The Calyx Charm

by May Peterson

  No. I couldn’t bear it. Prescience pared me down to my infant core, where fear dominated all other laws of being. And in the violent brightness of what I saw, I turned and fled.

  In the next instant, I was back in my skin, the sky damp and mournful above me.

  I was on my back, hands holding me under my arms. A young man’s voice asked questions like “Miss? Can you hear me?” Slowly the scene came back together. My chair had rolled aside; the table was nearby. I had fallen. The man supporting me was a waiter. Two others stood close, bearing glasses of water and panicked expressions. Serafina crouched next to us, saying, “It’s all right, this girl is my niece. She has seizures at times, just don’t crowd her.”

  I blinked up at her, abruptly noticing my cheeks were damp with tears. A delicate spatter of rain was beginning, and nearby customers were moving inside.

  Serafina soothed the staff with a story of being my visiting aunt, and the return of my senses proved I was recovered. The next quarter hour trickled mechanically by—Serafina paying the bill, me gulping down the last of my tea to reclaim some strength, and the two of us pacing out to the street.

  She tugged me gently into an empty alleyway; she had both my umbrellas, and handed them back to me. “Can you speak yet?”

  “Yes.” My throat was scratchy; had I been shouting? “I didn’t think I’d have a fit like that.”

  “You pitched backward, almost cracked your head on the pavement. Dare I ask what you saw?”

  I gaped, overwhelmed by the memory. It was like waking from a dream and still not being sure it wasn’t real. Slowly, unable to calm my breath, I described to her what I’d seen.

  Her face fell as she listened. “Merciful fucking fates and gods.”

  I shook my head. “Tibario is going to die again. It looks like we’re all going to die. But he will die with you possessing him as he goes.”

  “Just like the last time.” She could have been a wind-up toy reciting programmed words.

  Less than an hour ago, I’d thought that I’d never seen Serafina so afraid. But she’d already beaten that record. The woman standing in front of me now stared with stricken eyes, one hand over her mouth.

  “You asked.” I all but choked on the words. “You fucking asked. Do you think this was worth it?”

  That clogged the rain-tinged air. For a few moments we only watched each other try not to fall apart. I had never felt closer to Tibario’s mother, and I hated it. I hated it with every nerve in my body.

  “Maybe it was.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Surely it can be averted somehow. What value is prophecy, if there’s no way to prepare?”

  “I’ve been asking that question for twenty years.”

  “You said it was a dragon-soul that brings the end about. Can we know whose? What causes it?”

  I paused, digesting my visions, trying to think. “I’m not sure what causes it. But I think I know whose it’s going to be.”

  She raised a brow. “Go on.”

  “Mine.”

  That struck us both silent. We stood with backs to the wall, and raindrops began hitting like bullets.

  She seemed not to notice how drenched she was becoming. “Do you have an idea how long?”

  “Three weeks. Intuition tells me that fairly clearly. We have three weeks.”

  A crisp nod. Before she walked away, I handed her the second umbrella. “Here. I brought this for you.”

  What a hollow sight this was. Serafina Gianbellicci, someone I’d once considered my greatest enemy, walking in a downpour with an open umbrella and still wet to the bone. She circled her free arm around herself before sinking into the crowd.

  Chapter Nine

  Tibario

  Mamma was staring into a whiskey glass in the library. She glowed with the aura of a ghost.

  I swaggered in, nearly knocking over a side table with my tail. Taking the glass from her hand, I sat on the table in front of her. She did not look at me.

  I held up the glass like evidence of a crime. “What on earth are you doing?”

  She finally met my gaze then, her brow tight. She snatched the glass back, grinning hard. “Night cap.”

  “Not what I mean. You went to have your fortune told by the Honored Child, eh? Did you find what you were looking for, Mamma?”

  She stared like I’d slapped her. “How do you know about that already?”

  “Already? It was the night I died. Is there any good reason for you not to have told me? Did you even give her a choice?”

  That was what incensed me the most. Not the dishonesty to me. That hurt in its own way, but our relationship was built on it. It was the thought of Violetta, poor and alone, forced at the knife point of Mamma’s threats.

  Confusion bloomed on her face, became comprehension. “So she told you. I know what you’re asking, Tibario. Why didn’t I tell you her real identity? Wasn’t my secret to tell.”

  Hearing her say that was practically the definition of irony. “Tell me one thing, please, Mamma. Did you use the occhiorosso on her?”

  She stared back, eyes searching mine. “No. I didn’t and won’t.”

  Tension loosened in my chest. Mamma had controlled more people than I’d been able to keep count of, including me and Mio. But the very suggestion of her dominating Violetta’s will scalded me with revulsion.

  “I did, however, consult her one more time. Today.” Anxiety feathered her voice. “She had something very important to tell me.”

  Disquiet was hardening in my belly.

  “Tibario. I will need you to listen carefully.”

  * * *

  There was a lightness in knowing you would die soon.

  A building could fall on me and I’d eventually claw my way out and lick my fur clean. But this?

  Mamma’s lips had practically smoked as she’d said the word: dragon-soul.

  Dragon-soul. They were like the inverses of moon-souls, and just as mages could not become us, only they became dragon-souls. And the mere thought of one was terrible beyond words.

  All I wanted to do was find Violetta.

  Her flat was empty, but that was no surprise. I didn’t want to be alone at the moment either.

  I still had my fucking tail. It was too hot for an overcoat, and immortality made me hate the heat even worse than before, so I let it flick naturally as I took to the streets. I had to look like an oversized stuffed toy.

  Leo was at a table in a quiet gambling bar in the flower district. The game seemed to be between friends, cards flying with laughter and groans as one of the boys folded and Leo scooped up a pile of crisps.

  He caught sight of me, and shock swept over his handsome features. I saluted.

  “Tibario?” He shoved his winnings aside and one of the boys grabbed them. Rough table. Then my friend was pressing himself to me, squeezing me in a hug, and I was thrilled to hug him back.

  “It’s been a while.” A chuckle rose from me. I hadn’t put one and one together. If Violetta knew about my death, she would’ve told others. I hadn’t even guessed she was friends with Leo.

  He stepped back, sniffled with stoical charm, and ran a gaze up my body. “Are you, what, a cat?”

  “Got it in one.” A touché gesture. “I am here to proselytize to you about the virtues of eating mice. To spare the pigs and cows, you see, so they can rule over us next.”

  “Do a damn sight better job.” His face became still, cautious. “So have you been to see...” I could actually see the hesitation behind his eyes. What name to use for her, if he didn’t know what I knew?

  “I have. She and I had a very long due conversation.”

  My emphasis brought a nod from him. “Did you now? And how did that leave our Vi, afterward?”

  Vi? What a precious nickname. Then I caught his meaning, the protective aura of someone wondering h
ow badly I’d fucked up.

  “I hope I did right by her. Honestly, good show not assuming the best. I’ve always wished her friends who would stand up for her.”

  His frown was complex. No doubt a tomking would understand what a rare commodity that truly was.

  I leaned in, lowered my voice. “If you’re not opposed, I’d very much like to speak to Violetta right now. Do you know where she might be?”

  He turned to trade words with the table, snagged his hat. “She is probably with Rosalina at the Fragrant Rose.”

  The Fragrant Rose. What a suitably ornate name. I’d even been there, once or twice, with Leo. The proprietress was a gorgeously funny girl with a sense of style that probably ought to count as a form of magic. To the average dualistic man in this city, a mollyqueen bar was a place to go for entertainment, song and dance and poetry and plays, and just as often as not, a place to hire a working girl. As vital as that service appeared to be, one might think any house mollyqueens frequented was hallowed as a temple, by its capacity for joy if nothing else. Not treated as the back pocket of human life.

  But this place, when we arrived, had as holy an air as any I’d ever seen, and smelled richly of floral tea. The men that floated across the Fragrant Rose’s dark wood floor seemed an especially noble, cheerful variety of man. Tomking men, impossibly handsome in tailored suits or dockworker garb or the bright livery of tea hosts. They fluttered gracefully amidst their mollygirl peers, and people who were neither or were sexes entirely their own. Their mutually enmeshed presence infused the teahouse with a luminous queer energy, as though even the walls were singing.

  Mio would have loved it here.

  Leo gestured to the end of the room, behind a counter. And my breath froze in my throat.

  There she was. Hair flowing like the tail of a mythical being, an azure gown with pink flowers swaddling her limbs, gleaming with touches of jewelry. It all gave her an ethereal, astrological quality.

  The two women that sat talking with her included the proprietress. Rosalina. Tall and elegant and radiant in crimson and gold, gleaming curls offset with a gilded comb, and even from here her laughter was like a honeyed cloud. The other woman was strapping, sleek in crisp suit and tie and short oiled hair, every centimeter the dashing maschiaccio.

  My nerves acted up. I’d never seen Violetta in her element before. It felt like peering behind a veil, catching a light beyond for the first time.

  Violetta turned, as if at an unseen signal, and met my gaze. I waved timidly. A few moments passed in which neither of us moved, Rosalina and their other friend taking notice. A sweet and melancholy smile bloomed on her face.

  I was going to miss her, miss this life, so much.

  Rosalina gestured us over. I felt like I was invited on sacred ground.

  “Well, look who’s paying a visit to the land of the living.” Rosalina produced a glass, wordlessly asking what I wanted to drink.

  “I value the warm welcome, my lady. Spiced rum if you have it.”

  It was drinks all around, and Violetta looked down at the countertop as we raised glasses. She seemed timid somehow, now that I was seeing her in her own world. I understood. My own pulse was soaring, infatuation thickening around me.

  “Tibario, you’ve met Rosalina.” Violetta gestured at both her friends. “This is Zhihue Weifan. She’s my dearest friend, beside the two of you.”

  Weifan saluted. “Nice tail.” Her voice was as cool and masculine and attractive as she was.

  “I even have a pair of fangs to go with it.” Never quite went away. I bared them and flicked the tail.

  Rosalina poured for Leo and passed a plate of nut cakes. “I suppose we ought to all call you Lord Gatto now, eh?”

  I winked, hopefully looking devilish and not nervous. “Don’t feel much like a lord in a room full of kings and queens.” The laugh that got was satisfying. I held on to the breezy attitude and glanced at Violetta, who was averting her gaze. “Was wondering if I could have a word?”

  Rosalina said there was a room upstairs where we could make ourselves comfortable. Weifan watched me as we left.

  And it was quite comfortable, like a dainty guest room with a sitting area and a pleasant window overlooking the street. Seemed homier than Violetta’s flat. A mystical thrill of safety and tea-scent lingered in it.

  Her hand remained on the door handle; she seemed tense. “You already know.”

  “Mamma told all, if you can believe it.”

  She was solemn, priestess-like, as if ready to deliver a bad love fortune. “I suppose there are things you want from the seer’s mouth, as it were.”

  Something bothered me about her reaction, as if I had stepped into the wrong role in a play. Why had I really come? What else could I possibly ask of her? What more was there between us, if this was the closing act?

  “I think I understand the gist well enough. Does anyone else know?”

  She considered me without blinking. “Rosalina and Weifan. We have...disagreed about what this means we should do. They don’t want to evacuate the city.”

  The word evacuate felt like a battering ram. How real that made it. How not only about me.

  One corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned back to the door. “I’ll leave you be now.”

  “What?” I was on my feet, reeling. “Why? I thought—”

  She frowned minutely. “I assume the person who just forecasted your second death is not someone you’d much like to be around right now.”

  Was it me or had all the air left the room? “Of course she is.” My voice crawled free, more raw than I intended. “She’s the only person I want to be around now. That’s why I came here. I just wanted—”

  Wanted what? In her own way, Violetta had been begging me for distance for years. I had thought the disconnect between us was only from me, but fear made it preferable for her. Here I was again, demanding that she let me in. Into the sunset universe of her secret seer’s heart, the last gasp of a purple sky where she dreamed herself to sleep.

  I don’t want to die alone.

  Violetta changed like a trick of the light, appearing smaller and younger and yet impossibly old. “I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to be the one who knows. But everything only makes it worse. I wish I’d never looked. Then there may yet be a chance.”

  So strong was my urge to hold her that it all but fought its way out of my skin. “Isn’t there any way to prevent it?”

  A shuddering breath ran through her. “I am going to look for one. With every hour we have left.”

  “I don’t understand.” A phrase which was quickly becoming my personal motto. “You’ve foretold things before that you were able to warn someone about, and the crisis was turned aside. Let’s say you did cause the War of the Doves by predicting it. You averted fate. Why can’t it work again?”

  A calm descended on her like snow, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She approached me again, now taking a seat a few handspans away. It was like in her flat—we were close enough to touch, but conspicuously not doing so. She bent a wrist under her chin in an odd, endearing way.

  “It’s difficult to explain. To me, the future is almost like a person. Something I can talk to, argue with. I feel like it haunts me. Maybe because I’m so at odds with it. I believe one of the worst things we can do is think that because I can predict it, that means we have the upper hand over the future. Think about it: if I can foretell it so accurately, doesn’t that mean the future is fixed?”

  I frowned. “Then how were you able to save any of us?”

  She shrugged, the air of exasperation giving the impression that this was an old conversation she’d had with herself one too many times. “I had the calyx charm back then. I don’t always know exactly what’s going to happen. Most of my sense of the future is more like a feeling than like a clear picture. But the more precisely I prophesy,
the more consistently accurately I am. I’ve thought this for a long time: what if prophesying is part of the problem? When I had the charm, it was like I could spare things from their fate. What if prescience works in reverse? I know I can’t prove it, but everything in me tells me that the struggle with the future goes two ways. I had one way to turn aside the bad things I foresaw. Without the charm?” She splayed her fingers, then let them drop at her sides. “I think prophecies may just be making our doom more inevitable. I don’t trust it anymore, Tibario. Magic doesn’t work the way we want it to. I don’t think mine is safe.”

  She stopped then, deflating into her seat in a way that practically rent my heart. What a terrible conundrum to be in. Power that might be saving or dooming everyone you loved, and no way to tell which it was.

  That gave me an idea.

  “Vi.” I stroked her shoulder carefully. “I don’t mean this as an accusation. But you’re right, magic is elusive. You said you don’t have the charm anymore, but it was the calyx charm that saved Casilio. I trust that you aren’t using it to protect him. But what if it’s unconscious somehow? He is your father. Maybe a part of you still feels responsible for safeguarding him? No one could blame you for that.”

  She looked at me, face neutral, for several moments. I half expected her to ask how I could think such a thing. Then, her lips quirked into a sour smile. “You are brilliant, you know? It’s a good question. I’ve considered it a few times. But there’s one problem. If there’s anything facing Father taught me, it’s that I have no buried desire to spare him, win back his love. What I really want is to kill him.”

  Chapter Ten

  Violetta

  I wanted to tell him. It wasn’t that I thought he deserved to know, or any of the other excuses I gave myself to want something. It was my desire. For me.

  He radiated sympathy, sympathy that bit painfully into me. It felt good the way drawing a deep breath in the cold felt good.

  I took that pain into me.