we found on Quinton’s computer.”
He leans closer. “And what did he say?”
I tell him.
Dylan looks stunned. “But why . . .”
“You said it yourself—they weren’t getting along anymore. They were splitting up! What if Quinton realized she was keeping secrets from him?” I meet Dylan’s eyes. “Maria is a magician. What if she accepted Moreau’s offer to join them?”
Dylan looks so hurt by this accusation that I can’t help wondering if I made a mistake telling him. “You think my sister is a traitor?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But there had to be a reason for my brother to go behind her back like that.”
Dylan pushes himself to his feet. “I’m outta here.”
“Wait,” I say. “That’s not all. Director Horus knows about you being a magician.”
Dylan goes stiff. “He does? How?”
“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” I say, shaking my head. This whole thing has me flustered. “I just meant that he knows there’s a magician who wants to protect me. The constellation showed a two-headed snake baring its fangs at me. But there was another snake by my side. He said that snakes are supposed to represent magicians.”
