Those Who Fall

by Rachael Arsenault

  “Is that a text?” Farida asked, moving closer to look over my shoulder.

  “Yeah.” My fingers stumbled over the password for my lock screen. I had to try three times before I got it right. When I opened the text, it showed an unreceived file — Dad’s phone had tried to send a photo. I quickly switched on my data and hit try again.

  When the image was loaded, I was struck with an immediate sense of recognition even though I couldn’t place what I was seeing: A sign advertising that the exit for Cape Jourimain was two kilometers away.

  “Isn’t that by the Bridge?” Farida asked.

  The Confederation Bridge — of course. I would have seen that sign on my way back to the Island after visiting New Brunswick for my campus tour last year. But that meant… There was no way we could walk there. It had to be at least 200 kilometers away from where we were — and, to be fair, I had no idea where we were. The Bridge could easily have been twice that distance and I wouldn’t have known any different.

  I was so absorbed in gut-sickening despair that I almost didn’t notice the noise outside. A second too late, I turned to look out the massive windows to the front lawn.

  A blast of fire slammed into the glass, shattering it. I threw my arms up to shield my eyes, phone clattering to the ground. “Farida, what are you doing?”

  “That wasn’t me!”

  The glass settled; I lowered my arms. Outside, a terrifyingly familiar woman with dark skin and a matted, wildly curly ponytail was smirking as she strode closer. Imani. She was followed closely by the guy I recognized but couldn’t remember, the one who had fought with her last time. I instinctively stepped back, looking for somewhere to run — but where? And what was the point? A black car was parked on the lawn several yards behind them, meaning they still had speed on their side. We might be able to lose them in the woods, but that was a big maybe.

  How had they found us? And since when could either of them throw fire like Farida?

  Imani’s fists lit up with flames; she punched a ball of fire toward me. Heat sailed past my shoulder as another burst of flames collided with Imani’s, the two blasts destroying each other. Then Farida was shoving past me, leaping through the broken window and onto the damp lawn. She threw a rapid series of punches toward Imani and her ally, the air around her bright and hot. It gave me a little satisfaction when the guy dove for the ground, apparently not competent enough with his magic yet to fend off the barrage, but Imani didn’t waver. She held her ground and devoured the series of fireballs with an arcing wall of flames.

  The ground steamed as the wall faded, creating a smokescreen-like affect. The two cousins stood studying each other through the mist, both breathing heavy. The air was charged and volatile; I glanced back and forth between the two women, wondering who would strike first, if I should hide, if I could help, if, if, if—

  The puddles filling the hollows of the uneven ground suddenly roiled as though brought to a boil, darkened like storm clouds, and then exploded upwards. A flurry of small, black birds had emerged. I threw my hands up to shield my face again, but no attack came — the screaming I heard wasn’t Farida, either.

  Imani was flailing wildly, trying to knock the birds away from her face as they dove and pecked at her with their yellow bills.

  I glanced toward Farida. She was ashen and panting, the sleeves of her sweater pushed back to reveal an unfamiliar golden bracelet decorated with a variety of studs. It held a stone of swirling brown, white, and grey that reminded me of marbles.

  “F-Farida?” I said, stepping toward the shattered window. I paused. What could I even do? I wanted to reach out to her, to touch her shoulder — as though that could somehow snap her back into herself or dispel this illusion or… something. But there was too much space between us and, when she turned toward me, the look in her eyes frightened me. It wasn’t the grim determination I was used to seeing in her when she fought. It was darker.

  For the first time, she really did look like Imani.

  She surged forward, hurling a fistful of flames at her cousin. Imani barely managed to dive out of the way; the cloud of shrieking birds followed her every move.

  Nausea seized my gut as I watched Farida use both birds and fire. I had travelled with her long enough and seen her fight often enough to know that the birds weren’t part of her normal set of powers. They had to come from a different stone — undoubtedly the one in her new bracelet. But using more than one stone was dangerous. Masika had said it was destructive, more so than magic usually is, and that it could blacken a heart and corrupt it with greed and bloodlust.

  Farida knew that. She was too smart to do something that reckless.

  Imani darted away from another streak of fire, trying to evade the swarm of blackbirds at the same time. I expected the earth to heave and form a barrier between her and Farida, but it never did. Was she not using her old stone?

  A gust of wind surged up around Imani, catching in the blackbirds’ wings and tossing them violently aside. They squawked and shrieked and fought to right themselves. Imani recovered quickly and hurled a massive burst of flames toward Farida, who tried to swallow it in her own wall of fire. But just before the two fires met, another gust of wind kicked up behind Imani’s, propelling it forward and amplifying it. It crashed into Farida with concussive force. She screamed hoarsely as she was thrown backwards.

  The man had joined the fray. And he was definitely stronger in his magic than he was last time, no longer shaking and panting from the exertion of a simple strike.

  The blackbirds dove at Imani again, but the man was ready this time. A whirlwind sprung up around the birds, trapping them in a spinning current of air. He was clenching his teeth now, holding his hand up toward the mini cyclone as veins appeared in his forehead. Farida and Imani continued trading blows, once more evenly matched, but as I watched I realized it wasn’t going to last long. The birds were dissolving as the tightening spiral of wind tore them apart.

  Once Farida’s backup was gone, that guy would team up against her.

  ‘I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.’ I tried to calm my racing heart with deep breaths as I leapt out the window. The ground was still slick and I nearly fell on my ass, but managed to find my balance. I was glad everyone was too busy fighting to pay any attention to me. Taking another deep breath, I set off across the lawn toward the man. He was distracted right now. If I could get to him while he was distracted…

  I reached down to the imaginary pool of blackness inside me and called it to my palm. As I closed the distance between us, I thrust my hand forward. A thin mist of poison curled out. The man was startled as the black mist drifted by his face. Coughing, he swung one hand toward me, simultaneously knocking my arm aside and dispersing the airborne poison with a puff of wind.

  I was trying to summon more poison, stronger this time, when the last of Farida’s birds dissolved and the man rounded on me. A gale buffeted against me. I stumbled back a step before planting my feet and leaning into the wind, raising an arm to shield my eyes from dirt and debris. The man let out a growl of frustration and the wind immediately died. I looked up in time to see a burst of light.

  The creature that appeared had massive, brown-feathered wings. Its head resembled an eagle’s, with a sharp, hooked beak and intelligent eyes. It was four-legged, the front bird-like and taloned, the back two furry and clawed and enormous as a lion’s paws. From the backside emerged a long, thin tail with a tuft of fur on the end. It towered over me, breath hot in my face, before rearing back on its hindlegs and letting out a fearsome battle cry.

  I raised my shaking hands, trying to call on my poison but only able to think of the monster’s talons and claws and my frozen legs and blood pounding in my ears and I needed to run—

  As the creature swung back down onto its forelegs, it slammed into me, talons tearing at my shirt and slicing the skin on my chest. I hit the wet earth — lights dancing in my eyes — sharp, hot pain—

  And then the world was whitewh
itewhitewhite.

  When the light faded and colour returned, an enormous, fiery grey heron was fighting the eagle-lion, both squawking and shrieking and hissing. But there was more noise — screaming. I turned my head toward the noise and saw a woman like a mirage. Her golden hair flowed around her as though caught in an underwater current, and she was draped in emerald silks. Then her image melted and she was another bird — an enormous, brownish-black bird with lighter feathers along its throat, who snatched at Imani with her yellow bill.

  “Fuck this!” Imani cried as she struggled to fend off the giant blackbird with a streak of flames. “Let’s go!”

  The man’s head snapped toward her, attention momentarily pulled from me. “What?! Imani, no! We’ve got them! Let’s finish this!”

  With a guttural roar of frustration, Imani surged forward with a massive burst of flames, forcing the blackbird to soar up and out of her way. Imani kept running, heading for their car as she called over her shoulder, “Stay if you want! You’re on your own!”

  The man snarled, but his creature vanished and he took off after Imani.

  “Get back here!” Farida panted. She started running, but her feet were dragging, her knees unwilling to bend. Then she collapsed. The heron and the blackbird both vanished when she hit the ground.

  Stumbling to my feet, I hurried over to her. My chest was burning and wet. Long gashes stretched from my collarbones to my stomach, the pain so intense it was hard to breathe. I had trouble figuring out where to place my feet in the squelching, sucking mud. Grey spots danced across my vision, and I got woozier with every step, but I managed to reach Farida and knelt by her.

  “Are you—”

  “I’m fine.” She tried to shrug off the hand I had placed on her shoulder, but her limbs were twitching erratically. With a growl, she forced herself onto her hands and knees. Then — with visible effort — slowly rose to her feet. Her trembling legs clearly wanted to buckle and give out, but she fought against it. With slow, strained steps wracked by spasms, she walked over to where the black car had been parked.

  My chest was still bleeding, but this didn’t seem like the best moment to ask for more of her magic. Instead, I turned back to the house. I stumbled inside and went to where we had laid out our supplies by the window, collapsing onto my knees again. Farida had packed a rudimentary first aid kit that consisted of gauze, a couple types of bandages, medical tape, bug bite cream, safety pins, scissors, alcohol wipes, and Polysporin. With weak, shaking hands, I unrolled some gauze to wrap around my torso, wondering if we even had enough.

  It was a long, silent, painful process. I kept glancing out the window toward Farida, who remained standing on the burnt and sodden lawn for a long while in spite of her full-body spasms. Eventually, when I had used almost all the gauze to wrap myself, she re-entered the house.

  “That was dangerous,” I said quietly, not quite looking at her as I repacked the first aid kit.

  She let out a humourless laugh. “Getting ambushed tends to be.”

  “No, I mean…” I hesitated. Was bringing up the new stone a good idea? I got a more proper look at her. She was ashen and clearly suffering the impacts of reckless use of magic, even though she of all people knew the risks and limitations. Steeling my resolve, I continued, “Using more than one stone. That’s really dangerous.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she said evenly, turning away and crossing her arms. “Certainly better than you.”

  I tried not to wince. She was right. But I also knew I was right. “Magic already takes a toll on your body.”

  “I know.”

  “If you’re not careful with it, it can destroy you. Well, faster than it already does.”

  “I know.”

  “When she was training me, Masika said—”

  Farida whirled on me, teeth bared in anger. “You don’t know anything about this, okay? Nothing! I’ve lived with this my whole life! You learned magic existed a week ago.”

  I stared at her, mouth working but unable to speak.

  “Don’t look surprised! You know you’re clueless — you didn’t even want to be here. Well, now you’re stuck.” Her voice cracked, but it didn’t lose any of its fury. “I’ve ruined your life. Congratulations.”

  “Farida, that’s — I’m not worried about that right now.”

  She let out a bitter, mirthless laugh that raised the hair on the back of my neck. “Yeah, right. You’re not missing your nice warm bed at home. You’re not missing your friends — your family — you’re not worried about your parents — and you even get to hope they’ll live to see old age.”

  Now I did wince. My throat went tight, my stomach sick with familiar guilt and shame, but I forced myself to speak. “Farida, this isn’t like you. I’m worried about you.”

  “You’re worried about me?” Her wide eyes were shining, voice high and broken. “Right. Because I’m the helpless one.”

  “I—”

  “Shut up! Okay? Just shut up!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she raged at me, hands clenched into fists. I couldn’t tell how much of her shaking was from emotion or the effects of magic. “You’re useless — don’t look so shocked! You know it’s true. You’ve always known. You can’t camp, you can’t fight, you probably don’t even know how to cook. Just… go. Go home. Leave! You shouldn’t be here.”

  Then she turned and stormed from the room, disappearing down the hall into one of the bedrooms.

  I stared after her, vision blurred by tears, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Chapter Three

  It took me a long time to fall asleep that night. Between the gashes in my chest making it painful to draw deep breaths, the cocktail of anger and worry and guilt festering in my mind, and the uncertainty of when Imani might return, I was a wreck. I ended up going down to the basement to resume charging my phone. I still couldn’t get a signal in the basement, so I couldn’t check if there were new articles about us (or Imani mistaken as Farida). I read through old texts instead. I had hoped I could distract myself with happier memories, but it just made me sadder. I wasn’t done grieving the life I had left behind, I guess. Maybe I never would be.

  After my phone fully charged, I headed back to where all our stuff was drying out. A cool breeze blew in through the shattered window, carrying with it the scent of scorched earth and grass, and the nightly chorus of crickets was in full swing. It felt wrong to leave all our supplies exposed and unattended, so I carefully dragged it away from the window and shook out the shards of glass. Finally, I laid down on the floor by all our gear, staring out toward the picture window. The breeze still reached me, kissing my cheeks with its chill.

  My eyelids slowly grew heavy as I stared out at the alien brightness of the stars, and I finally drifted off. It may have taken me a long time to fall asleep, but once I was out, I was out. I woke up only once, briefly, when a strange but soothing warmth flowed through my chest. My eyes resisted opening, but I lifted my eyelids long enough to catch a glimpse of Farida silhouetted above me, backlit by moonlight and constellations. Her voice was soft and raspy. My mind was too sleep-laden to grasp the words, and I drifted off again.

  ~

  The sound of a car rattling over the uneven front yard woke me.

  I was on my feet before I fully realized what was happening, heart hammering, mind racing to make sense of my surroundings. Instead of trees and dirt, I was in a completely unfamiliar house; the only thing in the open concept main room was a backpack with some scattered supplies and shattered glass in front of a giant picture window.

  My thoughts found clarity in confusing, disparate chunks. We had been attacked. We’d been squatting. My chest was cut open. Imani and that guy had run away. No, my chest was healed now. Imani had a new stone. Farida had a new stone. Now their black car was back.

  But their black car was a red, beat-up old Corolla and bore a PEI license plate. It was a car I had ridden tip-to-tip across the Island in, a car in which I had spilled an
entire blue raspberry slushie on the mat in front of the passenger seat. There was a stash of old CDs in the center console, and I knew if I checked inside the glove box there would be a small, smooth piece of marbled green stone for protection from accidents.

  And the woman who stepped out of the driver side was familiar — her long blonde hair lifted in the slight breeze, revealing a glimpse of the stylized rose hair tattoo shaved in a triangular patch above her ears and temples. The silver hoop through her right eyebrow caught the sun as she glanced over her shoulder at the road before turning to study the house. She wore a black t-shirt and skinny jeans like always, and the watercolour tattoo she had gotten on her right shoulder and bicep just before I left the Island was now fully healed: A skull in a flower crown grinned out at the world.

  Emily.

  As soon as her eyes landed on me standing by the smashed window, she started running. She threw open the front door, and I automatically stepped back, fight or flight instincts kicking in, heart still pounding from being startled awake.

  “What have you been doing?” Emily said, looking like she couldn’t decide if she was furious or relieved.

  “How did you find me?”

  “What are you talking about? You texted me, genius.”

  “What?”

  She sighed, hand reaching up to clench a chunk of her straight blonde hair — a sure sign that she was stressed and overwhelmed. The cartoonish tattoo of a dumpling on the back of her hand peeked out at me between strands of hair. It seemed far too silly an image for such a bewildering and serious situation.

  “When… When did I text you?”

  “Like, four hours ago. It was three in the goddamn morning. I’ve been worried sick about you and I did not drive all the way out to Buttfuck, Nowhere for you to act like you didn’t ask me to.”

  Three in the morning? It hadn’t taken me that long to fall asleep. With a growing sense of dread, I reached for my phone in my back pocket.

  It wasn’t there.

  I turned on the spot, searching for some sign of it. I spotted it right beside where I had been sleeping and was hit with a rush of relief (of course — I wouldn’t have slept with it in my pocket), but then quickly realized something else was very, very wrong.