Magic Lessons

by Justine Larbalestier

  I vomited onto a pile of snow in the gutter.

  The old man still leaned against Esmeralda’s door, comfortable, relaxed. He shook his head slowly, not in anger, more as if he was sorry for me.

  With a wave of his hand he’d stopped my attack against him, stripped my senses away. What else could he do? Kill me? Easily—he wouldn’t need to get angry, just flex his wrist. I took a step away, almost falling over in the snow. I didn’t know what to do. He was the one attacking the door; his golem thing had crawled inside me, had bitten Tom and Jay-Tee. Don’t show your fear. “Who are you?”

  The old man laughed. Or at least I figured that’s what the sound was. It sounded like a cross between a cackle and a hacking cough. I could hear the phlegm.

  I stood up, stepped away from the gutter, wiped my mouth. “Why—”

  Old man Cansino shook his head again, smiled, and made a shooing gesture. For a fraction of a section I thought he was going to blind me again. He shooed me instead.

  I was more than willing to shoo. I wanted to be far away from him. I wanted to never see him again.

  I walked hastily, awkwardly, limbs not quite under my control, wiping my mouth again, tasting vomit and charcoal. I brushed more snow and grime off my face and clothes. My eyes still stung; my heart beat so hard, I was halfway up the block before the cold started to penetrate.

  I could feel the old man’s eyes on my back, but when I turned he wasn’t there. The steps were empty. I half turned and took a step towards Esmeralda’s door, and there he was again. Shaking his head.

  Adrenaline shot through me, warming me up, propelling me away. I stumbled.

  “Are you all right, girlie?”

  I turned to find a woman with a concerned expression looking down at me. A shade or two darker than me, pushing a pink-cheeked baby in a pram. “You’ll catch your death dressed like that.”

  “I’m okay,” I said, though I wasn’t. I smiled to demonstrate. “I slipped.”

  “You sure you’re all right, love?” The woman peered at me. Her expression said that I must look awful, but I nodded, anyway.

  “Are you sure?” a second woman asked. She was older, her skin not as dark, dressed in a red fluffy coat. The two women exchanged glances. “You look terrible.”

  “Do you need any help?” the first woman asked.

  “Yes,” said the second one. “I live near here. You can’t stay out on the street dressed like that.”

  “She sure can’t,” added a man passing by, pushing a shopping cart. “Catch her death.”

  I was suddenly aware that almost everyone on the block was staring at me. Across the street two men on scaffolding had stopped work to watch the show.

  “Did someone do something to you?”

  “Oh, no. Really, no one did nothing, I mean anything. I…I got locked out,” I told the two women. “It’s a long story. I’m visiting from Australia.” I added the last in case they thought my accent was strange. “I just have to call my friend’s brother. It’s his place.” I shivered. My toes were hurting with the cold.

  “Here, use my cell.” The second woman gave me her phone.

  I dialed Danny’s number—without the prefix it was the thirty-third number in the Fibonacci series. A very good omen—not that I believed in omens, though maybe I did now—I hadn’t used to believe in magic.

  I pressed the phone to my ear, hoping he’d answer. It felt weird making a phone call with so many people watching. I shifted back and forth, trying to keep my feet from going completely numb. It was freezing, and here was me in my PJ’s.

  “Hello?”

  “Danny!”

  “Who is this?”

  “Reason!”

  “Reason? Julieta’s friend?”

  “Yes! I, um…” I paused, very conscious that the women were listening. “I got locked out. Can you come let me in?”

  “You what? What do you mean?”

  “The door slammed and I left the key inside.”

  “What? Where are you? Is Julieta with you?”

  “Near the house. No, she’s not.”

  “What do you mean, ‘the house’? Are you here? In the city?”

  “Yes!” I yelled, so relieved he’d understood. “I need you to come let me in. I’m in my pyjamas, no shoes, and it’s cold. I got locked out.”

  “Where are you exactly?”

  “Ah…” I didn’t know. It was the East Village. A street whose name was a number, but I didn’t know which one. “Very close to the house.”

  “Same street?”

  “Yes. Same block.”

  “On Seventh Street.”

  “Seventh Street,” I repeated.

  “Okay. There’s a café on the corner, same side you’re on. You won’t have to cross the street to get to it; just head towards the park. I forget the name, but it has glass cabinets full of muffins. You’ll be warm in there. I’ll be right over.”

  “Okay,” I said, hoping I’d find it.

  “How come you’re not in Sydney?”

  “It’s a long story. I’m cold, Danny.”

  “I’m on my way. I’ll see you at the café.”

  I handed the phone back to the second woman. “He’s coming for you?” she asked.

  “Yes, he’s meeting me at the café on the corner.” My teeth were chattering so much it was hard to get the words out. “The one with the glass counters?”

  The woman with the pram nodded. “Titi’s,” she said, pushing the carriage into motion. “It’s this way; follow me.”

  The other woman slipped off her fluffy red coat and draped it around my shoulders. “Come on,” she said, taking my hand in hers, then, feeling how cold it was, starting to chafe it.

  8

  The two women led me to a table and called to the waitress for some towels. They pushed me into a seat and I started rubbing the blocks of ice that were my feet.

  A waitress came over with two cloth dish towels. “Might help,” she said, looking at me dubiously. The same look the other two women had given me: narrowed eyes, eyebrows almost, but not quite, raised. Not suspicious of me, but of whatever or whoever had left me out on the street barefoot in the middle of winter.

  “Ta,” I said. I took a towel, wiped away melted snow and grit, then wrapped it around my feet.

  “Now,” said the woman with the baby, “are you sure you’re going to be okay? I have to be going is all.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said, teeth still clattering against one another. “I’m much warmer, and Danny will be here soon.”

  She didn’t look like she had much faith in Danny, but she nodded. “You look after yourself in the future. No messing around outside without the key.”

  “I won’t. Thank you so much.”

  The two women nodded at each other, as if to communicate that I was now the woman with the phone’s responsibility. She held the door open to let the woman and her pram pass; then she sat down beside me. “How about a hot chocolate?”

  I nodded. “Yes, please.”

  The waitress yelled the order to the guy behind the counter, then turned her attention back to me and the second woman. She looked me up and down. “Pyjamas?”

  “I got locked out.”

  “No kidding. How’d you manage that?”

  “It just shut behind me.”

  “That was pretty dumb.”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t be harsh,” said the woman with the phone. “She’s from out of town. Australia.”

  “Huh. Do people in Australia always wear brooches with their pyjamas?”

  “No, it’s my grandmother’s.”

  “Huh.” The waitress went to the counter and returned with a hot chocolate. “On the house.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said, meaning every word.

  I tried to keep my fear and anxiety from my face. I had no idea what I was going to do next, how I was going to get back to Sydney. If I was going to solve the magic-or-madness question, I had to get back to Esmeralda’s libr
ary. With the old man guarding the way and Jason Blake lurking who-knewwhere, I could see no way home.

  8

  I was onto my second chocolate when Danny showed up. Looking at him sent a jolt through me, warmed me. He was so smooth: his cheeks, his lips. His close-cropped hair. He stared and shook his head. I blushed, bent my head only to see my bedraggled PJs, my dirty feet. He wasn’t thinking about how good I looked.

  “Sorry I took a while. Was tricky getting a cab. Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No, she’s not, young man,” the fluffy-red-jacket woman said. “You need to get her somewhere warm and dry. Do you have a bathtub? A nice soak in the bath should help, but if her toes are still blue, you might have to take her to a doctor. Could be frostbite.”

  The waitress came over and stood nodding, looking at Danny like it was all his fault.

  “Of course,” Danny said.

  The woman nodded, though she didn’t look like she believed him. “Sorry, cariñita, I need my jacket back.” I slipped it off and handed it to her. She gave me a kiss on the forehead and headed for the door. Before she stepped out, she turned back to Danny. “You take care of her.”

  “I will.” Danny dropped some money on the table and thanked the waitress. “Here, put this on.” He handed me his coat and dragged me outside, into the street and into the yellow taxicab that was waiting.

  8

  “I called Jay-Tee,” Danny said as I scooted across the taxi seat. “Talked to your grandmother a little. They’re relieved to hear you’re okay. They want to talk to you.”

  “Should I ring them now?”

  Danny looked puzzled.

  “On your mobile?”

  “My cell, you mean?”

  I nodded.

  He glanced at the driver in the rear-view mirror. “We’re not far from my place. You can call from there.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s just after one.”

  “In the afternoon?”

  Danny nodded.

  I’d asked even though I knew that. It had to be. After one o’clock on Monday afternoon. In Sydney it would be after five on Tuesday morning. What time had I come through the door? How long had I been in New York City? Half an hour? Forty minutes? I wished I’d worn my watch to bed. A week ago I would have. I’d’ve been ready to jump up, grab my stuff, and run. Sarafina would be shocked at how slack I’d become.

  “Must be pretty early in Sydney, huh?”

  “Uh-huh. Sun’s not up yet.”

  “How come you’ve got that hunk of jewellery pinned to your pyjamas?”

  My hand went to it. I could feel it hum under my fingers. I was cold, but it was warm. Something else nearby hummed in unison. My ammonite was in Danny’s pocket. Suddenly I could feel the steady beat of the blood through his veins: the pulsing of it radiated from the stone. He’d kept it—surely that had to mean something?

  Danny repeated his question.

  “The brooch? Oh, it’s my grandmother’s. I, um…”

  “Have to wear it all the time?” He lowered his voice. “A magic thing?”

  I nodded. “A magic thing.”

  A snatch of song played, tinny and muffled. Danny reached into his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone. The song got louder. He looked at its screen for a moment and then answered. “Hey, Vee, how’s it hanging?”

  Apparently it wasn’t hanging very well. Vee did most of the talking while Danny said things like, “No way”; “No, I didn’t mean that”; “Of course I do”; and, “Goddamn, Vee.” When he hung up, Danny looked at me and shrugged. I wondered who Vee was.

  After that the taxi ride was mostly quiet. Danny didn’t ask me any more questions. The ammonite continued warm and humming. Danny’s heart beat regularly. I wasn’t sure if mine did.

  The driver kept glancing back in the mirror at me in my pyjamas, which weren’t entirely hidden by Danny’s coat. The last time I’d been in New York City—four days ago—I hadn’t known where I was. I hadn’t known I was on the other side of the world, in the United States of America. I hadn’t known anyone or anything.

  I was still cold. The chattering of my teeth had entered my brain. I kept thinking about the old man, wondering how he’d pulled me through the door without breaking me. I ached, but I was all in one piece. Had he rearranged the molecules of the wood to fit me through? Or had he rearranged mine? Why had he pulled me through and then let me go? Why had he sent his golem thing through the door to bite us? Did he know Jason Blake?

  Mostly I wondered about how he could be related to me. It was easier to think about than how I was going to get back home.

  8

  Danny’s building looked brand-new. Everything was clean and shining. The front door was massive and made of glass.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “The West Village.”

  “West of the East Village,” I said.

  “Uh, yeah.” Danny looked at me oddly as he pulled out his key to open the front door. It buzzed open as he put it in the lock. “Bastard,” he muttered. “Naz. The doorman. He loves doing that.” He held the door as I went through. There was another set of double doors, which also buzzed open.

  We were in a large foyer. One wall was sheathed in a waterfall, which flowed onto a pond full of really big goldfish. Behind a big desk a bloke sat grinning at Danny. “Gotcha again.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Who’s your new girl?” Naz asked. “Don’t you have enough women already?”

  “Whatever. This is a friend of my kid sister. Reason, meet Naz.”

  I moved forward and offered him my hand. “Hi, Naz.”

  “Raisin? Weird name.” He shook my hand.

  “No, Reason.”

  “Reason? That’s still plenty weird.”

  “You get used to it,” Danny said.

  “So how come you got no shoes? What’s with the PJs—”

  “Long story,” Danny said. “Reason’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

  “She is, huh?” Naz raised an eyebrow.

  Danny glared at him and I wondered why.

  Naz coughed. “Sure, man. Let me know if you need anything, Reason.”

  “Ta,” I said.

  Naz looked at me blankly.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, and Danny led me towards the lift. When the doors opened, he had to put his key in a slot to make it go. He pressed the top button and smiled. “I’ve got views.”

  “Great.”

  The lift doors opened onto an enormous high-ceilinged room with loads of windows. I remembered Danny telling Jay-Tee that their dad had left them lots of money. Looking at this flat, I could believe it. I was pretty sure they hadn’t grown up rich, though. I wondered what their father had done to suddenly get rich. How much magic had it taken? Was that what had killed him?

  “You like?” Danny asked.

  “Wow.” There were so many windows. It was huge.

  “So, what are you doing here?”

  “Well…” I started, but my voice faded. What had happened? “The door…”

  “Come and sit down.” He led me to the kitchen in the corner of the huge room. One wall was cupboards and bench space; the other had a stove and more bench space and a big stainless-steel thing hanging down from the ceiling. Set a little out from both kitchen walls was a solid table with cupboards underneath it, surrounded by six stools. Danny held one out for me. It was taller than Esmeralda’s were, with a soft, cushiony top, and rungs to rest my feet on.

  “You want something to eat? I got leftover spaghetti bolognaise.”

  “Spag bol, great. I love it.”

  “Spag bol? That’s hilarious.” He pulled open the fridge door. There wasn’t much food in it, just tomato sauce, other jars of stuff I didn’t recognise, and two plastic containers—but mostly there were bottles of beer. He grabbed the plastic containers and piled two bowls with their contents, spag and red sauce, and popped them in the microwave.

  “W
hat happened exactly?” Danny’s phone rang again. Or rather sang again, the same snatch of song it had played in the taxi. He fished it out, looked at it closely, pressed a button, then popped it back into his pocket. “It’ll go to voicemail. Was it that other guy? The one who was—”

  “No, it wasn’t Jason Blake.”

  “Really? Your grandmother seemed to think it was. Hey, you didn’t run away again, did you?”

  I shook my head, tried not to be distracted by my ammonite, which was still relaying the movement of his blood and heart to me.

  “Your grandmother hasn’t done anything bad to you, has she? Like that other guy? Jay-Tee said not, but your grandmother was standing right there.”

  I shook my head again. Not yet she hadn’t. Except for the black and purple feathers. I wasn’t convinced they were to protect me. To leech my magic away while I slept?

  “She’s not drinking you?”

  “No. Not Jay-Tee, either.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “There’s this old man—”

  “I thought you said it wasn’t that Blake guy?”

  “It’s a different man.” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “The door was vibrating—well, not vibrating…”

  “Which door? The one that when you open it you’re in Sydney? If you’re magic, anyway.”

  “Yes.” Danny had been standing beside me when Esmeralda opened the door. We’d all stepped through, back to Sydney. He’d stayed in New York, not knowing where we’d gone.

  “The door doesn’t normally vibrate?”

  “No.” My feet were tingling. I bent down and rubbed them.

  “Are they okay? Can you feel your toes?”

  “Yes. I think they’re okay. Just cold.”

  The bell of the microwave sounded. Danny pulled out the bowls and handed one to me. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  It was. I put it down on the table quickly, forking some of it into my mouth without making contact with the bowl. The spaghetti wasn’t hot at all. Lukewarm on the outside and almost cold in the middle, and the sauce was too salty. I ate it, anyway. I was starving.

  “So the door was vibrating?” Danny asked as we bolted the food down.

  “Well, that’s too little a word really—it looked like it was about to explode. And then it kind of reached for me, and I got sucked through it. Right through the wood. From Sydney to New York.” I paused to take a big breath. “On the other side—I mean, on this side—there was an old man standing there. He made me go blind. Just for a second, but it was horrible.”