by S McPherson
‘No. But I can improvise. Climb down.’
Jude graciously clambers down from the ledge, beginning to feel a little wobbly. Once his feet are firmly planted on the ground, Lexovia climbs up in his place. There it is: the gethamot. She places her hand on the glass and her ochre eyes shine. Slowly, ice creeps over the door causing it to crack with the cold.
At last, a gentle tap from Lexovia is all it takes to shatter the door. She swipes the gethamot, tucks it into her pocket and leaps down.
‘Take my arm.’
Jude does, and with a splay of her fingers and flashes of amber, the two transcend from the room.
At last outside in the cold night air, the sound of the alarm seems faint but police sirens can be heard nearing in the distance.
‘Contact the others,’ Lexovia tells him. ‘Let them know where to meet us.’
TARATESIA
I watch Milo empty the contents of his water bottle into his mouth as we sit by Trilyot Lake at lunchtime. He has his head tilted back and it’s taking all my willpower not to lean over and run my mouth along the length of his throat.
‘It’s Thursday,’ Howard announces with a hearty pat on my back, snapping me out of my reverie. ‘Ready for this afternoon?’
I scowl. This afternoon is the Dizby tournament between Thornton High and Madodgy Magics School of Tricks. I seem to have mastered the art of faking my way through Syndigo but I can’t ignore how numb my fingers feel or how fast my heart is beating at the thought of conducting an entire routine in front of the whole student body and guests.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ I sigh.
‘You’ll be fine.’ Milo gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb circling the base of my little finger. My eyes beg him to let me go but I can’t bring myself to pull away. I think he understands; he’s staring right at me, but he doesn’t stop. I catch my breath, suffocating under his stare.
A sudden spray of snot and spit rains down, finally breaking the spell, when Howard lets out an almighty sneeze and fails to cover his mouth.
‘Ewwww!’ Yvane shrieks, dabbing at herself with the blanket.
‘Thanks for that Howard.’ Milo removes his hand from mine and gropes for tissues to clean us off. I sigh, shaking slightly and willing my racing heart to steady itself.
Don’t fall in love, I urge, watching as Milo punches Howard on the arm. Whatever you do, Dezaray, don’t fall in love. I repeat those last four words over and over again, as a silent mantra to myself, deep down anxious that it’s already too late for me and my wayward heart.
My afternoon is transcendent. I cannot believe where I am or the things I’m experiencing. If I’m asleep then nobody pinch me. The syndigo routine goes off without a hitch, and though the uniform is slightly too big for me, it doesn’t slow me down. I hover well, confident that no one notices me murmur the ‘tixtremidral’ spell. I swerve, I twirl, and I pause at all the right moments. The esinfidel is my favourite, where we make a human star and then spin. I’m the point at the top. I keep a smile plastered on my face and my arms up in the air. My stomach lurches queasily as we rotate, and at one point I have to close my eyes but it’s still breath-taking and I wouldn’t need any convincing to do it again. The entire team are convinced by my performance and the audience cheers.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, I race in the crowd’s direction, sure Milo is somewhere amongst it, but on my way, I’m stopped by a handsome stranger wearing the armour of Borbowa – Thornton’s reigning Dizby champion – and carrying a shield on which the school’s crest is embossed; if I remember correctly, his attire means he’s the captain.
‘Nice performance,’ he enthuses, enveloping me in his arms. He’s tall, at least six foot, and his hair is auburn, pulled back in a bun.
‘Thanks,’ I say, trying to compose myself when he finally lets me go.
‘You really rallied the crowd there.’
‘I do what I can,’ I say, beaming. ‘It was actually lots of fun.’
He chuckles. ‘You sound surprised.’
Panting, I push my hair out of my face. ‘Are you ready for the game?’ I say, shifting the subject.
He nods. ‘I’m suddenly feeling very good about today thanks to you.’
Something catches my eye: Milo making his way over; his stride is deliberate and his features harsh; his lips form almost a perfect line and his brow creases in the middle. An air of good nature swirls around him but he stalks through it with blind determination, not acknowledging those trying to talk to him and rally up team spirit. He’s looking at me.
‘Go, Thornton High!’ I cheer distractedly, unsure what else to say. I feel like a fool but the stranger laughs good-naturedly. Its official; he either really likes Lexovia or I’m actually funny and had no idea.
Milo arrives and stands protectively beside me, nodding in the captain’s direction.
‘Hello, Milo. How’s it going?’
‘Fine thanks.’
The captain seems extremely friendly and not at all threatened by Milo’s presence. Milo, however, is stiff beside me and keeps his responses brief. I don’t know why he would feel threatened, though; he looks as glorious beside the captain as he does beside Boonov and Choaks.
‘Well, anyway, good luck out there today, Collin.’ Milo takes my hand and starts to walk away.
‘I’ve got all the luck I need.’ The captain flashes me an alluring smile before whistling for his terraduchin: a narrow wooden stick with edges that curve up at the side. It looks far too slight for him to balance on but he jumps on it with ease, then, clicking his tongue as if riding a horse, soars off into the sky, holding one of the curved edges for stability. I am amazed. Between Collin and Milo, how did Lexovia manage to get anything done and why, oh why, did she want to go to my side of the portal?
‘Ready to go up?’ Milo asks somewhat gruffly.
‘How do we get up?’ I ask, stumbling after him.
‘The elvitross,’ and as he points, I follow his finger, startled to see a horde of people rising up into the clouds on what appears to be an invisible escalator.
‘Umm…’ I flounder. ‘Sure.’
We settle into our seats as a buzzer sounds and the game begins. Banners with Thornton High’s crest billow over the edge of the bleachers. Looking across the air field, I see that banners representing Madogy Magics do the same in a wave of green and black.
Dizby is glorious madness. I don’t quite understand the rules but it looks like some sort of obstacle course. Suspended rings of fire, pregnant clouds of rain occasionally shooting out bolts of lightning, and winding paths like flat rainbows, partly obscured by hovering rocks and what look like bushy bearded leprechauns.
The players whizz along these paths, perched on their terraduchins, racing against their opponents and avoiding being impaled, electrocuted, burned or thrown off their ride. But the obstacles aren’t the only issue. The members of each opposing team also ram into each other, using their shields to knock the other off their terraduchin. The aim seems to be to collect as many terraduchins of the opposing team as possible before reaching the finish line.
Collin whizzes past, winking at me so briefly I barely notice. Milo straightening in his seat is what makes me sure I didn’t imagine it. Then, all of a sudden, a blast of lightning strikes towards us at astonishing speed. Out of nowhere, Collin pops up and ricochets it away with his shield, directing it straight at a Madodgy Magics player who is immediately thrown from his terraduchin. I let out a horrified shriek as he cascades to the ground, the other players diving after his stick.
‘Unclench,’ Milo murmurs. ‘There’s a safety net.’ I’m about to argue but he holds up his hand. ‘It’s invisible.’
I lean over the edge of the stands and watch as the player seems to bounce on something then begrudgingly sits up and jumps down, dusting himself off and holding up what appears to be his middle finger. He’s quite far away so it’s hard to tell, but considering the circumstances, I wouldn’t be surprised. Laugh
ing, I return to enjoying the game.
‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ Yvane muses, ‘you could get caught.’
‘Isn’t that the point?’ Milo reasons with a wicked grin.
The match is over – Thornton High won, huzzah! – the sun has set and a massed crowd, yelling and waving flags, are making their way out of the school gates – everyone except the four of us. Milo has his heart set on taking me to the Humanitorium studio where all Earthly objects reside. He says it’s a chance for him to learn ‘from the real deal’ but I like to think he’s just not ready to say goodnight.
‘I hate to say it, but I think he’s right,’ Howard agrees as he shovels a roosenbick sandwich into his mouth. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume he had some sort of medical condition that required him to eat roosenbick at least once a day.
‘It’s odd for Milo and Lex to go this long without doing something reckless,’ he continues, pushing a sticky hand through his golden locks.
Yvane hesitates then sighs, admitting defeat. ‘Fine,’ she grumbles. ‘Good luck I suppose.’
‘We don’t need it.’ Curling an arm around my waist, Milo pulls me to him – I flush, willing the salacious tingling of where his fingers hold me to subside – and with a wave of his hand and a swirl of blue, he transports us from outside the school to inside the Humanitorium studio. Oak wood tables, overflowing with relics, take up most of the space, and shelves on either side are stacked with ornaments, books and trinkets.
It’s surreal. After only a week of being away, I already feel out of place being surrounded by Corporeal items like phones, clocks and microwaves; almost like I’m in a parallel universe within a parallel universe.
‘I reckon you know how to use all of these,’ Milo says, watching sand sprinkle through an hourglass.
‘I suppose.’ I nod, now very aware that the two of us are alone in a candlelit room. I gulp. Maybe Yvane was right. Perhaps we should call it a night. Spending more time together will get us nowhere. He’s from this world and me from another, besides he’s never actually said he likes me. My eyes unwillingly flicker over Milo’s physique as he analyses a remote control. His brow is furrowed as he tries to make sense of the symbols on the buttons.
‘Ah!’ Milo is thrilled and evidently oblivious to the thoughts running through my mind, as he drops the remote and moves on, ‘my favourite. I used to practice for hours with these.’ He is next to a sword stand full of glistening steels. Each handle represents the different empires and some have the school’s crest embossed on them. Milo expertly pulls one from its sheath and nimbly hops about, jabbing, blocking and brandishing with effortless grace.
‘You’re pretty good at that,’ I note.
‘Oh, I’m better than good.’ He smirks, positioning the sword back in place.
‘Cocky.’ I grin.
‘Ah, have you ever been on one of these?’ Milo asks, intrigued. He’s moved over to a shelf and has pulled down a bottle holding a model ship.
‘A ship? Yes.’ I nod. ‘A much larger one you realise?’
He laughs. ‘I’m not that ill-informed. We actually have a ship here, gifted to us by the Corporeal. It’s called the “C.P. One”.’ He reaches for a hefty book on another shelf and flips through its gold-edged pages.
‘Really?’ I’m intrigued, I haven’t seen any water around. ‘Where?’
‘In Taratesia.’ Milo holds out the book to me and I move over to get a better look. He pulls down a set of candles on a silver stand from the windowsill, illuminating the paper. A picture of a glorious ship sailing in the night is spread out across two pages. Captions reading: ‘Counterpart convention 1936’ and ‘Our first taste of wine’ headline some photos of people enjoying themselves, running along the side of the page. One photo is of two men, clearly counterparts, standing side by side and grinning happily with the caption: ‘Found at last’.
‘Where’s Taratesia?’ I ask, stroking the images. It looks absolutely breath-taking.
‘It’s where we used to live before we were exiled to Melaxous.’ Milo sighs. ‘I vowed that one day I’d go on that boat, but as the years pass, that’s looking less and less likely.’
‘Well…it’s still there, isn’t it?’
‘It belongs to the Vildacruz now.’ Milo flips to another page, displaying a masquerade ball held on this same ship. A seemingly flirtatious woman has her legs draped around one of the chandeliers and is hanging upside down, pantyhose and lace undies on show for all to see. I wonder if I would be so daring if I also had a black mask to conceal my identity.
‘So, it’s just out there?’ I ask, ‘neglected?’
Milo raises a shoulder. ‘I suppose the Vildacruz use it.’
‘Are they using it now?’ I’m not sure why I ask. Perhaps it’s my close proximity to Milo fogging my mind, or the fact that I’m in a new dimension, maybe it’s the bold and busty blonde in the photo; but I suddenly want to be out there, on that ship, for once doing something, just because I want to.
‘What are you suggesting?’ Milo asks, drawing his eyebrows together and cocking his head to one side.
‘I don’t know.’ I shrug, splutter a half laugh. ‘You can teleport us anywhere, right?’
We stare out in wonder, standing on the sandy bank of Taratesia Ocean, dressed in masquerade outfits we took from the Humanitorium studio. Milo’s tuxedo is slightly too big, noticeable only by the extra inch or so on his sleeves, and I’m in a sleek purple gown that’s a little too tight but, I can’t help notice, does wonders for my cleavage. We glance about us, making sure no creature charges out at our arrival. Nothing stirs and after a beat of stillness, I exhale. The sea blows and the taste of salt clings to my lips. On three sides, we’re surrounded by sand and an extremely dense forest; ahead of us is just the ocean, stretching out to meet the moon.
We stand in silence, contemplating our decision. As the fresh air hits, I begin to question my earlier suggestion. The ‘C.P. One’ is ahead of us, just as beautiful as in the photos but we can hear the faint drone of music coming from its deck and see shadows of those on-board dancing past the windows.
‘They’re using it,’ I note and my stomach turns.
Milo’s jaw twitches, ‘It was worth a shot.’
He goes to take my hand in his. To teleport us away but I pull out of his grasp. For so long, I’ve lived haunted by imagined demons, beaten by others. I’ve given up on countless things before I even tried. Tonight was supposed to be different. I told myself I’d go on that ship and I truly meant to do it. Otherwise, it would be just another broken promise, another disappointment to add to my ever-growing list.
Milo’s tone is gentle when he says, ‘maybe another day.’ But we both know that’s not true. Another day won’t come. Soon, I’ll be back in Islon, at the mercy of my brother and death may just as easily find me there.
I shake my head, steeling myself, halting the vicious pounding of my heart. I have nothing to lose, not really. But maybe before I die, I can say that I lived.
Hesitantly, I make my way to the water’s edge.
‘You can wait for me here,’ I murmur, smothering a yelp as the arctic wet clings to my skin.
I hear Milo sigh, moments before he follows after. ‘I hope you’re a strong swimmer.’
I force a laugh, ‘Better than I run.’
And then we’re on our way. Left, right, left, right: one arm stretches past my head and then the other follows. The music gets louder as we venture nearer the vessel and the sound of laughter sails down to us on the wind. Almost there.
‘I must be mental,’ Milo pants as he swims alongside me, ‘or correction: you must be mental.’
I simper, ‘you can always turn back.’
‘No, I can’t,’ and he glances at me, his bright eyes piercing, then snarls, ‘What are you doing to me, Dezaray?’
I jolt, resisting the urge to stop swimming. What am I doing to him? The words act as a strong undercurrent, almost dragging me beneath the waves. The Deza
ray I know is slowly sinking, and I barely recognise the girl emerging. I believe the more fitting question is: what is he doing to me?
Thunk! At last we hit the side of the ship. The rope of the anchor hangs to our left and we instinctively swim towards it. Milo pulls himself up on it and extends a hand to me, to help me follow. Up we climb. Halfway, I remember the masquerade masks that accompanied our costumes. We’d planned to recreate the party, to perhaps take some photos of our own if a Corporeal camera were still on board. Now…I suppose they could be used as our disguise. Letting us blend in with the vampires just long enough to find an abandoned side of the ship.
‘The masks,’ I hiss, dragging them from the sash around my waist and fumbling with the ties. Milo shimmies down opposite me as I struggle to hold the rope with one hand. I can feel his breath on my forehead. I glance up and his eyes catch mine.
‘They’re tangled,’ I murmur, scrabbling at the strings. Milo lets go of the rope with one hand and helps me to untangle the elastic. Our fingers graze one another, occasionally becoming as knotted as the thread. There’s that electricity again. I look up once more. He’s still staring at me. Until now I was almost at ease. The idea of climbing on-board a ship of magical creatures that would love to see me dead caused me little to no more distress than a Saturday night waiting to see what Drake would do.
But now, hanging off the side of the ship, Milo opposite me, has caused my pulse to quicken, my palms to go clammy and my mouth to dry up. As we put on our untangled masks, a magnetic force seems to pull me towards him. My head’s tilting to the side. I’m leaning closer. He watches me. I watch him watch but don’t seem able to stop myself.
Don’t fall in love, Dezaray. Don’t fall in love!
Just as I’m about to pull away, Milo yanks me towards him, pulls me in so close and fast I almost lose my grip of the rope. Our lips collide and his hand slides along the length of my body, from my hips to cup my face. The edge of my mask scratches my cheek but I don’t care. The scent of vanilla and Milos lips on mine are enough to make me never care about anything else ever again.