by Alison Evans
‘What have you lost?’
‘Matches.’ She sighs. ‘I always forget them.’
‘I’ll do it.’ I pick up a candle and touch the wick – it springs to life.
Zahra’s face lights up in a smile. ‘Thank you.’
There are seven candles, some green and some orange and a couple of white ones. She places them around me. She washes her hands in the bowl with river water and sounds the bell either side of me. I close my eyes and try to relax. She might make it worse, sure, but there’s also heaps of room for growth. I think of Iris and their plants: grow.
She starts to mumble – I can’t tell if it’s English – and the edges of my body dissolve. I vibrate out of existence, back into it, settle in between. Though my eyes are closed, I feel colours and shapes. I even feel the sound of Zahra’s voice. When she rings the bell, I see vibrations.
I don’t know how long it takes. I can sense the sounds of the river and the birds and Zahra’s voice, sometimes the bell. I can taste the grass under me. The fire in me roars and is subdued, roars and is subdued once more.
When the sun is in the middle of the sky, Zahra sounds the bell either side of me again. I smell the smoke of the candles and open my eyes.
She looks wrung out, her hair’s even more of a mess, gumleaves are stuck in it and a little gumnut is orbiting her head, and she’s sweating. But she gives me a joyful smile as she says, ‘How do you feel?’
I disappear.
When I stand up, it feels like I chose this. I feel like I can go back, and so I reappear.
‘Was that on purpose?’ Zahra asks. Hope blossoms in her eyes.
I grin, bigger than I have in my whole life. ‘Yeah. I feel great.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Safe Harbour
In the morning, Zahra and Babs go for a walk. At first I keep tabs on them through the plants to make sure Babs is safe, but my heart isn’t in it. I know she’s going to be okay. So me and the boy go grab our packs from where we left them, and then we get out things from the pantry to make breakfast. The boy cooks for us, mushrooms with balsamic vinegar on toast.
There’s a light drizzle, but Zahra’s got a little wooden shelter in the backyard so we sit under that. As we eat, I get a bit of a shiver. ‘I wonder if I could make a fire.’
The boy shrugs. ‘Probably.’
‘No, I mean like, a magic fire.’
‘Ohhh.’ He chews for a bit, swallows. ‘Probably.’
I close my eyes, concentrating on the idea of fire. I try to imagine manifesting it, but I’m too scared it’ll get out of control so I stop. ‘Maybe Zahra can teach me.’
The boy finishes his breakfast, places the bowl on the grass between us. ‘And she said she could get me a name.’
‘Yes, that sounded good.’ I smile at him. ‘I mean, if you want her to help.’
‘I think so.’ He stares off into space for a long time.
As we sit, the drizzle stops and a weak sun emerges, pale from being washed out. The garden really comes alive; bees and butterflies and other insects I don’t recognise are suddenly everywhere. The boy seems to want to be alone, so I take our bowls inside. The fire is going again, the bedding cleared away, and so I sit on the rug and spread out my book. As I flick through the pages, I notice that the first few have been filled with writing.
It’s an introduction. It speaks about a lot of the stuff Saltkin has told me: how magic can be dangerous and addictive, and to be careful. And it also speaks about finding your own path, the things you like and your own meanings, which is what Wendy told me about.
And then it starts to get into curses and enchantments, and goosebumps rise on my skin. The book warns about having power over others, and how this can destroy you. But I don’t want power over anyone, I just want to help the world however I can, and do cool stuff like those orbiting stones.
After a few hours of reading about the elements – just how they work, not how to control them – I hear Zahra and Babs return. I suddenly feel self-conscious and try to hide my notes under the book. I copied down all the basics, drew little pictures too, and I worry that Zahra will think I don’t know anything and won’t want to teach me if I ask.
‘Did you need lunch?’ she asks as she walks through the door alone. Instead of rocks floating around her head there’s a tiny gumnut. Eucalyptus leaves are tangled in her hair, though it doesn’t look like that’s on purpose. ‘I was going to make something for the others, I’m not sure if you’ve eaten.’
‘Yes please. Do you need help?’
‘Sure.’
It doesn’t take long. We make a quiche with lots of vegetables from her garden and eggs from her chickens. She has frozen pastry, and although I can’t imagine her going to a supermarket, it’s Homebrand, the same one sold at the Woolies near my house.
As we pop the quiche in the oven, she glances over to what I was doing before. ‘Taking notes? Are you studying?’
‘Um.’ I blush. ‘Magic.’
She looks at me deeper, her eyes searching for something that she seems to find, because she says, ‘Of course.’
‘I’m just beginning.’
‘I can’t believe the book let you find it. That’s so wonderful.’ She walks over to it. ‘Can I look?’ I nod, and I thought she meant the old book, but she picks up my notebook. I’m so nervous, my palms are sweating.
She skims through what I’ve written, and I can’t read the look on her face. Then she sits in the closest squishy chair with the old book and props it open on her lap. The pages are about half filled for her. She flicks through, her eyes much wider than usual. ‘This is amazing.’ She runs a hand along the pages. ‘Your notes are very thorough, too. It’s good to learn the theory before the practice. Of course you don’t have to. I like to.’
‘Can . . . can you teach me?’ I ask. If she doesn’t think my notes are silly, maybe we’ll be okay together. ‘I want to learn.’
‘What about your faeries?’ she asks, head cocked to one side.
‘How do you know about them?’
‘The rope around your neck.’ She points to where it hangs under my shirt. ‘That wasn’t made by humans.’
I take hold of the rose quartz. ‘Saltkin gave me this stone, too.’
She smiles. ‘I can tell.’
‘Do you know any faeries?’
She shakes her head. ‘Not really. I think because I don’t stay in the same place for very long, so it’s hard to get to know anyone.’
‘What about your salamanders?’
‘Apart from them.’ She’s looking fondly over towards the fireplace.
‘So does that mean the place your house is built on moves to different areas? Or it exists somewhere else?’
‘Well, it’s always somewhere else. I guess the . . . doors, so to speak, they appear in different areas. The door in your forest is how you got here, that’s a new one.’
‘So.’ I chew my lip. ‘If you move a lot, does that mean maybe you shouldn’t be my teacher?’
‘Maybe not forever, but I could be for a while,’ she says gently. ‘And maybe that door can stay for longer than I would normally let it – there are many doors, you know.’
‘Right.’
She hands me the book and my notes. ‘This is such a good guide. I wish I had this when I was younger! It’ll help so much. And if it let you find it, you must be able to do amazing things. With the right training, of course.’
‘Saltkin said magic can be very addictive, and so does the introduction to the book.’
‘It can be, especially for humans. When I cursed Babs, I was at a stage where I thought I could just do whatever I wanted with my powers. But we have to remember, it’s not up to us to change anyone’s lives, unless they ask. And even then it can be tricky.’
<
br /> My eyebrows come together in a frown. ‘What if it was to do good?’
‘But then what is good? I thought I was doing Babs a favour, but it meant she couldn’t make friends until you.’
I want to ask about cursing people for doing bad things, out of revenge.
‘And no, I don’t do revenge curses, or for justice. I used to, and it never ends well. It always finds a way to come back to you.’ She smiles sadly. ‘A lot of people will start to avoid you, as well – not from cursing, just from being a magic user. They’ll feel something is different about you, and they’ll turn away.’
‘Everyone?’
‘Not everyone. But it may happen more often with strangers than you’d think.’
‘Does that happen with you a lot?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that why you live alone?’
‘I just prefer this. Babs was telling me about her mother, a witch who does live near the town, but she’s reclusive as well. Then there’s the woman who runs the cafe you go to. Magic has nothing to do with where I live. It just makes it easier for me to get completely away.’
The kitchen timer goes off, and I get Babs and the boy to come in for lunch. Babs looks tired, and after we finish eating she folds out the double-bed mattress and lies down. The boy wants to speak with Zahra in private, so I decide to take a shower finally, after who knows how long of walking through the forest.
Then I see the bath: big and deep with clawed feet that stretch out over the grey pebbled floor. A pouch of herbs hangs from the spout, and I smell it; it’s got lavender and salt and other herbs I don’t recognise. It hums peacefully as I hold it. I’m sure Zahra won’t mind if I have a bath, so I start to run one. The herb pouch turns the water a deep, shimmering purple that swirls with blue. My whole body relaxes.
I dip in my foot and it’s the right temperature. So I jump in. As I close my eyes and let my head go under water, air bubbles tickle over my skin as they rise. The bath is somehow the perfect shape for me, and as I lie there, sunlight streaming into the room, the water stays the perfect temperature. Then I can’t feel the tub anymore; it’s just like the other time when my bath seemed to turn into a river. When my head breaks the surface, the bath has grown blue waterlilies. A dragonfly hovers before buzzing away. I can hear a frog but I can’t see it.
I take the rope with the rose quartz off my neck and hold it just above the water. I try to focus on it, to make it revolve around my head, but nothing happens. Maybe it’s too advanced, or maybe I need something else. I look down at the sigils etched onto my skin, and the tattoo the boy poked into me. So much has happened these past weeks, I don’t know how much can fit inside the rest of the year.
I trace the protection sigil on my chest, and I let it power down. For a moment I expect cold fae to come tearing in, but we’re safe here. Perhaps at night I’ll activate it again, but for now I think it’s okay to let it relax.
The bath stretches out to fill the whole room. A river forms. There are more dragonflies, more lilies, some swamphens even. Then all kinds of birds and insects and plants, and I float in the middle of it, supported, feeling as if I am the whole of this world I’ve created somehow with this bath. I see a kingfisher fly over, and a couple of black swans in the distance.
I don’t know how long I stay there; it feels like hours.
When I go out into the lounge, Zahra and the boy are still outside, and Babs is still half asleep. I curl up over her, wrapping my arm around her waist.
‘How are you?’ Babs asks me, her voice sticky from sleep.
I yawn, my eyes heavy. ‘The bath turned into a pond.’
‘Mm.’ She curls tighter. ‘Zahra tried to shift my curse, so I can control it easier.’
‘Did you ask her to take it away?’
‘I thought about it.’
I press my ear to her back and I can feel her heartbeat, flickering like the logs in the fireplace. Although it shouldn’t be yet, the sun is setting. The salamanders have come out.
‘I don’t think I wanted her to take it away, anyway.’ Babs yawns. ‘It’s who I am. And besides, maybe it’ll come in handy. Hey, it already comes in handy – I can not go to school whenever I want.’ She laughs, her body rumbling against mine. ‘I don’t think I want to get rid of it completely.’
‘That makes sense.’ My body is so heavy, I’m ready to melt into the mattress. Everything’s so warm.
The boy crawls in behind me. He doesn’t spoon me like I’m spooning with Babs, but he’s there and I can feel his warmth. ‘I think we found a name,’ he says.
‘Oh?’ I say.
Babs and I turn around so we can see him in the gentle light from the fireplace. We’re all sitting up, now.
‘My name is Hasim.’ He sits a little taller, puffs his chest out the tiniest bit.
Babs and I grin at him.
‘That’s perfect,’ she says, and we’re both pulled into a hug.
Hasim can’t stop smiling.
‘This calls for a celebration,’ I say, and go over to the stove where I find the hot chocolate has already been warmed up. I pour us all mugs, and we clink them together and toast to Hasim’s name, Babs’s control over her curse, and my new teacher.
We’re finally heading back home. It’s been days, I think, and I know we should have left already. But it’s so peaceful here, the island of magic where Zahra lives. We help her with the garden, and cooking, and she teaches me magic.
I’m still a long way off being able to have an orbit, or to get the broom to sweep the house, but I can make protection spells and good luck charms, little things that can help people. Some more book pages have been revealed, and I have a few more sigils on me as well. The first ones are fading a bit, though they still glow when I activate them.
‘You know you’ll be able to come back any time,’ Zahra says, as we strap on our backpacks. She’s done a spell to make them lighter, and she taught me how to do it.
‘I’ll see you in a few weeks,’ I tell her as we hug, and she nods. We’re going to meet regularly so I can keep learning, and she’ll read more of the book while I’m there as well. I know I’ll have to get permission from Clover and Moss, but I’m sure it will work out.
‘Be safe,’ Zahra says. ‘I’ve made the door come out into your backyard, Babs.’
Then Zahra hugs Babs and Hasim, and gives us all some food for the journey, just in case it takes longer than we think.
As we walk the short distance to the door, we don’t speak. I reach out a hand, and the space beyond the door feels like salt water, cool and calming. I feel sad, leaving the witch and her haven, but I miss my mothers, and they’ll be worried about me.
We step through the door, and the Earth comes up to meet us.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Journey Home
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Journey Home
The portal leads us right into my garden. Mum sees us from the kitchen window and she comes outside, drying her hands on a tea towel. She’s frowning. ‘Are you all right?’ she asks, pulling me into a hug. ‘Why are you back so soon?’
‘We’ve been gone for ages,’ I say, frowning at her. ‘A week, maybe more.’
Wendy shakes her head. ‘Not here, I almost just said goodbye to Iris. I was doing our breakfast dishes.’ She holds up her tea towel.
I laugh, because it’s so strange. ‘We’ll tell you all about it.’ I didn’t realise the time difference would be so much – I couldn’t remember it clearly enough.
We go inside, Hasim makes a pot of Earl Grey, and we all have lunch except Mum because she’s just eaten. She nods all the way through our story, holding my hand, sometimes asking questions but mostly just listening. At the end she says, ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’ She sighs. ‘I wanted to stop you,
but I didn’t want you to have to sneak away, Babs.’
I nod. ‘Yeah. But I had to go.’
‘I know. I’m glad you got back safe.’
Hasim and Iris look at each other, and I know they’re thinking they should go.
I notice something behind Iris as the three of us are saying goodbye at the front door. It’s sparkling, and I realise it’s Saltkin.
‘Hey, Saltkin,’ Iris says, looking at the ground.
‘Hi, sprout,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you’re safe. I wanted to thank your friends for helping with the bond when it broke. I was worried, but I knew you’d be able to handle it together.’
Hasim and I look at each other, unsure of what to say.
‘We just . . . had to. You don’t need to thank us,’ I say eventually. Hasim nods with me.
Iris holds out their hand, and Saltkin sits on it this time. Iris says, ‘Sorry I lied to you.’
‘Thank you.’ He pats their palm. ‘Please don’t do it again.’
‘I won’t.’
He smiles. ‘You’ll have to tell me all about your adventure with the witch.’
‘Her name is Zahra and she’s going to be my teacher!’ Iris says with a grin. ‘She was impressed by the book.’ Iris and Saltkin wave goodbye and walk off together, still chatting.
‘What am I gonna tell my dad?’ Hasim asks. ‘About why we’re home so early.’
I look up at the sky. It’s metal-grey and more clouds are rolling in, but it’s not raining yet. ‘Maybe we cancelled the trip because it’s going to rain . . . maybe it’ll rain heaps?’
He smiles. ‘All right. Well, see you Monday.’
At school on Monday, the teachers remind us that the term is ending soon, and that we have exams coming up, and all that kind of stuff. It’s stressful, and I’m worried I won’t be able to stay. I make it to science class and lunchtime. Last class of the day is art, always the hardest, but something tells me I can do it.
