Luminosity

by Annabelle Jay

  My foot struck something squishy on the ground. Slowly, as my heartbeat quickened, I bent down and felt the person lying there. The beard was the first giveaway, and the wrinkled skin was the second. My palm went to his mouth, but no breath warmed my hand.

  Merlin, the great sorcerer and the only person on Earth who could answer my questions, was dead.

  Chapter Four

  IN MY blind panic, I ran to the only place I could think of for help: the enormous skyscrapers behind his house. Since I was already on the grounds and under the protection spell from Egret’s access earlier that night, all I had to do was run the mile of grass to the first skyscraper on the other side.

  To my surprise, a guard appeared next to me instead of opening the door in response to my knock.

  “How may I help you?” he asked. He wore a blue uniform that resembled the antiquated suit of the queen’s guard, still worn today in England as a historical tradition.

  “It’s Merlin,” I said through gasps. As a nerdy astronomy kid, exercise was not one of my strong points. “He’s dead.”

  “You were right to come to the Mansion,” the man said. Then he turned and walked back into the building before I could ask what the Mansion was or why Merlin lived there.

  While the guard summoned other guards to join him at Merlin’s cottage, I sat down on the Mansion stoop and put my head in my hands. Exhausted and terrified, all I wanted to do was go home and sit on our balcony with my mom as she aimed her telescope at a star and asked for its name. I wanted the woolen blankets she’d kept from her grandfather, who had fought in WWIII, and the steaming cup of cocoa with marshmallows floating on the top.

  Even though I hadn’t known Merlin for long, he had seemed like the only person who understood me—the real me. Now he was dead, and I couldn’t get the feeling of his cold skin out of my mind.

  The door to the Mansion opened again, and a stream of guards headed back across the grass to find Merlin’s body. With them came three people in blue suits and no necklaces, along with many others with necklaces filled with sand, water, or diamonds. Apparently, the people who lived there had a thing for jewelry.

  I should have followed them, but my body wouldn’t move. Besides, I knew what I would find on the other side of the yard, and even though my knowledge of magic was limited, death seemed like the one absolute in our crazy world.

  “Come in,” a voice said softly. A girl had come to the door but not followed the crowd; perhaps she had been assigned to the door in the guards’ absence, or to watch me. Dressed in only a blue nightgown and slippers, she had obviously been woken midsleep.

  “I should—”

  “If Merlin is truly dead, you won’t be able to bring him back. Even the Council cannot do such an impossible task. But don’t worry—Merlin will return to this world when he is needed, as he always does.”

  I need him, I thought, but said nothing. Merlin had not mentioned telling anyone else about my gift, so unless absolutely necessary, I would keep the details to myself.

  The girl must have caught me staring at her necklace.

  “It’s our marker,” she explained as she sat down on the stone stair with me and showed me her water-filled necklace. “Sand for Level Twos, water for Level Threes, diamonds for Level Fours, and phoenixes for Level Fives. Well, obviously they can’t carry their pets in necklaces, so theirs are empty.”

  “And these levels are…?”

  “Oh. Sorry. They’re magic levels.”

  “Of course they are.” At that point, after hearing about Igreefee, incubi, and Artists, I would have believed anything. “So what do Level Threes do?”

  “Fill the Council Guard, mostly—sorry, the Council is our group of leaders. But I’m head cook. My great-great-grandmother, Molly, was the first Level Three to take such a unique position, and since then, my family has continued the tradition. We’re all very stuck in our ways, myself included, and not even the Council was going to take this assignment from us.”

  Now that I looked, she did have bits of dough in her red hair and a dust of flour on her cheeks. She looked nothing like what I pictured a cook to look like, though—this girl was young and beautiful. Unlike Egret, who was skinny and pale as a plant away from sun and water, she was filled out and strong from her labors.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, running her fingers through her hair. “Do I have dough on me again?”

  “Yes, but that wasn’t why I was staring.” I helped her pull the dried dough out of her curls. “You just look different than the girls at my high school.”

  “It’s all those pastries,” she said with a wink.

  “Well, I like it,” I said, then immediately wanted to cover my mouth. The lack of sleep had apparently overwhelmed my shyness, and everything I was thinking would stream right out, unfiltered.

  “Thank you.” I had embarrassed her, I saw from her cheeks, but pleased her too. “I’m Rochelle.”

  “Luke.”

  We shook hands awkwardly.

  “Want to come in, Luke? The Council won’t call you until tomorrow, and they gave me permission to give you a room until then. Any friend of Merlin’s is a friend of the Council.”

  I followed Rochelle into the main tower of the Mansion.

  “Technically I should live in the Level Three building,” Rochelle explained, “but because I’m head cook, they’ve given me a room above the cafeteria as well. With three meals a day, each with five courses, I barely have time to change my clothes—and don’t get me started on the balls. We can go to my apartment, or I can show you to the guest room in the Level Two quarters. They’ve done away with the antiquated guy/girl sides, so don’t be surprised if you see a girl in your dorm bath.”

  The thought of lying in a new room alone, remembering finding Merlin’s cold body again and again until morning, sounded miserable.

  “Can I go with you?” I asked, again being more forward than usual. “I don’t want to be alone yet.”

  “Of course. I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Rochelle took me out of the Level Five tower of the “Mansion,” which apparently was just a symbolic name left over from the original building, and through an empty quad. Between all four skyscrapers was a smaller building, and from this building emanated all kinds of delicious smells.

  “My cooks have already started on tomorrow’s breakfast,” Rochelle explained when I stopped to sniff. “If you’re extra nice to me, I’ll steal you a chocolate croissant.”

  We snuck through the dining hall and ballroom amidst the clatter of pans and bashing of oven doors and climbed the flight of stairs to Rochelle’s sleeping quarters. She explained that most apartments in the skyscrapers were small, especially in the guard barracks, and that this apartment was one of the reasons her family refused to leave its post.

  As soon as I saw the polished marble and high ceilings that matched the ballroom’s splendor, I understood her family’s stubbornness. This was an apartment fit for a king, and in a place where space was a precious commodity, the five-bedroom expanse was a wonderland.

  “What do you do with all of these bedrooms?” I asked as I peered down the main hallway to the guest bedrooms.

  “Not much,” Rochelle admitted as she flopped on the leather sofa. “I’m always down in the kitchen overseeing my cooks or running food in the pantry, so I don’t have time for parties or hobbies. For a while I was knitting,” she held up three inches of a scarf on a knitting needle, “but you can see how far I got with that project.”

  “A young woman who cooks and knits.” I shook my head.

  “I know, pretty old-fashioned, right? I even churn my own butter and bake my own bread. Magic just doesn’t taste the same as making something by hand, human errors and all.”

  I understood her love of old ways; I, too, loved old things, like my mother’s collection of outdated telescopes or binoculars from before glasses took their place. I used to sneak into her closet and pretend, as I held a clunky credit card in
my hand or imagined using an oversized cell phone, that I was back in that time. Life seemed so simple before fingerprint ID, self-driving cars, and implanted phones.

  “My mom hates modern stuff too,” I said, “which is funny, because her job as an astronomer requires using so much technology.” Bringing her up was painful, but I missed her too. “She refuses to buy it or let me use it around her. I’m probably the last kid in the world not to have an implanted phone.”

  “Not the last.” Rochelle showed me her hands and arms. “I still have a vintage rotary phone in my bedroom, though of course it runs on magic. But who needs to call me, anyway? Around here, we just go to each other’s rooms and bang on the door.”

  “That sounds nice.” I couldn’t image having a whole group of friends as close to me as Lacey had been, just showing up for breakfast or to ask about a homework assignment. At Eagle High my only friend was Egret, and I wasn’t even sure how much she liked me.

  Rochelle waved her hand, and a roaring fire appeared in the fireplace.

  “You can just do that whenever you want?” I asked.

  “Within reason. Each witch or wizard has a specialty; mine is domestic stuff like cooking or fires, obviously, but there are many others.”

  I didn’t need an Artist specialty, I thought. I was the only one left.

  Rochelle sat down on the couch, and I sat down next to her. The old springs sank under my weight, turning the seat into one giant hug. If I didn’t keep talking, I would fall asleep in minutes.

  “So tell me more about you,” I said. “Is everyone in your family a witch?”

  “Oh no. We’ve had a few Level Twos, or worse, Yolkers, throughout the years.”

  “What’s a Yolker?”

  “People who get egg yolk when they break the Egg on the corner of the bowl. My own mother was a Yolker, though of course the Council wiped her memory after the trial. I grew up knowing nothing about the Mansion or magic—like you, no offense—until my fifteenth birthday, when my grandmother brought me to complete the test. That was five years ago, though it seems like ages.”

  Rochelle’s hand tapped out her words on the cushion next to mine. Though I had never so much as kissed a girl besides Lacey, the temptation for human comfort was hard to ignore. After losing Merlin, all I wanted to do was let someone hold me. The rapid explanations about things like the Mansion, the Egg test, and witches and wizards weren’t helping either. I couldn’t believe that just this morning I’d been doubting life outside of Earth’s atmosphere, and now it turned out I didn’t even understand life on my own planet.

  “And your father?” I asked, trying to distract myself.

  “Never even tested. My father is about as far from a wizard as a mouse is from an eagle. In order to justify an Egg trial, you either have to be related to a witch or wizard or have shown some sort of merit in the magical way. My father can’t even use his imagination to cook a meal, let alone a spell.”

  The heat from her fingers was so strong I could feel it a few inches over. My eyes drifted to her hand, then back to her mouth as she described how her grandmother had convinced her parents that she would pay for an expensive boarding school for Rochelle.

  “Every few months I would go home with stories of my dormmates—most of which were altered from Mansion stories—and now I tell them about culinary school. At least my cooking can keep them from second guessing those tales.”

  Rochelle caught my gaze and looked down at her own hand.

  “Here.” She moved her hand to mine and interlocked our fingers. “Is that better?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I just—”

  “No need to apologize, Luke. Here I am prattling on about my family issues, while you sit here reliving the death you just witnessed. In times like these, everyone needs a hand to hold. Besides… I like you.”

  “You do?” It seemed like nobody at Eagle High liked me, and they’d had a month to get to know me.

  “Yeah, I do. You’re quirky, but so am I. You like old things, and you’re interested in finding the answers to the world’s mysteries. On top of all that, you’re cute.”

  I blushed. It felt great to be liked, and for once I tuned out the little voice inside my head warning me that Rochelle knew nothing about me. For once, I didn’t care. My lips found hers, and the tingling when our hands touched spread to my whole body.

  You’re not really kissing her, the voice reminded me. The Luke on the couch is just an imposter.

  I don’t care.

  Yes, you do. Don’t you feel that part of you coming alive, that part of you that you hate? Like a dragon, it’s hidden in its lair, just waiting for the right time to remind you of your place in the world.

  It’s not my place. They’re doing surgeries in ten minutes these days, and once I get my own health insurance—

  Sure, health insurance is the problem. Health insurance is the reason that you can’t tell anyone who you really are.

  Shut up!

  “Is something wrong?” Rochelle had pulled away from me.

  “No, it’s not that. I’m just new to all of this.” My mind raced to find a lie Rochelle would believe, and one that would stop her from triggering whatever was happening in my body. “I just always pictured my first kiss would be with my wife, that’s all.”

  Rochelle’s eyebrows rose. “Wow, that’s so romantic. You really are different than all of the other guys I know.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Well, don’t worry, we’ll stop right now before you get too tempted.” She put a foot of space between us.

  “Thanks.” I felt guilty, though for what, I wasn’t sure. “Listen, I’m sorry I just ruined that moment, but do you want to be my girlfriend?”

  The words rushed out before I had the chance to think about them. I was tired to the point of hallucination, and after the past day of traumatizing events, I guess I craved the security of a girlfriend more than I feared the consequences.

  “I’d love to.” Rochelle’s smile was so big that the guilt faded slightly. And I did like her, even if I knew she wouldn’t like the real me.

  In the heat of the fire, we drifted in and out of sleep. Rochelle’s head dropped onto my chest, and I put a hand on her other cheek to keep it from rolling off. I could be the kind of man that Rochelle wanted, I told myself, at least for a little while.

  Chapter Five

  I WOKE to pounding on the door. Rochelle was nowhere to be found, but she had covered me with a crocheted blanket with floating sheep on it; most likely she’d gone to work in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning.

  “Luke? Are you in there?”

  I recognized Egret’s voice immediately, even muffled through several inches of wood. As soon as I figured out the locks on the door and swung it open, the Igreefee girl threw her arms around me.

  “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, not letting go, “and while you were in his cabin no less! One minute I’m dropping you off and you’re making pencils, and the next, I get a call that Merlin’s dead and you’re wandering the Mansion all alone. I came as soon as I could.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, though I didn’t let go. “I made a new friend, and she’s been taking care of me.”

  “Good. Now come, we need to meet with the Council and tell them—”

  “What’s going on here?” Rochelle must have come up the stairs while Egret and I spoke, and I wondered if she’d heard me call her a friend. She held a blue china plate in her hands with two chocolate croissants still steaming from the oven, and her blue apron was coated in chocolate flecks and flour.

  “Rochelle, this is Egret, my friend.”

  “Oh, another girl who’s a friend?” Rochelle asked, answering the question of whether she’d heard me or not. “Glad to know I’m not the only one.”

  Egret looked between us. “Did I miss something?”

  “Apparently not,” Rochelle said. She turned to leave, but I called her back.

  “Wait a minute, t
his is a huge misunderstanding. Rochelle is my girlfriend as of last night.”

  Egret’s eyebrows rose, but she knew enough to keep her mouth shut.

  “And Rochelle, Egret really is just a friend.”

  “I swear,” Egret said sincerely. “All this”—she waved her hand in front of my crotch—“is not for me, no matter how much I like the guy.”

  Had Egret just admitted she liked me? I glanced at her face, but if she realized what she’d said, she didn’t show it. Rochelle, on the other hand, looked instantly regretful. Her face turned even redder than normal, and her gaze dropped to the blue marble floor.

  “Oh. Wow. I feel like an idiot.”

  “No worries.” Egret took the plate out of her limp hands. “But if you don’t mind, I’d love one of these croissants.”

  “Of course. Have them all.” Rochelle seemed disoriented; Egret had that effect on people. “Luke, there was something else I came here to tell you… oh, I remember. The Council has summoned you to their private advising rooms to talk about the demon problem. If you follow me, I’ll take you both to them.”

  Rochelle led us back across the courtyard to the Level Five building while she told us about the Mansion’s newest renovations. Apparently there were two parties in the wizarding world that had sprung up in the early 2100s—the Mods and the Trads. The first wanted to keep the Mansion updated with the latest technology, while the second wanted to take the Mansion back to its more traditional roots. These parties mirrored what was going on outside the Mansion walls, where huge leaps in technology had led to robot rebellions and worldwide shutdowns and had caused resentment among voters. Whole states in the USA run by Trads were like museums, preserved as examples of what life had been like before implanted phones and surgery machines and self-driving cars. For a long time, the Trads were looked down upon as backward and even ridiculous. Then a scientific report came out about the life expectancy of those living in Trad-controlled states versus those controlled by Mods—and the Trad residents had a higher life expectancy by thirty years.