The Year's Best Australian Fantasy and Horror 2014 (Volume 5)

by Kaaron Warren

  I tilted my head, watching her dress. She smiled at me over her shoulder. “Love you,” I said.

  “Love you too, magic girl.”

  * * *

  Magic rituals are all about focus—you need to get yourself in the right frame of mind to access your power and you need to prepare your body as well. Normal spells are easy enough—most of us can manage to focus on a task long enough to get it finished—so I can blast a bit of fire or do a banishing sigil or a soul gaze without any preparation at all. An apprentice (something I desperately needed at the moment) would have a little more trouble than an adept, and a sensitive (someone with magic talent who hasn’t been trained at all) only manages to work magic when they’re extremely stressed or motivated.

  I’d been a pretty stressed and motivated child, which was why my parents had sent me to my uncle just after I’d hit puberty.

  I didn’t hold it against them. At least I’d had a relative who didn’t blink an eye at me when I started bringing girls home instead of boys—he was way more concerned that I’d blow up his kitchen the night before the grand final. We’d gotten on, my uncle and I.

  This wasn’t the sort of job it was a good idea to do on your own for any length of time. He’d warned me about it, and there were reasons why we took apprentices that weren’t just because we wanted someone to do the filing. Mine always tended to leave after a few months. I told myself it was because I couldn’t afford to pay them much, because the job was thankless, because I was a bad teacher, but maybe it was just because the one person I wanted by my side wasn’t there any longer. I wanted them to be him, and that was just something they could never manage.

  I missed him like fire.

  * * *

  The sun was setting as I made it back to Bronte, and it was stupidly beautiful in that way that only Sydney can manage. Warm, salt-scented air blew off the water and messed up my already messy hair . . . it wasn’t as though I was trying to impress a demon or anything.

  Arietta opened the door. She’d changed her clothes—now she was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking a bit like she’d just come from the gym, but without the sweat and disarray that I always seemed to bring back from abortive attempts at exercise.

  She glowed.

  “Ms Foster, thank you for being so prompt.”

  I tried for a charming grin. “You’re my only client right now,” I said. “Don’t feel too special.”

  “I’ll endeavour not to.” She motioned me through into the living area I had passed through briefly that morning. It was awash in steel and glass. I wondered if the demon just liked looking at itself in its new body—there were enough reflective surfaces in this place for a fun park maze.

  Mirrors were supposed to be windows to the soul. I wondered how true that was when your body had two of them.

  “I’m going to make a magic circle, you’ll need to be in the centre with me, and then I’m going to have to . . . link to you. Spiritually.” I swallowed. I wasn’t the best of liars but I did okay on holding back certain bits of information that clients didn’t need to hear—like the spirit of your dead wife is actually all in your head, or once the magic circle closes I’ll have the ability to evict the demon from you, or that once I’ve joined with you spiritually I’d be able to tell straight away if this deal has been coerced.

  Arietta didn’t flinch when I told her where to stand and as I drew the circle (some people use fancy pink salt, but the SAXA stuff is just as good and it’s cheap and comes in a handy easy-to-pour shaker) I felt the familiar tingle on my skin that told me I was stepping closer to the rift. The place where magic comes from. The place that had torn open 50 years ago and changed the world forever.

  It sealed with a slight change in pressure—I felt my ears pop as I worked my jaw to let it equalise, then nodded at Arietta.

  She stood directly opposite me and I raised my hands, placing them on either side of her face. Her skin was warm and smooth and full of vitality. I could sense life under it, and the subtle extra energy that the demon was giving her.

  I closed my eyes and let my consciousness seep into hers.

  * * *

  Looking into someone’s head is a bit like looking into a teenagers’ bedroom. It’s usually messy, and it’s full of stuff that means absolutely nothing to you. Like said teenager’s room, there will be indications of strong emotions and important events—like posters of rock stars and old toys—objects that have meaning to them.

  Arietta’s mind was almost frighteningly neat. Hers was the bedroom that had been meticulously ordered. Had I wished, I could probably have read Arietta’s entire childhood from the perfect display of memories that was laid out. But I didn’t need to do that, and quite frankly, it would have been weird.

  Underneath the perfect order of Arietta’s memories I could feel the presence of the demon. If a human mind was like a teenager’s bedroom, a demon’s was like a galaxy of stars—each individual memory was a giant ball of flaming gas and absolutely nothing that I wanted to get anywhere near. I had no doubt they would burn.

  Yet the two minds existed happily in the same space. I could sense no coercion—none of the telltale signs that magic had been used to subvert her will. Arietta’s ‘neat’ mental state could be attributed to the demon sorting her memories while she slept—a more efficient way of dreaming than we clumsy humans managed. While they communicated freely, there was no merging. Instead it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Arietta was more successful and physically beautiful (not that she hadn’t been to begin with, but the demon had enhanced her base sex appeal simply by imbuing her with so much more vitality) and the demon experienced the human world their kind so lusted after.

  I had to admit, I envied them a little.

  If you wish, Ms Foster, I could contact one of my associates and you could enter into a similar arrangement.

  Of course, the demon was aware I was there, in ways that Arietta was not.

  “No thanks, sport,” I said. “I don’t think even one of your kind could clean up the mess in my head. And anyway, I kind of like it.”

  Humans are illogical.

  “We’re not the ones going around burning down . . . ” I stopped before the demon’s wry mental chuckle started and rolled my metaphorical eyes. “Oh never mind.”

  Conversations with demons in other people’s heads. And these are just some of the things I do in a day’s work.

  We are close to the time the attacks usually begin. Arietta is for all intents and purposes asleep. I have been able to repel the intruder, but they are becoming more canny.

  There was a slight hesitation before the demon continued.

  I must tell you, Ms Foster, now that we are alone, that I believe the adept attempting to dislodge me is known to Arietta, and myself. She has not allowed herself to consider him as a suspect, but I believe she is being foolishly naive.

  Interesting.

  “So who is it?”

  The man who originally conceived of the idea of making a deal with a demon in the first place. They were in a relationship. To be married, I do believe. He left shortly after we made our . . . arrangement. She lost touch with him.

  So I couldn’t just ask for his address and finish the ritual.

  “Well if it is him and he shows up, I’ll be able to follow him back to where he’s hiding. You’re . . . exceptional for a demon, you know that don’t you? Most of them aren’t one for reasonable discussions, or deals.”

  That is because you do not see us at our best, Ms Foster. The transition to your world is taxing. And it enrages us. Should you choose to contact us in our element we are far more reasonable.

  “Funny how it doesn’t always seem that way,” I said.

  * * *

  When the intrusion came it was obvious. Arietta’s ordered world had no place for the shove of pure energy and emotion that accompanied the working. Amateurish. The practitioner had very little natural talent, which made my job harder rather than easier. I stood, holding
out my hands to Arietta and the demon, who took them without hesitation. Fiducia’s hand felt smooth and synthetic in mine, while Arietta’s was warm and rough. It was symbolic, but it gave us strength. Not enough to stop them from coming, but more than enough to stop them from being successful.

  As Arietta and the demon had found out though, you could only stop them for one night. If he kept coming back, eventually he would get through and Fiducia would be pulled away.

  That’s why I had to follow him back to the source.

  He was puzzled by the strength of the defences this time around, but went ahead with the spell in any case. Another sign of an amateur at work. He had no chance against us. I did my best to make it look like Arietta and the demon had just been better prepared, rather than calling for extra help. I could be subtle, at least when it came to magic.

  When I felt him start to withdraw, I loosened my grip on the hands and consciousnesses of my clients and followed him out of the initial breach he’d made in Arietta’s subconscious, and back out into the world.

  I kept a pretty detailed map of Sydney in my head. My uncle’s doing—he trained as a PI before he took up full-time wizardry. We’re the detectives of the supernatural—there’s even a wizard branch of the police these days (most young wizards end up working for the government in some capacity, something that I was happy to have sidestepped).

  There are just too many ways magic can go wrong. Part of the reason most people just didn’t bother.

  But there were always a few people who thought magic was the answer to all their problems. People like this guy. His mental signature lead me to a house in South Granville—bit of a hike from there to Bronte physically, and a nice place to disappear if you weren’t keen on being spotted by your Eastern-suburbs ex.

  He didn’t know I’d followed him. I was pretty good at this.

  * * *

  I opened my eyes and dropped my hands from Arietta’s face. She blinked a few times, obviously disoriented, then nodded at me.

  “You were successful?”

  “I think so. He’s holed up out west, I can go there tonight and sort this out.”

  “I want to come with you.”

  I eyed her. “Could be dangerous. He doesn’t seem to have a lot of training but he does have power. There could be sparks.”

  “Fiducia will protect me. She might even be able to help.”

  I’d figured.

  “Okay.” I stood up and dispelled the circle. “Do you have a handyvac or something? For the salt? I’ve got one in the car.”

  She chuckled. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “The cleaners come tomorrow.”

  I made a face. One day I’d have enough money for cleaners. “It’s a bit of a drive, but he won’t be going anywhere tonight, not after expending that much magical energy.”

  “Are you not tired also?”

  I shrugged. “Pretty sure I’ve been doing this a lot longer than he has. He hasn’t got the muscle you get from training either. I think he’s an amateur. Should make this pretty straightforward even if he does decide he’s not going to come quietly.”

  “Come quietly?”

  I stopped and looked at her. “He invaded your consciousness without your consent. That’s a grade four offence. I’m your witness. Your guy’s a criminal, Ms Paine.”

  “But he was trying to exorcise me,” she said.

  I tilted my head, beginning to think that the demon had been wrong—she’d known all along who was the most likely perpetrator behind these attacks.

  “So he should have called the authorities or a professional to deal with this. You don’t go poking around in someone else’s head without training. That’s how things like Merrylands happens.”

  She shuddered. The Merrylands incident was burnt on the consciousness of everyone—a perfect example of how magic could be misused. The poor bloke who’d done most of the killing couldn’t even remember his own name anymore.

  We walked to the car. Paine hesitated before she got in. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”

  I looked at her. “I’ll try not to,” I said.

  * * *

  The drive out to Granville was silent and quick. Traffic was light for a change. I hastily turned the radio off after starting the engine. Somehow I didn’t think Paine would be a Prodigy fan.

  We didn’t talk. The silence wasn’t comfortable.

  * * *

  The house was pretty typical for the area. A medium-sized block with a single storey fibro shack perched on it. The grass in front was overgrown and the cement path cracked and full of weeds.

  There was a light on near the back of the house, but I suspected our man was asleep. Magical workings took it out of you, especially when you were just starting out.

  I touched the gate and felt the tingling of a weak ward. If I opened it he’d be alerted, but it was a simple enough thing to dispel. I made a gesture and said a few words under my breath, absorbing the power that would have awakened him. It gave me a little jolt of energy that I wasn’t going to admit to Paine that I needed badly. I was tired from the workings I’d done earlier . . .

  . . . I was just good at hiding it.

  I motioned to Paine to get behind me and be quiet (at least I hope that’s what I communicated to her) then tried the door. It was locked, but that was no great problem. A quick glance along the street revealed we weren’t likely to be noticed—the street lamps were paced pretty far apart and the house was set back a good way from the path. I pulled out my set of lock picks and got started.

  “Can’t you use magic for that?” Paine asked.

  “Clumsy and likely to be felt by our friend,” I whispered back.

  “We could just knock.”

  “Don’t spoil my fun.”

  Picking locks was easy enough if you had the correct equipment and pretty much impossible if you don’t. At least that’s what I told myself. My uncle had bought me a set of lock picks (I didn’t ask from where) when he found me trying to break into his cabinet of magic supplies.

  He said if I could make it into the cabinet with nothing but a bent safety pin he didn’t need to teach me any magic.

  Funny bugger.

  There was a click under my fingers and the door swung open. No fancy deadlocks on this house. I guess the people who built it didn’t really think they had anything worth stealing.

  It was a depressing place, smelling of instant noodles and garbage. The carpet was an undistinguished brown colour and worn with the tread of many feet; the rooms were dark and dingy. A single corridor lead to the back of the house where I’d seen the light. I moved carefully, my shoes were pretty good on carpet, but I wasn’t the sneakiest of people.

  That was why I jumped when we heard the voice.

  “I know you’re there. You disabled the ward very professionally, but you didn’t think that I’d be quite so diligent about checking them, did you?”

  I didn’t.

  Paine had grabbed my arm when the voice sounded, her fingers cold and strong where they pressed into my skin.

  “Robert?”

  Suspicions. Confirmed.

  “Arietta?”

  We stepped into the light of the kitchen.

  * * *

  He might have been handsome, once. He certainly had the whole ‘rough and ready’ thing going for him now. Slender, dark hair, beard. If he trimmed up the beard and washed his clothes maybe someone like Arietta would give him the time of day. But I couldn’t help but think, as her elegant heels clicked on the torn lino, walking towards him, that there had been an unbalance in this relationship before she got herself a co-inhabitant.

  “Robert what are you doing?”

  He rocked back, as though she had hit him. “What do you mean?”

  “What are you doing? I hired this woman to find out who was assaulting me and . . . ”

  “Assaulting? Ari you have a demon inside you!”

  “I put it there! You were with me when . . . ”

  “Yo
u didn’t want it, it forced itself . . . ”

  “When did I say that? When did I say anything even approaching that?”

  Chests were heaving. Cheeks were flushed. If I didn’t know better I would have thought I was watching an episode of Game of Thrones.

  “Hey. Guys?”

  Robert turned on me. “You’re a wizard, right. Did she tell you what she did?”

  “She did, actually.”

  He looked at me as though I was crazy. “So?”

  “So what, mate?”

  “Why didn’t you take it out?”

  I tilted my head and looked at him. “From where I’m standing there’s only one dangerous person in this room and it’s the one invading someone’s head without permission.”

  “I’ve been studying. I’m nearly there. I can get it out of her. You’re just interfering.”

  I frowned. “Have you been listened to anything she said?”’ . . . ever, I added silently. “She doesn’t want you to take it out. If she wanted it out she would contact the relevant authorities to do it. Me, for example. She certainly wouldn’t rely on someone who doesn’t know a summoning sigil from a pentagram.”

  “They’re the same thing!”

  They were.

  “Not the point. You need to butt out.”

  I felt the power gathering before he even lifted his hand, but there was a reason I was a professional and he wasn’t.

  Behind my lips, there was a tingling as I spoke the word that would focus kinetic energy at him, and he was thrown backwards against the wall with a decent amount of force. Not as much as I could muster first thing in the morning (after a coffee, of course) but enough that he was shocked and dazed. He lay there, shaking his head to clear it, and blinking up at us.

  I glanced at Arietta, who was looking back at me with an amused smile on her face. I didn’t need to check her eyes to know it was the demon speaking. “Did you just use the word arse as a magical focus, Ms Foster?”