Flicker (22 page)

“What kind of trouble?” Lee thought of how
Morgan
had reacted the first morning, of the cuts and bruises all over Filo’s arms, and wondered just how he was punished.

“It doesn’t matter. But if they ever ask you directly,” he added, “you have to tell them. Don’t ever,
ever
lie to
Nem
and
Morgan
. Understand?”

“Yes.”
She hugged the book to her chest.

Standing above a magic shop, holding a spell book and watching a Seer go about his work, Lee knew that she was into something bigger, stranger and far more dangerous than she’d dared to think. She thought of
Neman
and
Morgan
, of their ferocious tempers and quick claws, and was suddenly uncertain if she would make it out of here in one piece.

At the same time, she was uncertain if she wanted to get out at all.
 

* * *

Nasser glanced up nervously as he strode down the sidewalk. The building across the street looked dif
ferent than it had this morning: Thick
vines spilled over the edges of the roof, and huge, exotic flowers stood like saplings against the sky.

Magical energy radiated from the plants, reaching as far down as the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Nasser felt it: a warm tingling in the air. The passersby
sensed
it, too, even if they didn’t realize
it. They hunched their shoulders
,
walking faster
to get away.
The faeries were growing bolder as
Samhain
approached, as were most of the other creatures in the c
ity.
It was like this every year.
Nasser
hurried along, hands in his pockets.

The ancient apartment complex
where
Nasser and Jason
had lived for almost two years
was narrow and drooping, squeezed tightly between the buildings on either side. The building, like most of its tenants, looked tired. Resigned.

The door opened with a creak when he pushed it open. Inside, ceiling panels gave off inconstant white light, making the dingy corridors flicker ominously as he started up the stairs.

A door slammed shut as Nasser reached the second f
loor landing. He
stepped hastily backward when he saw Mr. Snider bustling toward him. Mr. Snider was a portly, middle-aged man with deep creases set into his forehead and around his mouth from years of perpetual frowning. He was also the landlord.

“’Scuse me,” Nasser muttered, pressing himself against the wall to let the older man by. “And I’m really sorry about the rent. I’ll have it by Wednesday, I swear.”

Snider crinkled his brow. “
That
brother
of yours
already gave it to me.”

“He did?”

“
You’re clear ‘til next month.” Snider squinted
critically
at Nasser. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Nasser said immediately, though his mind was reeling. He hadn’t yet pulled together enough money to cover the rent, and he doubted Jason had been able to. Playing on street corners tended to pay crap, even for someone with Jason’s talents. “I’ll see you around, sir. Have a good day.”

“Hmm
…
” Snider
brushed past Nasser and disappeared down the stairs.

Heaving a great sigh, Nasser
rushed the rest of the way up to the third floor, his boots clomping. He reached their apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Nasser and Jason’s apartment was a cheap, one-bedroom affair. In the main room, a rickety be
d shared the space
with a couch,
two tables
and a secondhand dresser
. It was enough.
Jason lay on the bed in the main room, his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. He might’ve been asleep. As always, his guitar was beside him, a constant companion.

On the windowsill above the bed, a row of potted plants
competed
for sunlight.
Nasser didn’t keep t
hem
just
for use in potions
; he found tending to the plants relaxing
. Tasks that required precision and
attention to detail—like caring for
those plants,
or brewing potions,
or shaving every morning with the beautiful silver-
handled
straight razo
r he’d unearthed in a junk shop
—helped him to calm and focus his mind

“Water heater’s on the fritz again,” Jason said,
as Nasser shut the door
.
“In case you felt like showering.”

Nas
ser unlaced his boots
. “I h
eard
you gave Snider the rent.”

“Sure did. He came around this morning, banging on the door, shouting for the rent. So I gave it to him.
” Jason shrugged as Nasser crossed the room.
“
I also watered your plants for you. You’re welcome.
”

“What’d you pay him with?” Nasser flopped down on the couch.

“Glamoured newspaper.” Jason said it as easi
ly as if he were announcing
the mail had arrived. “Just like last month. I probably should’ve told you that before now.”

Nasser groaned
. “Where am I going, and why am I in this hand basket?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Jason asked, sitting up. “It’s not like anyone will find out. It was a good glamour. It’ll be weeks before it wears off.”

“That’s not the point. You know how I fee
l about cheating people
.”

“Well, it
’s cheat
or get evicted. Which do you prefer? Besides, it’s not like you haven’t glamoured old Snider in the past.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Nass. He doesn’t
really
believe that you’re twenty-
three
, and I’m twenty
. You just enchanted him into thinking that, so he wouldn’t ask any funny questions. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t have to glamour anyone to pass for twenty-
three
,” Nasser grumbled
. “I’ve been passing for eighteen since I was
fifteen
. I’m tall, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“But
didn’t
you?”

Nasser flushed. “Maybe.”

“See?” Smiling, Jason dropped
back onto the bed. “No
difference.”

“Yes
,
there is. But it doesn’t matter now. It’s done. We’ll just have to shove some money under his door sometime, when we have a bit extra, to pay the difference.”

“No such thing as extra money.
Of course,” Jason continued, “we might have
enough
money if you raised our rates. Enough that we wouldn’t have to
do magic shows in the park for tips
. How nice would that be?”

“Nice,” Nasser agreed.

“You’re too soft, Nasser,” Jason sighed. “You feel guilty when you
charge people what the job’s really worth
, so we get underpaid. I hate to break it to you, but there comes a point when being a good guy gets in the way of eating on a regular basis
, and the shows aren’t cutting it
.
Also, you’re a terrible juggler. The magical glowing balls are a nice touch, but dropping them ruins the effect.”

“
People
come to us because we’re cheaper than the shops
and other independents
,” Nasser protested
, ignoring the juggling comment
. “We can’t charge like they do. We’d have no business.”

“We don’t have any business
now
. Our last job was two w
eeks ago!
”

Nasser only sighed. He couldn’t say anything else without starting a fight. He tried to settle himself on the lumpy couch, but it was impossible. Eventually, he rose and lay down in the tiny bedroom without closing the door. The semi-darkness was peaceful.

“What’s her nam
e?” Jason asked. His voice
carried
easily
. “The girl.”

“Weatherly,” Nas
ser said, slowly and reverently
.
“Just Lee.”

“Pretty name.”

“Beautiful.”
He closed his eyes and imagined her.
Such pretty eyes.

“And she’s with Filo right now? Poor thing.”

“She was only supposed to stay at Flicker until you turned up.”

Jason
was silent for a moment.
“I
’m not sure we have room for her
.”

“Neither am I,” Nasser admitted. He tried to
envision
Lee sharing the apartment. She would
sleep in the bedroom. Jason would take the other
bed. Nasser would sleep on
the couch.
They would bump into one another like moths clustered around a light bulb.
It would be cramped and awkward and awful.
“
To be completely honest, I didn’t think this all the way through.”

“
That’s all right.
But I am a little worried about you, Nasser.”

“Why?”

“Because, Nasser—”
He could almost hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “
You’re
starting to act like
me.
”

Chapter Eight:

Distracted

Lee woke to
deep silence: heavy, oppressive
, like a spell that any action would shatter.
The light streaming through the window was bright whi
te, cold and searing. She rose and crossed to the window
. The sky wa
s gray, with shafts of white
light breaking through the clouds.

“Filo?”
Lee called, but received no answer.
She
gathered up the clothes she’d worn yesterday and
padded into the ba
throom
to wash up and change.

Last night, she’d locked herself in the bathroom, turned on the shower so Filo wouldn’t hear her, and allowed herself a few minutes of crying.
Sitting on the toilet lid
and feeling like her chest had cracked open, she shed tears for her mother, for Kendall, and for herself. She’d had to get it out of her system, release her shock and fear. But after, as she washed her face and tried to regain her composure, Lee made a silent vow:
I’m crying now because I have to, but after this, I’m finished. No more tears. I’ll never get anywhere if I sit around feeling sorry for myself.

Now Lee stared at her reflection in the mirror, reminding herself of that promise. Today was a new day.

“Filo?
” she repeated, louder,
as she left the bathroom
.
“You home?”

She shuffled into the front room and noticed a sheet of paper stuck to the door leading into the hallway. She
squinted at the cramped handwriting on it:

I’ve got stuff to do. Be back later. There’s food in the kitchen
,
so help yourself
,
but don’t touch anything else. It’s worth more than you are. Filo.

Annoyed,
Lee
jiggled the
door
knob. Locked. Damn. Lee had half a mind to find a paperclip or something to pick the lock when she remembered that Filo could cast spells. S
he
left the door and sat on the bed, sighing. Only
she was unlucky enough to get
locked in the apartment of a moody teenage wizard—or Seer, or whatever he was.

At the thought of Seers, last night’s conversation rushed back to her. Magic. She had magic—at least, that was what Filo had said.

Trying not to get overly excited, Lee d
ecided she would
get a few things done while Filo wasn’t around to stop her. S
he
pulled on her shoes.

She stood in front of the
other
door, filled with a vague sense of purpose that mingled with apprehension. She pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold.

* * *

As Lee crossed the worn floorboards,
she
felt unbalanced: It was the same dizzines
s she’d experienced
when she entered Ladders
, when the glamour over the building melted away
. Maybe it was the magic in the air that was making her feel this way.