She Who Rises

by Rachael Arsenault

  “M-magic… destroys me?”

  “In small degrees, yes. Think of it like sandpaper. Under steady control, the damage is gradual. It may be a very long time before you see significant change. But the damage is there nonetheless.”

  “That’s why I locked up and couldn’t control my body.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But how do I control magic?” How do I be like sandpaper? Or like wood what was being sandpapered? I didn’t know anything about this kind of stuff. ‘I’ve never even touched sandpaper!’ I thought wildly, panic growing hot and tight in my chest.

  “Breathe first.”

  I did as I was told, sucking in desperate gulps of air. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be destroyed by a force I didn’t understand.

  “Slow down,” Masika said in a voice so gentle it didn’t sound like her own. “Inhale for four seconds, hold for four seconds, exhale for four seconds. Find the rhythm, the cycle.”

  I obeyed. Eventually, my breathing became deep, slow, and rhythmic instead of gasping and erratic. It didn’t take long for me to start to actually feel a little bit in control.

  “Okay,” I said after about a minute, “so breathing is important when using magic.”

  “Not really. But if you’re panicking, it’s certain to unleash chaos.”

  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so great anymore.

  “Now,” Masika said, “let’s get started properly.”

  The first rays of orange-stained sunlight were streaming in through the window behind Masika, along with a soft breeze that stirred the thin and flowy fabric of her shirt. The light turned her into an almost-silhouette, casting most of her face into shadow. It highlighted the bridge of her wide nose and made her eyes stand out from her darkened face. Staring at her then, watching the serious shift in her expression as the light behind her created a flame-like halo around her figure, I realized how much power and wisdom she held in her frail, ancient body.

  “Magic may sound frightening and confusing,” she began, “but when put in plain terms it is quite simple. Think of it as boiling water. It can burn you and, left unchecked, can boil over and out of control. If you need to empty a pot of water, do you simply upend the whole thing at once?”

  I shook my head.

  “No, of course not. You could get burned by the splash and the steam, and you would spill hot water everywhere. So you pour slowly. You use a funnel or a pot with a spout so you can control exactly how much water goes where. With practice and caution, you won’t spill any water at all.”

  “So… I need to act like a funnel for magic?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And what I did earlier — that was like dumping everything out all at once?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And now that you understand, are you ready to try?”

  I looked down at my hands, remembered the blackness pouring from my palms, poisoning everyone around me… I could have killed the people chasing us. I could have killed Masika and Farida. The thought made me feel sick and clammy.

  I was a good person. I wanted to do better in the world — unravel how exploitive systems worked in essays and studies and presentations. I wanted to fix what was broken, not wreak new havoc.

  I didn’t want to be the reason someone died.

  But if I didn’t do this… If I didn’t harness the dark, dangerous power inside me and learn to use it to help protect Masika and the stones — then this power and others like it could fall into the hands of people who did want to create havoc and destruction. It was for the greater good. Right?

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

  “Good. Now, imagine the magic is a pool at your center.”

  I closed my eyes and did as I was told. I worried, briefly, that I wouldn’t be able to picture it — what was magic supposed to look like? — but surprised myself with how easily I envisioned a teeming mass of blackness at my core. It was unnerving; a sinister, sticky heat settled against my skin. Trying to distract myself, I asked, “So, that’s where magic is held? In my center?”

  “No. Magic is everywhere and nowhere — it has no single, simple source. But imagining it like this makes it easier to draw on.”

  “Right.” Well, my imaginary pool of black gas was making my stomach feel sick. I kept remembering Masika coughing, how my ineptness could have killed her.

  “Draw from that pool slowly. Call a small trickle up through your center and down your arm.”

  A trail burned all the way along my right arm as if a drop of boiling water had traced a path there.

  “Let it seep out from your palm. Imagine it forming a ball.”

  My right arm had started trembling. Was I doing this right? Was I about to seize up and unleash unholy hell? Maybe this had been a bad idea. I was about to tell Masika as much, but she spoke before I had the chance.

  “Remember to relax. Don’t spill the pot. Hold the funnel steady.”

  Calm. Steady. Slow. I started over, picturing the pooling blackness inside me rising up in a thin swirl. The smoky wisp trailed a slow path down my arm, finally reaching my hand, where it leaked past the barrier of my skin and rose into a steadily swirling ball above my palm.

  “Good. How do you feel?”

  My arm was still twitching and nausea still roiled in my gut, but I didn’t think I was about to spin out of control. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Are you going to open your eyes?”

  I slowly eased my eyes open, nervous of what I would see. The room looked fine — there was no poisonous smoke flooding the space. Masika wasn’t coughing. I looked down at my palm.

  The barest hint of black hovered there, no bigger than the smoke off a tea candle’s wick.

  My expression must have shown my disappointment, because Masika said, “That’s quite normal when first learning to control magic. It is difficult to find balance between tightly restrained magic and unleashing it wildly. But you’ll get there, with time and practice.”

  Part of me wanted to try again right away, but my thumb had started flexing and unflexing of its own accord, plus my shoulder suddenly felt stiff and tight.

  “Let’s call it a day,” I said. “We need to figure out when and where we’re going next.”

  Chapter Ten

  There was a pretty big argument about whether we should stay in the house any longer.

  Masika was dead set against it. Knowing Tara could scry meant we had to move as soon as possible, taking all precautions against being followed again. But Farida pointed out that Tara had been running scared and suffering from the affects of my poison — she was going to be in rough shape for a while. The fight was bound to have drained her and she would need to recover. She couldn’t scry on us if she had no energy left.

  I was on the fence. Not for the first time, I felt like any opinions I had on the matter probably weren’t worth voicing. I didn’t want Masika to hate me more, plus it wasn’t like I had any kind of expertise in dealing with these sorts of situations.

  Eventually, we all came to an agreement (or at least agreed to stop arguing about it). We would stay in that house for as long as it was viable, keeping watch for any unwanted visitors the entire time. At the first sign of trouble, we would bail to the squat Farida was pre-selecting.

  Which was what I found Farida doing later that morning, sitting on the hideous sofa. She had a notebook on her lap that she was using to write out a list of possible squats.

  “Isn’t that a bad idea?” I said, standing awkwardly near the couch. Even though we had been through a lot in the short time we had known each other, I still felt weird inviting myself to sit beside her, especially when she was clearly working on something. “I mean, Tara could scry on you at any minute and just read what you’re writing, couldn’t she?”

  “Already got it covered,” she said with a smile. Then she patted the seat next to her.

  Once I sat down and she actually showed me her notebook, I saw what she meant. Instead of writing something li
ke “827 Seaside Avenue, bungalow”, she had down, “seesaw house across from the farm”. I counted down the list — she had seven options picked out. I watched as she chewed her lip before crossing off the fourth possibility.

  “What’s wrong with…” I leaned closer to read the name. “… Scallops and Broken Windows?”

  “It’s a three-hour drive. I don’t think we want to be driving that long without stopping. The longer we’re on the open road, the more chances they have to pick up on something by scrying. Plus, it’s more opportunities for the police to spot us.”

  “Fair enough. How many squats do you guys have lined up, anyway?”

  “It fluctuates. Sometimes a house will get collapsed or torn down, or someone else will claim it — either by squatting there themselves or outright buying the property.”

  “How do you pick them out? How do you have so many at a time?” I felt a little like I was interrogating her or being insensitive or something by asking so many questions, but I couldn’t stop myself. Everything about this was so different from what I was used to.

  She only smiled, though, apparently unbothered by my nosiness. “When Imani and I started getting older and our parents knew they would have to do the sacrificial ritual soon, we went out for long drives together to scout out possible squats. Some of these are from back then — which makes them a bit risky, ‘cause Imani knows about them, too — but some of them are other places Masika and I have picked out on our own. I just have to narrow down which are our least risky options.” She tapped the second name on the list: Classic Grandma Cottage. “This one is a huge question mark right now. It’s one we picked out with our parents, so not only does Imani know about it, but Masika and I haven’t checked in on it for a long time. There’s no telling what’s happened to it. Even an infestation could force us to take it off the list.”

  I stared at the page as she crossed off the cottage and then, after a moment of deliberation, the second-to-last option — Abandoned B&B/Carnival House.

  “That one’s just too weird,” she said by way of explanation. “The old maze is all overgrown and trying to take over the property. Plus all the old haunted house props are scattered throughout the house. It’s like camping in a nightmare.”

  I had to suppress a smile. A hell hole full of broken glass and bedbugs didn’t faze her, but cheap props were too much to handle. Then my smile faded. “How long have you lived like this?”

  “Not long,” she said easily, tapping her pen thoughtfully against the notebook. “Before Mom and Dad… When I was younger, we had a house. It was simple and out in the middle of nowhere — we were off-grid and everything. But it was safe and stable. Dad married into the whole magic thing, so he had a job and a life of his own before all this, and he kept working until a few months before… Well, there was a lot of paperwork and cover-ups to sort out before the ritual. Anyway, that was a big part of how we supported ourselves until recently. And we would have stayed in that house as long as we could, but… Imani.”

  “You had to go somewhere she couldn’t find you easily.”

  She nodded.

  “Why did you stay in New Brunswick? You could have gone across country.”

  “We thought about it, but…” She bit her lip, seeming to war with herself for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she said, “Masika probably doesn’t want me mentioning anything about it, but… We have some, uh, ‘contacts’ that we go through to get our hands on antique jewellery and precious gems. It’s how we find our magic stones. After Imani attacked, we were figuring out a new place we could run to for a while, at least until we were sure Imani had lost track of us, but our contact got in touch with us before we had a chance to leave. She had some stones she was trying to bring in. She knew we were in this area and had already set up to have them delivered to our New Brunswick pickup location.”

  “So staying in this province was easier than setting up a new place?” I guessed.

  Again, she nodded. “It can take a long time to process and actually receive the jewellery, though, so there was a lot of wandering and waiting. This drop has been taking a lot longer than usual — I think there was some sort of mix-up with customs. We were actually considering leaving because it was taking so long and the risks were too high — Masika even wanted to cancel the drop, but…”

  “Couldn’t you travel during the processing time and then have them send it to whatever contact point you were closest to?”

  “Not exactly. I mean, it’s not impossible, but suddenly switching where the order is to be received — especially dramatically switching it to a different province or, worse, the other side of the country — could come across as really suspicious.

  “Oh.” I mulled over that for a moment. “And… I guess raising suspicion could make it a lot harder for you to get gems in the future?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, what made you stay? Why didn’t you cancel this drop?”

  She shrugged, expression suddenly sheepish. “We found you.”

  “Oh.” My face felt hot. It was my fault they were still in the area? Where they were at constant risk of Imani attacking?

  “Anyway,” Farida said quickly, “while we stayed in this area, we stuck with houses we had scouted out as a family for the first little while. But, well, Imani knew about all those houses, so we had to start branching out and finding new options. We’ve been cycling through those ones a lot lately. I don’t think she knows any of them yet, but we have to keep moving. Just to be safe. Most of them are pretty rundown because we couldn’t be as picky as when we were choosing places with our parents.”

  “That’s…” I wasn’t sure how to respond. I had been struggling to cope with our living situation and it hadn’t even been two days. I had been struggling to cope with my apartment, if I was really honest. But she had been dealing with this for years. I couldn’t help it; I laughed.

  Farida looked startled and confused. “What? What’s so funny?”

  “It’s just… our lives are so absurdly different. I thought that motel room counted as roughing it, but that was a rare luxury for you, wasn’t it?”

  Her brown cheeks darkened with a blush. “It’s been a while since I slept in a bed that comfy.”

  “I can’t even imagine. I’m dying for my bed back home and I’ve barely even started.” I let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “You and Masika should start taking bets on how long I’ll last.”

  Instead of laughing along with me, however, Farida looked sad, shoulders slumping and gaze falling away from mine. “I’m really sorry, Amber. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I didn’t even think about how hard squatting and nomadic living would be for you.”

  She was right, in a way — I had wanted no part in any of this, but she had insisted I join her and Masika. But, well, it had been the better option compared to possibly getting arrested. She knew that. She shouldn’t feel guilty over it. So, even though I was far from happy with my current situation, I tried my best to convince her otherwise.

  “Farida, no — don’t apologize.” I laughed again, but she still didn’t smile. “I’m struggling because I was so ridiculously sheltered. Did you know I had never once cooked for myself before I started university? And I complained because I was still living at my parents’ place but they’d gone away for the weekend and I had to fend for myself. Before I finished my undergrad last year, I’d never worked more than a summer job because my parents paid for everything.”

  “And that makes it better that I dragged you into this?”

  “No, it means I’m only struggling because I’m usually privileged and spoiled. Honestly, if I look at things objectively, this isn’t so bad.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and held it up. “I’m readily able to call people or Google information whenever I need — even more so in about five days when my data resets. We have a car, so we don’t have to walk anywhere. We can get shelter pretty easily. We have a supply of food and water. If I wasn’t such a baby about discomfort and
inconveniences, I’d say we’re doing alright.”

  Even though my words were meant to cheer Farida up, I found that saying it all out loud made me feel better about our situation, too. I was right: We really weren’t so bad off, all things considered (though I could have done without being hunted down).

  Farida smiled a little. “They say hardship builds character, right?”

  “Exactly! See, you’re just helping me grow a personality.”

  She let out a short burst of laughter as she rolled her eyes. I was pretty sure it was the first time I had made her laugh, and I felt a strange and wonderful sort of pride.

  ~

  Though the Solar Panel House had several bedrooms, we opted to set up the sleeping bags in the living room. It made it easier to keep an eye on everyone at once, we were close to the front and back doors in case we needed to make a quick getaway, and whoever was keeping watch could sit on the sofa.

  Farida insisted on taking first watch. I had half-heartedly insisted on taking it instead, but was grateful when she held her ground. Our stay at the motel had only granted me about three hours of sleep. That, combined with all the chaos and using magic, had me feeling zombie-esque in terms of energy levels. I would get a good, solid rest before we had to drive again — in my current state, I was bound to get some sort of DUI for sleep depravation. But I also felt strangely guilty. She had done so much for me already, and all I could do was make her life more difficult.

  When I settled into the sleeping bag, I pulled out my phone. Its battery was looking much healthier now that I had finally had a chance to charge it. I started looking through all my texts, which were overflowing again. It looked like Emily had started texting me every hour at about ten o’clock this morning. Apparently, even her busy work schedule couldn’t keep her from worrying about me. My chest ached and I was struck with a sudden urge to cry. A few tears slipped out before I could stop them.

  When was I ever going to see her again? I had wondered that before, when I left home to pursue my Master’s, but this was different. This wasn’t the possibility that I might not see her for several months or a few years while I went to school; this was the possibility that I might not see her ever. And it wasn’t just her — it was all my friends and family. I didn’t know what the end of this mess would look like, let alone how and when I was going to get there.