Unreal Alchemy

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  “Worry about it later,” Mei said impatiently.

  Don’t ask me how she wields so much authority while wearing an Athena Owl hand-knitted beanie. Some things are meant to be a mystery.

  We ate bacon sandwiches in a cafe that looked like a circus tent and, unlike nearly every other commercial tent around here, was exactly the same on the inside as out.

  The provider of the bacon sandwiches was comfortingly null, which meant I didn’t have to drown the usual acid tang of someone else’s magic in a shitload of tomato sauce for once in my life. “We should eat here all the time,” I said with my mouth full.

  Mei was looking at me very calmly. “So, Sage.”

  This couldn’t be good. She was making actual eye contact. Usually you could rely on Mei to avoid social conventions. “Mei.”

  “You remember that episode back in the frat boy feels season, when Eli guesses that Tate is bisexual and tries to prove what an open-minded wingman he is by setting him up with all these pretty dudes, but they all turn out to be demons?”

  “Yeah,” I said warily, because who wouldn’t remember that episode of The Bromancers? Clearly it was a trap, but I couldn’t see the wires yet.

  Mei raised her eyebrows. “You have demon makeout hangover face.”

  I glowered at her. “I haven’t been making out with — also hey! Nightshade is slightly evil but that doesn’t make him a demon.”

  “Did I say anything about Nightshade?”

  Man she was worse than Holly when she got going. “I haven’t been making out with anyone,” I grumbled. “Least of all him. We broke up. You know this.”

  She separated her bread and bacon and egg into a neat pattern and took rotating bites of each. “I think it’s super interesting that you think there was something to break up. If the two of you were a TV show, you’d be cancelled by now.”

  Harsh. But not untrue.

  “Yeah,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at her. “But the fic would be hot.”

  I was heading back to the campsite for our morning rehearsal when I ran into Nightshade himself. I felt him coming before I saw him. His magic is hard to miss — he’s like a comet and a thunderstorm all at once. His magic might be ice-based, but my temperature rises when he’s nearby, which means that for most of our time together, I’d been running a low grade fever.

  Explains a lot about every interaction we’ve ever had, really.

  Today, without Ferd or Viola nearby, he looked — wrong in natural lighting, sort of washed out and grey. I was used to him either glittered and primped for a night out, or rosy and glowing in my bed.

  If he was a demon, it wasn’t the kind that avoided sunlight, though you’d be hard pressed to find any sunlight today. Jules Nightshade stood under an elegant silver-handled umbrella, watching me approach through the drip and drizzle.

  “McClaren,” he said evenly. Yeah, no amount of hot and sweaty had got us past the point that we used each other’s first names.

  “Nightshade. Enjoying the weekend?” That came out bitter, because he wasn’t supposed to be here. Even if we were still doing whatever the fuck we’d been doing before, it would have been weird to have him here. Now… it was a trip.

  He tilted his head, and I waited for something bitchy to come out. Instead, he took a breath and said. “It’s not bad. Miracle Workers are playing later on Stage A, after your show. Want to go see them together?”

  I was so taken aback to hear him speaking without being snarky or insulting, it didn’t occur to me to say no. Besides, Miracle Workers. I wasn’t going to miss that. “Sure,” I said after too long a moment. “I, uh. Band practice right now though.”

  He nodded, said “I’ll meet you later,” in a clipped voice, and walked away through the drizzle.

  I watched him go. And Holly thought Juniper was acting out of character. That was nothing compared to this freak show.

  Belatedly I realised, if I was his boyfriend, that would have been a damn appropriate time to ask him what was wrong. But I wasn’t, so I didn’t. And now we had a … what, date, apparently?

  Fuck. We didn’t do that. We barely knew how to interact without dance music or our clothes off.

  I guess there was gonna be music, at least.

  There was no way I was surviving our practice without coffee now.

  Cirque de Cacao is a favourite haunt back home, and they followed us out here; at least, they had a truck serving mostly chocolate, some coffee drinks, to the thirsty and the unwashed.

  I ordered a cappuccino and went around the back of the truck to hold the cup between my hands and warm up before I headed back. There was a slight overhang here, and a waterproofing charm that spread a little further, so I could lean against the side and stay dry.

  The coffee smelled good enough to drink, but I hadn’t decided yet. Coffee fucks with whatever alchemy connects my drumming to the rest of the band. It keeps the magic quiet but it keeps some important me stuff quiet too, so I leave it as a last resort.

  Still, my ex-whatever was acting like he was in a Halloween bodyswap episode of The Bromancers, and everyone else was taut as a cello wire, and something was gonna go pop before the end of the day. I didn’t want it to be me.

  One sip. Just to quiet my head down a little. Maybe a second sip.

  “Hey,” said a low voice. The cute Goth barista who had made my drink climbed out of the truck holding a keep cup of his own. “Mind if I take my break here? Can’t go too far, the other two in there are trainees.”

  I shrugged. “Your truck, man.”

  He glanced at my drink, and not so subtly checked me out at the same time. “Aren’t you playing later?”

  Ohh. I smirked at him, turning up what Holly called ‘that ridiculous slutty rock star charisma you hide under dirty t-shirts’. “You’re a fan.”

  Goth Boy looked startled, and a little embarrassed. “Hometown supporter,” he corrected. “Makes me sound less needy.”

  “Yeah, that’s definitely working for you.” I held out a hand. “Sage.”

  “Obviously,” he said, with a sarcastic quirk of his mouth that I kind of liked. He met my hand with his own and yeah, that was why the coffee tasted so good. His magic was a barely there roll of an ocean wave, subtle and unobtrusive. “Evan.”

  I took another sip of the coffee, letting the calmness flood through me. I hadn’t touched coffee in days, because there wasn’t much point if Nightshade and I weren’t fucking any more. How messed up was that? “Hey,” I said, noticing that Evan wore a How Cinnovar I’ll Go t-shirt. “You know that episode with the demon matchmaking? In Season 1?”

  A slow smile came over Evan’s face. “Sure. That was a good episode. First time we came to canon queer representation in the show.”

  There was the signal if ever there was one, that it was OK to flirt. The Bromancers: providing opportunities for gay nerds to find each other for three years and counting.

  But I had a practice to get to.

  And…

  Nah, there was no and.

  “I gotta go,” I said, letting myself sound regretful. “See you around, maybe?”

  “Hope so,” said Evan.

  There was a spark when we looked at each other, and one that had nothing at all to do with magical incompatibility. So that was a thing.

  I saluted him with my coffee cup and headed back to the campsite before I could admit to myself that I had just performed one of the dorkiest moves in the history of flirting.

  The sky opened up as I ran back to the campsite, so I wasn’t just being drizzled on any more, but soaked to the skin.

  This time it was Viola Vale I met at the mouth of the campsite — like Nightshade, she had her own umbrella, though hers was probably Prada.

  Who was I kidding? His was probably Prada too. They like the finer things in life, these Basilisk Brats.

  Apart from her stupidly expensive umbrella and her $500 haircut, Viola had done a reasonable job of dressing casual for the festival. Her sneakers were as muddy
as everyone else’s, and she was wearing a Wingless t-shirt that… damn it, that was another one she’d stolen from me. I didn’t even know it had gone missing. She wore it like a dress over leggings, with an actual metal belt slung around her hips to imply that it was made to be worn that way, instead of to stretch over the chest of a normal-sized drummer.

  “I liked that shirt,” I grumbled.

  “You have excellent taste,” she said crisply.

  Too late, I recognised the fiery expression in her eyes, and the angry tilt of her battle lipstick. Damn it. “What have I done now?”

  Viola leaned in, poking me in the gut. “Something’s wrong with Jules. You have to fix it with your dick.”

  “He’s not my problem any more,” I protested. “And my dick is not actually magic.”

  I swear her pupils actually flamed on. I could feel the heat of her magic building up — if it hadn’t been for those few sips of cappuccino my shirt would have ignited at her touch.

  “He’s not acting like himself,” she snapped. “He’s all fake and boring.”

  “Like a Halloween body swap episode?” I suggested helpfully.

  “I don’t care about your TV show, Sage. I care about Jules. What’s the point of you if you don’t make him happy?”

  “You’d miss stealing my t-shirts if I was gone.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, you ridiculous cliff face in tight jeans.”

  When she walked away, she took the rest of my cappuccino with her. I didn’t even see her take it from my hand.

  That morning, we held the worst rehearsal in the history of the band.

  I can’t even say what was wrong.

  Just…

  Juniper and Holly were off by the tiniest fraction, both of them giving each other wary looks, and that song was back, beating the sound of its own damned drum inside my skin. There were way too many voices building up in my brain: Vale and Mei and Nightshade and Evan and …

  I needed to get completely out of my head.

  I needed to set something on fire with my magic.

  I needed to get this song down on paper before it clawed its way out of my skull and not in a good way.

  I needed to get on my goddamn broom and deal with some ghosts.

  After the show.

  I could hold it together until after the show.

  Chapter 11

  Holly's Resting Witch Face

  SUNDAY

  On Sunday, it rained.

  Camping is the worst, and camping in the rain? Double worst.

  Only that wasn’t the worst part.

  The worst part was that I was sharing a tent with Juniper, and … I was pretty sure she wasn’t Juniper at all.

  7 REASONS TO SUPPOSE THAT JUNIPER IS UNDER SOME KIND OF ENCHANTMENT, OR WAS SWAPPED FOR A CHANGELING, OR SOME EQUALLY DIRE SITUATION.

  1) Juniper made a new friend.

  2) Juniper stopped paying attention to me.

  3) Juniper didn’t say thank you when I bumped up her solo piece, Stupid Songs About Victorian Novels, to Number 2 in our set list, even though it was a massive compliment.

  OK, I realise that those reasons make me sound like a heinous bitch and total crazy person. But I knew Juniper, all right? She wasn’t behaving in any of the ways that make sense, for her. And no one else seemed to notice. Hebe and Sage and the rest were wrapped up in their own dramah.

  That left me, Queen of the Self-involved, following Juniper around like a lost puppy and analysing every micro-expression to prove I was right.

  She and her new bestie dodged me after rehearsal, and I didn’t find them for the rest of the day.

  4) Juniper AVOIDED ME FOR THE REST OF THE DAY. I mean, how many red flags do you need?

  Oh and here’s a good one:

  5) Didn’t recognise someone who clearly knew her.

  Remember Professor Hottie? The foxy older lady with the wicked guitar? Yeah, I’d forgotten her too, it’s been a really long weekend.

  Anyway, she came to our show tonight, with a couple of others I recognised from that party on the beach. I saw her as we were waiting to go on stage. Juniper was holding Irene in a suspiciously exactly-in-character way, like she knew I was watching her every move.

  Then Professor Hottie — Heather — Helena — eh what are the odds I’ll need to remember her name — stepped out of the crowd, eyes on me. She smiled.

  I went all warm in the pit of my stomach because we came this close to making out on the first night of the festival, and she came to our show, and I’m super into the attention of attractive older ladies.

  Then Professor Hottie saw Juniper, and took on a slightly frostier, less flirtatious expression. Professional, I realised.

  Juniper didn’t notice. She walked straight past Professor Hottie and on to the stage.

  “I’d swear she’s in one of my classes,” the Professor said thoughtfully to one of her mates.

  He laughed and nudged her. “No one expects to see their Professor at something like this.”

  I remembered Juniper, that first night, all blushing and stammering and “you can’t have her, Holly.” No way she wouldn’t at least give her Professor a polite nod.

  I guess, if someone was going to research Juniper Cresswell of Fake Geek Girl, they might not go quite so far as to learn every single person she’d ever met.

  It was a crack in the armour. It was a clue. It was totally time to go on stage.

  6) It’s just not her. I know it. I KNOW IT.

  Bad rehearsal means great show, except when it doesn’t. And yeah, that had been the shittiest practice we’d had through in years. Worse than that time we got food poisoning and I threw up on Sage’s drum kit.

  Our show today was one of the best sets we’d ever done. There was a fierce, angry electricity running through all of us, and we harnessed it. Sage was on fire, almost literally. Juniper was relaxed, having fun on stage in a way that almost never happens except sometimes late at night when she thinks no one is really paying attention to her.

  7) Juniper without stage fright, what even is this bullshit?

  I sang my fucking heart out.

  When we were done, I stormed off stage, grabbed hold of little Ellie Whatsit, Juniper’s new BFF, who was standing too close to the steps. I stalked her like a lion, around the back of the stage.

  “Hey Holly, great show,” she said, trying to shove me off, but my nails were sunk hard into her stupid geeky… hey, I have that exact jacket. Huh.

  “What have you done with her?” I snarled into her face. “Where’s the real Juniper?”

  The fangirl looked innocent for about three seconds, and then she smiled at me, all sugar and spice. “She didn’t deserve to be part of the band. She wasn’t even having fun.”

  That spiked my heart. Was it true? Did Juniper want to leave us too? We’d barely recovered from losing Nora.

  Then I remembered who I was speaking to. I shook her like a rat. “Give. My. Juniper. Back.”

  Arms wrapped around me from behind, and Juniper’s scent overwhelmed me. Only… that wasn’t Juniper’s scent at all.

  8) Juniper doesn’t smell like that. She smells like expensive candles and cheap chocolate. What even is that smell…

  “Relax,” the not-Juniper whispered into my ear, her lips brushing against my earlobe. “It doesn’t hurt. And we’re going to have so much fun together.”

  Darkness closed over my head, and took me away.

  Chapter 12

  Sage Has Never Taken A Boy Home Before, But Don't Start Thinking This Means Anything, OK?

  SUNDAY NIGHT

  I came off that gig sweating and thirsty, fired up like I’d never been before. I almost had the shape of the song now, could feel it beating its way out from the inside of my rib cage.

  And I knew where I was gonna find it. Sure I did. Because the song that had been driving me up the wall all week? It kicked off when I first admitted to myself that coming back to Mandrake Sands was
gonna stir some shit up.

  I needed a broomstick, and I needed a friend.

  Holly disappeared straight after the show, and when I saw her again she was flirting with her fans, tossing her hair, high off the performance or maybe some extracurricular potion, who was I to even guess? Juniper was still enjoying her bizarre personality bypass, right at Holly’s side. I guess they made up whatever their weird non-fight was about?

  Dec and Vale had disappeared somewhere. When did my mates all end up in couples?

  Mei hadn’t even made it to the show.

  Hebe and Ferd at least had the decency to swing by before they went off to get naked together for like, the third time today. They’d been sitting in each other’s laps as we played our souls out on stage. Now they came up to pat me on the back and ruffle my hair, getting their hands good and sweaty in the process.

  “That was so great,” Hebe breathed in my ear.

  “Yeah,” I said hoarsely. Not much voice left. “You two good?”

  “Of course,” said Ferd, slinging an arm around Hebe’s shoulders.

  “Fine,” said Hebe, smiling.

  My Hebe has the best smile in the known universe. No one can match that smile of hers. This wasn’t it.

  “Okay, right,” I snapped, grabbing her hand, and then his. “C’mon. Let’s get this sorted.”

  The song beating in my head was about to come out of my skull all messy, and I didn’t have time to stop and deal with this bullshit, but I could see the future unfolding like a flying carpet crash, with safety charms disabled. I didn’t have the time and energy to spend a month watching these two drag their way through the slowest and most painful breakup in history, so…

  A couple of tents away from the main stage, it was quieter, so I could hear Ferd and Hebes protesting at me above the sound of the imaginary beat in my head. “Truth bombs. Brace yourselves.”