by Sarah Noffke
“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging off his hand on her shoulder and turning around to more carefully take in their surroundings. Since it was after sunset, the happening places in Santa Monica were just getting started with party-goers. Liv thought she’d be sick again as a gang of hipsters cruised past them on rent-a-scooters, nearly knocking them over.
“Get in the bike lane, dipshits,” Liv yelled at the pack. They chortled and sped up.
“Looks like you’re back to your old self,” Plato observed.
“Seriously, they have their very own lane, but they can’t be bothered to use it,” Liv complained.
Clark shook his head. “They’re just tourists who don’t know any better.”
He still had too much patience for dumbasses, Liv realized. Some things never change.
Liv looked around. “So, the entrance to the House?”
Clark grabbed her arm and pulled her down the boardwalk. “It’s closer to the Venice side.”
“Oh, that’s a risky place for the entrance,” Liv observed. “Aren’t the hoity-toity magicians afraid one of the bums is going to rub their germs on them during the commute?”
“They are usually concealed,” Clark explained. “As I mentioned, magic has been at risk. We’ve been taking extra precautions.”
“Which is why the entrance is in Venice instead of Beverly Hills like it used to be,” Liv said mostly to herself.
“There are still three entrances to the House, but the others are only for House royals,” Clark explained.
“That would be you now, wouldn’t it?” Liv asked. Since Reese’s death, that would have automatically made Clark the Councilor for the Beaufont family.
He nodded, surprise springing to his face for a moment. “Yes, I guess it would be. It’s just, I’m not used to it. Everything has been very sudden.”
Liv paused, making the group behind them veer around her. Clark turned at once and looked at her, irritation on his face at first. Then, reading her expression, he softened.
“I’m sorry,” Liv said. “With you popping up randomly to see me and the strangeness of this all, I forgot to say it. I’m sorry about Ian and Reese. You must be devastated.”
Clark nodded, then shook his head. “I am. It’s hard, but we haven’t been close. Not in a long time. Not since Mom and Dad died…and then you left. We’ve all sort of done our own thing, but yes, I miss them very much.”
Ian had always been the pillar of the family, strong and clever. Reese was the eccentric one who dared to dabble in experimental magic. They were their parents’ children and resembled them in many ways. In contrast, Clark was calculating and practical. Their mother said he had been born with a crease between his eyes, as if even as an infant, he was trying to figure out the most efficient solution. Then there was Liv. She was the outcast; the one who was skeptical and constantly getting in trouble for talking out of turn.
A moment later Clark came back to himself, shaking away the grief. “The entrance is right down here. Just a bit farther.”
A moment later and he stopped in front of a doorway on the busy thoroughfare.
“This is it?” Liv asked, wondering if he was joking, although that would be a bit out of character. They stood in front of a black single door with a hand-painted sign that read “Closed.” Around the door was a black and red checkered frame, and above it, a neon sign flashed “Palm Readings.”
The building, which was narrow and seemingly connected to the ones around it, had one window on the second story covered by a set of paisley drapes, with various shadows moving behind it.
“Yes, this is it,” Clark said, rubbing his hands together as if he were cold, although the dragonhide cloak should have prevented that, as it held many protective properties.
“Did the House lose its fortune gambling or something?” Liv asked.
Clark cracked a smile. “No, but remember what I said about magic being at risk? Blending in is more important than ever.”
“Yes, but I’d think a less trafficked area would be safer,” Liv observed.
“You’ll remember that the ocean is a source of energy for the House, which is important,” Clark explained. “And no one notices much here, with everything going on. We’re much more susceptible to scrutiny in areas where people don’t come and go frequently.”
Liv looked at the colorful shops selling postcards and t-shirts or bars filled with hippies with thick beards and surfers in tank tops. Across the way, a musician sat on a bucket playing a harmonica. Beside him a woman danced, wiggling her bare midriff to the music. Liv turned back to the Palm Reading shop. This place definitely fit into the strangeness that was Venice beach.
“So what do we do?” Liv asked her brother.
He held up his hand. “It’s a Palm Reading place, so let it read your palm.” Clark stepped up and pressed his hand to the front of the door under the sign that read “Closed.” A moment later the golden handle glowed faintly and the door clicked open, sending a strange musty smell through the air. Clark pushed the door open, disappearing into the blackness. “Just do as I did and you should be fine. This door will automatically shut behind me.”
Liv was about to protest, but Clark was gone. She hiccupped on a ragged breath. “How does he know it will work? I abdicated.”
“You have the blood of the Seven,” Plato, who sat by her feet, said calmly. “It will work.”
Liv sighed. “Yeah, and if it doesn’t, I can forget this mess and get back to normal life.”
She stepped up to the door and held her breath. This was it. After all these years of declaring she never would, she was about to step across the threshold into the world she’d wanted nothing to do with for so long. She didn’t feel an instinct telling her to embrace this challenge or run from it. All she felt was the steady ticking in her heart.
“There is no right or wrong path,” Plato told her.
Liv dropped her raised hand. “Huh?”
“You’re wondering if this is right or wrong, but I suspect your path will find you whether you willingly walk through this door or you don’t,” he clarified.
Liv grumbled, “I’m not sure I like your sage wisdom right now. It feels too much like a riddle.” Something occurred to her, and she abruptly looked down at the cat. “How will you get in?”
His green eyes shone in the dark, reflecting the neon lights of the sign above. “You shouldn’t worry about me.”
“But the House will have wards to keep intruders like you from entering!”
“I’m sure they do,” Plato stated confidently. “Now, go on. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Liv laughed. “I think they can wait a little longer. Actually, I’m starving. Want to grab a hotdog?” She indicated to a street vendor down the way selling sweaty hotdogs and mushy buns that had been in the humid sea air too long.
Plato sniffed. “You don’t want whatever they’re passing off as hotdogs. However, the fish tacos over there are up to standards.” He nodded in the direction of a food truck.
Liv grimaced. “Why people ruin tacos by putting fish in them, I’ll never know. I think I’d rather have one of those slices of pizza the size of my face.”
The door opened abruptly and Clark peeked through. “Are you coming?”
Liv sighed. “Yeah, yeah,” she sang, looking back down at Plato. “Pizza the size of my face straight after this. Oh, and an ice-cold beer.”
“Fish tacos,” he repeated.
Liv stepped up to the door, wiping her sweating palms on her jeans. She could only imagine the myriad of germs on the door from all the dirty magicians who had pressed their hands to it. She tried to forget that and stuck her hand on the weathered surface.
Under her fingertips, the door rattled slightly. She was sure she only felt it, and no one could see the tremor that seemed to spasm out in all directions. For an instant, she was certain it hadn’t worked and she’d been rejected entry, then the door popped open dramatically—not like when it had creaked o
pen and Clark had entered. This time it swung back, revealing blackness before her.
That musty smell tickled her nose again, reminding her of playing with Clark in the library during her childhood. Practicing braiding her mother’s hair on Sunday mornings. Skipping into the kitchen for an afternoon tart. It brought to mind everything she’d been trying all these years to forget. Liv felt the ticking of her heart, like it was a motor propelling her forward. She took a step and entered the blackness.
Chapter Five
The door shut with a loud bang behind Liv, and for a moment, she was blind. She squinted in the darkness, feeling helpless and hating it. And then firelight flickered down a long corridor, making her squint from the sudden brightness.
Liv didn’t remember that the entry into the House of Seven was arched with intricate symbols adorning the walls or that the various archways were elegantly carved in beautiful mahogany. They rose to the ceiling, which had to be over thirty feet tall. The gold-flecked paint on the walls looked like it belonged in a thousand-year-old church, yet she knew from that musty smell she was standing in the House of Seven.
Why don’t I remember this? she wondered, studying the tiled floor under her feet. It was a mosaic of sea glass in a conglomeration of soft greens and blues.
Down the long corridor, seemingly a million miles away, was Clark, looking impatient. He kept glaring over his shoulder at something in the next room and waving her forward.
Liv didn’t hurry but instead took a tentative step, running her fingers along the walls. As she did, sparks radiated from her fingertips, lighting up the symbols, which she couldn’t read. She yanked her hand back, worried she’d be shocked.
“It’s the ancient language of the founding families,” Plato said from Liv’s side.
She startled, pulling her hand away. “You made it through?”
He gave her a smug look that said, “Of course I did” and returned his attention to the wall.
“Can you read any of the symbols?” he asked.
Liv squinted at a set of lines in front of her that were joined by a thick squiggle. “No, I don’t think so. Why have I never seen this entrance or these symbols before?”
Plato strolled several feet past Liv before turning back to her. “I believe you have been through here, but the entrance to the House of Seven would have appeared different to you before. Now that you’re a Royal, a certain magic has been unlocked within you. The language of the founders, for instance, can only be read by a Councilor or a Warrior.”
Liv looked at the wall of symbols and then at Plato. “But you can see the symbols? And the corridor as a grand entrance?”
Again, the cat gave her an annoyed look. “Certain restrictions don’t apply to me.”
Hence why Plato was in the House of the Seven, Liv thought. “When I was a child, this entrance was shorter and dark. Plain.”
“That was how you saw it,” Plato corrected. “Things rarely change in our environment. When we see things differently, it is usually we who have changed.”
“But I haven’t changed,” Liv argued. “I haven’t accepted the Warrior role, and my magic hasn’t been unlocked.”
“Yes, but it is still your birthright,” Plato replied. “Therefore, you see all of this as a Warrior would until you turn down your position.”
Suddenly Liv didn’t want to decline—not if it meant the corridor would be cast in blackness again. She’d never been enticed by magic, unlike others in her family—like Clark and Reese. However, this magic felt different. It felt ancient and worth protecting. She ran her hand over the wall again, relishing the way the symbols lit up and danced as she touched them.
“Why do they do that?” she asked.
“The language of the Founders lies dormant, begging to be read,” Plato explained.
“But you said Councilors and Warriors could read it.”
“Just because they can doesn’t mean they do.” Plato’s tail swayed in the air as he continued down the corridor. “Men are capable of doing acrobatics and other incredible physical acts, but that doesn’t mean they do.”
“So the ancient language wants to be read, like a living, breathing thing that wants attention?” Liv asked.
“The language was constructed to hold magic,” Plato answered. “And as much as you might have reservations about it, magic is very much alive.”
Liv stared at the massive wall of symbols before her, entranced. There was so much information here, and she didn’t understand any of it. What was the language of the Founders trying to say? She felt like the messages were humming in her head, tempting her to understand.
“Okay, I really have to insist that you come along now,” Clark said from a few feet away.
Liv hadn’t noticed him approaching.
“I know the entrance hall is mesmerizing the first time you see it as a Royal, but we can’t keep them waiting,” Clark continued. His hands were on his hips, and that impatient look was still on his face.
“So you see them too?” Liv asked, reaching toward the symbols again.
“Yes,” Clark breathed. “They are beautiful.”
“Can you read them?” she asked, making Plato turn around and look at them with a curious expression on his face.
Clark’s brow creased. “Read them? I don’t think anyone can. The language has been lost for ages.”
“How is that possible?” Liv asked. “Councilors and Warriors should be able to read it.”
Clark gave Plato a disgusted look. “Don’t listen to everything the lynx says. We are able to see the ancient language, that’s it. Its meaning was locked away long ago in order to protect the magic it holds.”
Something in Plato’s expression made Liv think that wasn’t entirely true, but who should she believe on these matters? Her brother, raised and educated in the House of Seven, or Plato, who she really knew nothing about other than that he liked to eat the plain corn chips when she got nachos, insisting she peel the toppings off them.
“The Seven are waiting for you,” Clark said, holding out his arm to Liv. “Shall we?”
It was such an odd gesture for him to make to her, but then standing here in the House of Seven with him was also completely bizarre. Her list of unexpected things was growing.
“Isn’t it just the Six if we’re not there?” Liv asked, rejecting his offered arm and marching forward.
“Ha-ha, Olivia,” Clark said with no humor in his voice. “The Seven refers to the pact that was made between the families. We are simply the servants chosen by the House.”
“Servants? You’re totally not selling this Warrior business,” Liv said, her eyes on the sparkling walls. “And your listening skills are horrible. My name is Liv. Olivia was someone else. Call me that again and I’ll put you in a headlock.”
A minute smile cracked Clark’s face. “You’ll have to get a stepstool first.”
“Oh, look who has told their first joke?” Liv said as they neared the end of the hallway. “It’s about damn time.”
Clark strode forward, halting in front of Liv where the hallway split. It continued into darkness, although small wisps of light could be seen in the distance. To the left was a door the size of a small house, and to the right was a mirrored door. It appeared like the surface of water, rippling with distortions. Liv wanted to step around Clark for a closer look but he held his hand out, sensing her curiosity.
“You must pass through the Wall of Reflection to enter the Chamber of the Tree,” Clark informed her in a tight whisper. “At first it’s a bit jarring, but remember that what you experience, no one else sees. Only you. Also, it’s important to know that it’s not real, although it will feel like it is.”
“Wait, I have to walk through that mirrored door to get to the Seven?” Liv asked, making a complete turn. She remembered the massive door, or rather, what was on the other side of it—the cold dark hallway that had seemed to be a part of her nightmares when she was a child. She never wanted to venture down there again, but
the mirrored door was like the entrance. She hadn’t seen it before.
“Yes, all Royals are expected to pass through the Wall of Reflection every day when we meet,” Clark explained. “It’s supposed to be a purifying technique, so we shed our baggage and bring only our best intentions for protecting magic.”
“That sounds like something a dumb vegan would do,” Liv said dryly. “Do we have to do a juice cleanse afterward and meditate?”
The impatience on Clark’s face flared. “Liv, this is serious. Just remember that whatever you see in the mirror is for your eyes only. Deal with it as best you can and then walk through the door. I’ll be on the other side waiting for you.”
He pivoted sharply and regarded the mirrored door with a focused look for a moment before striding forward. As if he were stepping into a pool of water, the reflective surface swallowed him gradually until he was gone.
Liv looked down at Plato and gulped. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter Six
Liv’s reflection blinked at her. She looked the same as she always did, although she felt entirely different. Her blonde hair was windswept from being on the beach, and the lack of sleep was starting to show in her tired eyes. Liv pushed her wavy hair behind her ears and offered her reflection a forced smile.
“Okay, just walk through that mirrored surface,” Liv told herself. “I can do this. How hard can it be?”
She started forward but halted, looking at Plato. “Are you going through too? Can you?”
He nodded. “This isn’t the same obstacle for me, but yes, I’ll be there.”
Liv eyed him skeptically. “One of these days you’re going to tell me how you do all this voodoo.”
The feline sauntered forward. Just before he entered the mirrored door, he looked back at her. “We both know that would spoil the magic for you. Better to keep up the veil.”
Liv laughed as Plato disappeared. “Damn cat thinks he knows everything.”
