“Yes, I imagine so.”
I can’t sit any longer, pushing myself out of my chair and pacing near the hexatorium’s door.
Millie watches my frantic procession through the room. “But when Arbus cast the curse, it was laid upon Stephen’s mother—not Stephen himself.”
She pauses and I force myself to stand still and look directly at her.
“I can only guess.” She speaks slowly, deliberately. “But with his mother gone, there’s no way of knowing what the effect will be. If the curse was truly meant to span generations, Stephen may be all right. But there’s no way to know. As I said, by its own nature and intention, the curse is unstable.” Millie sighs. “Thus, it is unpredictable and very, very dangerous. For Stephen . . . and for you.”
I meet her gaze, unblinking, as I try to process her words. Unstable. Unpredictable. What do those words even mean? I’m looking for a doomsday clock with a precise countdown, but all she’s giving me is a sundial on a cloudy day.
Instead I focus on something I can control: myself. “Why would Stephen’s curse be dangerous for me?”
“Because you’re young and in love.” She smiles, but I look away. Love feels distant, while loss feels close.
“That will make you impulsive,” Millie goes on. “And less likely to consider risks to yourself.”
“I don’t care about that. Just tell me what the instability of the curse will do to Stephen.” I bring my eyes back up, looking at Millie hard, though my heart is flapping against my ribs like a bird that is falling when it hasn’t yet learned to fly.
She takes a quick breath. “You’ve proven my point. If you want to help Stephen, you must take care of yourself. With your attitude you could do more harm than good.”
“But isn’t that why I’m here?” I ask sourly. “So you can teach me how to take care of myself?”
“Most definitely.” Millie stands up. “And Stephen is safe enough. He’s survived the curse this long. He must be a resilient boy.”
I almost laugh, but turn my back on her instead. In my mind Millie’s claim is as good as someone telling me that we’ve made it through the earthquake, so there’s no danger from the aftershocks. All I can think of is that unpredictable nest of tentacles whipping around Stephen’s body. He’s not safe if one of them goes rogue and wraps itself around his neck to choke him. As far as I’m concerned, Stephen is the target of some spectral assassin that could strike at any moment, without any warning. I can’t abide Millie’s assurances that time is on our side.
I’m about to say so when without any prompting Millie scampers across the room, looping her arm through mine.
“Now, now, don’t frown like that,” she says as she leads me to the stairwell. “You’ll have wrinkles by the time you’re twenty.”
For a woman of her age, she moves with remarkable speed. I’m working hard not to trip my way up the steps.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To finish your training, of course.” Millie pulls me into the comic shop. I squint into the darkness.
“Saul, we have work to do,” she announces.
The hulking shadow behind the counter slides a curious glance at the tiny woman. “After all this time? You really think that’s wise?”
“Tut, tut.” She emphasizes her words with short claps. “Unless you’re worried you’ve gotten too rusty.”
I gaze at Saul as he unfolds himself from behind the desk. Standing, he’s over six feet tall. Despite her age, Millie looks like a child compared to this hulk.
“He’s coming with us?” I ask, not having given any thought to the big man who crouched, silently, in the shadows of the comic shop. If anything, I’d assumed he was a bouncer for kids daring each other into the store, wanting to catch a glimpse of the resident “witch.”
“Of course,” Millie says. “A spellseeker can’t work without a safeguard. We’d be much too vulnerable.”
She winces. “Though I hardly deserve Saul’s allegiance. I’ve told him many times to seek out someone who’s active. Not a has-been like me.”
Saul mumbles something under his breath that I don’t quite catch.
“You’re Millie’s protector?” I ask uneasily. He certainly looks the part, but I’m still not getting what sort of protection he’s offering.
“Shield,” Millie corrects. “Each spellseeker has a shield to watch over him or her while she pursues and rights the wrongs of cursecasters.”
With a series of painful-sounding pops and cracks, Saul is methodically stretching his arms, legs, shoulders, and neck. It reminds me of some rarely used machinery groaning back to life, in dire need of oiling.
“What do you need protection from?” I ask Millie.
It’s Saul who answers with a snort. “You think I lost this eye peddling comics?”
I’m doubly embarrassed when I not only stare at the scar that cut across his face where his eye should have been, but also shudder. This only makes him laugh.
“Now, now, Saul. Be gentle,” Millie chides, but she’s smiling fondly at the huge man. “She’s just a girl, and this is a frightening business.”
“Which is why she can’t be coddled,” Saul says.
I’m looking back and forth between this odd pair. They continue their banter—and it’s clear they’ve been close to hibernation in this dark Upper West Side shop. As they argue about my readiness for what’s ahead, reinvigorated by their new purpose, I feel as invisible as Stephen.
After five minutes of this I clear my throat. “So . . . what is he protecting you from?”
Saul glares at the interruption, but Millie blushes with embarrassment. “Of course, dear. But let me explain as we’re on our way.”
“Where are we going?” I ask over my shoulder as Millie fusses me towards the door.
“The subway,” Millie says. “It’s a good place where we can sit and watch without being conspicuous. The number of people getting on and off between Eighty-Sixth and Wall Street should offer a nice variety of curses. I haven’t made my way that far south in a while, but as I recall, the Financial District is, as a rule, bursting at the seams with curses.”
She’s glowing with anticipation while I’m trying to wrap my head around any assortment of curses as “nice” and whether I want to go anywhere near a part of the city that boasts curses in such abundance.
Saul locks the shop door and we’re on our way. He takes the lead, each of his long strides forcing Millie and me into double time to keep pace with him.
“Cursecasters are a suspicious lot by nature,” Millie says as we hurry down the street. “They move through the world always looking over their shoulders. They harbor a particular dislike for our lot, viewing us as pestering gnats best swatted or squashed.”
“Can they do that?” I ask. “Squash us?”
“Not with curses,” Millie says as we turn the corner. “Spellseekers have a natural immunity. Curses can’t get a proper hold of us. Of course, you have to build up your immunity—just like all humans do for the more mundane forms of disease. In time the curses will just slide off.”
“We’ve got genetic Teflon for curses?” I laugh.
She wrinkles her nose at me.
“Sorry,” I say as we descend the stairs to the subway. “So how are we in danger from them?”
“After I put one cursecaster out of business, she came after me,” Millie says. “My poor Saul bears far too many scars on my behalf.”
I gasp and Saul throws a thin smile back at me. “Don’t worry, little girl. I have a knack for making sure cursecasters’ knives end up buried in their own bellies.”
Millie’s laugh surprises me. “No one is as quick as my Saul.”
Saul grins at her.
“He’s your bodyguard?” I ask. “Is that how it works?”
Millie nods. “Cursecasters rarely have qualms about keeping their work safe and their identities secret. We’re the only ones who can expose them or threaten their livelihood.”
We’re moving through the turnstile when Saul adds, “It’s more than that.”
“In my case it’s not,” Millie says stiffly. “Because I don’t have the talent that you do, Elizabeth.”
Saul bristles, assuming a watchful stance on the platform while Millie takes my elbow, pulling me close so she can speak in low tones.
“I can identify curses and help victims understand what’s happening to them,” she says. “I can offer advice. Usually it’s a matter of estimating how long it will take the curse to run its course and how not to exacerbate its effects.”
I’m trying to concentrate on her words but finding it difficult. Laurie was right about the smell of the subway. The stifling heat makes the odors, both sour and cloying, pool around us. But it’s not just the belly-churning reek of sweat, urine, and refuse. There’s a low drone surrounding me, one I can sense but still just barely hear. The noise swells and a wave of dizziness makes me sway. Millie’s fingers tighten around my arm.
“Shhh,” she says. “I know it isn’t pleasant, but try to breathe deeply and steadily. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”
A train pulls up. Saul stands in front of us as it empties and then shoulders other riders aside. Other than a few muttered complaints, none of the other passengers object as he makes a path for Millie and me to enter the car and shepherds us into seats. I don’t blame them, as I’d guess few people outside of professional wrestlers would mess with Saul.
I feel a little better now that I’m sitting down. The buzzing still fills my ears, but it’s less intense.
“You’ll get used to it.” Millie pats my hand.
“I don’t think it’s the smell,” I say.
She laughs. “Of course it’s not the smell. It’s the curses. You’re starting to tune in to them. Soon you’ll be able to pick them out without even making an effort.”
I look up sharply. The skin around her eyes is crinkled with her sympathetic smile. “You’ve opened the gate. Now it’s a matter of walking through.”
“That buzzing . . . the sounds,” I say. “It’s from curses?”
“From magic in general.” Millie nods. “Some curses, some more benign spells. Your body is naturally inclined to seek them out. The sound is pestering you, trying to get your attention. You’ll find it’s much less intrusive if you don’t fight it.”
“But . . .” I frown, shaking my head to clear away the drone without success. “I can’t see the curses unless I’m in the background.” I wince a little at my made-up word for the strange alternaworld where I can clearly see the shape and hear the sound of curses. Millie doesn’t miss a beat. She’s still smiling.
“From what I’ve managed to dig up from the older volumes, to break a curse, you’ll need to be in that ‘background,’ as you call it,” she says. “But given time and practice, you won’t need to leave this plane to identify the magic.”
The car begins to move. Saul is standing at one of the poles like a sentinel, eye moving up and down the car.
“The work of shields like Saul is to keep you safe while you’re drawing a curse,” Millie says. “You’re utterly defenseless when you leave this plane to step into the magical one. A shield watches over you, guards against attack.”
My skin prickles. Laurie had done that very job when I was experimenting—trying to see the curses. He’d been my shield without either of us knowing it. A surge of gratitude washes over me, following by a hollowing out. I’m suddenly lonely, wishing my brother was with me instead of these two strangers.
“And Saul was assigned to you?” I ask, forcing my attention back to the moment.
“He found me.” Millie glances at Saul, and for a few seconds the years melt from her face, revealing a wide-eyed girl hidden beneath layers of age. “The days when shields received official commissions to guard spellseekers are long past. But Saul is from a long line of shields, and he was determined to answer his calling.”
I risk a glance at the hulking man, whose eye is on me briefly and then back to scanning the subway car. “Will I need my own shield?” I’m wondering if I could just bribe Laurie with cases of Pop-Tarts to take the job, but on the other hand, I don’t exactly want my brother getting into knife fights.
“For certain,” she says. “Saul might be able to find someone. He still connects with what is left of the network for his kind. But the simplest solution would be for Saul to serve as your shield. My usefulness in the magical world is limited. Your talent is far more valuable.”
Saul doesn’t speak, but there’s a sudden hitch in his breath, and I know he has no interest in going anywhere that isn’t with Millie.
“That’s not our concern at the moment,” Millie says as we pull in to the next stop, and I’m relieved she’s changing the subject.
Millie takes both of my hands, drawing my gaze to hers. “First we need to practice awareness.” Her instructions are nearly drowned out by the chaos of passengers jostling on and off the car, but I realize it’s a boon to us, offering anonymity amid the noise and crowds. “Go into that plane where you can see the curses. Identify those in this car—there are two I can pinpoint right now—then when you come back to us, try to hang on to that connection. Try to keep seeing the curses on this plane.”
“Okay.” I draw a breath and ease my shoulders back. It’s easier now than when I first tried this. I’m sliding away from the waking world and into the strange, sepia tones of the background. Pleased that I can keep my breathing steady, I begin to search the subway car for signs of a curse. The buzzing has vanished, or rather it’s become the natural sounds of this plane—the magical plane. It’s as if the grating sounds that filled my head on the subway platform were nothing more than the nagging of this strange place, demanding my attention.
The first curse is easy to spot. And I’m aghast that its victim is a man seated opposite Millie and me. My cheeks get hot as I think of how patient she’s being with such a novice—someone who can’t even see a curse that’s right in front of her. I shove aside my embarrassment and focus on the spell. It’s different from those I spotted with Laurie. The shape of it is fixed and hard, like a transparent box floating around the man’s head. The sound it gives off is a steady pulse accompanied by a strobe-light-style flashing. Forcing myself to relax even more, I push my senses towards the curse, hoping to understand it. Slowly the spell gives up its history.
Like the curse of the artist in the park, this man is suffering mentally. The curse is one of disruption. He’s a consultant with a presentation in thirty minutes and he can’t focus. The jarring pulse of the curse impedes his memory, forcing the long-practiced hook and pitch out of his mind. It’s making him miserable, fraying his confidence with each minute. I wonder if the curse is personal or some sort of corporate sabotage.
Despite my sympathy for the man, I move on, wanting to find the other curse and continue my lesson with Millie. The second curse is harder to spot. It’s faint, barely more than wisps circling a teenage girl standing at the far end of the car. The thin lines of smoke dance around her body, not constraining her but doing damage all the same. I grimace. Though this spell is less serious, it’s still cruel. My guess is that it’s some prank born of a mean spirit alone. The girl is trying to get home and she takes this train every day. But today she’s lost. She can’t figure out why she’s so confused or why the subway map makes no sense. She’s getting frantic, but I can tell by watching the curse slip over her limbs that it has little endurance and is fading by the minute.
I’m starting to understand what Millie meant by a nice variety of curses. Even in the short time I’ve been exposed to this strange, hidden world, I’m astounded by the range of curses that exist. Some are like the one I’m gazing at now—small and petty, wicked jokes that trip up lives but don’t do permanent harm; others, like that affecting the man across from us, that could not only ruin his day but have the potential to destroy his career; and yet others—like Stephen’s—that are powerful and evil, enough to kill.
; Nausea sucker-punches me and I want to reel back from this plane. But I can’t. I’m determined to be a good student in this lesson. So instead of jolting back to reality, I inch up little by little, keeping part of my senses in tune with the two curses I’ve seen. And then I’m back in my body. The colors and sounds of the world I know return. Millie is watching me. Saul continues to patrol the car with his eye.
“Well?” Millie asks.
I nod towards the man across from us when I notice I can still see the strobe light flicker in the air around his head.
“Him.” My eyes roam to the girl at the back of the car. She’s flicking tears away from the corners of her eyes as they appear, trying to hide her panic. “And her.” The wisps are still floating around her body. On this plane I could almost have mistaken them for cigarette smoke.
Millie nods. “Very good. Can you still see the curses?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a quick learner.” Millie smiles up at Saul, who shrugs.
The train halts at the next stop. The cursed man stands up, shaking his head as he leaves the car. A swell of bodies pours into the car, cramming against us, though I notice many try, and fail, to give Saul a wide berth. He angles himself closer so his looming form is directly over Millie and me.
“There’s another,” Millie says. “A new curse came aboard with this lot. Can you find it?”
I nod, starting to ease myself away from the din of the crowded car. Millie grabs my shoulder and shakes me.
“No, no.” She sweeps her hand towards the other passengers. “You have to try to see it on this plane without going into your background.”
“Okay.” I’m not feeling that confident, but I start by focusing on the girl again. I can barely find her through the press of people in the car. But I glimpse her partially and watch the smoke trails move around her. Taking note of the way it feels to see that curse on this plane, I slowly look over the car’s other occupants.
It’s the sound that directs my vision. That insistent drone of the background nagging me, drawing my senses. The woman is standing two poles down from Saul. To describe her as bedraggled would be generous. Her hair is a rat’s nest of knots and filth. Her eyes are sunken and shadowed by purple dark enough to be bruises, but I can tell it’s a symptom of exhaustion. Her thin fingers are trembling even as she grips the pole, struggling to keep her balance. She is a ghost walking through the human world.
Invisibility Page 17