by Penni Russon
The city was quiet, almost deserted apart from the occasional car crawling slowly up the street. Were they really driving that slow, or had time started to bend for Undine? The world seemed unnatural, unlikely. The beating of her heart was pulsing inside her ears, she could hear blood’s rhythm swirling. The pungent, sickly sweet smell of smoke filled the air and her eyes were stinging. Behind her she knew smoke billowed into the sky from the mountainside, but she didn’t look behind her. She had to keep moving.
The Silver Moon was quiet too. Liv and Phoenix held each other as they danced slowly to the music. Undine pushed the door open.
‘We’re not open,’ Liv said.
Undine ignored her. ‘Phoenix!’
Liv looked at Phoenix. ‘You do know her!’ she said.
‘Jasper’s missing,’ Undine said, crossing the room. ‘Where is he?’
‘Jasper?’ he said, and she could see Jasper’s own wide eyes in Phoenix’s face, as if he’d just woken, disoriented, from a dream.
‘What’s going on?’ Liv asked.
‘You say you’re not my enemy,’ Undine implored. ‘Prove it. Help me.’
Phoenix shook his head helplessly. ‘I can’t.’
Undine stared at him disbelievingly. ‘But … you must want this. You must want to save him.’
His expression hardened. ‘Go away. I can’t help you.’ Undine felt anger rising up in her and with it the magic welled, like black, toxic water.
‘You can! I know you can. I know who you are,’ Undine said. Liv looked from Undine to Phoenix.
‘What’s going on?’ Liv asked him. ‘Who are you?’
‘Don’t listen to her. I’m no one,’ Phoenix murmured to Liv. He turned to Undine. ‘It has to happen like this,’ he said. ‘It’s already happened. I can’t change it. Neither can you.’
‘Like hell I can’t!’ Undine grabbed his arm. ‘He’s four years old. He’s got his whole life ahead of him.’
‘My whole life. Don’t you get it?’
‘I’ve seen your life. You can’t want that for him.’
He shook her off. ‘I already told you … This is who he is. It can’t be undone. Not without undoing me.’
‘What’s going on?’ Liv asked. ‘Who’s Jasper?’ Liv was looking at Undine. She seemed deliberately not to look at Phoenix, as if she didn’t know how to look at him all of a sudden.
But to Undine, who could feel the magic rising up inside her, Liv was a high, inarticulate whine, like a buzzing insect. Undine raised an arm as if to swat her away, but Phoenix grabbed it, twisting it down to Undine’s side, as if he had sensed the magic building in her and knew what she, in her anger, was capable of. ‘Not here,’ he said gently. ‘Not now. We’ll go outside, together. This isn’t going to help Jasper.’
Undine tensed, ready to fight him. But what was she doing? Letting the magic take over again? She didn’t want to hurt anyone, she wanted to help Jasper. Outside she would try again, calmly. She could make Phoenix see.
The radio, which had been burbling to itself in the background, suddenly turned urgent, the music interrupted by a news break.
‘Turn it up,’ she said to Liv. ‘I missed it. What did they say?’ Liv looked dumbly from Phoenix to Undine. ‘The fire. What did they say?’
‘They said they’re evacuating the houses on Camelot Drive,’ Liv mumbled. ‘The fire’s crossed the mountain road.’
‘Jasper,’ Undine whispered. She looked at Phoenix. ‘Tell me, is this it? Is this why you’re … why you’re like that? Is this why you’re in a coma?’
Phoenix looked at her, his face stricken.
‘You’re in a coma?’ Liv said incredulously. ‘What’s going on?’
‘No.’ Phoenix went over and grabbed Liv’s hand. She flinched away. ‘No. Of course I’m not. I’m here.’ He turned back to Undine and she saw Jasper in his grey eyes. ‘I belong here. This is where I want to be.’
She faltered. Could it be true? Could Phoenix make this decision for Jasper? Was it Phoenix’s decision to make?
But Jasper was only four years old, she couldn’t just leave him out there alone … Suddenly she dived her hand into Phoenix’s pocket and pulled out the silver coin he had tossed her that morning. She held it up as if to use it. Phoenix laughed. ‘It’s a prop. It’s nothing. It’s a coin I picked up from the ground. It doesn’t do anything.’
Undine looked down at it. ‘But I … I dropped it and … then I was gone. I couldn’t stay.’
Phoenix shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘But I couldn’t … stay …’ Nothing? Then she begged, ‘It doesn’t matter. Help me. I can’t control it like you can. I can’t make it do what I need it to do, it’s too big.’
‘Help you? Why would I want to do that? Look at me. I’m here, aren’t I? It’s how I am. It’s who I am. You don’t get it. This is what I want. I want the fire. Because it brings me here. This is the life I choose. This is my choice. Now is my choice.’
‘I can’t let you,’ Undine said. ‘I won’t let you choose … I have to save him,’ she whispered. ‘This is what I came back here to do. This is why I left Stephen … I’m so sure of that now.’
Phoenix’s grip was firm though his hands were gentle. ‘If you go to him, if you pull him out of that fire, you won’t be saving him, you’ll be killing me. You need to stop,’ he said. ‘The magic, it isn’t for this …’
‘Why do you get to decide what the magic is for?’ She tried to pull free but he held on to her.
‘Why do you? What right have you got?’ Phoenix said, shaking her a little, but not enough to hurt. ‘You left. You’re always leaving. This is my life.’
For a moment Undine blinked, confused again. Did Phoenix … did Phoenix own Jasper? But there was something else. ‘It’s my magic,’ she said. ‘It’s my fire.’
‘No it isn’t,’ Phoenix replied. But his voice wavered.
Undine nodded. ‘Yes. It is. Last night I made a storm. I tried to make it rain but … but I couldn’t.’
‘You made a storm?’ Liv said.
Undine looked over at her. The magic was rolling in Undine now, in sickening waves. She was longing to unleash it. ‘Does she have to be here?’ she asked.
‘It’s you who should go,’ Phoenix said. ‘You’re finished here.’
Undine crossed her arms over her chest. She could feel the magic through her arms, in her ribcage, amassing at her core. ‘He’s four years old. He’s just a baby.’
‘No he’s not. He’s grown. He’s past. He lives in here.’ Phoenix rested a hand on his chest.
Undine stared at him. ‘No he doesn’t,’ she said softly, her voice lilting. ‘He lives with me.’ And with absolute clarity, she realised that she didn’t care anymore. This wasn’t about who was right, it was about who was strongest. ‘It’s not my past,’ she said. ‘This is my future.’
Magic travelled through her, noisy in her blood, hot and caustic in her veins. Phoenix saw it. She heard him shout, ‘Liv, get out of here. Now!’ But to Undine, Liv was very far away, she was tiny, a fleck, a beetle. She didn’t care about Liv.
A white kind of rage filled her sight, her mind. She felt the magic change her. She felt herself becoming. Unbecoming. The girl was almost gone. Everything she’d been pressing in, all of it: Stephen, Prospero, Lou, Trout, Grunt – the hardness of it all, sadness, grief, anger. It all came rushing upwards, burning her nostrils, her throat, her eyes. It flooded out of her.
Jasper. She was here for Jasper. Her vision cleared. The room spun around her. She could feel the magic in every follicle, prickling through her skin as if it was leaking into her as well as out of her. ‘It’s Jasper’s future. This world, this time … it belongs to him.’ She grabbed Phoenix by the hair with one hand and by the throat with the other. He was strong, his magic flowed out of him, filling the air with a carnival of red. But she was stronger. She put her face close to his and screamed and out of her the blackness came and it swallowed him whole.
Un
dine was alone. In the end, Undine was always alone.
The magic coursed through her and out of her. She spilled out, as though the extremes of her body were too thin, too weak to contain her.
She looked down at the silver disk in her hand, but she’d forgotten what it meant. The magic was undoing her, causing her to become something other than herself. She sat down on the floor, still holding the disk, turning it over in her fingers. What was she doing? She was looking for something. But what?
She heard a door open and shut. Someone stepped over fallen tables and broken chairs, coughed as they inhaled the rising dust. Door? she thought numbly. Chair? Table? What did they mean?
Waitress. Liv. She could smell her, the combined fragrances of girl and cake, soft and musky, sweet but also bitter. Undine gagged on the smell.
‘Oh my god. What have you done? What have you done?’
Chair. Table. Dust. Everything was dust.
‘Everybody’s gone,’ said Undine.
‘Where’s Phoenix?’ Liv asked.
Undine looked hazily around her. ‘I’m sorry I broke your café,’ she said to Liv. ‘It’s nice.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t like the girls.’
‘What girls?’
‘The big girls. They were mean.’ Undine blinked, trying to remember. It was a dream she’d had. She’d dreamed she was a girl and she went to parties and cafés and had a brother and wore cap-sleeved, v-neck t-shirts and … no, she was getting mixed up. She was never that girl. She turned the coin over again. ‘Everybody’s gone. They’re all moving on. They’re gone.’ She looked at Liv and said, conversationally, ‘Grunt’s got a list.’
Liv slapped her hard across the face. ‘Where’s Phoenix?’
‘Don’t do that,’ Undine said, grabbing Liv’s wrist. The magic sparked. She could squish her, that annoying, buzzing girl. She might.
Liv grabbed the coin out of Undine’s hand and flung it away. It rolled into a corner of the room and spun in diminishing circles until it clattered to the floor.
‘Where is Phoenix?’
Phoenix. Undine closed her eyes. Jasper. The magic had taken everything from her. Her fathers, her brothers. Trout and Trout. There had been two of everything and now there was nothing.
‘Phoenix is living the life he asked for. He’s sleeping. I sent him back there.’
‘He’s just … he’s just gone?’
Undine shook her head. ‘You’re confusing me,’ she said. She held her head. ‘Noise. Noise. You think I’m small. I’m not small. You think I’ll fly apart.’ Undine stood up. She was speaking to Liv, but she wasn’t seeing Liv, she was seeing behind Liv, through Liv. ‘Grunt’s got a list. I’m strong.’
‘Who … what are you?’ asked Liv.
Undine glanced with interested sympathy at Liv’s tear-stained face, her pale round flat cheeks. ‘Cry. Oceans. Rivers. Rain.’ She walked over to the wall. Some of Trout’s photographs still hung there, though chunks of plaster had crumbled away exposing brick and beams behind it. She looked at the one she had admired just yesterday. She remembered it. The bottle. The essence of the bottle.
‘Ring Trout Montmorency,’ Undine told Liv. ‘You need him. He’s good for things like this.’ She bent over and picked up the coin. ‘I’m sorry. I think I’m going to wreck it a bit more,’ Undine said. ‘But he’s my brother. I will bring him home.’
The grey voice whistled into the room. ‘Sister. You’re so close.’ The voice was cold as it blew through the café. ‘You’re close. Come closer. You’re from the same place as me. Your skull is a cave. Your heart is a room for hiding in. The world is pouring out. Let it bleed. Black blood, dark heart. Let it bleed. Let the heart cave in.’
‘Quiet your voices,’ Undine shouted at the magic, which swelled and shrank like a living ocean, trapped in the café’s confines. ‘I need to see.’
Undine looked. She stood in the middle of the café, fiercely looking. There it was. There. The heightened silk of space. She reached forward with her mind, stroking its fine silvery threads. Then she began to burrow, teasing the threads apart. She looked back over her shoulder at Liv, hunched miserably in a corner of the café, her arms wrapped around her knees.
‘Ring Trout,’ Undine said again, quite crossly, as if Liv should have done it by now. Then she stepped through space, through it and Liv, the café, the world behind her, disappeared and were nothing.
Reina unlocked the door. Trout stood behind her. He was buzzing inside, he’d never felt so … pure. Like in old movies when fathers asked suitors what their intentions were. His were pure. This was what it was like to be in love. Real love. Not tortured, painful unrequited love. This was like a mirror looking into a mirror, reflecting back its own silvery light.
Reina picked up the phone to listen to a voicemail message.
‘It’s for you,’ Reina said, holding out the phone. ‘It’s Liv. She sounds wrecked.’
Phoenix opened his eyes, blinking. Something protruded into his back. He was lying on the ground in the hospital courtyard, rubble beneath him. His head pounded, he could feel his heart pumping blood, hear the rushing of it in his ears.
He sat up and stretched his body. He was sore all over, as though he’d been in a bar fight. Somehow Undine had thrust him from the Silver Moon Café and propelled him back here. Remembering Undine, he groaned. Liv. He had to get back to her.
He walked out onto the street. The sky was blue, there was no smoky haze. He frowned. In the mall, there was a large adorned Christmas tree, street decorations swung overhead. Shop windows advertised Christmas specials: ‘Ten Shopping Days Till Christmas!’ announced one sign. So he’d come backwards in time, he was back at the beginning of summer. His summer? He quickened his step.
Yes. There was Liv waiting tables, delivering piled plates of cake – Phoenix could smell peaches and almonds – and steaming coffee. When Phoenix walked in she looked up and a wide, natural smile erupted across her face. This was his summer.
‘It’s you again,’ she said.
Early summer, their early days. It’s not love yet, but it’s close. He closed his eyes, trying to hold onto the moment, make it stay, but moments slip and slide, he couldn’t hold it.
‘What can I get you?’ Liv asked.
‘Nothing,’ Phoenix said. ‘Just sit with me awhile.’
Liv glanced at her customers. They were happily engaged with their cake and each other. Liv sat on a chair and Phoenix pulled one up beside her.
Phoenix stared at her face. Was she different then? Before she loved him? Did she seem … lighter? Was life easier for her before him?
‘Are you all right?’ Liv asked.
‘I can’t stay long,’ Phoenix replied.
‘You never stay long,’ Liv teased. ‘Where do you go?’
‘Around. Around and around.’
‘Well I can see how that would be considered important work.’
Phoenix smiled, but his smile was sad.
‘No, really,’ Liv said, studying him. ‘Something is wrong. Are you okay?’
‘I am now.’
Liv smiled. Phoenix breathed in. Peaches, light, fragrant, sweet, and almonds, pale and mealy, earthy.
‘You promised to show me a trick,’ Liv said.
‘Did I?’
‘Something spectacular.’
‘How about this?’ Phoenix leaned forward and kissed her. He wove his hand into her hair. For Liv, it was their first kiss. It might be Phoenix’s last.
He pulled away.
Liv blinked, dazed. She nodded. ‘That was pretty spectacular.’ She tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. ‘I still want my trick,’ she said.
Phoenix laughed.
‘Are you crying?’ Liv asked, looking at his glinting eyes.
‘It’s an illusion. Just the lights.’ He stood up. ‘I really do have to go.’
Liv stood too. ‘Goodbye,’ she said reluctantly. ‘You always seem to be leaving. Will you ever stay?’
Phoenix held her close. Into
her hair he whispered, ‘This time, I really don’t know how to.’ He could feel himself being pulled, pulled back to that body on the bed. It was like gravity, something working its force on his body’s axis.
Liv into looked at his face searchingly. ‘Don’t … Don’t ever leave without saying goodbye. Don’t just vanish.’
But Phoenix shook his head helplessly. ‘I won’t mean to, but if the rain comes,’ Phoenix said. ‘If the rain ever comes …’
‘The rain?’
‘I might not be able to …’
‘But it has to rain sometime!’
‘You’ll know. You’ll know if it’s the right rain.’
Liv shook her head. ‘I don’t even know if you’re serious. I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Phoenix held out his hand and opened it. There, sitting on his palm, was an intensely violet, velvety butterfly. It’s antennae quivered, as if it were frightened, or possibly just curious about the world it had been magicked into. Liv laughed.
‘It’s a good trick,’ she said. ‘I love it. Thank you.’ She reached forward and he tipped it into her hand. It stepped over onto the bumpy landscape of her skin. As the door shut behind Phoenix, he heard her say ‘Oh!’, as the butterfly vanished into thin air.
‘Goodbye, Liv,’ Phoenix said. He closed his eyes again. The moment slid away. ‘Goodbye.’
The café looked as if a cyclone had sucked it up and spat it out again.
‘Oh my god,’ Reina said, looking in the window. ‘Look at this place. What could do this?’
Trout knew. ‘Undine.’
‘What?’ Reina looked at Trout incredulously. ‘What do you mean?’
Trout was grim. ‘You asked what could do this. Well, that’s the answer. The answer is Undine.’
‘No!’ She hadn’t meant to come here, to this place, the grey place. She grabbed her forehead. She was trying to move closer to Jasper, but every step was taking her further away. She looked around. Although it was still grey, it was still bleak, it wasn’t quite nowhere anymore. In fact, Undine recognised, it was the Bay, or a version of the Bay at least, though dull and grey and kind of flickery, as if she’d entered a very old and poorly kept black and white film.
