Burnt Snow

by Van Badham

  70

  At the end of the path was more spinifex, and then sand leading down to a wet plateau of rock that curled around the shoreline to some cliffs. I had managed to keep pace with my shoes on, but I knew from the first awkward stumble on the rocks that my ankle would snap if a heel caught in a fissure. I unbuckled the shoes and strapped them to my handbag, then continued along in stockinged feet.

  With Brody’s help, I managed to get across the plateau, climb the rocks beneath the caves and even crawl up a couple of metres of cliff with no broken ankle and only some bruising to my hands.

  This cave I’d remembered from my flight. Brody climbed into it before I did and reached down to haul me in as soon as he was inside. I ignored his outstretched hand, mindful of the blue electricity that zapped between us when we touched. ‘I can do it,’ I said, shoving my scratched hands into gaps in the rock. By the time I was inside, I was breathless with effort.

  The cave was cold, lit only by the starry sky and moonlight on the water, and a combination of sea spray and condensation made the walls wet. A sandstone chamber washed out of the cliff over centuries, the cave’s one strength was that it kept out the wind.

  Bruised, tired, panting with exhaustion, all I wanted to do was shed my tights and dry my feet. Brody felt around the cave for somewhere to sit that wasn’t wet.

  ‘How’d you know about this cave?’ he asked when my breathing had slowed enough for me to hear him.

  ‘Just exploring the town.’

  ‘As a human being or as a – as a—’

  ‘Bear.’ I shoved my hands under my jacket to keep them warm. The cave was freezing. In the shadows, my skin and Brody’s glowed dark blue.

  ‘You can’t be a bear,’ he said, and burst out laughing. ‘Bears don’t have handbags, 19. They don’t have to worry about running in girls’ shoes.’

  ‘You’ve got secrets.’

  ‘They’re nothing on yours.’

  ‘Nothing?’ I said, angry. After the running, the rocks, the climb up the cliffs, this was not the reaction I’d expected from him. ‘What about the Curse of Brody Meine? The Amazing Invisible Meine family? You thought you’d caused the crows, you thought you caused Ms Dwight’s miscarriage!’

  ‘I have been to a lot of weird places, 19. I’ve seen a lot things that I wish I hadn’t seen, things that defy human logic, yes. But, come on, you go for a walk with a girl at a party, you do not expect she’ll turn into a goddamn bear!’

  ‘They were attacking you!’

  ‘And getting my face smashed in would have freaked me out a whole lot less than this.’ He threw one of his arms against the wall of the cold cave and he leaned on it. He exhaled. ‘You can’t be a bear,’ Brody roared at the cave wall.

  I snatched him by the arm so he’d look at me. ‘What do you see now?’

  ‘I see the past eight years of my life and trouble every day.’ He dropped his head.

  ‘What kind of trouble?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Come on, Brody – what kind of trouble? Things going wrong? People picking fights with you for no reason? Things breaking, accidents all around – a crying baby in a car, out in the snow?’

  Brody lifted his head and the look he gave me was chilling. ‘You don’t know,’ he said, his voice colder than the cave walls.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ I shivered, ‘and I don’t ask you to explain it to me because you and I, we do live outside human logic. You know, and I know, that out there doesn’t run the way regular non-cursed, non-bear people want to believe it does. The world has weird stuff – dark stuff, impossible stuff. You’ve seen me do a transformation – it’s not all I can do. I can set things on fire and turn glass into moths and on Sunday night I actually flew. I flew over the whole town.’

  He turned back towards the wall. I put my hand tenderly on his shoulder. ‘But I’m still the girl you went for a walk with. I’m still the girl who sits next to you in Modern History. Just like … whatever happened to you, or is happening, this darkness that you carry around – wherever it’s come from, Brody, I don’t care. To me you’re the guy I saw in the ice-creamery my first day in Yarrindi. The one in my Modern History class who reads books in the Senior Quad and plays guitar.’

  He turned; my hand fell from his shoulder. ‘What are you?’ he said.

  ‘Confused, most of the time,’ I laughed. ‘Panicked – I do heaps of panicking. Um … I’m kind of a fraud because even though I hate Belinda I sit with her at lunchtime and legitimise what a bitch she is to the rest of the world …’ My eyes strayed back towards him.

  Brody’s eyes glowed with moonlight and the suggestion this was not a time for joking around.

  ‘I’m a witch, Brody. It’s not actually just a costume. And you should know what it means that I trust you enough to tell you that.’

  He nodded as he looked at me. I shivered in my jacket. My arms were covered in goose pimples and my wet feet were going numb.

  ‘You said people were after you. You said in the book room—’

  ‘Witchfinders. Jeules is one, so’s Nikki Cipri’s sister. There was a host of them in town this week and they’re nutjobs – total zealots. They torture women and they kill people. That’s why, the other day …’ my voice quavered, ‘the “touch me, touch me” conversation in the book room … I couldn’t risk a magical reaction. You blame yourself for these things that happen, but it’s me too.’

  All was silent apart from the crashing water on the rocks beneath us.

  Staring out at the ocean, Brody said, ‘I don’t think I’ve had a week in the past eight years where something bad has not happened to me or someone I care about. In fact, when something good happens to me, it usually results in a serious injury to someone I care about. Is that what you mean by a “magical reaction”?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said. ‘Though, as I’ve said, I’m short on the serious injuries. I think I’m protected by something that deflects all the dark energy into strange weather events instead.’

  I smiled. He didn’t.

  ‘Someone’s coated you with magic, Brody,’ I explained. ‘Thick magic. There might be something I could do – if you knew who put it there, or why.’

  ‘I probably deserved it,’ he said. He turned and looked out to the water again. ‘Probably good you stayed away from me in the book room. With Jeules hunting witches, if I had touched you you’d’ve been dead by the end of the day.’

  We stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing over the ocean. Clouds seemed to be forming. In the distance it looked like rain had already started to fall.

  I retreated from the mouth of the cave to shelter from an icy wind that was rising from the water. My thighs were cold. While I rubbed my legs with my hands in an attempt to massage some warmth into them, I noticed Brody was staring at me.

  I stood up. ‘Are you still freaking out about me being a bear? Or being a witch, or—’

  ‘No, 1919, I am not.’ He started to laugh. ‘Right now, I’m a lot more freaked out about you being a girl.’

  Now he smiled. I didn’t know why.

  ‘Let’s try to make this hideout a home,’ Brody said, taking his eyes away from my legs, but still smiling. ‘That wind is getting bad. You must be freezing.’

  71

  ‘We’re not the first people to use this cave,’ Brody said as I shivered in the shadows of the rock. He’d been searching the space around us for a couple of minutes, and now held something up to me. ‘These tea lights are everywhere, and there’s some garbage. This is a hippie cubbyhouse, or something.’

  ‘Maybe fishermen use it,’ I said.

  ‘And where there’s fishermen there’s plastic sheeting,’ said Brody, feeling around the corners of dark rock. ‘I’m looking for anything to sit on that isn’t cold or wet.’

  ‘Of course, we could’ve just phoned Al or my dad and got someone to pick us up,’ I said, lifting one foot after the other from the ground, trying to prevent the wet coldness of the stone from numbing m
y feet completely.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, 19. That’s way too rational. The obvious place to go when you’re pursued by meatheads and turn into a bear is straight into a cold, wet pit.’

  ‘You agreed to this plan,’ I reminded him.

  ‘I did – maybe sensibly,’ he said. ‘Have you seen the storm outside? I think those are raindrops.’ He pointed towards the horizon, where thick clouds were swirling above a dark sea. ‘Here we go,’ he said, dislodging something from a cleft in the rock wall. ‘They are fishermen. Look.’

  ‘I can’t see anything,’ I said. ‘It’s too dark.’

  ‘Then listen,’ Brody said. There was a squeak of something being unlidded, then a rustle of plastic crinkling. ‘There’s a cool-box back here.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘Cool-box – the insulated thing you put food in when you go camping, the …’ I heard Brody take an angry, inward breath. ‘The one thing I can never remember the word for—’

  ‘Esky?’ I said, confused. ‘Brody, you know what an esky is.’

  He crinkled something again. ‘Anyway, there’s a waterproof ground cover in it, some fishing hooks … and a damp, mouldy blanket.’

  Brody fossicked through the cave while I kept stepping from one foot to the other on the wet, sandy ground. He selected two loose, largish rocks and rolled them into the middle of the space. He then wrapped the old blanket around the rocks; it smelled vile but gave them some padding. Over the wrapped rocks, he spread the plastic sheet. ‘It’s not much,’ he said, ‘but we shouldn’t have to wait that long before either the meat squad lose interest in me and go back to their bonfire … or the whole thing gets rained out.’

  The word ‘bonfire’ landed in my forebrain just as I felt a forgotten lump of something in my jacket’s inside pocket. ‘I’ve got a lighter!’ I remembered aloud.

  Brody passed me a tea light and I lit it. As its pale illumination spread through the cave, Brody used it to light the other little candles perched around the rocks.

  Soon the cave was filled with glowing white candles and soft light. ‘It doesn’t make it much of a secret hideout,’ he said, sitting on the plastic sheet, his back leaning against the blanket-padded rock. ‘We’re lit up like a lighthouse.’

  ‘Except we’re in a bay of our own,’ I said, copying his pose against the rock. ‘There are outcroppings of cliff on either side that block the light – the only way we’d be spotted is if they run around the plateau. Or if they’re coming by boat.’ I inhaled, trying to catch a scent of Belinda or the others in the air. Whatever I found was confused and distant – they were not near.

  ‘If Jared Harris comes after me by boat he can have one free punch of my face,’ said Brody adding, ‘but only one’ with a sinister expression.

  ‘I heard Jared,’ I said, ‘but who were the others?’

  ‘The regulars – wannabes from the football team trying to suck up to Garth. Matt again, I think – the fool. Steve, maybe …’

  ‘Steve?’

  Brody shrugged. ‘He’s not real bright. And I did kiss his girlfriend.’

  I frowned. ‘I hope it was worth being slapped with a piece of wood.’ I wriggled against the rock and discovered it wasn’t uncomfortable. My next discovery was that Brody’s body sat on the ground barely centimetres away from mine. ‘When you …’ I felt awkward saying it. ‘I get frightened when you fight like that.’

  ‘I get frightened too.’ Brody rested his hands behind his head. ‘You get a reputation for being a bad boy, people think that if they’re the one to take you down, that makes them badder. Dumb dream,’ he said, ‘but popular. It’s just about male pride. Everyone wants to be the top dog, not the little spaniel.’

  ‘Are you a Doberman or an Alsatian?’ I asked, trying to smile.

  ‘Hey, you’re the one with the active animal totem, 19. I’m just good at fighting.’ Brody stared at the cave ceiling. ‘For stupid people – you know, Garth – violence is just the easiest ladder to climb, because it’s simple: all you have to do is hit people. One of the reasons the meatheads won’t leave me alone is ’cos I hit harder than they do. They can’t stand it.’

  ‘What’s your secret?’ I said, also resting my hands behind my head, watching the flickering shadows of candlelight on the rock.

  Brody laughed. ‘I know there are worse things than pain.’

  The view outside was growing grey and blurry. ‘Wow,’ I said, ‘that is some deluge.’

  I pulled my mobile phone from my bag, deciding it was time to check in. I wrote to Dad: Went for a walk on the beach with a friend. Sheltering from rain in a cave. Will text when it passes.

  As I thumbed the message, I was aware that Brody was staring at my legs, but when I dropped my phone back into my bag, he looked away.

  I lay back down against the rock. Brody and I didn’t speak. After a couple of awkward minutes, Brody turned his head to face mine, and I mirrored the gesture. We rolled in towards one another. Our legs touched.

  ‘It’s a pity we can’t get the cave warmer,’ he said.

  I sat up again. ‘We can!’ I said, fetching the orange candle from my inside jacket pocket. ‘I just remembered! I’ve got this.’

  Brody raised an eyebrow. ‘That is not going to turn this from cold to dry.’

  ‘What can I stick the candle in?’

  Brody got up, dug behind a rock and handed me a sandy, half crushed soft drink can. ‘This might work,’ he said, sitting back down.

  I stood the candle in the opening of the can, squashing the battered aluminium so it could hold the candle steady. I brought the lighter to the wick. ‘Lämmöllä,’ I sang as the wick caught fire, channelling my Will into the flame. Candle magic filled the cave with orange light, soft and warm as a blanket.

  ‘What’s the song?’ said Brody.

  ‘Witchcraft,’ I said, placing the improvised candlestick behind our rocky seats.

  Brody leaned his head on his hand. ‘So where do you learn the neat tricks with bears and candles? I’m guessing it’s not an extracurricular unit they offer at school.’ In the warm orange haze, his irises shone like polished peridot.

  ‘It’s interesting … I tell you I’m a witch and you just accept it. Have you met witches before?’ I wondered if he knew about Ashley.

  ‘Not explicitly.’ He smirked, looking up at the ceiling again. ‘But … strange situations have followed me for a long time. Things like the lights popping the other day.’

  ‘You want to tell me about that scene in the snow?’

  ‘Not ever.’ Something crackled in his voice. ‘You caused that … vision, didn’t you? With witchcraft?’

  ‘I had to make you stop hitting Garth.’

  ‘How did you know that would make me stop?’

  ‘I didn’t. I sort of just threw a wild bolt of magic down the hall and hoped for the best.’

  ‘It worked, though you shouldn’t have put yourself at risk like that. If Jeules was—’

  ‘I’m not going to let you kill people, Brody Meine,’ I said. ‘Even Garth.’

  ‘My problems are not your responsibility, 19.’

  ‘Sure they are,’ I said.

  There was silence again for a few seconds. The square-inch of contact between his legs and my knees, even through the layers of our clothing, was absorbing most of my attention.

  ‘Did I stray into sensitive territory?’ I asked him.

  ‘You can easily stray back out of it,’ said Brody.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Tell me about frogs.’

  Brody smiled to himself. ‘When I was younger I used to hear them at night-time, outside the window.’ His eyes met mine again. ‘Frogs are supposed to be the reincarnation of children who die before baptism. I was never baptised, so I used to imagine I was one of the frog brotherhood and the croaking every night was them reminding me that I wasn’t alone.’

  I thought of his spartan bedroom, the cold tears on his face as he was led away from Garth and the snow-vision, the words to
ugh childhood. My instinct was to bury my face in his chest and promise him he’d never be alone again, but instead, not knowing what to say, I tore my gaze away and sat up.

  The orange warmth generated by the magical candle inspired me. I decided to remove my wet stockings and dry them.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Brody as he watched me put my jacket over my lap as a gesture to modesty.

  ‘I have to dry my tights,’ I said. ‘My feet are totally damp – I can’t stand it.’

  Brody stood up and walked to the mouth of the cave. ‘Let me know when you’re done,’ he said, his back to me.

  I shuffled out of my hosiery, wriggling my feet out of the tights and then shaking the damp clothes out. ‘How’s the rain?’ I asked.

  ‘Thick,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you turned on the central heating. It’s black out there. Interesting.’ He paused, leaning on the side of the cave mouth and reaching his other arm into the open air. ‘The air’s churning, the wind’s blowing and it’s ice cold – but it’s not actually wet.’

  I slung the tights over a shoulder of rock and spread my tuxedo jacket over my bare legs as I sat down. ‘You can come back now,’ I said, stretching my feet.

  Brody turned around and looked at me, but he didn’t move.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I said.

  ‘Witch, right?’ Brody said, smiling. ‘Witch not bear?’

  ‘Not really bear,’ I said. ‘Not always.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Right.’

  He turned back to the mouth of the cave. ‘Explain magical reactions,’ he said, his back to me.

  ‘You’re coated in this magic,’ I said. ‘Like a force field of electricity.’

  ‘Me? How do you know?’

  ‘I can see it.’

  ‘All the time?’

  ‘I have to look for it. Make my eyes see what’s actually there. On you it’s like a really fine silver net.’

  ‘But I’m not the only person with this … force field?’

  ‘There’s different kinds of magic on things, on people – wherever spells are cast. The candle,’ I said, pointing, ‘makes orange magic. Jeules has a ring that radiates grey magic.’ I stood up, leaving my tuxedo jacket on the ground. ‘My amulet—’ I walked towards him, displaying the pendant in my hand, ‘is a blue magic, the same colour as the turquoise stone. When your skin touches mine,’ I said, blushing, ‘there’s a reaction between the force fields and it makes blue bolts of electricity, and they—’