It was as if the smell had soaked right through her. It streamed in through her nostrils, her eye sockets, every hair follicle and skin pore.
She needed some air.
‘I’m going to the office,’ she murmured, standing up.
Herb and Bianca didn’t even acknowledge her existence. Why would they? She wasn’t important.
Sage wandered back to the office. The scent clung to her in clouds, but at least she could breathe again. Warren was sitting on her desk, chewing on a stack of invoices. She sighed and offered him a carrot from the bucket on the floor. Warren dropped the invoices and shuffled over to her, making a contented grunting noise. She stroked his rabbity soft ears, but he shrugged her aside, turning his back on her so he could focus all his attention on the carrot.
The rubber band stretched tighter. Even Warren took her for granted.
‘Sage!’ Herb strode into the room looking distracted. ‘You can sew, right? There’s some fabric in the storeroom that I need you to turn into a curtain.’
Sage scowled at him. ‘What, no magic word?’
Herb looked confused. ‘I don’t really do magic words,’ he said. ‘Not part of my routine. But did you know that Abracadabra is derived from an Aramaic word meaning I have created? It was used to ward off illnesses by Roman emperors and Gnostic priests, and people painted it on their doors during the Great Plague in London. Nobody’s really sure where Hocus pocus comes from. Some say it’s the corruption of a Latin phrase taken from a religious Mass. Others reckon it’s a reference to Ochus Bochus, a sorcerer from Norse folklore. But more likely it’s just a meaningless phrase that sounds cool.’
Sage said nothing. The rubber band inside her stretched so tightly that it started to hum gently.
‘Anyway,’ said Herb. ‘We need the curtain sooner rather than later.’
Sage felt the rubber band snap, the two ends flying apart with a twang. ‘Do it yourself,’ she said coldly, and pushed past him, stomping down the corridor, through the auditorium and out into the foyer. She charged outside and stood on the footpath, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. It had been raining, and the gutters ran brown with little rivers of dirty water.
She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Why did it have to be so damn cold in this city? She wanted to be warm again. She wanted to hang out on the beach with her friends. She wanted to go back to her world where magic and theatres and vengeful spirits were just stuff she saw on TV, and Herb was something she sprinkled over a salad for extra flavour.
Maybe she could just go home. She didn’t really need this job, after all. She almost had enough money saved to finish Yoshi Lear’s photography course, and now that Mum had a new job, surely she could pay for the rest. And she didn’t need a new camera. Then she wouldn’t have to see Herb’s face again. She could just imagine his confused, hangdog expression when she walked back in. As if her outburst had been entirely unexpected and irrational. As if she was just being a typical hysterical girl with a stupid crush.
But they needed her. Especially with Armand gone. Sage needed to operate the lights as well as run the office and sell the tickets. They couldn’t do it without her. She didn’t want to be the one who ruined the show.
The stage door in the alley beside the theatre banged shut, and Sage turned, her traitorous heart thrilling with the thought that it might be Herb. But it was Bianca, hurrying down the steps in a thick red duffel coat, a notebook tucked under her arm. Had Herb sent her out to placate Sage? Coward. She started to raise her hand to wave, but Bianca didn’t see her. Good. Sage didn’t really feel like talking anyway. Bianca ran across the road, dodging puddles, and opened the door of a black car parked near the corner, getting into the front passenger seat. For the brief moment before Bianca pulled the door shut behind her, Sage could see into the car. The man behind the wheel looked … familiar. Dark hair. Suit. Sage frowned.
It couldn’t be.
Why would Bianca get into a car with Jason Jones?
Sage thought of all the possibilities. Could Bianca be having an affair with Jason Jones? The very idea made Sage shudder. Surely Bianca knew she could do better than Jason Jones? Surely she didn’t fall for his phoney charm? Sage remembered being bathed in Jason’s glow, and how important and valued she’d felt in those few moments. Bianca was lonely and sad. Maybe she would fall for it? Maybe after being ignored by Armand for so many years, was she hungry for some attention, even if it was all fake? Or … maybe Bianca was meeting Jason Jones to audition. With Armand out of action, it made sense she’d be looking for other options. And Jason Jones was a big-time magician who toured the world. Maybe his next show required an assistant. And maybe Bianca wanted to be that assistant.
That had to be it. The black car pulled away with a wet rumble, and Sage felt a tingling sensation. She shivered, the tips of her fingers growing numb. The hair on her arms stood up, and she felt washed with cold, alert with adrenaline. Something was wrong. She thought of ghosts and vengeful spirits. She was in danger. She could feel it.
She heard steps behind her, and felt a hand on her arm. She spun round, her heart pounding, and suddenly she was pressed up against Herb, and he was kissing her. The cold feeling of danger dissolved, and was replaced by a soft, spreading warmth. It was just Herb. Everything was fine. Everything was better than fine. She’d been jumping at shadows, and now Herb was here, and he was kissing her. His hands cupped her face and wound into her hair, and he smelled like cinnamon and jelly snakes and he was warm and strong and she totally forgot she was angry with him. Her hands crept around his waist and she sighed softly as she relaxed into the kiss.
He’d been right. It was much better without the smell of urine.
‘You meant please,’ he said. ‘The magic-word thing. Sorry. I get in my own head sometimes. I totally took you for granted, and I sincerely apologise. I was wrong.’
Sage’s lips were buzzing. She wanted more. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot going on. We’re all wound a little tight.’
He nodded. ‘I was still a dick, though. And I was wrong before that, as well. About the female magician thing. The only reason there aren’t more female magicians is because dicks like me keep saying there can’t be.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll apologise to Bianca, too. She’s incredibly talented, and I know that Armand often treats her like crap. I imagine lots of people treat her like crap, because she’s blonde and beautiful and people automatically think she’s dumb.’
Sage remembered first meeting Bianca, and how she had totally assumed that Bianca was a typical dumb blonde.
‘I mean, don’t get me wrong,’ Herb was saying. ‘Bianca is absolutely pants-on-the-wall insane. All that spiritual curse mumbo jumbo sets my teeth on edge. But that doesn’t mean she’s not talented. She could have an awesome solo magic show if she wanted. So I apologise unreservedly to her, and also to you. Do you forgive me?’
Sage tried not to smile.
‘Come on,’ said Herb. ‘Name your price. I’ll do anything, just forgive me.’
‘Anything?’
‘Anything. Make it as humiliating as you like. Want me to do the whole show with my fly undone?’
Sage thought about knives slicing into bare skin. ‘Drop the sword cabinet from the show.’
Herb looked taken aback. ‘Why?’
‘I hate it. It’s creepy.’
‘But we’ve already dropped Zigzag …’
Sage gave him a cold look. Herb sighed.
‘If I drop it, you’ll forgive me?’
Sage nodded.
‘Then consider it done. We’ll move Assistant’s Revenge to the finale. So I’m forgiven?’
Herb’s eyebrows wrinkled pleadingly, making him look like an oversized, hopeful puppy. Sage laughed, and the eyebrows shot all the way up.
‘Is that a yes?’ asked Herb, leaning forward. ‘Does that mean I can kiss you again?’
Still laughing, Sage nodded, and Herb moved in, tilting her chin up with his hand an
d lowering his face to hers. Sage felt a warm, tingling happiness spread all the way down to her toes. She liked this boy. She liked him a lot.
‘Come on, then,’ he said at last, offering her his arm. ‘I’ll walk you to your bus.’
‘But don’t we have to go through the show?’ Sage asked. ‘The lights …’
‘We’ll do it tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You deserve a night off.’
‘What about the curtain?’
‘I’ll do it myself. I’m pretty handy with a sewing machine.’
‘Such a well-rounded gentleman,’ said Sage, grinning at him.
He grinned back. ‘I’ll even walk on your left side,’ he said. ‘In case a carriage wheel should splash mud on us. However, I draw the line at putting my coat over a puddle. I really like this coat, and I don’t have a spare.’
They ambled down the street. Sage thrilled at the warmth of him, up against her side. They passed an old man pushing a walking frame, who smiled indulgently at them. Sage swelled with pride. Herb was walking down the street with her. He’d chosen her.
Finally.
‘Why didn’t you kiss me the other night? After the Jason Jones show?’ she asked him.
Herb looked surprised, swinging his head around to look at her. ‘Why didn’t you kiss me?’
Sage spluttered.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Herb, taking on a knowing, lofty air. ‘So what you’re saying is that women should have all the same opportunities as men, and should be totally equal in everything, and shouldn’t have to be the spangly-clad assistants to magicians. Except for when it comes to kissing. Kissing isn’t equal at all, because the boy has to make the first move. Am I right?’
Sage glared at him. ‘Seriously?’ she said. ‘After that whole lovely heartfelt apology, you still want to win this fight?’
He shrugged. ‘I think I just did.’
‘You are infuriating.’
The goofy grin widened. ‘But you like me.’
Sage wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hit him or kiss him again. She settled for the latter, pulling on his arm to make him stop and reaching up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his shoulders. A car honked at them, and she felt Herb’s lips stretch in a smile under hers.
She wasn’t even cold anymore.
The bus pulled up just as they turned the corner. It started to rain again, fat drops that slid down the back of Sage’s jacket and plastered her hair to her forehead. She leaned in for a quick kiss, and then dashed to meet the bus, skipping over puddles and feeling light as a feather. She felt like Gene Kelly, springing and whirling through the rain.
She climbed on board the bus, and the bus driver gave her an amused smile. She grinned back as she swiped her card, and sank damply into a spare seat. Herb still stood on the corner, getting steadily wetter. She waved, and he waved back. The bus pulled away from the corner with a groan, and Herb finally turned and started to walk back to the theatre. Sage let out a little squeal, and pressed her fingers to her still-buzzing lips. It wasn’t until she was halfway home that she remembered seeing Bianca with Jason Jones. She’d forgotten to tell Herb about it. Maybe that was for the best. Tensions between Herb and Bianca were running high, and knowing that Bianca might be planning to defect to Jason Jones certainly wouldn’t make things any better.
Her mother was waiting for her when she got home. She was wearing a neat grey business suit with stylish black heels. Her hair was swept back. Sage stared at her. She hadn’t seen her mother in anything other than jeans and a baggy knitted jumper for weeks.
‘I thought you didn’t start until Monday?’
‘I don’t. Today was just a preliminary meeting.’ Mum’s smile was so wide, Sage was afraid her teeth might fall out. ‘It’s great,’ she said. ‘I have my own office with this gorgeous view out over all those higgledy-piggledy rooftops. Everyone is absolutely lovely, and the work is so interesting. First up I’m going to be working on a design project for a bicycle company.’
‘That’s excellent.’ Sage opened the fridge and squealed a little. It was full of food. And not cheap-brand basics. There was hummus and olives and the expensive organic ham that Sage loved and at least four kinds of cheese. Sage pulled it all out, grabbed the fresh loaf of sourdough bread that lay on the kitchen counter and made herself a sandwich.
‘There’s just this one thing,’ said Mum. ‘Kate next door is totally happy to look after Zacky during the days you’re at work. But there’s one night next week when Roman has a piano lesson, and I have to take a late client meeting. I won’t be back until nine.’
Sage took a blissful bite of her sandwich. ‘Mhmm.’
‘Do you think you could take Zacky to the theatre with you?’ asked Mum. ‘Just on Wednesday night?’
Sage chewed and raised her eyebrows. She swallowed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty hectic backstage during the show. I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him all the time.’
‘Couldn’t he sit in the audience?’
Sage thought about it. ‘I suppose so,’ she said doubtfully.
Mum smiled understandingly. ‘I know it’s a bit of a pain, but I really appreciate the help. And I want to make it worth your while.’ She reached under her chair and drew out a white plastic bag.
‘What is it?’ Sage took the bag and opened it, and almost dropped her sandwich.
It was a camera. A proper film camera. It was her camera, the one she’d spent hours staring at online. The one that Yoshi Lear used. She reverently removed it from the box and gripped it in her hands. It was real. It was hers. She looked up at her mother, who smiled.
‘I know it’s been hard,’ said Mum. ‘The move, and everything. But now I have this job, we’re going to be fine. A plumber is coming on the weekend to have a look at the pipes and fix the heating, and I’ve made an appointment with a builder to come and patch up the damp spots in the ceiling. Then maybe during the next school holidays you can help me pick out some new paint and carpet, and help with the design for a new kitchen.’
Sage nodded dumbly, and looked back down at her camera. Her fingers itched. She suddenly thought of the theatre. What an incredible series of photos she could take! Backstage at a magic show – it was a photographer’s dream. She knew exactly the kind of lenses and filters she’d use to bring the slightly grungy, worn old theatre to life.
‘So next Wednesday?’ Mum asked. ‘You don’t mind taking Zacky along with you?’
‘Of course not,’ said Sage, her mind elsewhere. ‘It’ll be fun.’
11. Force: a subject is offered an apparently free choice, but the magician is in control of what will be chosen.
Sage sought Bianca out in her dressing-room the next afternoon. ‘I’ve been thinking about Armand,’ she said. ‘Have you got any more text messages?’
Bianca leaned towards her mirror and applied eyeliner with expert sweeps of the pencil. Sage watched jealously. She was utterly confounded by makeup, and couldn’t manage anything more complicated than lip gloss and mascara.
‘There was one yesterday,’ said Bianca. ‘That he’d be back soon.’
‘Did he give a date?’
‘Nothing specific.’
‘I think he’s hiding something,’ said Sage. ‘Do you remember when I told him that I’d discovered some missing money?’
Bianca shook her head.
‘It was the first time I ever met him,’ said Sage. ‘You were there. I told him that I’d noticed some accounting errors. He acted really weird about it, and told me not to investigate any further. Then the next day he told me he’d sorted it all out.’
‘So? If he sorted it all out, then what is there to worry about?’
‘I think he was lying. I think he knew exactly what had happened to that money. And I think maybe now he might be in trouble.’
Bianca pulled a baby wipe from a container and dabbed at an unwanted smudge. ‘Surely if he was in trouble, he would have mentioned it in one of his texts.’
‘What if he’s i
n big trouble? What if he owes someone a bunch of money? What if he has a gambling addiction? Or a drug addiction?’
‘The only thing Armand is addicted to is attention,’ said Bianca. ‘I really wouldn’t worry about him if I were you. We have bigger things to deal with.’
Sage watched as Bianca painted several layers of glittery eyeshadow in different shades of green.
‘Where did you learn to do that?’ she asked.
Bianca shrugged. ‘Oh, you know. My mother. Magazines. Hours of practice.’
Sage bit her lip and plucked up her courage. ‘Um,’ she said. ‘Did I see you with Jason Jones yesterday?’
Bianca’s hand froze, brush poised above her eyelid. ‘What?’
‘I thought I saw you get into a car with Jason Jones.’
Bianca’s lips pressed together. ‘Wasn’t me,’ she said, and her hand unfroze and continued applying eyeshadow.
‘Oh,’ said Sage. ‘I could have sworn it was.’
‘Nope.’ Icy stillness settled over Bianca’s features.
Sage watched her for a few more minutes. She was sure about what she’d seen. But why would Bianca lie?
‘So this fader goes up to about forty per cent,’ said Herb, pointing to the little lighting desk. ‘And then up to full once I bring Warren out for the second time.’
Sage looked up from the sheet of cues that Herb had made for her and an entirely involuntary smile spread across her face. Herb twinkled at her and Sage’s insides went all melty, like chocolate syrup.
‘Do you think this would be an appropriate time for me to make some kind of sleazy comment involving your ability to turn on a light?’ asked Herb.
Sage snorted. ‘Try it,’ she warned. ‘See what happens.’
Herb reached out and entwined his pinkie finger with hers.
Sage cleared her throat. ‘So what’s the next cue?’
‘Hmm?’ Herb started to tug gently on her little finger.
Sage nodded towards the lighting desk. ‘I think we were up to Warren’s second appearance. Is that where I bring up the blue wash?’
Zigzag Effect Page 14
