Well, duh. Did he think she was blind? Tom dropped to the ground with a squelch, backpack over one shoulder, grinning hugely, like he’d just won the lottery.
“You are so dead,” she said, scooting away from him. “You said you’d come straight back. Liar!”
“But I did, Jay-Tee. Honest. Look. I’m here!” He jumped up onto the porch and shook himself. Water went flying everywhere.
“You’re getting me wet!”
“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t look even slightly sorry.
Tom wiped his hands on his jeans and then pulled something blue out of his backpack. “Look, I made it for you. I got the idea when I saw this blue silk fabric poking out from under the bed. I don’t know when I bought it, but just one look at it and I realized…”
Jay-Tee looked. He was holding out a gorgeous top. All blue and shiny, but not in a tacky way; it looked soft, not plasticky. She could imagine wearing it to a fancy restaurant and everyone staring at her ’cause she looked so cool.
“Wow,” she said.
“It’s yours. I made it for you.”
“What?” She stared at him and then at the top he had made. Along all the edges—at the neck, at the bottom, and at the ends of the tiny little sleeves—there was a line of black. He must have sewn that on. “In the last few hours?”
“Yup. Went as fast as I could without, you know, buggering it up. You like?”
“You were sewing?” She’d been going crazy waiting and he’d been sewing.
“Uh-huh,” he said, grinning, looking unbelievably proud of himself.
Jay-Tee felt her pissed-offedness start to crumble.
“So what do you think?”
What did she think? That it was lovely and that he was completely crazy. “It’s gorgeous, Tom. Really, really beautiful.”
“Well, you going to try it on, then?”
Jay-Tee nodded, taking it from him. It felt even softer than it looked. “Wow, Tom. It’s like holding a spiderweb or something. Though, you know, not sticky or gross.”
“Like gossamer, you mean.”
“Gossamer,” she repeated, turning it around. “How do I put it on?”
“Put your arms through the sleeves so the opening’s in back. Got that?”
Jay-Tee nodded and pulled off her T-shirt, feeling a bit self-conscious about Tom seeing her in her bra, and slipped her arms through the sleeves. She reached with her hands to do up the fastenings in back, but she didn’t know how they worked and there were so many of them—she couldn’t see if they lined up. “Um, help? How am I going to do this up on my own?”
Tom laughed. “You can’t. You’ll have to have me around every time you wanna wear it.”
“Jerk!” She grinned and swiveled so her back was toward Tom, giggling as he took forever with the buttons, and kept slipping and touching her back. “Stop it! You’re tickling me!”
When it was all done up, the fabric relaxed around her and then shifted, tightening in places, loosening in others, until it fit perfectly. She’d never worn anything like it before. It must be some kind of special fabric. She stood up, turned around. “What do you think, Tom? It feels great.”
“It’s perfect.” His smile was huge. “A perfect fit. I am a genius! You look amazing, Jay-Tee. Even better than I thought. Or, you know, you would if you weren’t wearing those crappy shorts.”
“Hey,” she said, smacking his shoulder lightly. She looked down and giggled. They were pretty spazzy. “Mere said she’d take me shopping for clothes, but it keeps not happening.” She grinned. “Weird that she hasn’t made it her top priority. It’s not like there’s anything else going on.”
Tom snorted. “Nope, nothing else. Teenage pregnancies. Social workers. Missing mothers—”
“Lots and lots and lots of strange happenings.”
“But you don’t need Esmeralda. You’ve got me. I’ll make you clothes. You’ll need a skirt or pants to go with the top. But, you know, a decent pair of jeans would look great too.”
“You can make jeans?”
Tom snorted. “Of course. I can make anything.” He pushed her toward the bathroom. “Go take a look. Tell me what you think.”
8
In the bathroom mirror, Jay-Tee saw herself dressed in a top so beautiful it could have been spun out of—what had Tom called it?—gossamer, or out of an elf’s breath. Elf’s breath? How lame is that? But then Jay-Tee thought of the golden Cansino man. His breath made solid, that was what this fabric was.
Tom was right. It fit perfectly. Jay-Tee’d never worn anything so gorgeous. She hadn’t seen anything as gorgeous before, not even in a movie with the hugest special effects budget ever.
She twirled, stopped with her back to the mirror, and craned her neck, trying to see what it looked like. She caught a neat row of black buttons on rich blue. “Pretty.”
Jay-Tee couldn’t believe Tom’d made this for her. She wanted to hug him so tight he burst. It was the most spectacularly beautiful top in the history of tops. Hell, it was the best piece of clothing ever. Way better than any crappy wedding dress. Or whatever it was people thought was the most beautiful clothing ever. They were all wrong. This was it.
She spun again, admiring her reflection, the way it shimmered. Just like…
Oh, she thought. Magic. Her eyes began to sting.
She stopped twirling, stared.
How else could it fit her like this? Tom hadn’t even measured her. The fabric moved, had shifted around her until it was just right. No fabric on earth did that. No normal fabric.
Tom’d made it the same way he’d made Reason’s pants. He’d pushed his magic into the cloth so it would do whatever he wanted. Tom’d used his precious magic to make her a pretty top.
All her joy slid from her. How could he throw it away on something so unimportant?
Tom came into the bathroom, still grinning, still pleased with himself. He stood behind Jay-Tee. She watched his reflection in the mirror, saw all the freckles across his face, each hair of his sandy eyebrows and lashes. He seemed farther away than he was. “You like?” he asked.
“How could I not like?” Jay-Tee said, looking at the way the fabric fit her. Her eyes were wet, but she was determined not to cry. “But you shouldn’t have done it.”
He smiled broader, proud of himself. “I had to. Soon as I saw the fabric, I finally knew who it was for: you. I’m so glad you like it, Jay-Tee.” He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. Which felt nice, but how could he be so careless? Didn’t he even want to live to see sixteen?
“Tom!” she yelled, spinning to face him.
He jumped. “What?”
“Are you insane? Do you not pay any attention? Didn’t you notice that I almost died? Twice!”
“Well, of course, I saved your—”
“Yes! You saved my life. With magic! Have you not been listening? Are you blind? It runs out. It ran out on me. I was so close, Tom. I saw the light. I saw the gates to heaven opening.” She hoped it had been heaven. “I really, really did. And you? You’re throwing yours away making me pretty clothes! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” She crossed herself. “And you, Mr. Atheist, you don’t even have the hope of an afterlife!”
“It wasn’t that mu—”
“It doesn’t matter how much! What does Esmeralda say? Once a week. Use it once a week and only a little bit. When was the last time you used yours? Ten minutes ago! And then the day before that and—” She broke off to keep from crying.
“Wow, Jay-Tee. I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do it again. Really, and it’s not like I can help it. When I make clothes it just—”
“Then don’t! I don’t want you to die, Tom. Not because you made me pretty clothes. Not because you already saved my life.”
“I’m not going to die, Jay-Tee.”
“Yes, you are, Tom. Ask Reason. I bet she can see how much magic you have left. How much life you have left. You’re going to die, Tom, and you’re going to die while you’re still youn
g.”
He was like the boyfriend with cancer—with lung cancer, and he keeps smoking. It’d been one thing when she’d been careless with her own life, another thing entirely now that it was Tom, and he was being careless to impress her.
Jay-Tee wasn’t sure she could stand it. The pain in her side had gotten bigger, but she wasn’t sure if she was mad at him for using his magic or for still having it when she didn’t.
A sob escaped her lips. She dodged past Tom before he could grab her and sprinted up the stairs, slammed the door behind her, locked it, and threw herself on the bed.
Jay-Tee sobbed so hard her throat and chest almost burst; she sobbed so that she almost drowned the tiny thought in the back of her mind: Hey, I can still run fast.
24
Jason Blake
We were standing on the footpath outside a tall building in front of a nondescript wooden door. My grandfather headed across the street to a small park without looking back at us.
I searched the scattered lights in the corners of my eyes and sighed. None of the magic in this new place was my mother’s. “She’s not here,” I told Esmeralda.
“He’s lying, then,” Esmeralda said. “No surprise there. But at least we’re still in the States. See?” She pointed to a car that drove past. “Wrong side of the road. Those billboards over there are English. And it’s the same time of day as in New York.”
I nodded. The light was very close to what it had been in New York City, very early morning, with the sun low.
“Do you think you can get the key from him?” Esmeralda asked in a low voice. My grandfather stood on the other side of the street, hands in pockets, watching us.
“Yes,” I said, though I wasn’t sure.
“Well, let’s find out what he wants, then. Maybe he will tell us where Sarafina is.”
I doubted it but crossed the street. If I was strong enough to take the key, then maybe I was strong enough that I could make him take me to my mother.
“She won’t thank us for bringing Esmeralda,” he said, walking towards a low bench beside a path. “She isn’t fond of her.”
“You’re the one who let us through the door. Besides, Sarafina’s not here.” I searched further but still couldn’t find her.
“No,” my grandfather agreed, staring at my eyes, his gaze greedier than Esmeralda’s. “She’s on the other side of a different door. I doubt I can keep your grandmother from going through. It won’t make your mother happy.”
“Let’s go, then,” Esmeralda said.
“Did you not hear me? Your daughter doesn’t want to see you.”
“And I’m not leaving Reason alone with you.”
“Just take me to the door,” I said.
My grandfather put up his hand: for a moment, I thought he was going to touch me. “First we need to talk, you and me.”
“No, we don’t. You kidnapped Sarafina. You’ve been draining her of magic. I have to go to her.” Before it was too late.
“She came with me willingly.” He stared at me as if he couldn’t not look. The opposite of Esmeralda, who could hardly look at me at all. “I’ve taken nothing from her.”
“I don’t believe you,” Esmeralda said.
“It’s true,” he said, staring at me. “Unlike your mother or your grandmother, I’ve yet to lie to you, Reason.”
Esmeralda snorted.
He sat down on a bench, his eyes never leaving me. Esmeralda and I remained standing. A huge, long truck rattled past. I could feel his gaze. It made my skin contract. I looked closely at the pattern of numbers that held him together and then laughed.
Perfect numbers: 6; 28; 496; 8,128; 33,550,336; 8,589,869,056; 137,438,691,328. Numbers that equal the sum of all of their factors. Six is the first one, because 6 = 1 + 2 + 3. Six is also a triangular number and hexagonal too. A very perfect number. Jason Blake would be pleased. Didn’t he think he was perfect? I wondered what would happen if I shifted them, turned them into Mersenne numbers, or primes, or Fibonaccis. Would that make him a better person?
“How do you think doors are made, Reason? Who do you think made them?”
It wasn’t what I expected him to say. “Where’s Sarafina?”
“I will tell you, Reason. I promise. You’ll see her very soon. But there are things we must discuss first. You need to trust me.”
“I trust you even less than I trust Esmeralda.”
Esmeralda looked away.
“I’m sorry,” I told her, because I was. I did want to trust her. I wanted to feel like there was at least one adult on my side. But she’d lied to me and she’d kept things from me. Who was to say there wasn’t more she hadn’t told me?
“Don’t trust me, then,” my grandfather said, “but listen. Then I’ll show you the way to Sarafina.”
Up above, a plane flew over. I had been in a plane. It flew me from Dubbo to Sydney, to Esmeralda and her house with its door to New York. Getting on that plane had completely changed my life. Danny was probably on a plane right now. Or had he already arrived in Sydney?
Just two weeks ago the world had been so much smaller. Much less overwhelming. I had to make myself stay in the real world; the temptation of retreating into Cansino’s world was growing every minute.
“Doors, Reason. How are they made?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Just answer me, Reason.”
I remembered what Esmeralda told me and Tom and Jay-Tee in our one and only formal magic lesson. “Accretion of magic over time. One magic family in the one house—”
“Really? That’s the garbage you’ve been telling them, Esmeralda?”
“It is not gar—”
He waved his hand as if he were sweeping away everything Esmeralda had ever said. “Forget it. How much magic do you think it takes to make a door? Don’t you think it would need a giant kick to collapse space, to contain it between the frames of two doors? Do small amounts over years sound enough to do that? You’ve seen real space now. You’ve flown in it.”
Real space? Was that what he called Cansino’s world? He thought it was the real world?
Was he right?
“Just show me how to get to Sarafina.”
“There’s more than one way, Alexander,” Esmeralda said. “You know that.”
“Think about how much magic it would take, Reason.”
I thought about the magic that made up all the doors I’d seen. Magic I couldn’t break.
“See this place? I grew up here. This is where my family is from. My hometown.”
“We’re in Texas?” Esmeralda asked. He ignored her.
I looked around. The park was mostly grass, not trees. Other than that there was no greenery at all. I could only see two stars above. What a bleak place to grow up.
“I made that door.” For a moment, he took his eyes off me to look back at it. A plain wooden door in a six-storey brick building.
“You made it?” Esmeralda asked, staring at him.
“I did,” he said, pleased with himself. His eyes were back on me. “You glow much brighter than Raul Cansino did.”
“How did you make a door, Alexander?” Esmeralda asked.
“With magic. Lots of magic.”
Esmeralda snorted. “Very informative. How many others have you made?” she asked. He had made a door. I wondered if I could do that. Was that how I was supposed to get to Sarafina?
“None.”
“None? You only made one door?”
“These are the only two places I know well enough. New York and here, where I grew up.”
“Why?” Esmeralda asked.
“You of all people should know. To learn more about what magic is, what we can do. If you knew how to make a door, surely you would.”
Esmeralda looked down, but I could see he was right.
“Okay,” I said. “You made a door. Now take me to my mother.” He wasn’t bargaining with me. He wasn’t attacking me. He wasn’t doing any of the things the Jason Blake I knew would have d
one. Even the staring was out of character. The old Jason Blake wouldn’t have been so obvious. But now he looked at me as if he was a magpie unable to keep from something shiny.
“You’ll see her, Reason. You’ll rescue her like you want to.”
“How did you make the door, Alexander?”
“You can do anything now, Reason,” Jason Blake told me. Then he turned to Esmeralda. “I drew points of light together. From here to New York City.”
Esmeralda clucked her tongue.
Lights flickered in the corners of my eyes. I thought about how much magic it would take to draw them together. “It was easy?”
He laughed. “Easy? No. But it was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Now that I believe!” my grandmother exclaimed. “Other than fathering Sarafina, your life has been a selfish waste.”
Jason Blake fished something out of his pocket and held it out: an ordinary key. “I fashioned it out of air.” I could imagine doing that. He watched my reaction, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he continued. “All I’ve ever wanted, Reason, was to live. To live and use my magic.”
“And steal other people’s,” Esmeralda said.
“Like you haven’t?” he said to her without taking his eyes off me. “You’re no better than I am. You just pretend harder.”
“That’s a lie!”
“And you’ve never lied, have you? When I take magic, I always ask.”
“Because it’s no good to you if you don’t,” she said. “Not because you give a damn about anyone but yourself.”
“You didn’t ask me,” I said, interrupting them. “That first bit of magic Raul Cansino gave me—you stole it.”
“That’s true. I was desperate. I knew he would choose you. I wanted…That was an exception. The only time I stole.”
“Liar,” I said. When he first asked me a question it had been to get magic from me, but his question hadn’t been clear. He had tried to trick me out of my magic. “You might’ve asked, but you didn’t make clear what you were asking for, did you?”
My grandmother looked down again and I knew she had done the same thing, but Jason Blake just shrugged. “It’s not stealing. Technically, anyway. Stealing requires too much magic, not much of a net gain. I was a good little magic-wielder: eking out a life, a tiny bit of magic here, a tiny bit there.” He spat. It landed two metres away.
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