Deadly Magic

by Skye Melki-Wegner

  ‘He’s not evil,’ I said, finally. ‘He was just scared. And I don’t think any punishment you come up with will be as bad as what he’s doing to himself right now.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dragon gave me a perceptive look. ‘What would you suggest, then?’

  ‘I know he has to leave HELIX,’ I said. ‘But after that, let him decide. Let him choose to put his powers into stasis, and live a normal life. Or if he wants, maybe he could go and live in a Clandestine Zone. That way, he can keep his quintessence, but he won’t put anyone else in danger.’

  Dragon tilted her head, examining me closely. Then she gave a slow nod, her expression blank. ‘A very interesting response.’

  A quiet breeze blew through the clearing. It sent the leaves aquiver, and I inhaled a hot whiff of smoke from the campfire. When I realised Dragon was still studying me, a sinking feeling filled my stomach.

  ‘That was a test, wasn’t it?’ I asked.

  Dragon gave me an amused look. ‘Of course it was.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what?’

  I tried to hide my frustration. ‘Well, did I pass?’

  ‘Some say too much empathy is a weakness,’ Dragon said. ‘That you need to be stronger, and harder, to be an effective agent. Sometimes, a strong leader needs to make cruel decisions.’

  She turned her cooking stick over, plunging the other side of the dough into the fire. The damper crackled and smouldered, smoking in the cinders.

  I hesitated. ‘And what would you say?’

  ‘I’d say real strength comes from the people around us. And I’d say a lack of empathy is the whole damn reason why Steel is about to lose his place in HELIX.’ Dragon pointed at me. ‘You’ve got an imagination, kid, rattling around in that head of yours. You know how to put yourself in other people’s shoes, to consider what they might be feeling.’

  Another breeze tumbled through the foliage. Dragon sniffed the air, fished her damper from the campfire and yanked it off the stick. She tore it down the middle and offered me half.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ she said. ‘You look half starved. What in the blazes have they been feeding you at this place?’

  ‘Celery, mostly.’

  Dragon snorted. We ate in silence, watching the smoke rise like trails of quintessence through the air. There was nothing but the silence, and the warmth of half-charred damper in my mouth.

  ‘You’ve got a decent heart, kid,’ Dragon said. ‘If you want my advice, don’t let the world beat it out of you.’ She stared into the flames. ‘In a job like this one, it’s the only thing that keeps us human.’

  Steel left camp that afternoon.

  As he dragged his suitcase through the gates, dozens of cadets gathered nearby, watching and whispering. Rumours had already spread about our mission, and Camp Adventure was buzzing with tales of Steel’s cowardice. I had a feeling Phoenix might be responsible. She was still boiling with spite over Steel’s actions – and although she wasn’t allowed to punch him, public humiliation was the next best thing.

  As he trundled through the gates, Steel’s head hung low. In only days, he had gone from being the most popular cadet at HQ to the target of cruel gossip and mockery.

  I stood by the sidelines, watching him depart in silence. A figure sidled up beside me. I glanced to the side, and saw that it was Ultra. Her lips were an angry line of crimson lipstick, and her entire face was contorted in fury.

  ‘This is all your fault,’ she hissed. ‘He was supposed to be a future leader of HQ! You idiots ruined his entire career.’

  It was easy to guess why she was so furious. Steel had been her ticket to the top; by dating him, she was cementing her own future in the agency. Now, she was just the ex-girlfriend of a coward, who had been forced to leave HELIX in disgrace.

  ‘You’ll pay for this.’ She pointed a finger at me. ‘You and your friends. I’ll make you pay.’

  I stared at her, slightly uneasy. Ultra knew how to manipulate people, and she knew the value of reputations. Soon enough, she would claw her way back up the social hierarchy.

  Even so, it was hard to take her seriously as a threat. In recent days, I had faced two ruthless sorcerers, with vast reserves of stolen magic and a deadly virus on their side. By contrast, Ultra was just a kid, armed with a nasty smirk and bitterness.

  I met her gaze. ‘Then my friends and I will be waiting.’

  Ultra’s eyes narrowed. She looked ready to retort – but she sucked down a sharp breath, bottling her vitriol for later.

  And then she was gone, slipping away into the crowd.

  Since Pickles and Dippy were on their way to prison, Camp Adventure needed a new agent to run it. To my surprise, I learnt Nephrite had volunteered for the job.

  ‘My grandfather loved this place,’ she said quietly. ‘I’d like the chance to run it, at least for a few years. It would be a way to honour his memory.’

  Despite our recent foray into terror, danger and near-global-catastrophe, Dragon decided we should stay and complete our time at camp.

  ‘It’ll be a good distraction,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you lot moping around HQ. When you take a tumble, it’s best to get back on the horse.’

  And so, after a day or two of rest, we found ourselves clambering up ropes, stumbling through obstacle courses, and learning how to tend a campfire.

  In a strange way, I found myself enjoying it. My bruises and aching limbs slowed me down, but it didn’t matter. After days of fighting to survive, it was a sheer relief to turn my energy to something harmless. So I climbed the ropes, and rode the flying fox, and threw my best efforts into the shelter-building competition.

  ‘I reckon mine’s the best,’ Riff said, standing back to admire his structure. While the rest of us had relied on branches, twigs and tree bark, he had pilfered a bright blue tarpaulin from the bike shed.

  Phoenix rolled her eyes. ‘Riff, it’s supposed to be camouflaged. Yours looks like a giant bowerbird tried to build a nest out of the blue Wiggle’s skivvy.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Riff said with a grin, and tapped the side of his nose. ‘It’s hiding in plain sight. Clever, right?’

  Apart from Ultra, the girls in my cabin turned out to be decent company. We stayed up late at night to chat about life at HQ – and of course, to enjoy the rest of the lollies that Rhyme and Melody had smuggled into camp.

  Apricity and Sapphire were training to be field agents, while Rhyme hoped to become a cryptographer. Melody was a Receiver, with the rare ability to pick up radio waves without equipment, so she planned to join the elite Interception Squadron at Global HQ.

  To my surprise, Rainbow was training to join the Financial Crimes Division of HELIX, which fought the Inductors’ infiltration of the global stock market. It was a prestigious program, and only cadets with a real flair for maths and business strategies were invited. Yet as Dippy had proven, first impressions could be deceptive.

  On our last night, we gathered around the campfire for a final singalong. This mostly consisted of Riff plucking out folksongs on a crummy old acoustic guitar, while we all hollered along to the chorus in about five different musical keys.

  Afterwards, Nephrite produced a bulk-bag of marshmallows she’d bought in town – which was met with a resounding cheer. After a week of celery and protein paste, we would probably have cheered at anything with sugar on the ingredients list.

  ‘I wonder if this is what quintessence tastes like,’ Riff said, through a mouthful of half-chewed marshmallow. ‘Sort of soft, and melty …’

  Phoenix threw him an exasperated look. ‘Magic doesn’t have a taste, Riff.’

  ‘Yeah, but it should,’ Riff said. ‘I mean, if I was in charge, I’d make it taste like a lolly banana.’

  We just stared at him.

  ‘Um … why?’ I asked.

  ‘Why not?’ Riff shrugged. ‘Lolly bananas are awesome. And every so often, I’d chuck in a hint of tutti frutti, just to mess with people.’


  ‘Yeah, but they’re kind of polarising flavours,’ I pointed out. ‘Not everyone likes lolly bananas. I mean, if you’re gonna go for unpopular flavours, you might as well choose black liquorice or something …’

  ‘Geez, Nomad!’ Riff recoiled. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not a monster.’

  ‘I like liquorice,’ Orbit said.

  ‘Yeah, course you do,’ Riff said. ‘It looks like a piece of electrical wire. Probably tastes about the same, too.’

  In the morning, we ventured back into Otorohanga. It was a quirky little town, lined with colourful shopfronts and baskets of hanging flowers. Riff, who could never resist the lure of tacky souvenirs, walked out of a gift shop with a fluffy toy sheep, a silver fern t-shirt and a pair of ‘I Heart New Zealand’ slippers.

  Orbit insisted on ducking into the post office to send an anonymous donation to Delightful Rafting Adventures. ‘We did lose some of their equipment,’ he said. ‘It’s only right to pay for it.’

  We ate a picnic lunch of supermarket sandwiches, and then treated ourselves to frothy chocolate milkshakes from a cafe. When we passed the Otorohanga Kiwi House, Riff let out a squawk of enthusiasm and roped us into a group photo with the enormous plastic bird outside.

  ‘Pretty cool, hey?’ he said with a grin, brandishing the snapshot on our mission camera. ‘Should show it to Dragon, I reckon – show her all the fun she missed out on by heading back to Melbourne too soon.’

  I examined the photo. Riff took pride of place in the centre of the shot, perched atop the kiwi’s back like a slightly unhinged rodeo rider.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘She’ll be devastated, I’m sure.’

  Before our departure, Nephrite organised a cheesy trust exercise to complete in teams. She’d found it in an old guidebook called Motivational Camp Activities, and she overrode our groans with a point and a glare.

  Begrudgingly, we split into teams of four. One person in each group had to wear a blindfold, while their teammates guided them through a maze of obstacles, using only four words: ‘left’, ‘right’, ‘up’ and ‘down’. The fastest team to reach the finish line would win.

  ‘Who wants to wear this thing?’ Phoenix said, holding up our blindfold with a look of distaste.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I said.

  I allowed her to strap the blindfold across my eyes, tying it securely at the nape of my neck. Riff wanted to loosen it slightly, allowing me to peek, but the ever-honourable Orbit was too affronted by the idea to even consider it.

  ‘That would be cheating!’ he protested.

  ‘It’s all right, Riff,’ I said, tightening the blindfold. ‘Just don’t let me walk off a cliff or anything.’

  ‘Ready?’ Nephrite called. ‘On my mark. Three, two, one … Go!’

  In a jumble of shouted warnings and encouragement, I made my way through the obstacle course. I tripped and skidded, bumped into a hurdle and almost crashed into a wooden pole. But still I hurried onwards, secure in the knowledge that my friends were beside me. They were my eyes, and my guides in the darkness.

  In the end, we didn’t come first, but we didn’t come last. It was a solid result, and I couldn’t help but grin as I pulled off my blindfold. We had survived our final challenge in New Zealand – and as always, we had done it together.

  We returned to Melbourne HQ that evening. Dragon had arranged for us to use one of the New Zealand agency’s Chameleon jets, since the one that had brought us here was still being repaired.

  The flight home was a strange experience. This wasn’t the jet that I had almost died in – and yet, its interior was eerily similar. The same aisle. The same seats. The same blinking lights on the ceiling, and the same glass cockpit door.

  My fingers knotted in my lap.

  ‘All right, Nomad?’ Riff asked.

  I glanced across at him. His own face was pinched and tight, as if he too were reliving a painful memory. I gave a little shrug and said, ‘You?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘About the same.’

  At home, we trundled straight into the cadet lounge. As I stepped into that familiar room, I was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. It had all been too much – the cottage, the caves, the forest, the island …

  ‘Early night?’ Phoenix suggested.

  We all nodded.

  In my bedroom, I headed for the world map on my cupboard door. I stuck a pin into New Zealand, adding an extra splash of colour to the map. Even so, the moment didn’t feel like a triumph. It felt oddly hollow.

  Dressed in my pyjamas, I pulled out my sketchpad and oil pastels. Almost without thinking, I started to draw. I intended to illustrate the forest near Camp Adventure – but instead, I found myself drawing only darkness. A cramped aisle between rows of seats. A glass door. Shadows and magic and the cold rush of death in my veins, etched in swirls of oil on the page.

  My quintessence tingled on my skin. It felt … odd. Had it always tingled like this? Had its breath always felt like a broken chord, a fizzle of light and dark and cold? Or could it be changing slightly, altering its properties, tainted by the virus?

  No, I told myself. No, there hadn’t been a Catalytic Event. My quintessence was the same as always. It wasn’t any different.

  I wasn’t any different.

  With a cold clench, I tore the sheet of paper free and scrunched it up. I hurled it into my bin, drew a shuddering breath and crawled into bed. I was overtired, that was all. My body needed to rest.

  In the darkness, I thought of Steel, struggling to start a life outside of HELIX. I thought of Pickles and Dippy, locked away in a prison cell. I thought of my mother, making deals and trading lives to win back her favour with the Inductors. And finally I thought of the virus in my veins, and the struggle to breathe, and the agony that had burned inside my skull …

  I rolled over. I stared in silence at my cupboard door.

  When I finally slept, my dreams were nightmares.

  Gradually, we settled back into our routine at HQ. Classes in the morning, briefings in the afternoon, and mini-missions to complete each day. My friends and I resumed our habit of jogging around the Tan Track each morning. And gradually, as each day passed, my nightmares weren’t quite so vivid.

  Riff added his ‘I Heart New Zealand’ slippers to Archibald’s skeletal feet. They were decorated with cartoon kiwi birds, which seemed an odd stylistic choice for a plastic skeleton, but Riff looked pleased as punch with his purchase.

  He had also brought home the dragon statuette from Mariner’s cabin. Nephrite had wanted to throw it away, but Riff had been all too delighted to give it a home. With the smile of a proud parent, he placed it on the windowsill with Mr Oink the piggy bank.

  ‘They’re gonna be great friends, I reckon,’ Riff said. ‘I mean, they’re both animals, they’re both lonely, they’ve both got stenographical codes hidden on their bodies …’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘It’s a match made in heaven.’

  In Sorcery briefings, as Zephyr droned on about scientific principles, I swirled my quintessence like a watercolour painting. It feels the same, I told myself. The same as always. Yet still it left a strange sort of prickle on my fingertips, and the hint of a shiver under my skin.

  I remembered what I’d promised Dragon. If my quintessence acted differently, I would go straight to her. But I had no proof of a change. Not yet, at least. Just a vague hunch, and a subtle pinch upon my skin. Perhaps I was only being paranoid.

  At least if it changed, I had someone to turn to.

  In our Disguises briefing, we finally received the results of our exam. I was relieved to see that my friends and I had all passed – although in my case, it came down to a few lucky guesses in the multiple-choice section.

  In our Combat and Weaponry briefing, Fox forced us all through another fitness test. When he peeked at his stopwatch, he looked begrudgingly pleased with our progress. Casting his eyes across my friends, he actually gave us a nod of approval.

  ‘We’re good?’ Riff said, delighte
d.

  Fox gave him a stern look. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re completely useless. But at least you’re on the right track.’

  In the evenings, I continued to work on my sketch of the cadet lounge. I had filled in all of the details by now – from the origami birds to the explosive treadmills – and yet even so, it still didn’t feel right. There was something missing. Something about the image didn’t quite ring true …

  As I worked, Riff kept us all entertained by rattling off a list of ideas for his future band name. This wouldn’t have been so bad, except he babbled with such intensity that no one else could sneak a word in.

  ‘How about “The Monstrous Marshmallows”?’ he said. ‘Sounds pretty cool, I reckon. Or maybe “The Red Sky Rockers”, that’d be awesome too …’

  Phoenix gave an exasperated sigh. ‘God, I’m starting to think even the humming wasn’t this bad.’

  ‘Hey, I like to express myself,’ Riff said. ‘Can’t help it if I’m naturally crustaceous.’

  Orbit tilted his head and slowly sounded out the word, as if attempting to make sense of it. ‘Er … do you mean “loquacious”?’

  ‘Whatever.’ Riff waved a hand. ‘They both sound fancy.’

  With a snort of laughter, I turned my attention back to my sketch. And at that moment, I realised what was missing from the picture. Every detail of the cadet lounge was there on the page. Except for one.

  With a hasty flick of my pencil, I began to add some different elements to my sketch. But this time, I didn’t draw the lounge’s decorations.

  I drew its people.

  There was Riff: halfway off the floor, practising his levitation, with a cheeky grin on his face. There was Phoenix, pretending to be stern, while she privately fought down a laugh. And there was Orbit, fiddling with his latest invention, while he smiled fondly at his friends’ shenanigans.

  This was the cadet lounge. It was the place I called my home, and the people who made it worthy of the name. And finally, I knew my sketch was complete.

  On Friday night, we headed out into the city.