3) discovered there was a secret knitting community on site, which does not take kindly to random visitors. Knitters are territorial.
4) accidentally set off several privacy proximity charms, which led to the unexpected revelation that two Actually Quite Famous members of different bands who are both married to Actually Quite Famous other people were sharing a tent while naked, along with a third Actually Quite Famous solo act. Oops. Sorry.
5) Hid in a bush to eavesdrop on a private beach party including the crooning, husky voice of a siren with laugh-lines and tie-dyed jeans.
Who happened to be my Lit Professor. So. That was a thing. Prof Nettle normally wore librarian-chic tweed, her hair in a messy bun, and the most sensible shoes known to witchkind.
Tonight she was barefoot, a guitar resting on her knees, and a crowd of adoring fans circled around her as she sang a cheesy old Betty Hubble cover, with folksy sass and surprising depth.
“That’s her,” Holly breathed. “That’s the voice I heard earlier. She’s a MILF and a half.”
I elbowed her hard. “Hol, we have to go.” I couldn’t be here. Couldn’t be involved with this. Professor Nettle looked all soft around the edges here on the sands, but she was notoriously sharp-edged and scathing in the classroom. I’d taken several of her classes without her ever paying the slightest bit of attention to me, and that was exactly how I liked it.
“I want to talk to her. She’s gorgeous. And that voice…”
“Holly,” I hissed. “You can’t have her.”
Telling Holly Hallow she can’t have something is like telling a cakeoholic that they should save the last slice for tomorrow.
“Come on,” she said urgently, and scrambled through the bush, in search of the professor with the killer voice.
I stepped away, pulling back from her.
It’s not like I expected her to follow me. That’s not our pattern. But I waited ten minutes, anyway, before I decided to head back on my own.
That was when the evening went really wrong. I didn’t remember the way back to the safe ‘lighted path’ zone, which left me wandering around in the dark.
I found one thread of fairy lights, only to realise that they were will o’ the wisps and not genuine helpful fairies, which led me back to a different stretch of the beach, nowhere near the camping equivalent of civilisation.
I hate that I do this. I let Holly drag me around until I’m no longer convenient. Every single time.
I hate that when she’s paying attention to me, I’d rather be with her than anywhere else. So much for self-respect.
Finally, I found a sign saying LOST WITCHES, THIS WAY TO THE PARTEEE, with a large arrow pointing back over the dunes. I scrambled up and over, finding myself on a path with genuine fairy lights, then zeroed in on a charmed map of the full campsite with a sigh of relief. If I went via the Hobbit pub and the history tent, it wouldn’t take me long at all.
And if Holly’s antics were anything to go by, I’d have the tent to myself tonight.
“Hey,” said a cheerful voice. “Aren’t you Juniper Cresswell? I love Fake Geek Girl. Like, you’re my favourite band of all time.”
I never get recognised. Not unless I have Irene with me, and sometimes not even then.
The group is a little bit famous, in some circles. I don’t mind that. It’s like an orchestra — we’re all part of something bigger than the sum of its parts. I wear makeup on the YouTube vids so I look different to the real life version of me. It’s always Sage or Holly on the publicity materials, or a distant shot of the three of us, because I hate it when people pay attention to me.
Still, politeness costs nothing.
“Thanks,” I said, turned and smiled towards the owner of the voice. She was cute, in a bright homemade Save Cinnovate shirt, with bright teal curls under a knitted beanie. “Have you seen us at Medea’s Cauldron?”
“Only on YouTube,” said the adorable fangirl. “I’m so excited for your set here, though. Sunday, right?”
“Sunday,” I confirmed. “On Stage 4, early evening.”
“I’ll be there,” said the cutie. “Holly Hallow is so hot. I don’t know how you can stand to be near her all the time.”
Ha, tell me about it.
“Can I hug you?” she asked, already lurching in my direction.
No! “Um, sure?”
The fangirl flung her arms around me, surrounding me with the thick scent of cloves and lavender and a thick tang of — frankincense?
A warning siren went off in my head, because I knew those ingredients, that was basic spellcraft and… something sharp stung the back of my neck, before I could yank myself away.
“Sorry,” said the fangirl as her face went misty in front of me, and then disappeared into blackness. “But really. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t like, mega-important. It’s for the good of the band.”
Chapter 6
Sage To The Rescue
SATURDAY
* * *
We hadn’t even been at Winterfest for a full day, and we’d already lost our cellist. Hebes was freaking out, and Holly was pretending not to care, which only made Hebe more frantic but also pissed off.
Dec and Mei made themselves scarce, claiming they were forming a search party. Yeah, right.
My magic sparked up, reacting to the tension that rolled off the girls. “Hey, Hebes,” I interrupted. “I’m gonna go see if I can spot her from the air.”
She threw a teacup at me.
Which was impressive because, I don’t think there was a single teacup in the camp. Not like this one, not proper pink china with roses and a saucer. Hebe’s magic is chill most of the time, but home furnishings sometimes appear around her when she’s upset. I was prepared to take a cup to the face but Hebe froze it before it collided with my nose. She looked horrified. “Sage, I’m sorry.”
“No big. I’m gonna…” Yeah, Mei and Dec had the right idea. Up up and away.
I’ve had the same broomstick for years. It’s sturdy and workmanlike, not one of the fancier models out there. Good old basic stick with bristles. He and I have been through some shit together, and when I need to pour off excess energy, Bruce is there to help a bloke out.
Yeah, my broom is called Bruce, what of it?
First time I came to Winterfest, I was fifteen but big for my age and I signed up as a volunteer to get the discount. They had me on security and I learned a lot about how it all works behind the scenes.
Everyone assumes that the whole ‘no wi-fi’ policy is a hipster thing, to force us all to enjoy the music in the moment instead of live-tweeting it, or whatever. That, and Winterfest prides itself on magical display and pyroenchantments during the night shows. When you have planned your events around that much volatile magic, you need to dial down on the Unreal tech.
That’s all true. But the inside word I got during my security gig is that there’s a bunch of curseware webbed into the Winterfest infrastructure to prevent certain spells from being cast. Keeping that curseware stable is the main reason they block not only wi-fi but all internet and phone signals from Mandrake Sands at this time of year.
Location charms are on the official blocked and banned list. A lot of big name celebs come to Winterfest. Tradition has them mucking in with the rest of us, but they have legit safety and privacy concerns. Location spells make it really easy for stalkers and journos to get way too much information about how to zero in on the festival’s Big Name Performers.
Mei and Dec weren’t going to have much luck finding Juniper using magic.
I knew the weak spots in the system. Like, the curse field that kept out all the Unapproved Enchantments and Internet Juice? If you flew high enough, you could get clear of the field.
Four hundred feet above the campsite, with a broom gripped between my thighs, I cast the location charm. It spun out of me, glazing the world violet for a moment. I concentrated all my thoughts on my mate Juniper: her soft smile, her obsession with dead white lady authors, her brightl
y blazing crush on Holly (the one thing we never joked about because it had dragged on way too long to be anything but awkward).
Juniper.
I saw a spark beneath me, and sent a thought spinning out across the campsite. Hebe.
She got back to me straight away, huffing with impatience. What’s the rule about telepathy, Sage?
Boyfriends and sisters only, I know, and they have to apply in writing three days ahead of time. I still need you to look at a map of the site, facing north.
She huffed again. Hebe was the only person I knew who could do that inside her head. Hang on. There’s one not far from… yep, here it is.
I breathed. Okay, follow the fairy lights path south of Stage 3, on the west side. Got it?
Hating it.
Four tents down from there, a roundish one on the east of that path. There’s some kind of… tree line?
Huh, said Hebe. I think that’s the Tim Tam Slam Club.
The what?
It’s like, a cabaret karaoke bar? Holly listed it as one of the places she and Juniper went last night.
Juniper’s there now.
Meet you there, Hebe thought briskly at me.
Good thing I had the directions, because the location spell vanished as I flew lower, and it was hard to tell one big tent from another, the closer I got. I landed near Stage 3, banging my knee awkwardly on one of the humming anti-wifi markers.
Something Wicked were playing. Muffling spells had been set around the back of the stage so that the sound of the band only carried forward, but I’d know those vibrations in my sleep. Bloody hell, I hadn’t wanted to miss them, they finally had their original drummer back.
There’s this law of music festivals: you never get to see the acts you went there for, and the faves you do make it to always have a bad set or a tech failure. The best music at a festival comes from the bands you weren’t expecting to enjoy, and didn’t plan to bother seeing.
So yeah, here was me limping off to something called the Tim Tam Slam Club instead of hanging around to hear one of my favourite indie bands play live, whatever.
I found Juniper almost immediately. She… really didn’t need to be rescued. She was sitting on the bar, crooning into a microphone, cuddling a girl in a blonde ponytail who… well. Who looked a lot like Holly. I’d seen Holly wear that exact outfit on stage, the tiny silver dress, the giant fluffy ugg boots and the denim replica jacket from The Bromancers with Cinnovar’s name spelled out on the back in fake sigils.
(Holly didn’t actually know what she was wearing when she stole that jacket from Mei, she just thought it was cool, and after fans started tweeting her about how awesome it was, she ordered her own)
Juniper and her new friend were singing Judy Garland karaoke, which was a whole lot more retro than I had any patience for.
An odd look crossed Juniper’s face when she saw me, like she couldn’t believe I was here. Then she hiccupped, “SAGE!” and practically threw herself across the bar to hug me.
This was new. Juniper wasn’t the touchy-feely type. Not with me, anyway. I patted her head awkwardly. “You okay? We were worried you didn’t come back to camp last night.”
She tipped her face up to mine, glowing. “I have been having the best time.”
“Are you drunk?” I asked.
“We had breakfast mohitos,” she said with a giggle. That was off, too. I don’t think I’d ever heard Juniper giggle before.
Maybe this was good. She was making other friends, cutting loose a little. I might be a big brother type to every girl in our band but that didn’t mean I had the right to get all protective and shit. Had to trust them to set their own limits.
“Just,” I said. “You gotta check in, babe. Every now and then, so we know you’re okay.”
Juniper booped me on the nose. “You called me babe!” She giggled again.
“We’ll look after her,” said Blonde Ponytail Holly Replica, giving me a stern look. She came up and hooked her arm in Juniper’s. “She’s awesome.”
“Sure, I know that. Pace yourself, yeah?” I added to Juniper. “Maybe eat something solid? And we need you for rehearsal tomorrow morning. Ten AM, back at camp.”
“Ten AM,” Juniper nodded, giving me a wobbly salute. “Because we play tomorrow.” Her eyes glowed with delight. “I get to play Irene on stage!”
“Yep,” I agreed. “She’s missing you. Don’t neglect her too long.” I was such a grown up right now. Was this what Hebe felt like when we treated her like the band mum, here to put band-aids on our ouchies and make us soothing cups of tea?
“You can stay if you like, Sage,” said the not-Holly, giving me a very pointed once-over. “We have more drinks coming.”
Not even lunchtime. Wow, where did that come from? When did I become the judgy old man of this band?
“Some other time,” I said, then collected a dainty fistbump from Juniper and backed out of her space.
“That seems out of character,” said a low voice as I left the tent.
Ferd was hanging out by the entrance, a formal silk jacket over his shirt and jeans, plus boots that were way too nice for the muddy paths around here.
“Shit that happens at Winterfest stays at Winterfest,” I said automatically, then did a double take. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” said Ferd. We did a bro arm-clasp thing because we hadn’t seen each other for like, a day.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” I said warily. If Ferd was here… nah. Jules Nightshade wouldn’t be seen dead in a henna-hippie-hellscape of live music and mung beans like Mandrake Sands.
Besides, we’d broken up. It usually took him at least three days to sulk and recover before he came back to get his flirt on.
“We changed our minds,” said Ferd. “Thought I’d surprise Hebe.”
“Mate,” I said, smacking him firmly on the shoulder. “Mate. You’ve known Hebes for like, half a year now. How do you not know that she really hates surprises?”
Chapter 7
Mei Makes A List
SATURDAY
* * *
You Are Gazing Into the Mirror of MeMei
Who Is… high on caffeine & indie music.
Camping is still the worst.
Add Your Reflections Below!
Day 1 of Winterfest, By the Numbers!
Mugs of porridge consumed: 4
Cups of coffee/chocolate purchased from a food truck: 6.
(It would have been 2 but the barista kind of looks like Edward Scissorhands & I kept going back to see if I could get him to smile.)
Number of smiles encouraged out of the Edward Scissorhands barista: 0.5
Favourite bands spotted: 12 if you include partial spottings such as Cally from the Misers in line for coffee and Benedict from Charmed Life making the long trek to the ‘nicotine friendly zone’ which, by all accounts, is so far from the main camping grounds that it’s practically in Brisbane.
Favourite performance: OK I was technically supposed to be looking for a missing camping buddy (who turned out to be totes not missing, hooray) but I managed to catch half of Something Wicked’s set and it was off the charts good. Their cover of Halo was surprising but worked really well, and I loved both songs from their new album Ancient Alchemy. The new drummer is supes hot btw.
Conversations about The Bromancers: about 47, I’ll admit it, I lost count. But I am making so many awesome new friends just by asking people what their weirdest, most batshit strange predictions are for the finale. Y’all have some very vivid imaginations!
Camping dramahs: at least 7. Mostly caused by unexpected guests turning up at our site and… well, making their presence known in all kinds of fun ways. I’m staying out of it. My lips are sealed.
Progress on getting past the wi-fi free zone to score access to a certain TV episode: 0 for now. Watch this space.
Favours traded in the hopes that one of them will develop into a definite lead on solving the Bromancers dilemma: so many. So many favours. But it will all com
e good in the end.
Right?
Chapter 8
Hebe and the Very Big, Completely Fine No Big Deal
Saturday
On the bright side, Juniper wasn’t missing any more, according to the mirror message that Sage swiped in my direction before haring off towards a beer or a bass player or whatever else was distracting him right now.
Juniper was not dead in a ditch. That was good.
On the… completely also bright side, my boyfriend had unexpectedly arrived at Winterfest. Despite me repeatedly checking that this wasn’t something he planned to do.
Surprises are romantic, apparently.
“Didn’t you have plans with your parents today?” I asked, still trying to catch up with these new developments.
“Yeah that’s not a thing any more,” Ferd said quickly. “No big deal.”
Does anyone ever say no big deal when a thing is really no big deal? I opened my mouth to push further on the whole ‘no big deal’ question, then I realised I hadn’t kissed him yet, and did that instead.
Kissing him was nice, even if my mind was already spinning forward into the logistics of sleeping arrangements… oh hell. “Are Viola and Jules here too?” I asked, very casually. No big deal.
“Yep, they’re excited to see the bands,” said Ferd. “Now I know this is a hassle for you…”
“Oh no,” I started to say, because it was that or grabbing him by the collar to howl: WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY YOU WERE COMING SO I COULD PLAN FOR IT?
“…But I promise we won’t mess up your camping game plan or anything. We won’t be any extra trouble. It’s all sorted.”
Unreal Alchemy Page 13