by K. C. Finn
“A little over seven hours,” she told him softly, “and then it’s American soil all the way, until we stop the curse.”
Novel pulled his silver pocketwatch from the folds of his waistcoat, and nodded.
“Seven hours,” he repeated slowly. “I ought to have brought a book.”
Lily gave him a sheepish little grin, and leaned forward to pull a small white tome from her bag. When Novel saw the book of fairy-tales, he looked about ready to give one of his lectures, but either exhaustion or fear of flying sucked the energy out of him. He gave a regretful sigh, and took the book from Lily, opening it at once. His eyes began to skim down the list of contents, and Lily watched as his pale lips descended into a frown of confusion.
“I don’t recall some of these stories,” Novel mused.
“Wasn’t it at least a hundred years ago that you read them?” Lily asked him quietly.
“I’d remember,” he insisted.
The roar of the aeroplane’s engines interrupted their talk, and Novel dropped the book in his lap when the rumble reverberated under his seat. Lily picked up the volume again and put it back in his hands, soothing them for just a moment to get his attention back.
“Let’s read something,” she urged, “to help you take your mind off everything. And soon we’ll be across the sea, and everything will be fine.”
If Lily had been a lucky girl, then her promises might have come true.
Unscheduled Arrival
Lily’s eyes travelled over the page wearily, but she was determined to see the story through to the end. Novel was fast asleep, after worrying himself into exhaustion for most of the flight, and Lily was nestled in the crook of his arm as she held the collection of fables close to her chest. The words were starting to blur as she blinked away her sleep, but the tale she’d found was important, and she wanted to finish it. It was a story where the wicked djinn, the Glassman, was striking a bargain with a group of travellers.
The Glassman dealt in contracts, and the djinnkind that followed him into the ways of trickery were no different. Travellers who came in search of riches and of freedom were often rewarded with pain and strife for their greed, and humans the world over called the wretched creatures ‘genies’, whose wishes ever ended in their tears. But the Glassman cared not for the sufferings of humble humans. His enemies were the shadeborn, and those shadesons and shadedaughters foolish enough to seek his power for their own were sorely punished.
Eyes the colour of blood did not deter the travellers who sought the Glassman’s favours. His midnight grin and glowing skin were no source of fear to the bravest of shades, those loving parents who delivered their small, weak son to the monster beyond the mirror. The Glassman laughed at the Weak Boy, raising his arms to either side to give a shrug.
“What am I expected to do with this thing?” he asked mockingly.
The Weak Boy’s mother fell to her knees before the mirror, and the Glassman knew by her tears that she would give anything to barter for the welfare of her child.
“Please, mighty djinn,” the mother crooned, “my boy is not strong. I fear he won’t survive this world if his magic does not grow in soon. Give him my powers, if you would, that he may prosper in the days to come.”
The Weak Boy was too young to understand his fate, or what his mother had asked of the strange figure in the glass. The youngster was too fascinated by the bright blue hue of the djinn’s ice-like skin to bother listening to the words that followed.
“And what say you,” the Glassman continued, “father to this child?”
The Weak Boy’s father only shook his head. The mother looked at him despairingly, and the Glassman laughed again.
“Your husband would rather let the weakling fend for himself,” the djinn cackled cruelly. “It is the shadeborn way, you know, that propensity to go it alone. I prefer strength in numbers, you know. Two can be stronger than three, if they are united.”
If the mother of the Weak Boy had understood the djinn’s warning, she might not have wrung her hands together with another sobbing plea.
“Please,” she asked, despite her husband’s betrayal. “Please help my boy.”
“You would give anything?” The Glassman asked.
And when the mother nodded, the Glassman reached with one ethereal hand, and stole the Weak Boy’s father from this world. He passed through the glass with a screeching call, and both mother and son were too late to pull him back.
The ping of the fasten seatbelt sign shook Lily from the story, and it was followed swiftly by a cabin announcement that woke Novel beside her.
“This is your captain speaking, just to let you know we’re now making our descent into Logan International. Please fasten your seatbelts until the plane has landed and the seatbelt lights are turned off again. The local time here is six-thirty in the morning, and what an unusually dark morning it is, folks. Let’s hope brighter times lie ahead.”
Lily glanced out of the window at the pilot’s words, and it was true that the clouds were thick and heavy around the plane. It seemed like the jet was coated in thick, swirling shadows, and Lily felt her heart begin to hammer as she gazed out of the window into that bleak view. A second later, the whole plane rattled with a fit of shakes, and Lily reached out at once to take Novel’s hand. He gripped her harder than he ever had, his eyes wide and watchful as though he’d never been asleep at all.
“It’s okay,” Lily said, “it’s just turbulence. It’s normal when it’s cloudy.”
She felt as though she was trying to convince herself of that as much as Novel, but when the second wave of shudders hit the plane even harder, Lily was among those passengers who winced and let involuntary noises of panic escape their lips.
“Stewards take your seats,” the captain said suddenly over the speakers, “stewards take your seats for turbulence.”
“That’s not normal,” Novel said.
Lily wanted to be able to persuade him that it was, but Novel continued speaking, and he shook her hand so that she looked him straight in the eye when he did.
“Lily, something’s happening,” the illusionist pressed. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”
Another rumble, and this time the plane seemed to be veering far too much to the right. Lily felt her stomach flip at the sideways motion, and even as her weary body began to shake, she knew there was something behind her, at the window. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a voice like deep, molten metal flowed with whispered laughter into the air around her. Lily didn’t want to turn and see what she knew would be within the glass of the window right beside her, yet there was nothing else to do whilst panic spread among the surrounding humans.
Lily let the corner of her eye find the window first, and the face of the djinn who had haunted her for so long was clearer than it had ever been. His cheeks were chiselled like cut glass, shining so clear that they sparkled blue, even through the swirling stormclouds behind his head. He had no hair to speak of, for where it should have been, his locks seemed to turn into tendrils of smoke, and his teeth were sharp and pointed like icicles hanging from a great grinning cave mouth. The djinn’s eyes were the worst they had ever been, glowing like two spheres of fire, their flames pressing hard against the window of the failing plane, as though at any moment he would break through into the space.
“Right into my hands, daughter of shades,” the djinn crooned darkly. “Did you really think climbing into a great metal box, twenty-thousand feet above the ground was a bright idea?”
Lily faced her demon, swallowing deeply, and she found the fire of shademagic was burning in her every vein.
“You’re not the only one with the power to fly this thing,” she retorted with a shout.
“Who are you talking to?” Novel demanded, but Lily was busy getting to her feet amid the chaos.
Humans were crying and screaming all around her, but there was only one panic-stricken face she was interested in finding. He was easy to spot in that brig
ht violet suit, where the showman had moved across three aisles to brace himself against a larger seat with more room for his broad frame.
“Salem!” Lily called, her voice ringing like a bell over the din of terror. “Get to the microphone the pilot’s using. Put the humans to sleep.”
The songspinner stood up in a panic, his dark brows drooping as he hollered back.
“All of them?”
“Now!” Lily urged.
When she glanced back at the window, the djinn was still there, watching her movements with interest. Lily ignored the garish, horrible face as best she could, sitting down again and locking her arm tight against Novel’s. Their fingers exploded with a blast of white flames and, as Salem’s melodious voice began to travel through the speakers overhead, she was the one to shake Novel into action.
“‘Being of one mind and one body,’” she recited, breathing deeply, “we can land this thing safely.”
Salem’s spell was specific and his commands were well-worded, which soon left the entire human crew of the aircraft unconscious. Only the seven travellers – and the demon at the window – remained to witness what happened next. Lily and Novel levelled out the descending plane and stopped a great deal of its shaking, despite the wild storm that raged out of control beyond its fortified walls. They had come to stand in the central aisle of the craft, with Salem guiding them via the microphone in the cockpit, and Lawrence cradling Jazzy protectively beside one of the emergency exit doors.
“I can see where the storm ends!” Baptiste shouted from his place beside one of the windows. “If you can lower us through it, it’s a straight slide down to the ground.”
“As simple as that?” Novel griped through gritted teeth.
Lily had no power to speak. There was only the feeling of her body rooted to the floor of that plane, surrounded by innocent people who would die if she let the djinn’s curse get the better of her. She and her kindred soul were both red-faced with the strain that the magic put on their blood, holding the massive weight of the jet in their gravity grip. Lily felt the weight of the plane like she was carrying a safe on her shoulders, and she tried to imagine the protective bubble that she had once seen Novel cast over Eno Rolin, the escaped werewolf. Casting a bubble as big as a plane was no mean feat, but protection to get out of the storm was of the essence.
Her fingers dug hard into Novel’s palm, and she had a horrible feeling he’d broken a bone in her hand with the strength of his grip. But pain only made the blood flow wilder in her veins, and Lily’s heart thumped like the gallop of a stallion as she felt a new wave of great and terrible magic wash over her body. She was rising from herself, almost in the way she had when she had left her body behind on the pavement at Old Mill Lane, but this time she was taking her power with her. She felt, perhaps for the first time, truly un-human.
“I don’t believe it!” Baptiste called again. “You’re pushing the storm off!”
“Am I?” Novel answered, but even as he spoke the plane rattled again.
Concentrate, Lily willed him. Bring it down to the ground, slow it down as we go.
A surge of electricity passed between the illusionist and his apprentice, and Lily felt like she’d absorbed it all. Several minutes passed in which the plane descended rapidly, but with control, and Lily wasn’t sure exactly when she’d closed her eyes in concentration. As the situation became more and more steady, she let her eyes flicker open to see the scene play out. Lawrence was still braced against the door, but now Jeronomie had joined him to keep Jazzy and her chair secure, and Baptiste and Salem were in their places, guiding with their voices as before.
And the djinn was still at the window. Lily was slow to turn her head, most of her body still wrapt with power, devoted to landing the plane, and the monster in the window looked terribly relaxed about it all. Relaxed, but clearly disappointed. He sucked at his sharp, hollow cheeks, turning his face to eye Lily carefully with those red orbs that bore no white or pupil, and he let his bony shoulders shake with a shrug.
“Better luck next time, I suppose,” the djinn crooned.
And the plane hit the ground with a deafening crash.
Aftershock
The djinn had distracted her long enough that Lily missed Baptiste’s cry that the ground was coming upon them too fast. When she next opened her eyes, Lily jumped at once, looking around for the plane and the horrid red eyes that were staring at her out of its windows. What she saw instead were two narrow, dark eyes, and a pair of rough hands that pushed her back onto her mattress.
“What?” Lily stammered, hissing with sudden pain all over. “Where?”
“I guess you could call it a field hospital,” Jeronomie quipped with an irate sneer.
The sky was bright and blue above her, and Lily felt the tickle of long grass at her feet. The mattress she was lying on was inflatable, and sure enough, she really was in a field. When she got up more slowly for the second time, Jeronomie allowed her the luxury of looking around properly, and Lily realised that she was nowhere near the site where the plane had crashed. There was a huge black car in the field, a rover with American registration plates, and all its windows were painted over in black, save for a small gap in the front windshield. Lily felt like she had been asleep for quite a while, and the strangeness of trying to move her sore limbs seemed to suggest the same conclusion.
“Lily, thank the stars!” Novel cried from somewhere nearby.
He was all over her, in a mass of long lean limbs, and it took Lily’s addled mind several moments to focus on Novel’s concern-filled features. He was alive, safe and well, which registered with Lily as most important of all, and he was kissing her gently and holding her body steady as he knelt at her side.
“You need water, and food,” he urged, “Salem! Bring the water! You’ve been out cold for two days. How do you feel? What happened with the plane?”
It was clear that Novel had spent two days in frantic worry whilst Lily had been lost to her own exhaustion, but his questions helped her mind race back to the dire matters at hand. She rubbed at her temple, noticing the splint and bandages over her pre-supposed broken hand, and frowned at the illusionist in confusion.
“What do you mean ‘what happened with the plane’?” she asked. “It crashed. It hit the ground and… is everyone all right?”
“Everyone’s fine,” Novel assured her, “and all the humans were fine too, though we had to flee the crash site before any authorities pulled up.”
He moved to let Lily lean on him when her spine gave a shudder, and grasped her non-bandaged hand in both of his.
“What I mean,” the illusionist continued, “is how did you land it by yourself?”
Lily blinked.
“I wasn’t aware that I had,” she answered truthfully.
“Well,” Novel said, looking a little sheepish, “when Baptiste said the ground was closing in, I tried to pull the plane up a bit and… I discovered I wasn’t flying it. You were. I was just sort of steadying it, I suppose. I had to craft an air cushion to try and counteract your magic but – and it’s a wrench to admit this, believe me – your power was greater than mine. We took a rough landing, but the plane handled most of the damage.”
“He was there,” Lily said suddenly, grasping the front of Novel’s shirt. “The djinn was there in the plane window, and I guess I just didn’t want him to hurt all those people.”
“Whatever you did, it was marvellous,” Novel said warmly.
He kissed Lily at her temple, and she winced with pain again. This time, the bright summer sunlight of Massachusetts sunk into her skin, and she noticed that she was covered from head to toe with bruises and contusions. The shock of seeing her own body so battered was gut-wrenching, and Salem arrived just in time with the bottle of water to stop her being sick. Lily gulped at the water and shut her eyes tightly, soothed a little by the feel of Novel’s gentle hand brushing her arm.
“It’s all surface damage,” he told her, “from the amount of
magic that must have been coursing out of your blood. I’m surprised you didn’t get your glamour from a feat like that.”
“Unless the bruises are the glamour,” Salem mused from somewhere overhead, “but don’t sweat it, kiddo. You look good purple.”
All Lily could be sure of was that her magic was still throbbing within her sore, tormented veins, and that the people who mattered most to her could be heard talking all around her. She lay on her makeshift sickbed in the middle of nowhere, free of mirrors and glass, and breathed a deep and thankful sigh that they were all still alive. The power of the djinn’s curse was ever increasing, and this last disaster had almost been too great for her to handle. Lily tried her best not to imagine how things could get worse, but her fearful mind was already conjuring the next catastrophe, even as it forced her back to sleep.
*
The Dreamstate looked different to the cave it had been last time, and Lily only knew that she was in it because the intense pain from her bruises had vanished completely. She looked clean and shiny in her bright white gown, which seemed to be the regular dress code for her trips into the Dreamstate nowadays. Around her, a dusty old hall echoed in a wide oval, and though Lily found its bright windows and curling staircases strange to behold, she was certain that she had visited this place in the real world before.
“Just in case you’re wondering, seeing me here doesn’t mean I’m your true love.”
The voice cut through the air like a knife, serrated and sarcastic. Lily knew the place where her dream had taken her at once, remembering how, in reality, it had been decked out with black veils and filled with dark people and the crackle of dangerous magic. She turned on toes that were light as air in the Pendle Council Hall, to see a figure seated at a familiar-looking throne. There was an empty seat beside him, reserved for her, and Pascal’s quip hung in the air as Lily glared at him across the wide space.