Magic Lessons

by Justine Larbalestier

  “It used to be a park.”

  I looked across at the east side of the street where there was a park, if you could call it that with snow instead of grass and leafless, dried-up trees. “Like that?”

  “All of this land used to be park, not just that bit. There didn’t used to be any avenues here. So when they added more avenues, the numbers had been used up running west; they used the alphabet instead. The next avenue east is Avenue B.”

  “Then C, D, E, and F?”

  Danny laughed. “Just C and D and then the highway and then the river.”

  We reached Seventh Street. I peered west along the street, and there it was, a fat rope of mist emerging from a grate in the middle of the footpath. “Eureka.”

  “You see it?”

  “Uh-huh. Right there.” I walked up to the grate; mist coiled out of it, the same grey-brown as the thing he had sent spinning into my hands. The smell intensified as I got closer. But it wasn’t the same smell. Or rather it was, the stuff inside me had softened it—the burntness had become something freshly toasted, the bile was now like lemons. It didn’t make me feel sick. It smelt good. And yet it was the same smell. It hadn’t changed: I had. The old man had put something in me so that he now smelled like lemons and cinnamon toast. I shuddered. Somehow it was worse than when he had smelled like chunder and burnt rubber.

  I could still feel that lurking strangeness, the pieces of the old man floating in my marrow. I peered down into the grate. The trail disappeared into darkness. I tried not to think about the old man bubbling up out of there, grabbing me. Or him bubbling out of me.

  “Which way is it heading?”

  “That way, west,” I said, following the trail along the street, being very careful not to touch it. I didn’t want to find out what happened if I did. At the corner of First Avenue I had a clear view of the trail winding a long way down the avenue. “It’s moved out into the middle of the road. It goes south for blocks.”

  8

  The trail led us along Second Street, yet another street with rows of cars parked on either side, some lightly dusted with snow, others almost buried. On the south side of the street the houses were the same I’d been seeing everywhere, jammed together, four or five or six stories high, brown and grey, presenting flat, indistinguishable faces to the street. In the middle of the block stood a large church, its doors shut and steps covered with snow.

  The north side of the street had only a few houses before the trail led us to a high—almost three metres—spiked metal fence. Behind it—right in the middle of the street—was a cemetery, blanketed with clean white snow, sparsely dotted with ancient-looking gravestones and monuments. A low stone wall covered with a brown, withered, treeless vine ran along the back of the cemetery, towered over by the rear ends of more tall, skinny houses.

  The trail we had followed was not the only one leading to the cemetery. Three came over the low stone wall in back. Five more came from the west. They all went into the cemetery, into the ground, over and over again. The web of his trails running in and out of the white-covered earth hovered like an eerie mist above the gravestones and monuments.

  “Bloody hell.”

  “What?” Danny pushed up to the icy fence, trying to see. “What is it?”

  “He’s all over this place. He’s been in the ground here.”

  “What do you mean? He’s a ghost?”

  “No. His trail, it leads in and out of the ground, all over the cemetery. Like he’s been…”

  Danny stared at me. “He’s a grave robber?”

  17

  Touched by the Devil

  The door didn’t open. They were both swaddled in warm clothes, ready for winter on the other side, and yet the door wouldn’t budge. Esmeralda turned the handle back and forth, leaned into it as she turned, but it made no difference. Jay-Tee started to sweat just watching. Well, actually she was sweating because she had several layers of winter clothes on and she was standing in a Sydney kitchen in the middle of summer.

  “Why don’t you use the key?”

  “I told you, I don’t need the key. The door just opens for me.”

  “But maybe he’s changed it?”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Well, according to you, a man who’s older than Moses and has that much magic shouldn’t be possible, either.”

  Mere glared at Jay-Tee, and if magic could have turned her glare into lasers, then Jay-Tee would’ve fried. Then she laughed. “Okay, you’re correct: the meaning of possible appears to be in flux right now.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll go get the key. Stay back from the door. It’s not moving, but you never know.”

  Jay-Tee rolled her eyes. She wasn’t stupid. She took off all her winter gear and opened the fridge, wanting some Coke or any kind of soda, but not finding any. There was an open bottle of wine, though. She pulled it out and poured herself a large glass. She took a sip—it was pretty nasty, but she’d tasted worse.

  She pulled herself back onto the uncomfortable stool and peered at the door for the gazillionth time. It still wasn’t moving. She’d kind of thought Esmeralda rattling away at the handle would’ve attracted the old man’s attention. She took another sip of the wine, not quite as nasty on the second sip. What if the scary old man on the other side was just waiting for them to come through the door so he could pounce and steal their magic? Reason had told Mere that he’d made no move to drink from her even though he could have anytime. But maybe he didn’t want Reason’s magic?

  “What are you doing, young lady?” Esmeralda asked, taking the glass from Jay-Tee.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re fifteen years old, Jay-Tee! I don’t care if you’re going to die any second now—I’m not having you drinking, and particularly not in the morning!”

  “He let me drink.”

  “I’m sure he did. You’re free to go back to Alexander’s exemplary care if that’s what you want.”

  Jay-Tee had no idea what exemplary meant, but she knew sarcasm when she heard it. What difference did it make if she had a glass of nasty wine?

  Esmeralda put the key in the lock, but before she could turn it, the door shook wildly, turned from solid to almost liquid. The molten wood surged around her gloved hand. “No!” she yelled, pulling at her wrist with her other hand, but the door swallowed it as well. She was being dragged forward into the door. Her body arced backwards, the winter hat tumbling from her head. “Jay-Tee, help!”

  Jay-Tee jumped up, poised to do something, but wasn’t sure what. If she used her magic to help, she’d die.

  The door swallowed Mere up to her elbows. She arched back, pulling away, desperately trying to keep her face and legs from disappearing, too.

  Jay-Tee tried to get hold of Mere’s legs or her coat and pull, but the stuff came surging at her hands. She jumped back, looking around the room wildly, saw the glass of wine, grabbed it, and doused the top of the door. The wine ran down over the strange bumps and rivers of the molten door, over Mere’s submerged arms, and down to the floor, where it floated some of the feather protections away. Instantly the door pulled Mere even farther in. Only her head and feet were visible now.

  “Damn.”

  Then Esmeralda started to glow. Threads sprouted in her back, reached back into the kitchen. They looked like the connections between people that Jay-Tee saw when she was dancing, the threads that bound everyone’s energy together, that turned them into a crowd.

  Jay-Tee took the risk. She grabbed at the threads, pulled them together in her hand, and stepped back, pulling as hard as she could. Fighting to use only her muscles and not her magic, she pulled and pulled, until she felt the skin across her palm breaking open. She ignored it and pulled harder.

  Jay-Tee’s back was to the door, so she couldn’t see what was happening, but she could hear Mere breathing hard; she could feel the magic growing.

  All the air vanished out of the room in a wave. Jay-Tee staggered—the threads in her hand
s went limp, disappeared. She lost her hearing as if she had dived to the bottom of a deep, deep pool. She turned. Esmeralda was lying on the floor in front of the door, blinking rapidly, red-faced, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. She was drenched. Her winter clothing was in tatters, her gloves entirely gone. In her right hand she still clutched the large, ornate key that opened the door.

  Jay-Tee rubbed her own ears. Held her nose and breathed in as if she was trying to clear her ears of water. Her ears popped, and she was awash with sound. The door was making the horrible, grinding, metal-on-metal noise. Mere was panting louder than a German shepherd. The fridge was clunking. Outside birds were squawking and chirruping at one another. Somewhere else a dog was barking.

  Jay-Tee crossed herself, said a Hail Mary, then knelt down beside Mere.

  “Are you okay?”

  Mere nodded, then shook her head. “It hurts.” She used her elbows to sit up. Her expression was far away, dazed.

  “You sure?”

  Mere closed her eyes, opened them. She looked scared. “There’s something…Could you get me a glass of water?” She was looking down at her hands, still clutching the key. They were covered in tiny dots of blood.

  Jay-Tee fetched water, handed it to her, watched her drink.

  “You don’t look okay. You look like you saw the devil.”

  Mere looked up at Jay-Tee; she half smiled. “He may have just touched me.”

  Instinctively, Jay-Tee moved back. “Not really?”

  “I should be dead. I don’t understand.” Her gaze returned to her arms, searching for something. “I used my magic to get away. I should be dead. He put something in me and I’m not dead.”

  “The devil did?”

  “The old man. He’s so very old, Jay-Tee. I didn’t think that was possible. I feel good, warm inside, stronger.” She put her hand on Jay-Tee’s left arm. “Here,” she said. “A present.”

  Jay-Tee didn’t feel Mere’s hand; she felt hundreds of tiny paper cuts, sharp and fine. Something thin as a ribbon and sharp as a blade cut its way into her, slid its way down into her bones.

  Esmeralda had turned on her. It was what her father had done and him as well. She didn’t know why she hadn’t expected it. This was what adults did: betrayed you. Esmeralda was taking all her magic, killing her, and there was nothing Jay-Tee could do to stop her.

  Jay-Tee felt a white-hot flash of rage, but then it faded. She didn’t even have enough strength left to be angry. Tears leaked out of her eyes. All her regrets flooded her, multiplied, and then the pain grew so great there were no regrets, no thoughts, no nothing at all.

  18

  Green Tea

  “I don’t think he’s a grave robber. Look at the snow. It’s not disturbed.”

  “Couldn’t he spirit whatever he wants out of there?” Danny asked. “Use magic?”

  “I guess. I don’t know.”

  I was knackered again. My eyelids were rebelling against staying open. My brain was finished with thinking. Through half-closed eyes I looked at old man Cansino’s grey-brown trails swirling into one another, sinking into the ground, and rising back out again. They danced together, twisting and twirling. It was pretty.

  “Reason?”

  “Mmm?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Sleepy.”

  “Let’s go home.”

  My stomach contracted, but not with nausea. I could smell the old man everywhere around me, but now he was lime juice and fresh toast. I tried to recall what it had been like before. I couldn’t.

  “Hungry.” I yawned. We’d been walking around for hours, it felt like. Longer. It had been day; now it was night. The sky was the same grey-brown as the old man. Everything was. I wondered if I was, too.

  “There’s a sushi place near here. Have you had sushi before?”

  I shook my head. “Never heard of it.”

  “Are you game?”

  I nodded, too tired to say yes.

  8

  Getting to the restaurant was hard. My legs decided they’d done enough walking. I had to use my tired brain to tell them what to do, but they weren’t much chop at listening. In my mind I called them mongrels, but they didn’t care. Finally Danny put one arm around my shoulders and another under my knees and swung me up into the air like I was a princess. It felt wonderful.

  “Wheee! Better than last time.” I had been chasing Jay-Tee, running away from Esmeralda. I’d only just met Danny, but I hadn’t been running fast enough for him, so he’d hurled me over his shoulder.

  He laughed. “You didn’t like the sack-of-potatoes carry?”

  “Nup.”

  In his arms I started to wake up, to feel the increasingly cold air on my face. For the first time in hours I could smell something other than old man Cansino. I could smell Danny. His stale sweat, his shampoo, something musky and sweet that slid off his skin, making me shiver. His arms around me were strong and still. I suddenly longed for him to run his hands along my back. To hold me rather than carry me.

  “Are we there yet?” I asked.

  “What am I? Your father? A taxi driver?”

  “You’re Jay-Tee’s brother who has the good basketball genes.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Hey, do you do that for a living? Play basketball?” I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but Jay-Tee seemed to think that her brother playing basketball was a fabulous thing.

  “I wish. One day, maybe. I got into Georgetown on a basket-ball scholarship, but they let me take this year off, what with Dad dying and me wanting to look for Julieta and everything. I do what I can to stay basketball fit. I train every day—well, most days—play a lot of pick-up games, and I’m with a West 4th street team. Then in September I’ll go to school and train big-time. They’ve got a great starting point guard, so it’s gonna be tough to get minutes.”

  “Huh,” I said, not having understood much of what Danny said. I wondered what Georgetown was and why he was talking about school when he was eighteen and must be finished with school already. “Sorry to stop you training.”

  “No big deal. I let the guys know I wouldn’t make the game tonight. I did a session at the gym this morning. It’s no biggie. Today this is more important. I can go a day without basketball.”

  “I wish I could go a day without magic.”

  “That’s what Julieta says. Here we are.”

  He let me down gently and I wobbled on my treacherous legs.

  “Steady.”

  Danny opened the door for me, and I walked into a blanket of warmth.

  8

  Sushi turned out to be rice wrapped in dark green paper stuff with fish and vegetables in the middle. It tasted great. But it didn’t put much of a dent in our hunger. I had to eat twenty-six pieces before my stomach stopped grumbling.

  The waitresses wore fancy Japanese clothes and smiled and bowed a lot. They brought us hot tea in tiny cups, which tasted bitter but was somehow refreshing. Green tea, Danny said. One sip and all the door lag and fatigue melted away.

  “How come you know nothing about New York? And you’ve never tried sushi?”

  “Didn’t Jay-Tee tell you?”

  “No.”

  “I travelled around a lot with Sarafina, my mother. In Australia, but not in the cities—in the bush. There’s not a lot of sushi there.” I wondered why it was called sushi.

  “But you went to school, right?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. Sarafina preferred to teach me herself. But she taught me mostly maths and science. I’m really good at numbers.”

  “What about television? You must have seen this city on TV.”

  I shook my head again. “Nut. The most I’ve ever watched television in my life was at your house today.”

  “No!” Danny looked shocked. “Not really?”

  “Really. I’d see television in pubs sometimes. But it was always the races or footie or some other sport, and I never got to watch for very long. I’ve read lots of book
s.”

  “But not any about New York City.”

  I shook my head. “Mostly books about maths and science. I know the name of practically every small town in Australia. There are lots of them. I can navigate by the stars. I can identify hundreds of different plants and animals, I can calculate the Fibonacci series—”

  “I bet you can. I mean it, that’s all amazing. It’s just so different. I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t grown up with a TV before. I mean, this is the most famous city in the world. It’s so weird that you don’t know anything about it. That you’d never even heard of it before you stepped through that door. To me that’s almost weirder than magic being real. And trust me, that’s plenty weird enough.”

  “I’d heard of New York City!”

  “But not of Manhattan? Or Brooklyn? Do you even know what NYPD stands for?”

  “New York, um, something.” I shook my head, feeling really stupid.

  “New York Police Department. It’s amazing to me that you don’t know that.”

  “I do now.”

  Danny rolled his eyes. “Can you name any other cities in the U.S.? In the world?”

  “Sure. Paris. Tokyo. Phnom Penh. Jakarta.”

  “Do you know anything about them?”

  “Paris is in France. Right now it’s…” I looked at my watch. “Eight thirty-seven PM here, so it’s…2:37 AM there. Phnom Penh’s in Cambodia and it’s four hours behind Sydney so it’s 8:37 AM there. Jakarta’s in Indonesia, where it’s the same time as Phnom Penh.”

  “You forgot Tokyo.”

  “It’s in Japan, and right now it’s 10:37 AM.”

  “Okay, you got me. How do you do that? Know what time it is in all those cities?”

  “It’s easy. There are only twenty-four hours in a day, so the math’s not hard. The tricky bit is remembering where the time zones are. I don’t know all of them. Some are kind of arbitrary, and daylight savings makes things more interesting. I’m better at countries that are closer to Australia.”

  “I can see that. I never heard of Phnom Penh before.”

  “I don’t really know much about them as actual places. I wouldn’t know what bits of those cities are called, their—what did you call them? Boroughs?”