Tell me, have you ever been dropped from the sky into a massive, mossy dandelion? If the answer is no, I don’t want to hear about how I should’ve reacted afterward. All I remember was being on the roof, suddenly being among the clouds, and then falling and landing in the aforementioned vegetation. Later, Father recounted how Amber had saved my life by forcing the Ursa Major mage to enlarge the dandelion, followed by tackling Kusuma mid-flight and using her magic to cause rapid descent.
Magic or not, it impressed me what Amber was capable of doing. Plus, she saved my life.
I’d gotten the air knocked out of me and suffered bruising across most of my body, but worse damage was my addled brain. I felt disoriented and unsteady, but shock and adrenaline kept me functioning for a couple hours, during which our group resolved a few final things:
Octavia regrouped with us in the courtyard, having scared or dispatched the last Rail Snakes. We called Mother, then, and confirmed that she’d collected Samara and Dust from Vandagriff. We called Darden Shrive, too, but the girl from the Hunter-Yao gang, Aoide Hendrix, answered his phone. The massive heating units that had flown with Kusuma’s magic almost crushed them, but Darden had tackled Aoide out of cover and they rolled down a hill, during which he suffered an unknown injury, perhaps a few broken ribs or an ankle.
Though relieved, our group’s attention was on Amber’s discovery. She’d snatched a key from around Kusuma’s neck when they’d been in the air. We found it opened a hatch in the courtyard, leading to a damp, concrete basement. Lit by mouldy white fluorescents, the basement toed the line between serial killer den and conspiracy theorist paradise.
Paper, paper, paper everywhere. Red string and corkboards. Boxes filled with labelled jars of salt. Our group fanned out to investigate every crevice of the basement, but stars-of-fate drew me to one particular table in the corner, upon which I found notebooks neatly stacked and arranged by date, pages heavy with blue ink applied meticulously in narrow print, words encroaching upon the margins. The notebooks had been opened so often that oil from the holder’s hands gave the pages a crinkled texture, and they rustled when turned.
The first and last page of each notebook had Kusuma’s printed name and signature. I skimmed a few of the A4-sized ones, but they contained information of every topic, from astute to absurd, often in a very steam-of-consciousness style, as if Kusuma couldn’t think unless he wrote the thoughts out. They had things like: Shopping lists, pet peeves, physical attributes of a barista he encountered, the number of cracks he stepped on between lunch and dinner, societal critiques, and rants about construction, among less comprehensible topics.
Among these notebooks, I found a smaller, isolated, leather-bound volume with paper edges smoothed by time. I read the first few pages and discovered it was a diary, with the first entry dating back approximately a year. Rather than stream-of-consciousness rambling, the diary had an introspective, intimate tone. If anything was going to tell us about Kusuma, it was that.
Footsteps approached. I pocketed the diary, turned, and faced Father and Octavia.
‘Find anything useful?’ Father asked, thumbing through the nearest notebook. He looked haggard, coming down from the recent combat.
‘Wira Kusuma’s oeuvre,’ I said, presenting the notebooks with a flourish. ‘A literary outsider artist.’ I think I smiled, but Father and Octavia returned an odd look. I did feel weird since falling from the sky, but I attributed it to—actually, I couldn’t attribute. My mind hadn’t relaxed, becoming locked into the moment, unable to process why I felt what I felt. Instinct guided me.
Father checked a few more notebooks but tossed them aside.
‘We shouldn’t hang around,’ Octavia reminded.
‘Carry what you can,’ Father ordered, before making for the exit.
Octavia and I collected armfuls of notebooks, while the Hunter-Yao members grabbed salt and miscellaneous things.
I could not ascertain if Father and Stefan Hunter had begun to mentally move past the recent assault. If they had, I knew what the next topic of discussion would be.
#
We returned home. The whole group. Nobody had offered or asked, but so it went.
Despite the late hour, the mansion was fully lit with a flurry of action. In the drawing room, Samara and Dust got updated by Juroga, who downed bourbon like it was mineral water. In the foyer, Wei Yao had returned with more members of the Hunter-Yao gang. The living room got converted into an infirmary; Darden, Aoide, Solomon, and I got treated by Fornax-employed doctors. Amber talked to Elliana with a sisterly closeness outside the kitchen. Mother flitted about, checking respective persons, ailments, issues, or injuries, personality jumping between stoic analyst, concerned parent, and conciliatory listener. Octavia and Father made calls with multiple phones, which caused more vehicles to converge on the driveway, which led to more guests, which further filled the rooms.
The house smelled like cinnamon.
Father contacted the UMDE and relayed what we’d learned about Kusuma, mostly his involvement in the Auroch incident, attempted assassinations of three Vandagriff students, and the likely murder of Sergio Nicodemo. The UMDE were…speechless. The poor guy Father spoke to had to find a superior, who found another superior, who contacted UMDE members of lateral rank, and finally they could formulate a response.
I sat in a recliner and let the chaos wash over me. In a lot of ways, the current situation was more trying than the assault on Kusuma’s compound.
In the days that followed, by reading Kusuma’s notes, we got a general picture of his activities:
Kusuma hired Rail Snakes to attack the evening train that Fregin had been aboard, way back during the charity gala. Their task was to find and document all product being transported. Of course, between the Hunter-Yao gang and a Faceless Carrier, they hadn’t been able to complete the objective.
A short while after the train heist, Kusuma visited Sergio Nicodemo’s apartment. Here, in the notebooks, Kusuma explicitly stated that he visited to convince Nicodemo to exclude Fornax from the major UMDE-related negotiations. But, upon entering the apartment, he found Nicodemo’s corpse. Kusuma searched the apartment and found reference to smuggling operations through Alderrow, which led to the Auroch incident.
Kusuma ransacked the Auroch, which Amber, Cecilia, and I just happened to be aboard. In the vegetables, he found Phoenix salt, solidifying his opinion that Fornax should be completely separated from the UMDE’s actions, or else they would dominate everything.
The core, causal link seemed to be between Kusuma and phoenix salt, but I couldn’t complete the puzzle.
Kusuma hated the Fornax family.
Kusuma believed the Fornax family’s involvement with phoenix salt meant we’d dominate UMDE negotiations.
The solution was straightforward but difficult. I needed to learn more about Kusuma and my family’s involvement with Phoenix salt. Somehow, learning about the man who flew away as a ball of fire sounded easier than learning about my own family.
Worse, still, were my physical limitations: I fought against fatigue but couldn’t sleep until one particular topic was discussed. Missing it meant irrevocable impact on my life, so I felt. Yet, the room felt so warm, and the recliner so soft. I started to drift off, but when my eyes closed, a surge and tightness rushed up through my chest. Sensation of falling. Vertigo. So much air, but I couldn’t breathe.
Terror pushed me from the recliner. I stumbled and held doorframes and pushed through strangers to reach the kitchen. Nobody noticed one more frenetic person among the dozens in the house. I escaped through French doors onto the patio and tried to breathe, yet still I couldn’t fill my lungs. Nausea overwhelmed me. I gagged over the patio’s railing. Saliva coated my mouth, but I had almost nothing in my gut. I spat acid-green saliva and turned and found my reflection in the glass and didn’t experience shock so much as uneasy acceptance. I was sooty and sweat-stained and speckled with blood not my own. Bruises already formed on parts of my face and shoulder.
Another face overlapped my reflection. The French doors opened.
‘Vic?’ said Amber.
‘Yeah?’ I exhaled.
‘Are you…?’
‘Tired.’
Amber limped onto the patio. Her physical state was worse than my own—pale from blood loss and calf coated in recently-dried blood like a red sock—but she held herself resolute.
‘Stefan and your dad want to talk to me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Now. They said it can’t wait.’
I glanced through the glass. Multiple figures moved, but I sensed among them two tense outliers.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
In my periphery, Amber watched me. ‘I thought it might help if you were there.’
‘Why?’
Taken aback, Amber didn’t have an immediate answer. As she looked away, I stole the chance to observe her. She had the eyes and words of a friend. She wanted from me, not my family, and in a way more like rescue than benefit. The brief moment had an edifying quality: The versatility of what it meant to ask for help.
‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ Amber admitted. ‘I didn’t mean to find a new constellation, but I have, and that means a lot to a lot of people. It means a lot to my friends.’
‘What’s stopping you from helping them, then?’
‘Nothing, I guess.’
The air stung my face. I ignored external stimuli; I had to choose my words carefully. ‘So, you’re not sure what to do with your magic?’
‘Kusuma kept asking what I planned, but I don’t know.’ She faced me, imploringly. ‘Do you have a plan for when you get Fornax magic?’
‘I do.’
She groaned. ‘See what I mean? I’m the only mage without a plan.’
Now, I thought. ‘Doesn’t sound so bad.’ I pushed from the railing with renewed energy. ‘Think of it this way: You have amazing power, which is great, but it’s stressful. Everyone wants it, or they want you. Going along with someone else’s plan is the easy path.’
‘I don’t get it.’
I gestured to the house. ‘If you go in there with Stefan Hunter and my father, they’ll offer you a plan. One, perhaps both, might have a good plan, but it’ll be theirs, not yours.’
‘Stefan’s my friend.’ Amber swallowed and nodded. ‘He might have a good plan, but if I don’t like it, I have to say something. It’s my own fault if I don’t speak up.’
‘Exactly,’ I said, and inched toward the house. ‘We’ll go in there and make sure they know that you’re more than your powers.’
Amber didn’t budge. ‘I don’t know what I want.’
‘You will.’ I had to utter it to make it true. ‘I’ll be right beside you.’
Amber looked across the lawn like she wanted to vault the railing and limp into the night, until she turned from the option and fell into step with me. We entered the house, our footfalls uneven upon the tiles.
#
The meeting about Amber was less dramatic than I expected. It involved Stefan Hunter and Wei Yao on one side, with my father and Juroga Drakon on the other. None of those four had expected Amber and I to form a third side, and though they objected, I made it clear that I wasn’t going to leave Amber’s side.
My presence seemed to affect their planned negotiations. My family agreed to keep Amber’s secret because she’d been instrumental in the assault on Kusuma’s compound. Oh, and she’d saved my life. With that said, Wei and my father were open to the idea of helping each other more often, especially if that included Amber’s unique powers.
That’s where I stepped in.
‘You can’t force her to do anything.’
‘Of course not,’ Father said. ‘The Hunter-Yao gang would be fairly compensated.’
‘What about the things Amber wants?’
All eyes turned to Amber, who slumped deeper in her chair and looked like she wanted to slide off it and under the table. I touched her shoulder, running a thumb gently back and forth. My concentration waned; I’d felt a cold spot, as if Amber had a cube of ice under her shirt. I didn’t think about it for more than a second, for Amber now sat resolute. She declared:
‘I want to stay at Vandagriff Academy.’
The answer caught all of us unprepared. Since she already had magic, I’d assumed she’d go for something…loftier? The other sides looked ready to make suggestions, but I managed to speak first.
‘It’s a good idea,’ I said, needing to spin the benefits of Amber staying at Vandagriff. ‘The whole city’s looking for the new mage, so why would they look in the place where kids don’t have magic yet?’
‘She’ll be expected to complete a Deal after junior-2,’ Wei Yao remarked.
‘That’s almost two years away,’ I countered. ‘And, besides, some kids can’t handle a Deal until far into senior-1.’
Father massaged his knuckles. ‘If she wants training, we can hire private tutors.’
‘The fewer people who know, the better; training at Vandagriff insulates us. In fact, I’ll help train her.’
‘You will?’ Father said.
‘You will?’ Amber echoed.
‘It’ll be mutually beneficial.’ If we practice together now, I thought, we’ll work well together when I have Fornax magic.
‘Well…’ Stefan Hunter shrugged. ‘If Amber’s happy to stay there.’
‘I’m uncertain we can sustain her tuition costs,’ Wei Yao interjected.
Emboldened by my progress, I boldly professed that I would handle the costs. At this, Father smirked and reminded me that, as his daughter, he paid for my tuition. And living expenses. And pretty much everything else.
‘I’ll make it work,’ I said. I could sell most of my belongings, convince my parents to rent out my bedroom, get a part-time job at Vandagriff’s library, manipulate peers and faculty for loans—whatever it took, I’d keep Amber close to me. I’d told Amber that she’d know what she wanted in the moment, but I hadn’t thought my own convictions might manifest in the same way.
‘There’s still things to iron out,’ Father said, rising, ‘but these conditions are sufficient for now.’
‘Agreed.’ Wei Yao shook hands, while Stefan Hunter went to Amber. She stayed seated as he hugged her, told her to stay safe, and looked at me from over her shoulder. I couldn’t read his expression. Perhaps there was nothing to read. I might have projected it, but I sensed wariness – even disgust.
Those assembled split up, returning to their tasks around the still-active household.
Because Amber left with the Hunter-Yao gang, I went upstairs. Samara and Dust tried to talk to me, but I lacked the energy to respond. I traipsed past them, zombielike, and needed a shower. I had to peel my clothes off, so thickly did sweat and soot make them cling. My whole body ached. I sat on the bathtub’s rim, started to fall asleep, and almost tipped back. I swore. Multi-angled mirrors allowed me to inspect the bruises across my body. I swore again. Showering hurt, in a nice way.
I’m not positive if I towelled off or got changed before I traipsed to my bedroom, but somehow I ended up in my bed. And there I stayed for many, many hours.
#
For the next couple days, I stayed away from Vandagriff. My parents handled communication with relevant parties, and we had guards around the house to keep overzealous media from entering the grounds.
I mostly stayed in my bedroom to scrutinise Kusuma’s diary in secret. I had to understand him, and this is what I learned:
Kusuma wanted to become a CEO, like in pre-Dusk days, and he cited names unknown to me, evidently men he idolised named George Washington, Alfred Deakin, Tim Cook, and more.
Halfway through, the diary drifted to a less grounded tone, when Kusuma wrote of his flights across Australia. According to him, he’d seen more of the country than anybody else alive. He’d spent prolonged periods in Perth, Darwin, Hobart, and surviving towns, places that only daring clans had visited. It had warped his perception of humanity. They were small, and he was big. The not-so-subtle writings of self-apotheosis left a sour taste in my mouth.
His CEO aspirations and delusions of godhood combined into a final vision for Melbourne, and perhaps all cities across the country: A mage-based meritocracy. Cities led by mages. Decisions governed by mages. He’d been in the process of convincing the other Erudite mages to join him. Hence, my family passing power through bloodlines represented the antithesis of his vision.
The diary’s latter pages brought me more than a little delight, for I read of Kusuma’s panic when he learned Amber, Cecilia, and I had survived the Auroch crash. He had sent out Rail Snakes to find the identity of the new mage, while also finding disreputable mages to serve as assassins.
For an odd aside, I learned the names of the three assassins. The information didn’t serve my main objective, but I didn’t want to readily forget it, either. Until reading the names, I don’t think I understood that Amber and I had killed the Caelum mage. Father had burned the Aquarius mage down to the bone. Self-defence or not, I’d have to face what I did. Later. Eventually.
I heard noises downstairs, stashed the diary under my mattress, and went to investigate. My parents and siblings, house staff, and associates were in the main living room opening champagne and playing jazz music. I asked Octavia why, and she informed me that the UMDE had delayed negotiations indefinitely, with rumours of a complete overhaul toward how the four cities should, or shouldn’t, be unified.
Additionally, the UMDE agreed to make George “Small G” Stanton Jr. the new representative for Melbourne.
If you’re like me, you’re probably thinking: Who the heck is George “Small G” Stanton Jr.? Well, he was the previous underboss, before Juroga Drakon took over. Word was he got bored in retirement and agreed to facilitate negotiations in the city. Whoever the UMDE had running background checks must have been senile because Small G’s appointment to the role basically guaranteed bias toward our family. The other factions in Melbourne couldn’t complain too much without sounding anti-unity.
There was also a huge bounty out for Kusuma. Dead or alive. So, yeah, champagne sounded like a good idea.
I gave general greetings to the party. Hugged Juroga and smelled his intense cologne. Gossiped with my cousins, Lysander and Lillian, about students and faculty at Vandagriff. Asked Darden about his ankle. Helped the staff a bit: Yvonne with trays, Waldipitou—the chef—with bringing out dishes.
All the while, I got closer and closer to my target.
‘Hey, listen,’ I said to Octavia, pulling her aside, and then out of the living room. ‘Do you know much about Phoenix salt?’
Her gaze shot back to the celebration, and then around the hall. ‘Can this wait, Vic?’
‘Please, at least tell me this much: Are we smuggling it?’
Octavia sighed and crossed her arms in a pretty good imitation of Father. ‘Fine. Yes. But we’re only distributors.’
‘We’re middlemen?
The word aggrieved Octavia. ‘Product comes in, we ship it out to clients.’ She winced, more anxious than tired.
‘What kind of clients?’
‘It varies.’
‘I didn’t think smuggling suited us.’
‘That’s what I said.’ A weight appeared to lift from my sister’s shoulders. ‘If it’s any consolation, we weren’t keen, but most of our ventures are flagging. I’m running around, propping up shit, dealing with rats and Snakes, while Juroga and Darden—I’m not blaming them, okay? I know the shit they’re dealing with, but I wish they’d understand that I’m one person. Dad can make blue fire, but I can’t, literally and metaphorically, you know what I mean?’
I made noncommittal noises.
‘So smuggling was necessary, and now it’s a pillar of our operation, alongside manufacturing. And—fuck. Fucking porno is keeping us afloat. Fregin is as Fregin does, spoons and all, but he somehow knows how to run the porno business. You know what he told me the other day? He thinks his magnum opus is going to be Moby’s Dick, a one-hundred-and-eighty minute epic about Ahab fucking his way through Melbourne to find an albino woman.’
…What?
Octavia sighed for a third time, pumping her shoulders, raising her eyebrows like she’d thought of something fortunate. ‘From a certain perspective, we’re in a stronger position, but our influence is more narrow, which makes us more vulnerable.’
‘The Phoenix salt smuggling,’ I refocused. ‘Is that reason for Kusuma to hate us?’
‘It’s not impossible. He worked for the UMDE, and the UMDE wouldn’t have approved of smuggling operations.’ Hearing “UMDE” from her own mouth shook Octavia out of her forthcoming state. An invisible curtain descended on her face, and she brusquely excused herself.
But before going back to the celebration, Octavia hugged me. Though hesitant and awkward, it had more sincerity than her usual, mechanical repetitions, a hug of choice not obligation. It had a noticeable difference: Unique pressure of her arms around me, weight of her head on my shoulder, no patting on the back. Then the hug ended and the usual Octavia went back into the living room.
Given how much she revealed, I suspected she’d longed for a confidant. Samara and Dust were closer to her age, but they didn’t engage with family business, and she couldn’t talk so openly with our parents. My relationship with her wasn’t bad, but we weren’t close like some sisters. Shared secrets about family business might be an interesting opportunity for us to communicate better.
That aside, I’d learned enough to draw a reasonable picture. Kusuma hated us for our involvement in smuggling Phoenix salt. What I really needed to learn was…
Why was everyone so fixated on Phoenix salt?