I raised my hand to knock on the door, then lowered it. I didn't know what to say and doubted they would understand me.
A group of boys further down the street kicked a soccer ball up and down the angled street. I turned to look at them. One of them saw me and started, eyes wide— the ball shot past him down the long, steep hill. The other boys cried out in dismay; one punched his shoulder. With a last suspicious look at me, he took off at a flat-out sprint to retrieve the ball, one of the smaller boys trailing behind. As the rest waited, they glanced at me warily and moved further away down the hill.
All of them had tiny bits of magic. Not nearly enough to be wielders, but enough to know there was something strange about me. This town seemed full of magic. Every time I blinked my eyes, more glimmers stole into view.
Through the wall, I saw the little girl and her magic relative moving about the house together.
The sun was sinking, stars starting to dot the sky. It wasn't a southern sky: no Southern Cross or pointers, no Sagittarius. I was still in the northern hemisphere.
The two boys returned, dripping with sweat, the ball wrapped in the shorter one's arms. They laughed and— I imagined— launched into an account of where it had gone and what chaos it had caused. Soon they were back at it, kicking the ball back and forth, careful not to let it escape again, or to come anywhere near me.
I raised my hand and knocked on the door.
The little girl opened it, looked at me, started giggling, and then shut the door in my face.
"Wait!" I yelled. I knocked again, louder this time. I could hear her still giggling on the other side. It wasn't funny. "I need your help!" I called through the keyhole.
I could feel people looking at me and turned. The soccer-playing boys were staring at me openly now. Most of them backed away, making the Jay-Tee gestures across their chests. The biggest one spat a long stream of phlegm that landed just half a metre short of my feet. He lifted his chin up, as if to say he wasn't afraid of me.
The door opened. A tall man— a boy, really, he didn't look much older than me— stood there. He was magic too, the other light I'd seen in Cansino vision. The little girl held his hand, smiling up at me. The boy wasn't smiling.
He asked me a question.
"I don't understand," I said.
"You speak English?" the boy said in a strong accent. He made the
sh
of
English
sound like an
s
. His skin was a shade or two lighter than the little girl's, the colour of Jay-Tee's.
He waved at the boys on the street, calling out something to them before turning back to me. "What do you want?"
"Help," I said. "I have to get back to New York." Behind him I could see a courtyard with a fountain and lots of greenery.
"Why should I help you?" the boy said slowly.
"I know you're magic," I said.
"Not as magic as you are. You are glowing."
The little girl said something in the language I didn't understand. The boy answered, shook his head, and shrugged. She spoke again, staring at me.
"What did she say?" I asked.
"She wants to know where your hair went."
"Oh, um, tell her I don't know."
She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house. The boy shut the door behind us.
Her hand was small and soft. It made me think of the baby growing inside me. Would I be the mother of a child like this in five or six years' time? Or would old man Cansino's magic make my child something else entirely?
She led me to a bench in the courtyard. I sat and saw that the house was spread out around a huge courtyard split in half by four palm trees. On the other side of the trees was a glass wall, behind it a kitchen.
The little girl jumped up and pressed a switch on the wall. Lights came on in the fountain, making the bubbling water glitter.
"Do you know about the door to New York City?" I asked as the boy sat beside me.
"Yes," he said. "You came here through the door? But you don't have a key."
I nodded. "I didn't need a key. But now I have to get back."
"She won't let you?"
He meant the door
, I realised. "No, she won't."
He spoke to the little girl rapidly and they both laughed. I didn't think they were laughing at me.
"She does that a lot?"
"A lot? No, but she does it. She is very…" He frowned, searching for the word.
"Stubborn?"
"Yes, she is a stubborn door."
The little girl said something else and then touched my skin, peered into my eyes. She asked me a question, giggled again. I looked at the boy.
"She wants to know why you are so soft. You skin. Why you eyes are so different. She wants to know if you are a genie."
"A genie?" I asked. "I don't think so. I don't know what I am. Another magic person changed me. I don't know what he did."
He explained to the little girl, then said, "I don't think you are a genie. I think you are stopping being a magic person and becoming magic all the time."
"What do you mean? Aren't
you
magic all the time?"
He shook his head. "Not like you. The magic is becoming all of you. In me it is just a part. I am a person too. You are changing very fast?"
"Yes," I said.
"When you are all magic, you won't have any more troubles."
"What do you mean?"
"My mother's mother told her that sometimes the magic takes one of us completely. Takes us and makes us part of it. No troubles then. Just magic."
"Just magic," I murmured. In Cansino world there were no troubles. No dull ache when I thought of Danny not wanting me. No fear and anxiety over Sarafina. He was describing what it would be like to stay there. My future.
"Are you sad?" the boy asked.
That wasn't the question I was expecting. "Yes. My mother is dying. On the other side of that stubborn door. I have to get to her."
"You don't seem so sad. I think if you change more the sadness will go away."
"The magic will make everything okay?"
He shrugged.
"Do you know long it takes?"
"
Rápido
. My mother said it happened very quick."
"Then I have to go," I said. "Will you help me get back through the door?"
He nodded. "You will come with me."
20
Becoming Magic
They led me out of
their home, past the soccer-playing boys, who studiously avoided looking at me. We went further up the hill, and then across, and downhill a bit to yet another house hidden behind a wall like all the others. The outside of this place was green except for where the paint was worn away to reveal sand-coloured stone.
He knocked on the door and then opened it with a key. "My mother's grandmother's house. She is very old."
"And magic?"
"Magic? No. She guards our magic
cosas
and our silver."
This house was dark and much smaller than the first one. The courtyard was tiny and had no palm trees, no plants at all. Lines were strung across the open space, heavy with clothes. In the corner was a cage with two yellow birds inside.
"Wait here," he told me, going up grey concrete steps with the little girl. I sat down on an upturned bucket. I thought they would come straight back. I could see the lights on in this house. But all I could hear were laughter and voices coming from the street. Somewhere further away a dog barked and a car backfired.
At last the boy came down the stairs carrying a bowl with steam rising from it. He held it out to me, then handed me a spoon he took out of his pocket.
I put the food on the ground. "Have you got the key?"
"No. My great-grandmother has it hidden. She will not give it to me. She says you are not family. I ask her to speak to you so you may convince her. She says it does not matter. You are not family."
"But she's not magic. Why does she even have the key?"
The boy looked at me like I was mad. "That is why: because she is not magic. Magic people are not always trusted."
I grinned. "I've heard that. How about if I just appear out of the floor in front of her?" Though I wasn't entirely sure I knew how to do that. "You know, kind of scare her into giving it to me?"
This time he looked at me as if I was stupid. "She is not magic
at all
. You cannot make magic against her. She does not see it."
The little girl appeared at the top of the stairs and waved at me. I waved back. She giggled and disappeared into the house.
"I'm sorry I could not help you. After you eat your food, my great-grandmother wants you to go."
I didn't know what to say. I
had
to have that key.
"Chago!" someone called from above.
"My great-grandmother."
"Is that your name, Chago?"
He nodded. "My short name. I am Santiago David Cuervo."
"I'm Reason," I told him.
"Reason," he repeated. "My mother said it was good. The magic. You can live inside it forever. She said the closer you get to the magic, the more beauty there is. You are lucky that you will see it. Soon you won't need any keys. You won't need any doors."
"Chago!"
"I must go."
I watched him hurry up the stairs. Maybe in the future I wouldn't need doors. But right now I had to get back to New York. I needed that key. I had all this magic. Now I would use it.
Raul Cansino had made himself disappear, melted into the ground and out of it. I concentrated on my hands, but instead of turning them into wires, I willed them to dissolve. I stared at the space between the cells, thought about them collapsing in on each other.
My hand wilted, hung from my arm as if it were rubber. Slowly I melted the rest of my body. By the time I was fluid enough to sink into the ground, it was damp with my sweat. I pushed my way through the concrete and the soil just underneath it as though they were cotton wool. Then I snaked up the stairs and into the grouting between the tiles, weaving past the hairy clumps of mould. I could hear their slow growth.
Further above I could hear voices. I slithered away and into the walls. When I couldn't hear them anymore I unvanished, fleshing myself out and pulling away from the wall with a pop. But my legs were still too much like rubber; they gave way beneath me.
I closed my eyes, searching for magic nearby. I could see the boy's magic and his sister's, but they were too big. I was looking for smaller lights. I found them, glittering like tiny stars.
I eased my way back into the real world slowly, minimising the punch of gravity. The tiny lights twinkled at the corners of my eyes, above me.
I melted back into the wall and then into the ceiling. It was easier this time, less painful. I popped through onto the roof, pulling myself back into flesh. I was greeted by a sky full of real stars, more stars than I'd seen since being sent to Sydney. I was standing in between seventy-eight terra-cotta pots overflowing with flowers.
The magic items glittered so close I could smell them. Magic mixed with dirt. I knew where the old woman hid the family's magic and silver. Now all I had to do was dig around in the soil of all seventy-eight pots.
Behind me I heard a giggle. I turned. The little girl was just climbing onto the roof. She grinned at me, walked over, slipped her hand into mine, and pulled me over to one of the smaller pots. She pushed her hand in and then pulled out a large key. She said something to me, then placed it in my hand.
The key was big and solid, a dark metal that was beginning to rust. It wasn't ornamental like the one that opened Esmeralda's door, but it radiated the same kind of magic. I knew as soon as it touched my skin that it would take me back to New York.
21
Fragile
"Rita seems nice," Jay-Tee said.
She was still fascinated by her own feet. Her hair was slightly damp and had curled up even tighter around her face.
She's really pretty,
Tom thought, wondering why it had taken him so long to notice. Just as pretty as Reason. Her profile was lovely. Her nose was almost dead straight.
He could see the dress that would suit her perfectly: A-line, with no sleeves. Sky blue with navy blue trim.
"I guess we should straighten up, then."
"Yeah," Tom agreed.
Jay-Tee picked up the chair that had crashed against the folding doors, saw the scratch, and said, "Oops." She looked up and half smiled. He liked the way she smiled. But her eyes still weren't meeting his.
