Mage Catalyst

by George, Christopher

  We both walked from the locker hall into the gloomy Melbourne evening. Every Friday I took the train into the city to stay with my father. I had already arranged for Tony to stay the night with me and Dad earlier that week.

  I really didn’t like spending time at Dad’s place. He was hardly ever there and apart from the huge TV there was precious little to do by yourself in the city. I’d much rather spend the time at home with my mum and friends nearby. The only thing I looked forward to was a morning ritual where Dad would get up early to walk down to the bakery and purchase the crispest loaf of bread he could find. He would then come home and cook bacon and eggs. You can’t beat waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning. Lately, however, Dad had taken to offering cornflakes and excusing himself immediately after breakfast and heading back into the office. I then usually finished my breakfast in silence and found some way to entertain myself for the remainder of the day.

  The Sunday breakfast tradition dated back to my dad’s father. It was something that we’d done for as long as I could remember. Among my earliest memories were waking up weekend mornings to the smell of cooking bacon, a side of tomatoes and over-easy eggs. Despite divorce and three changes of jobs for Dad, we had still kept our little Sunday morning ritual – until now it seemed.

  Dad’s apartment was a short walk from Flinders Street Station, almost right in the centre of Melbourne’s business district, just off Elizabeth Street. Sarah had arranged to meet us at the gig at 9pm. Her brother was driving into the city that night anyway and could easily drop her off and pick her up again later. I’d met her brother only a few times and hadn’t really formed an opinion. He was pretty quiet whenever I was around at Sarah’s but he seemed cool enough. He worked as a mobile mechanic and spent much of his time on the road.

  It was dark by the time we got to Dad’s apartment, and as I had predicted Dad had left a note indicating he’d be working back late in the office. Tony and I hung out at Dad’s for an hour or two until it was time to go.

  The journey to Fitzroy was uneventful. It was only a ten-minute tram ride, followed by a short walk. We didn’t have trouble finding the gig either – there were flyers all over the place. The place looked kind of rough though. Two thug-like bouncers stood outside the doors, scowling.

  This would be the first time I’d used my ID to get into a club and I was nervous. I didn’t have my driver’s licence. I had my learner’s permit but I’d lost the actual card and had never replaced it. I’d brought along my passport, which I’d heard was valid ID. I hoped this would be okay. No line had formed yet outside the club. The bouncers looked down at me with their condescending gaze and I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. I tentatively presented my ID to them and they grunted and waved me in. Well, that was easy.

  There was a small booth just inside the door with a bored lady behind the counter. Tony passed the young lady cash through a small slot and she pressed a small ink stamp against each of our wrists, which proudly proclaimed “Paid”, and gestured towards the door to our right.

  The club was divided into two sections with a large stage area dividing them in the centre of the room. The sound of the band currently playing drowned out all conversation as we walked in. The band consisted of three guys, two on guitars and the other on drums. I couldn’t quite make out the lyrics over the insistent whine of the guitars. I can’t say I was overly impressed, though maybe if I could have actually heard the singer it might have been different.

  Tony wandered over to the bar, ordered some drinks and directed us to a booth. The band was obviously nearing the end of their set as both guitarists had a thick sheen of sweat covering their foreheads and both looked pretty beat.

  Tony sat back with a contented grin as he turned to look at the band. I had a beer in one hand and my foot was tapping in time to the music. It suddenly hit me – this was the best I’d felt all week. The pounding in my head had long gone. I hadn’t slept too well last night but I wasn’t actually feeling all that bad.

  Maybe all my issues had just been related to stress? Now if I could just figure what I had been stressed about. I wasn’t completely healed though – I could still see the blue lights pulsing through my flesh but I’d had all week to get used to that. I was quickly developing the ability to ignore it. It’s kind of funny how given practice even the most strange things can be made mundane. The effect was a little more frantic than usual this evening, but it came and went in intensity throughout the day so I wasn’t worried. I couldn’t really figure out if there was a pattern to it or not. Hopefully that too would disappear in a few days, or maybe it was just something I’d need to learn to live with.

  For all I knew, hundreds of people could see blue lines on their bodies, but no-one ever spoke about it. No, probably not, but the thought was a little comforting nonetheless. Smiling to myself I pushed all such thoughts out of my head. I was going to have fun tonight and worry about my magically glowing skin later.

  I gestured to Tony a thumbs up. Conversation was out of the question as the music drowned out everything. I saw Tony get to his feet, grinning broadly, and wave to Sarah who had just walked into the bar. She was dressed in a slim black shirt and denim jeans, and I’ve got to admit she looked pretty hot. I nodded in way of greeting as she joined us at the table. She casually looped her arm through Tony’s and slid in next to him.

  “Thank you, Melbourne!” the singer with the Mohawk shrieked. It was the only time I got to actually hear his voice. I guessed he was hoarse from trying to sing louder than the guitars and not suffering from a six-day-old throat infection, which is how his voice sounded.

  The house music returned as the band began packing up their gear. It seemed like a lot of effort for about forty minutes of playing. I watched them lug their equipment off the stage and out a side door. The house music was softer than the band and we could hear the dull murmur of multiple conversations fill the club.

  “I’ll buy you a drink,” I said to Sarah. “What would you like?” This would be the first time I’d ordered something and I was dying to use my ID. I’d brought it from home specifically for this.

  “House red?” She smiled back, getting out her purse.

  “This one’s on me.” I got to my feet and headed towards the bar. Since we had gotten in, the crowd had almost doubled in size. It was getting kind of hard to make my way through them. We were lucky to have our booth now. It took me some time to work my way through the crowd to get to the bar.

  “House red and two beers,” I shouted as I finally attracted the bartender’s attention, frantically waving my ID at him.

  He pushed my ID, but seemed to get some amusement from my eagerness to present it. Seconds later he produced our drinks. Working my way back to our booth required more skill as the place was filling up fast. I sat down just in time to watch the next band begin to set up.

  “These are them,” Tony proclaimed, pointing at the band as I set our drinks down on the table.

  This band was much larger than the previous – two guitarists, a drummer, a lead singer and a keyboardist. It was actually pretty amazing how quickly the band was able to set up all their equipment, considering the complexity. Then again I suppose that you’d get pretty good at it once you’d done enough gigs.

  The lead singer purred loudly into the mike and began to pump her foot on the ground. The keyboardist lay down a complex series of notes and seconds later the guitarist broke in, weaving the guitar around the keyboard. It was intoxicating. This band was good – really good. I wasn’t surprised – Tony was normally pretty skilled at picking the good bands.

  I was stunned into silence and sat and watched as the singer finally began to sing. Her voice pierced into my head with startling clarity and I found myself sitting mutely as the crowd around me burst into cheering, clapping and singing along. I had goose bumps all up and down my arms and that feeling you get when you’re listening to really, really good music.

  The songs were dark, deep and vibrant an
d far better than the usual level of pub band rock. Their music had a taint of Goth but without all the melodramatic suicide references. The singer’s voice had that husky quality to it that I found appealing in women’s voices.

  “Wow, these guys are good,” I finally stammered.

  “Yeah, I told you!” Tony shouted back, his hands clapping in time.

  The band played three songs and a ballad and I sat stock still through the entire set, intoxicated by the sound. The guitarists and keyboardist broke into a complex instrumental that wove complicated melodies around each other. Each note built into a crescendo of sound that washed over the audience and led to more cheering and screaming from the crowd.

  “Wow,” I mumbled again, unable to find the words to express myself.

  Sarah snickered and punched me on the arm, bringing me back from my stupor. She’d obviously asked me a question that I’d missed.

  “They’re very good,” I repeated. “How’d you find them?’”

  “Saw them play at a pub a few weeks ago,” Tony replied glibly, turning to face me. “By the way, you’re being checked out,” he grinned, gesturing behind me.

  I scowled. This was typical of these two whenever we went out. They’d usually try to hook me up with someone they spotted. I think it was some sort of game between them. I turned and glanced at Sarah, expecting her to laugh and nod agreeably.

  “I dunno,” she said thoughtfully. “She doesn’t look that interested.” This was unusual, usually she’d agree with Tony even if the woman appeared to want to throttle me.

  “She looks a bit old for him and she seems pretty angry,” Sarah said. “Do you know her?”

  “Well, she’s been staring at Devon pretty much constantly since she got here!” Tony said.

  I’d gone through this on several occasions with these two. Normally they’d encourage me up to the point that I’d build up the courage to chat to the woman in question. My track record wasn’t that good – they normally always turned me down. I’d been starting to suspect that Tony and Sarah were intentionally sending me after women who they knew weren’t interested.

  I turned to look at her and my jaw dropped.

  She was standing on the other side of the club, a drink resting on the bench next to her. She had long, dark hair and Sarah was right, she was older than me, much older, maybe mid-twenties. She was pretty in a neo-Goth kind of way: she was wearing a cropped black top that exposed her stomach. She finished the effect with oversized military-style boots and black jeans. None of this attracted my attention until much later. What did attract my attention was a small blue halo of light particles dancing in small circles in the centre of her chest, just above her breasts.

  Tony and Sarah were right. She was staring at me and she looked worried. That look changed to annoyance as I got to my feet and made my way over to her. I couldn’t hear the music or the noise of the crowd. I couldn’t even really see the crowd around me anymore – all I could see was the small circle of light lazily dancing across her chest.

  “My breasts are a little lower,” she said dryly when I finally got into earshot. Her voice was amazing, I couldn’t quite pick her accent, but it definitely wasn’t local. She was staring at me strangely as I stumbled about for a suitable response.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammered, desperately trying to compose myself. She was still staring at me and it was making rational thought kind of difficult.

  “You’re sorry for not staring at my breasts?’” she enquired, her mouth twisting into a mocking curl.

  “Umm... yeah, I guess,” I continued, still at a loss for words and she wasn’t making it any easier.

  I kept working it over and over in my head. What did this mean? Did she know she had glowing pulses in her body? Why were hers different to mine? Could she see mine? What would happen if I touched her?

  I so desperately wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to be with her. I’d never believed in love at first sight before, but I was starting to re-assess that belief now. I could feel my body respond, the pressure building again. I couldn’t see the particles of light frantically rising in tempo in my body, but I could swear I could feel them racing across my flesh with manic intensity.

  “You’re quite the conversationalist…” she began, then her eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted in a snarl. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m trying... to...talk… to you?” I stammered, confused.

  She had backed away several steps, glancing around seeking an escape.

  “Don’t go,” I begged.

  She didn’t say anything. She just glowered and turned and made her way quickly to one of the side doors.

  I had to follow her. I had to have an answer. I wasn’t sure if it was love, lust or a simple need to understand what was happening to me, but I was desperate for an answer from her. I couldn’t just let her get away. I needed some answers about this! I’d just about written off my condition as delusion and now here was someone else with the same effect. It couldn’t be just a coincidence.

  The next band had started playing as she stormed off and I was quickly blocked by dozens of people heading towards the stage. I saw her run past the crowd and slip out the side exit. It took me a little longer, and by the time I’d made my way through and out into the street she was almost at the end of the alley.

  “Wait,” I shouted. “I need to talk to you!”

  “Leave me alone!” she snarled, turning to face me. I could see her eyes glittering from the light above her. Her irises were wide and threatening and her face was twisted into an indecisive grimace.

  I started towards her; I couldn’t let it end like this. She had to tell me what was going on – she simply had to!

  “Please!” I began, but I was interrupted before I could finish.

  With precision the girl tensed up her body and lashed out her hand in my direction in a sweeping motion. I saw with clarity the blue lights in her chest dance down her arms and flick out from her wrist. With startling accuracy a whip cord of blue particles burst from her outstretched hand and hit me on my right side with stunning force.

  The impact sent me reeling, knocking me into the air in a spin. I hit the wall behind me, and promptly dropped onto the dumpster below it with a dull thud. My whole body went numb from the impact. I didn’t feel any pain but knew with certainty that I was more hurt than I felt.

  I looked up with disbelief – she still stood about ten metres away. She hadn’t moved since she’d attacked me. She’d made no move to run. She was simply looking down at me with a strange expression on her face. I couldn’t get a read on what the expression meant. There was definite fury there, contempt too, but there was definitely something else as well.

  “I told you to Leave. Me. Alone!” she declared finally, biting off each word.

  I gasped for breath. I was pretty sure I had cracked some ribs, as every time I inhaled pain lanced across my chest. I made it to my knees as black spots began dancing across my vision. Each breath I took was a harsh lesson in further pain.

  “What’s happening to me?” I moaned as I collapsed back to the ground. My vision was going blurry and I felt like I was going to throw up.

  “Shit,” I heard her say as the darkness set in.

  * * * *

  When I came around my chest still hurt and each breath felt like I was breathing fire. My wrist was throbbing painfully too; I must have sprained it in the fall. It took me several seconds as it all came flooding back – the woman, the lights in her chest, the alley, the flick of her wrist, the pain. And now here we were, seated together back in the club.

  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she murmured. “I thought you might have a concussion.”

  I couldn’t find a suitable response. She looked even more beautiful than before and my eyes were dazzled, although that may have been the concussion’s influence.

  “…How?” I simply mumbled.

  ”Well, doctors say that when you hit your head…” she
began dryly.

  “No, not how do you get a concussion. How did you do that to me?”

  “You really don’t know?” she asked, her expression going from guilty to horrified and then back to irritated. Her eyes bore into me imperiously. “Look, I’m sorry I hit you so hard. I thought you’d be able to defend yourself.”

  “How do you defend yourself against that?” I grunted, remembering the particle whip lashing against me and lifting me into the air. She didn’t answer my question.

  “If it’s any consolation it probably saved your life. The build-up of energy you were displaying could have been life threatening.”

  This wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for. I looked down at the particles of light pulsing throughout my skin and noticed that they had lessened. Before they were very bright and jittery, but now they were lighter and sluggishly pulsated across my skin.

  “You absorbed the worst of my attack,” she commented. “How long you have been a…?”

  “I’ve been seeing blue lights all week if that’s what you’re asking,” I answered, holding my head back in my hands. I had a pounding headache again – though that probably had more to do with the concussion.

  “A week? One week!” she said.

  “Keep your voice down,” I grumbled as her shrill voice rang through my throbbing skull.

  “One week,” she finished glumly.

  “Is that bad?”

  “No, not bad, just unusual, you’re what… seventeen, sixteen?”

  “No, I’m eighteen,” I corrected somewhat defensively.

  “I was five when it first happened to me. Fortunately my grandfather was there to tell me what was going on.”

  “Your grandfather?”

  “Yeah, he’s like us too.”

  I could tell she was choosing her words carefully. There was something she wasn’t telling me. What does that mean?

  “Why did you attack me?” I asked, not quite sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “I wasn’t sure what you were doing and our kind don’t normally get along too well.” Her face went dark. “I thought it might have been an attack,” she confessed.