Magic or Madness

by Justine Larbalestier

  The cellar was much easier to negotiate with lights blazing. This time I managed to avoid banging into the wine racks and stumbling on the uneven stones underfoot. In the southeast corner the stones were rougher, none of them bigger than a brick.

  The racks of wine stopped about half a metre from the wall. Even for someone my size, it was a tight fit. I sat with my back to the wall and tried to get my hands around the biggest stone. It wasn’t easy getting hold of it. The stone was wedged in tight. Using both hands, I heaved. The stone moved, making a groaning sound as it rubbed against the others, and then came flying out so fast I whacked myself in the nose. In my shock, I dropped it on my toe.

  “Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!” My nose hurt like hell and was bleeding fast and heavy. “Bugger.”

  I took my T-shirt off, balled it up, and pressed it to my face. My hands were shaking and my nose throbbed with pain. What if I’d broken it?

  Not difficult, Sarafina had said!

  With my left hand pressing the T-shirt to my nose, I pulled out several of the smaller stones with my right. The only thing that held them in place had been the pressure of being jammed together. There was no grouting, no cement. With the large nose-crushing stone removed, all I had to do was lift the others out of the way.

  Underneath the stones was a metal container about the size of a large shoe box. I was relieved—there was something in the southeast corner. Sarafina hadn’t just been rambling. And it wasn’t the trapdoor leading down to a chamber of horrors like I’d been imagining, where the “she” Sarafina had mentioned would turn out to be a zombie ready to eat me alive. The metal box wasn’t big enough for a person, even an undead one.

  I lifted the last remaining stones and tried to pull the box out. It was heavy, hardly budged at all. I felt around the lid to see if I could open it and found nothing.

  Needing both hands to lift it out, I dropped the sodden T-shirt to my lap and felt my nose gingerly. The flow of blood had become a trickle, but I couldn’t breathe out of it. Under my fingertips it felt grotesque and huge, swollen to several times its normal size. I wiped at the blood again with my T-shirt, realising that I should probably get some ice on it. The box first.

  I tucked the bloody T-shirt into the top of my shorts, then stretched out my legs on either side of the metal box. As I heaved, my head throbbed. The effort of pulling made my nose hurt more. The box shifted some, making a loud scraping sound. Then it fell back, heavier than Uluru.

  I pulled again, bending from the waist and bracing my feet against the brick wine racks. The box moved again. Blood from my nose and sweat from my face dripped into my mouth, but if I closed my lips, I couldn’t breathe.

  Finally the box came out, landing on the uneven ground with a tremendous echoing crash. The nearest wine bottles rattled loudly. For a moment I couldn’t hear anything and wondered if I’d broken my eardrums as well as my nose. If Esmeralda had been home, no way she wouldn’t have heard it. Probably Tom could hear it next door, not to mention the rest of the street. The damned thing had to be made of lead.

  I let it sit while I rubbed my hands and shoulders and wiped more of the blood from my face. I was going to have a hot bath after this. With bubbles.

  I looked at the box. Exactly where Sarafina had said it would be. What was in it? I closed my eyes and saw hundreds and hundreds of teeth all covered with the blood from my nose. But Sarafina had said “her,” not “them.” I had to dig her up. What was she?

  The keyhole was tiny. I’d brought the infinity key just in case, but no way would it fit. I pulled the straightened bobby pin from my other pocket and jiggled it in the lock. The click was tiny, but I was relieved to hear it. Eardrums not broken, just my nose.

  I pushed back the heavier-than-lead lid.

  A cat. A very dead cat. Lying on its side with the yellow of its bones sticking out from the patches of remaining yellowish white fur. There were no eyes, no guts to fill its empty ribs. As I stared, my vision blurred. The cat turned its head, looked up at me through empty sockets. Miaow.

  I screamed, wanting to throw the box away, leap up. Get out of there. I couldn’t move.

  Then it was perfectly still again, lying on its side, only one eye socket visible. Dead as dead as dead could be. I rubbed my eyes, only managing to rub in the dirty, bloody grime from my hands. The cat—Le Roi, I was sure—remained unmoving. Had I imagined the movement of her head? Her miaow?

  I reached my hand into the box, terrified that she would bite me. Did you get diseases if a dead cat bit you? She didn’t move. I touched her flank. Drier than the ground after a sixyear-long drought. No trace of moisture. No trace of life.

  Under the chin, the remaining fur was rusty with dried blood, as though her throat had been slashed with a sharp knife.

  Just as Sarafina had told me.

  I felt a surge of anger rush through me, hot and electric. I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, pushed the red energy of it away, blew it out with one big deep breath. How could Esmeralda have done that to a little kid’s cat? It wasn’t magic, it was insanity.

  I was not going to stay in this house another night.

  In the mirror my nose didn’t look as bad as it felt. It was swollen and already starting to discolour, but it wasn’t half as big as I’d thought, and the bleeding had finally stopped. My bra and T-shirt were blood- and snot-soaked messes, though my shorts hadn’t caught any drops of red. I washed my face as best I could, then gingerly pushed cotton wool into my nostrils to absorb more of the blood. It hurt like buggery.

  I felt light-headed. While I ran a bath, I ate one of the bags of chips and chocolate bars I’d bought on the way home from the hospital. I’d also bought nuts, dried and tinned fruit, cheese, muesli bars, and two large bottles of water. Not a lot, but it would have to do. My backpack also held the street directory, my compass and Leatherman, sunscreen, hat, and the rest of Sarafina’s money.

  When the bath was full, I tugged the cotton wool out of my nose, dropped the blood-soaked mess into the bin. I peered at my nose in the mirror again: I looked like a boxer after a fight. A bruise was coming up in the corner of my right eye. Brilliant.

  I pushed aside the bubbles and sank into the tub, discovering that the big toe on my right foot had been hurt. That’s right. I’d dropped the stupid rock on it. My shin stung too from where I’d grazed it yesterday. I was all cellar injuries.

  Above me the skylights glowed in the harsh sunlight. I closed my eyes and let the hot water soak all the way through to my bones. Soon my face was sweating, salt running into my eyes. I didn’t care.

  I tried to remember the last time I’d had a bath. Long before Dubbo. It had been in a pub, a share bathroom. Dorrigo, maybe? The water had run out of the tap orange at first and, by the time it cleared, was more lukewarm than hot. The tub was dirty and the enamel worn through along the bottom, scratching my bum when I sat in it. This tub was smooth and clean and the water hot.

  Lying there, I ran through everything else I would need. My sleeping bag, of course, tied to my backpack. I’d take two changes of clothing, plus my jacket and sloppy joe. If I headed south, I’d need them.

  More money too. If I waited to leave till tonight, I could try to steal some from Esmeralda’s purse or pinch some of her stuff to sell. I couldn’t think of any other way to get more, not until I’d gotten myself a job somewhere.

  I hoped that would be enough.

  My biggest problem was Sarafina. How was I going to take her with me? I had imagined visiting her several more times, wheedling the nurses into letting me take her outside, and finally just walking away with her, taking the bus to Central, where we’d switch for a country train or an interstate bus out of Sydney.

  If I went tonight, I’d have to leave Sarafina behind—come back for her later.

  Could I do that? Leave her stuck there full of their slow-making drugs? I sank completely under the water though it made my nose sting. What if she died while I was away? Like all those other Cansino women, dead before th
ey’d done anything? I wished I could ask Esmeralda what had killed them. Or Sarafina. Did she know?

  I wished I knew more.

  When I got out of the bath, I was so dizzy and hot I had to sit on the edge of the tub for a few minutes before the dots in front of my eyes disappeared. It was probably stupid to have run such a scalding bath, but I’d needed it.

  When I could finally stand up, I filled a glass with cool water and sipped at it slowly. A little better. I put the fan on in my bedroom and opened the balcony doors, shutting them immediately when I realised the air outside was even hotter.

  Well, if I did leave tonight, it would take Esmeralda by surprise. No one would expect anyone to exert themselves unnecessarily in such heat. All I really wanted was to rest. Though my nose wasn’t bleeding anymore, it still throbbed.

  I lay down on the bed. If I was going to do a runner, then a nap wouldn’t hurt. I shut my eyes, taking some deep breaths, but my brain wouldn’t let me sleep. It was too busy figuring out what I did and didn’t need. Were Sarafina’s binoculars worth carrying?

  I so wished I knew more. Should I ask Tom more questions? I had the feeling he knew more than he’d let on at the cemetery. Had Esmeralda asked him to take me there? Should I put off going until I had that talk with her? I shuddered. The thought of talking to someone who would do that to a cat.

  I got up and stuck the letters from Esmeralda in my backpack. Maybe there were answers in them. Likely they would be safe to read once I was far away from their author.

  I got dressed, pulling on my not-too-dirty shorts and a clean bra and T-shirt, deciding it was way too hot for shoes, then headed downstairs. Maybe there was cash lying around. When I’d searched the house before, I’d been looking for escape routes, not money.

  The key.

  I could feel the infinity key in my pocket, digging into my thigh. Nasty thing. Hadn’t opened the door to the cellar or poor Le Roi’s coffin—might as well check if it opened the back door.

  Before I put it in the lock, I knew. It slid in as if it belonged, though as it turned, it squeaked and protested. I pushed the heavy, creaking door open. When I stepped forward, it slammed shut behind me.

  My jaw dropped.

  12

  Through the Witch’s Door

  “Bloody hell.”

  I didn’t know what I was looking at. It wasn’t Esmeralda’s backyard. The fig tree was gone. There were trees, but they had no leaves. They were brown and barren like after a bush-fire. But it wasn’t hot. The summer had vanished.

  White was everywhere. On the ground, clinging to the branches of the trees. I looked down at my feet. I was standing in white, and it was cold. The air was cold too. When I breathed, it hurt, and my nose started throbbing again.

  Esmeralda’s back verandah was gone. I was at the top of a few white steps, looking across at a row of buildings that shouldn’t have been there.

  It wasn’t her backyard. It wasn’t even daytime. The light was wrong. The sky was orangey-grey and I couldn’t see the sun. Was it night? Then why were there no stars? No moon? Was it an eclipse? Had the sky been sucked away? Had the world ended as I stepped from kitchen to verandah?

  The world had definitely been turned upside down. Nothing I could see or feel made any sense. Daytime and summer, both had vanished.

  The buildings opposite looked like something out of an Escher drawing. There was a rickety iron staircase attached to the outside of each one. I wondered if there were stairs inside too. Or maybe they were on the outside because someone forgot about them? But they weren’t even done right. The staircases started too high, even to jump up. Maybe this was a land of kangaroo people.

  In front of the buildings were large white blobs. What on earth were they?

  Soft wet drops hit my face and landed in my still-open mouth. Like rain, only softer. The air was full of white drops, like feathers or petals, floating through the air.

  I walked down the steps, watching the gorgeous white dust dancing all around me. I caught some on my tongue and felt it dissolve. I shivered. It tasted like cold, wet air. I loved it.

  “Snow,” I said out loud, proud of myself for figuring it out. “It’s snow.”

  I’d never seen that much snow before. In fact, outside of picture books, I’d never seen any snow before. Growing up, I’d met littlies who’d never seen rain. I tried to imagine what they’d think of this. They’d wet themselves!

  I laughed and spun round and round with my arms stretched, feeling the snow against my bare arms and legs. It tickled. The brown, green, red houses, the railings, the strange staircases, a moustached face in stone, all flashed by, obscured by the falling snowflakes. I came to a stop, panting.

  The big white blobs were cars, I was sure. But they were covered in snow. I was looking at a street. A strange street, certainly, with such tall houses all crowded together, but definitely a street.

  The snow, the cold, it was exhilarating. I couldn’t help it—I had to run. I sprinted along the footpath, feeling the snow, deliciously cool and soft, splatter against my face, the crunchy dampness of it underneath my bare feet. It felt absolutely fabulous. No wonder people in books liked winter. If this was winter, I liked it too.

  I turned to run back.

  That was when I realised I didn’t know where “back” was. Stretched out behind me was a row of houses, just like those on the other side of the street. They all looked the same with their iron railings and stone steps. I hadn’t thought to notice which house I’d come out of.

  So stupid.

  I could hear Sarafina’s voice in my head: Always be alert, aware of your surroundings. What had I seen? Red and brown houses. That was almost all of them. A moustached face in stone.

  At that exact moment I realised I was shivering. I couldn’t feel my nose anymore. My T-shirt and shorts were soaked. I had no shoes. Snow was cold. I was cold. Very cold.

  The snow started coming down even harder.

  13

  Rescue

  This was Jay-Tee’s third night waiting. Each colder than the one before. She hadn’t even rescued Reason Cansino yet, and she already hated her.

  “She’ll come through in the dark,” he’d said, which in winter wasn’t very helpful given that it was dark practically all the time. On top of that, his dreams weren’t always pinpoint accurate, but this time he wouldn’t even consider the possibility that the Reason kid might arrive when the sun was up, or during a different week, or, God forbid, not at all.

  So Jay-Tee sat in the dark, swaddled in a down coat, cashmere scarf, fur-lined mittens, boots, and hat (the fur wasn’t visible, just in case animal liberationists decided to throw paint at her or something). And still her face was numb, and, weirdly, her knees—though not her calves or thighs—were icy. If she’d been able to move around, it wouldn’t have been too bad, but just sitting here was turning her into a Popsicle.

  The coffee in her thermos had long ago gone cold and she’d already finished all the chocolate chip cookies. She looked at her watch—strapped on over her glove so that her wrist didn’t have to freeze every time she checked the time. Midnight. The sun wouldn’t come up for ages yet. A few snowflakes drifted to the ground.

  Great, thought Jay-Tee. Just what she needed, more snow. It’d fallen on and off all day, soft flakes, an inch or two sticking, making everything wet and slippery. Be just her luck if it turned into a blizzard. Nobody had predicted one, not that that meant anything. She got up and sat on the top step, out of the snow, pulling the heavy duffel bag stuffed with her useless coffee, as well as the coat and boots for Reason.

  Jay-Tee looked across at the doorway, willing the stupid thing to open and the kid to step through. It had opened twice since she’d started her vigil, but both times it had been Esmeralda Cansino. Jay-Tee had been lucky—the witch hadn’t noticed her.

  She didn’t want to think about what Esmeralda would do to her if she had. The witch wasn’t keen on people knowing about her door. According to him, the witch was
all about blood and sacrifice, mostly animals, but there’d been rumors of human babies. “And if a stray girl like you stumbled through the door . . .” He’d shrugged. “She might take the opportunity to move up a notch.”

  It was a pity the witch lived in the house on the other side of that door. Jay-Tee loved the idea of stepping out of this miserable winter and instantly into sunshine and warmth. Everything, he’d told her, was opposite on the other side of the door. When it was winter here, it was summer there. He’d promised that would happen soon if things went right. Jay-Tee snorted. She had not lived a life where many things went right.

  The door opened.

  A skinny Hispanic-looking girl with bare feet stepped through. Not at all what Jay-Tee had been expecting. The door slammed before Jay-Tee had a chance to see any of what was on the other side. She scooted farther back into the shadows and concentrated on not being seen.

  Reason Cansino looked a few fries short of a Happy Meal, her mouth dropping all the way open, snowflakes landing in it. She looked delighted with herself, as if catching snowflakes was really hard.

  She came down the steps slowly, staring at everything as if she’d never seen a street before. At the bottom she started twirling around and around. Can’t she feel the cold? Jay-Tee thought, pulling her down coat tighter; watching Reason dance practically naked in the snow was making her feel colder.

  Then the idiot went running down the block. Jay-Tee stood up, wondering whether she should run after her or not. Not that she could run, what with being wrapped up like a mummy with a huge duffel to haul along.

  Up ahead through the snow Jay-Tee could just make out Reason stopping, doing some kind of dance, and then turning back. She’d crossed her arms across her chest now, finally feeling the cold. The snow was falling harder now and at a slight angle; the wind was starting up. Jay-Tee could feel the temperature dropping. Might be time for a rescue.