The Heart of the Circle

by Keren Landsman

  We stood outside their front door, holding the bottles. It was one of those new buildings put up on the border of Jaffa. They boasted a lavish outlay, cheap rent, a lobby filled with mirrors, and complete alienation from the neighborhood. Daphne and I hated them.

  The small door sign read ‘Blaze and River’ in English, above an illustration of a couple standing in the rain, the man holding a bouquet of flames above their heads.

  Daphne took my hand. “I’m so sorry there isn’t a rally tonight. We could have gone and gotten ourselves killed instead of being here.”

  “I’m even sorrier,” I sighed.

  Daphne giggled and knocked on the door. Before it opened, I felt an inquisitive wave pouring out from behind it.

  Lee was standing in the entrance, wearing faded jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt with a print of a unicorn peeing a rainbow, a complete departure from his usual office attire. He reached out to the wine bottle I was holding and said, “Just the right thing.”

  Daphne held out her bottle. “And what about this one?”

  Lee took it from her. “We could have used five more.”

  “What happened?” I whispered.

  “River wants everything to be perfect.” He gave me and Daphne a once-over and said, “At least you followed her dress code.” Daphne was in a light pink dress, and I was wearing casual dark pants and a dress shirt I found in the back of my closet.

  “Reed and I have a plan,” Daphne whispered. “We’re going to organize a rally and invite an assassin.”

  “Sounds marvelous,” Lee replied, and stepped aside to let us in. It was an overly decorated apartment; the kind that whoever designed it probably wasn’t thinking actual people would inhabit it. Everything was in black and white and clashing angles. It was far nicer than my neon orange room, and significantly less comfortable. The walls were covered in framed posters of movies and musicals.

  In every corner of the house were see-through aquariums filled with water, all devoid of fish. A few had white snowflakes swirling in the water, refracting the light into tiny rainbows, while others displayed whirlpools winding in and out of each other. One of them even had soil and seedlings swaying rhythmically. It was a beautiful water spell.

  River finished setting the table. She was wearing a black and white dress, her hair meticulously tousled in the latest fashion.

  I paused by an aquarium that displayed small steam bubbles popping to the surface in random circles.

  “There’s no fire,” Daphne said, voicing my thoughts.

  “Blaze doesn’t like elemental art,” Lee remarked.

  “Blaze doesn’t not like elemental art,” River said as she approached us. “He just doesn’t like doing things he’s not good at.”

  I introduced her to Daphne. River smiled politely, radiating the usual unease people experience near damuses.

  “You did these?” I pointed at the aquariums.

  River nodded, her smile slightly softening.

  “It’s very nice.” I wasn’t just being polite. When it came to elemental art, the upkeep was tricky. A small wave of pride hit me from Lee’s direction. He was looking at River, proud of his sister.

  We heard the sound of flushing water, and after a moment Blaze appeared in the living room. Everyone stood, smiled and said how happy they were to see each other.

  River led us to the table. Lee poured everyone wine. When he got to me, I put my hand on top of my glass.

  “You aren’t drinking?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t like it.”

  Smiling his thin, impassive smile, he said, “I’ll drink for us both.”

  “Lee,” River blurted with an admonishing tone.

  Lee looked at her, feigning innocence. “Well, at least one of the empaths here has to let loose, don’t you think?” He winked at me and took his seat.

  I smiled reluctantly. He could be charming when he wanted. River was a high-energy physicist with a subspecialty in multiple timelines, and I managed to nod and seem interested when she described her work, without understanding a word of what she said. She and Blaze spent close to fifteen minutes recounting the blunders they had made when trying to reconcile their contrasting powers. I tried laughing at the right places and ignoring the stinging pangs whenever they completed each other’s sentences.

  The conversation moved on to our families; Daphne avoided talking about her father, and I just filled in the silence with anecdotes about our family dinners. We learned that it was only Lee and River’s dad who was American. Their mom was Israeli. Daphne muttered something about people who jump ship and become expats, and I felt a guilt tremor from Blaze’s direction.

  “So,” Lee said, leaning in, “how long have you been having these circles?”

  I pushed all the peas on my plate into a single pile. “I don’t participate in them on a regular basis. Only when Aurora and Forrest decide, or…”

  Blaze snickered and blurted, “Lee is just looking for an excuse to maneuver River.”

  Lee rolled his eyes. “I don’t need an excuse to maneuver my sister.”

  “Maybe not,” River said, cutting the asparagus on her plate with long strokes, “but you better make sure I’m unconscious when you’re done. How many of your sweaters have I already destroyed, five?”

  “Six,” Lee grunted. “And I was actually very fond of the red one.”

  “Then next time don’t maneuver me at Christmas,” River said. She put a piece of asparagus into her mouth and smiled.

  I laughed. Despite myself, I was starting to enjoy this dinner.

  After the meal, River and Blaze stretched out on one of the couches, holding hands, like Guy and Gaia on the beach. Daphne sat down in the armchair. Lee and I exchanged glances. “Want to help me with the dishes?” he asked me.

  When River started to get up, Lee raised his hand, signaling her to stop. “Blaze is dying to ask Daphne about foresight, and you’re dying to show how knowledgeable you are on the subject. We, on the other hand,” he gestured to us both, “are dying not to be in the same room as our ex.”

  River leaned back. Blaze didn’t say a word. I felt their uneasiness.

  “Come,” I said to Lee, and picked up all the plates and cups into a single pile that I balanced in one hand. Lee sent me a wave of admiration. I winked at him. “A waiter, remember?”

  He smiled and led me to the kitchen.

  Behind me, I heard Blaze saying, “You know that foresight contradicts physics?”

  I could imagine Daphne’s polite smile. I knew how much she hated it when people asked about her foresight. It was always the same questions, asking her to read their future or demanding that she change it in their favor.

  I heard her saying, “Yes and no. Only if you think about time as a strict progression of cause to effect. But that’s not how time works. I don’t see things in a linear manner. I see all the possibilities…” I stopped listening. I knew that speech by heart.

  Like the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was meticulously designed, with a polished black marble countertop, red and gray cabinets, a stainless-steel fridge and an oven with a black glass door. It seemed that everything they saved on the rent was put in to the design. I placed the pile of dishes on the counter, and Lee opened a hidden door that revealed a dishwasher.

  I leaned against the counter and asked, “So, you come here often?”

  Lee fed the glasses into the dishwasher. “You want coffee?”

  I smiled. “If you knew me better, you’d ask if I’m up for a quick round of strip D&D monsters.”

  His face broke into a wide smile. “If you knew me better, you’d know I only talk about the 3.5 edition and ignore everything they came out with afterwards.”

  “No wonder we’re both single,” I said, and we burst into laughter.

  Daphne’s voice drifted in from the living room. “There’s a reflection of you and River fighting over one of the dinner courses, and over there there’s a reflection of the couple who used to live here b
usy making out, and there’s one where the door doesn’t even exist, it’s just a metal frame. I can see everything. I choose not to, otherwise I’d go mad.”

  Despite her relatively calm voice, I felt her distress. Out of habit, I smoothed out her feelings.

  “She lets you maneuver her?” Lee asked quietly.

  I nodded. “We have an agreement.” Which we had made during our army days.

  I heard Blaze asking, “So if I ask you what I should wear tomorrow, you’d be able to tell me?”

  “No,” River interjected. “Because it’s insignificant. She already explained it. Minor events don’t carry enough weight for her to see them unless you’re very close to each other.”

  I felt Daphne’s patience wearing thin. I needed to go rescue her. It was my fault she was stuck there. The right thing to do would be to return to the living room and redirect the conversation.

  Lee looked at me and smiled. “So what are the rules to strip monsters?”

  I stuck my hands in my pockets. “One player opens the Monstrous Compendium and reads a name out loud. The other player has to describe the monster’s characteristics. If he gets it wrong, he loses one article of clothing.”

  Lee’s smile widened. “Kobold.”

  Meanwhile in the living room, Daphne was explaining to Blaze and River about the different types of visions. When and why a flooding vision appears, and how damuses’ memories work.

  I tried to remember the characteristics of Kobolds, which was difficult given Lee’s beaming smile and the fact that he kept drawing closer to me. Just half a step, enough to make me conscious of the way I was leaning against the counter, and wonder whether I had something stuck between my teeth.

  My phone rang, breaking my concentration. It was Matthew.

  “Are you there?” he asked, sounding agitated. There was some kind of commotion in the background, people and beeping machines. He must be at the hospital.

  “Yes, but don’t worry. I’m actually not having a bad time.” I made sure to keep my voice low.

  “You’re OK? Really?”

  “Sure, it’s just a dinner.”

  Lee pretended to remove his shirt and pointed at me. I stuck out my tongue. He laughed quietly.

  “There was an attack at the café. They say there are casualties.” There was fear in Matthew’s voice.

  “I…” I tried getting my thoughts straight. An attack. Casualties. And Matthew calling me right away. “I have to go.”

  Lee’s expression immediately hardened. I knew I was radiating urgency. I rushed to the living room.

  “There’s a taxi two blocks from here,” Daphne said to me. “Run southwards.”

  Pointing at Daphne, I said to Lee, “Look after her. She’ll need you to take away the depression if it starts dragging her too far down.”

  River and Blaze stood up. “What happened?” Blaze asked.

  I shook my head, saying, “I don’t know. Matthew said there was an attack at the café. I’m going to make sure everything’s OK.”

  I looked at Lee again.

  “Look after her. Got it. Go,” he said and stepped closer to Daphne, bridging the distance between them.

  I ran down the stairs. Once outside the building, I almost turned north, towards the Sinkhole, until I remembered Daphne’s comment and ran south. Two blocks from Blaze and River’s building, a taxi driver was leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette.

  “Can you take me to the boardwalk?” I didn’t want to maneuver him, but I knew that if he said no, I’d do it.

  “Sure,” he said, tossing the butt onto the curb. “Get in.”

  The taxi reeked of cigarettes. During the ride, I learned that the driver was named Johnny, after the singer Johnny Cash, and that he was about to quit smoking. In fact, that had been his very last cigarette. I felt the fib beneath the words even without giving him a deep read. I went along with the conversation and maneuvered him just a little, just so he’d drive a bit faster than he normally would. I texted my parents, telling them that I was fine and I wasn’t at the Sinkhole when it happened. I sent another text to Aurora.

  The driver dropped me off near the Sinkhole and set off for his next fare, his soul already craving more nicotine.

  People were moving around me. I felt the sorcery here and there, dotting the crowd. I ran towards the café. Blue and red lights flashed all over. I picked up fragments of conversation while elbowing my way inside. The chairs were scattered across the floor.

  Four people in white were loading a stretcher into an ambulance. Daniel was lying on it, an oxygen mask strapped to his face.

  “Excuse me,” one of the police officers said, stopping me. “No unauthorized entry.”

  “He’s my friend,” I said, pointing at Daniel. “I have to be with him.” I didn’t dare maneuver a cop. It could end with a criminal record.

  Remy was sitting by a table, one of the men in white taking his blood pressure. “Let him through,” he called out to the cop. “He’s OK.”

  A female police officer started lecturing him about protocol. He raised his voice and said, “I’m telling you to let him through. Now.”

  The cop let me pass. I ran to Daniel and held his hand. IVs were hooked up to both his arms. He was pale, lying there with his eyes closed. The edges of his shirt were slightly singed. The medics lifted the stretcher into the ambulance. One of them, a woman with long black hair streaked with blue, turned to me and said, “You’re riding with us?”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to let go of Daniel’s hand.

  The medic put her hand on my arm and said, “He’s stable. Don’t worry.”

  I managed to smile, and squeezed into the back of the ambulance, still holding Daniel’s hand. Machines beeped and hummed, and the team called in to the hospital over the radio.

  We got out of the ambulance in front of the ER, and Daniel was wheeled through the heavy, sealed doors of the trauma room. I was left outside with the promise they’d keep me informed, doing my best to seal myself from the pain around me. I stood in the ER, abandoned, and called Matthew. He said he’d be there in a few minutes.

  A nurse in uniform approached me with a stack of forms in her hand. The tight tug in the bottom of my stomach indicated she was a sorcerer. I drew my thumb and index finger into a small circle. She held out her hand, fingers stretched, palm down. A pebble. “Come, you need to sit,” she said. “I’m Lilia. You?”

  “Reed Katz,” I mumbled as she handed me the forms.

  She explained what had happened while I went over the forms, unable to concentrate. A man had walked into the Sinkhole and lobbed fireballs all over the place, hitting three customers, as well as Daniel and the boss. The primary injury Daniel had sustained was deep tissue burn. I looked at the report, the words blurry squiggles. I had to wipe my eyes twice before I could read anything.

  I filled out the emergency contact details. Daniel’s partner, who was pregnant, was on a genealogy trip to Poland with her two girls and her mother. I remembered her first name, but not her last or phone number. I filled out what details I could and handed the form back to the nurse.

  “Can’t remember the rest,” I said. I couldn’t breathe.

  I felt Matthew in the corridor before I saw him. He was in scrubs. He ran to me and took me into his arms, and I broke into tears.

  Lilia made sure Matthew would stay with me before she returned to the trauma room. Matthew led me to a bench. He was pale, and couldn’t stop leaking worry. “When they said there was a casualty, I… I didn’t know what to think.”

  I wanted to calm him down, but didn’t know what to say. For the first time ever, I looked straight at him and said, “If you give me a few moments to get my act together, I can take it away from you.”

  Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Take what away from me?”

  I took a deep breath, and said, “The fear you’re feeling right now. It won’t disappear on its own. I can take it away from you. I’m fine. You don’t need to be scared anymore
.”

  “Are you fucking…” he said, and stepped back from me. “I don’t need you to take away what I’m feeling. I don’t need you to tell me not to worry about my baby brother when there’s some lunatic throwing fireballs at people where he works.” He raised his hand and gestured towards the trauma room behind him. “All I need is the casualty not to be you. That’s all.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “This time.”

  Lilia appeared through the heavy doors. We stood facing each other, while Matthew resumed the formal bearing of a confident surgeon. He grilled her about Daniel. Among the jumble of Latin words the only thing I understood was that the damage to his internal organs wasn’t as severe as they had first thought, and that he would be hospitalized for at least a week and a half, but could expect a full recovery.

  Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much tension I’d been holding in. I collapsed back onto the chair, leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. Matthew sat down beside me.

  “I’m sorry I can’t take it away from you,” he said softly, and placed his hand on my knee.

  I felt a lump in my throat. I looked up at him. “You do plenty. I’m just not used to…”

  “To being on the other side,” he completed my sentence.

  I nodded.

  He looked at the doors to the trauma room and said, “You have no idea how scary it is.”

  “I’m starting to realize.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t take it away from you,” Matthew repeated silently.

  My phone rang.

  “Reed?” It was Lee.

  “Everything’s OK,” I said. “It’s Daniel, the guy who works with me. He’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll go see what’s going on inside,” Matthew said, got up and disappeared through the doors.

  “I can’t find Daphne,” Lee said.

  I felt the lump in my throat tightening. “What happened?”

  He mumbled something I couldn’t make out. I fixed my gaze on the wall in front of me. Green, the plaster peeling at the bottom. People kept passing by me, concealing and revealing more peeling parts.