Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy) (5 page)

W
aiting for a flight isn’t like usual waiting. You’re excited, nervous, and every once in a while, you entertain thoughts of a fiery death in a plummet to earth from thousands of feet above. Your activity is limited. You can only watch little children get on their parents’ nerves, or elderly people sit reading a book or businessmen tapping away on their laptops. Sustenance is limited to greasy fast food. Your smell is restricted to the cinnamon bun place down the hall mixing with the toilet at the other end of the hall. The five senses are crippled.

I was bored — going through security had been less than fun. Getting a pat-down from a retiree while Kian just smiled his way through was all the more annoying. I had been excited to have time to think about my vision, but my head was aching and I was grouchy.

Too many questions about my practical future — school, my parents, etc. — were plaguing me. And while Kian sat and texted with the mysterious all-knowing someone, looking like some historical character given a twenty-first century gadget, I groped at my forehead and squinted at the brightly lit ceiling.

“Where are you going?” Kian asked when I stood. He was back to hostage-taker mode in a second, but then remembered I had agreed to come willingly and relented. I felt bad for being a grouch.

“Restroom,” I replied. With my head pulsing, it was the most I could manage.

I walked into the even more brightly lit restroom, where only one stall was occupied. Grasping the sink to steady myself, I washed my face with cold water. But when I looked up, to my panic, I could not see anything but vague shapes and lights. I was gone in the mirror — then the mirror and the bathroom were gone too.

I felt blinded and started panicking. Now that I think about it, it probably lasted all of five seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Then, just as my sight was leaving me, my sense of hearing kicked in full force, but only in one ear.

Laughter. A man’s laughter sounded in my ear as if he stood behind me. My heart exploded all at once with the same excitement and love that I had felt in my previous vision and dream. The truest of true feelings.

“You know —” the voice began, but I was slipping, falling. I tried to grab at it, but I was too far away. My hearing and sight impaired, I was losing balance, and soon I hit the cold ceramic floor.

“Gwen!”

This voice was real now, concrete, and in both my ears. My sight was still blurred, but I felt around with a hand and grasped Kian’s hair.

“Is she okay?” a woman’s voice asked, and somewhere far away, a toilet flushed. For a moment, I thought how dirty I must look, lying on a bathroom floor in an airport. Classy.

“She’s okay,” Kian replied. “Just hasn’t eaten today. A little faint, is all.”

I heard the woman tsk.

“Young girls and eating disorders today,” she said disapprovingly. “I blame the media.” And with that she was gone. Had I not been incapacitated, I would have rolled my eyes.

Kian dragged me up and we hobbled over to the cinnamon bun place. He force-fed me a sticky roll as my vision came back in increments.

“You haven’t eaten,” he scolded. I shrugged. As much as I hated to admit it, the food was making me stronger. And he was being quite sweet, hovering over me like a mother hen.

“I heard a voice,” I told him when I had regained some strength. The flirty desk woman from before was calling rows to board. I was surprised when he said nothing. I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “Can you laugh?” I asked.

“Why?”

“Please, I just want to know you can laugh,” I said, giving the worst argument of my life.

Kian chuckled a little dutifully. Not even close. The voice I had heard was completely different. I sighed as Kian dragged me up.

My heart skipped a beat when he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. My body must have stiffened because he looked at me to explain.

“It will look strange if I have to carry you onto the airplane,” he said. I nodded, but the walk onto the plane still had my heart beating a little faster than normal, and I had the embarrassing feeling that Kian knew it.

My first flight in many years went by with little excitement. My head was still pounding and after Kian practically pushed me into my first class seat, he promptly fell asleep and I began buzzing the attendants for some Aspirin. My body felt like a punching bag. It was like all I had done after seeing Kian for the first time was fall down.

It surprised me a little that Kian slept, or ate for that matter. He had eaten a cinnamon bun and was now snoozing with his mouth slightly open. Fast asleep, leaning his head against the window, he looked more statuesque than ever, but more human as well. It was a strange juxtaposition.

We were airborne by the time a young flight attendant came around, asking what I needed. She eyed Kian, smiling, and came back with my Aspirin in less than a minute. I cradled my head and envisioned the Aspirin dissolving, its magic bringing me back to life a little. Annoyingly, the flight attendant came back. She dawdled in front of our row for a moment before finally leaning over to me.

“Hey,” she whispered, as if we were long-time confidantes, her bright blue eyes shining. “Between you and me, that guy is really,
really
cute.”

Pause.

She looked from me to Kian, and then leaned over to me again. “Is that your brother?”

I raised my eyebrows at her and looked as stern as I could. “Between you and me,” I said flatly, “no.”

She smiled again, politely, and walked away. However, not before looking me up and down again, most definitely wondering what I had that others didn’t. My sandy hair and plain, dusty eyes; I didn’t look all too spectacular.

“
You
be a descendant of the gods,” I muttered smugly into my airline pillow, and promptly fell asleep too.

I awoke on my side, my head in Kian’s lap. Realizing where I was made heat flood into my face, and by the time I sat up, I was blushing insanely. The sun was rapidly setting and the people around us were putting on their shoes and hiding their books and laptops. I noticed Kian had put a blanket over me and felt a fresh pulse of heat in my face.

“Please put your seatbelt on, miss,” the flight attendant from before said to me. Her eyes drifted over Kian then settled onto the aisle. I was trying to hide my face from him.

“Gwen, would you like to look outside?” he asked.

I did. I pretended to be searching for my seatbelt while I pressed my cold hands to my face, trying to get the red out. Mustering my best neutral expression, I looked out the window onto New York City.

My eyes widened with all there was to take in: the brilliant lights shimmered like a galaxy, while tall buildings rose like giants from the landscape. Darkness had fallen while we flew and the night made the Hudson River glisten, an enormous snake slithering through the city. It all shone like a jewel against the dark of the Atlantic Ocean. I could think of no other word for what I was seeing than a miracle. A conclave of happenstance and opportunity had created this mammoth, living city. And I was about to set foot in it.

Giddily, I noticed my headache had gone and I was actually very excited to be in New York. I had always dreamed of coming here. My thoughts of leaving home, school, and running away with Kian dissolved as I looked out the tiny window.

Kian touched my arm and I was brought back to the present.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“No. Have you?”

He shook his head.

Even with the visions, this stranger, and magicians threatening my life, I took a chance.

“Let’s go do tourist things tomorrow,” I said.

The words came from the part of me that wished to stall the inevitable. No magic for now, and no danger — just New York. Maybe I was so adept at normalcy that I was trying to restore some even in my ridiculous escape with Kian.

He raised a perfectly black eyebrow at me but had no chance to respond as the plane began to descend and the noise of the wheels coming out from under the cabin scared us both into gripping the seat dividers. I looked over at Kian trying to mask his fright — his demeanour was falling apart. It was nice seeing his human side.

Leaving JFK airport was an adventure in itself. We picked up our baggage and Kian once again stuck his little suitcase into my hand and picked up my giant green one. We walked through the glassy airport looking for a way out, until finally stumbling upon a taxi service.

“Manhattan,” Kian said to the driver, “8th and West 42nd — Hilton Hotel.”

I sat nervously in the back seat, a little portion of my mind still going crazy at my actions. It was like the old Gwen was trapped in the mind of this new Gwen. The old Gwen was screaming and stomping and wanted to go home to somewhere sane, and the new Gwen wanted to see where this adventure would lead. She was dangerous. I frowned disapprovingly at my reflection in the window. The new Gwen wanted to see if Kian would touch her arm again.

By the time we arrived at the hotel, it was past eleven at night. The time difference quickly caught up to me and I found myself exhausted. The cab driver silently unloaded our bags, but I didn’t even notice. I wanted sleep. The giddiness had seeped out of me as I sat in the car, and now a proper rest was in order.

As I got out of the taxi, I was reminded of the pain I was in. I hadn’t noticed it while sitting in the plane, but as I stood, everything hurt. I could hear my elbow crack and my knee snap in ways they never had before. Kian paid and led the way into the expansive lobby of the Hilton.

I missed the name he gave at the desk, and I didn’t even notice the shiny credit card he fished out. I was standing off to the side, dreaming about a pillow and a bath to soak aching bones and muscles. In my mind, the old Gwen was beginning to sound like a senior citizen. Not paying attention, I also missed that Kian had only gotten one room.

We travelled quietly in the elevator, the bright lights beginning to sting at my eyes again as the headache returned. I felt like one big mess of pain. I followed Kian to a door then stopped.

“You only got the one room?” I asked, the force having left my voice. My stomach did somersaults.

“Just to make sure I don’t lose you,” Kian said, smiling reassuringly. His crooked smile again reminded me of the demeanour he had shed in the past day. Even with the smile, his words unnerved me. What did he think could happen to me?

Before I could ask, he opened the door to reveal two double beds and other components of a standard hotel room. I was relieved to see the double beds, and all questions were forgotten as I fished my pyjamas out of the tattered green suitcase, changed in the bathroom, and climbed into bed. I had reserved some thinking time to ponder my day and figure out what was happening inside my mind, but as soon as my head touched the pillow, I fell asleep.