slipped his other hand into the feathers. Jay-Tee and Reason joined him. Like him, they were transfixed by the bright yellow thing trying to push its way back into the house. He wondered how it had broken their skin. It was all smooth edges, no signs of teeth.
“Now,” Mere said. Tom closed his eyes, pushing circles of magic into the feathers. His hand tingled pleasantly as the magic built. Doing magic always felt right. Well, except that once, in New York City with Mere.
“Stop.” Mere snatched up the box and then tipped the feathers onto the thing. The golem slipped back under the door before the falling feathers touched it. Mere, Reason, and Jay-Tee pushed the feathers towards the sliver of a gap between the bottom of the door and the floor.
Reason let out a yelp and stumbled away from the door. Mere shoved more feathers into the gap. “Did it touch you?”
“A little,” Reason said, but she looked green.
They stepped back, staring at the back door. The feathers stuck firmly, as if held by glue. There were no gaps. The protection was working. “It’s gone.” Mere turned to Reason. “Are you—”
Reason moved her head slightly in what could have been a nod and then dashed to the bathroom.
Tom grabbed a clean glass and held it under the tap. The water ran hot from the pipes baking in the sun. He pulled the glass aside and let the water run over his hand until it cooled.
A deafening thud came from the back door.
“It’s him!” Jay-Tee screamed.
Tom spun around, water from the glass splashing out across the kitchen. The door was pulsating, liquid ripples running across its surface, making a sound like metal on wood that set his teeth out of alignment. Then the noise switched back to dull thudding as the door bowed into the kitchen. Something large and round was pushing from the other side.
Mere and Jay-Tee just stood there staring at it.
“Shouldn’t we—” he began.
“What is it?” Reason yelled over the thudding, closing the bathroom door behind her. She took the glass from Tom; their hands touched briefly and Tom gasped, jerking his fingers away.
“What?” Reason asked. No one else had heard him. She wiped her mouth, gulped down the remaining water. “Why’d you do that?”
“Nothing. Static or something.” It wasn’t nothing. Reason had felt wrong. For an instant her skin’d been like burnished metal—too smooth, too cool, not skinlike at all.
“He’s angry!” Jay-Tee yelled. Her cheeks were flushed. “He sure isn’t happy with our little feathers.”
Tom looked down. Despite the convulsions of the door, the feathers hadn’t shifted a millimetre.
“We made that weird-ass thing go away and he’s pissed,” Jay-Tee continued, still shouting. “We win. See?”
She was right. The door was still rippling, but more gently, and the noise had almost stopped. Tom felt like a giant hand had been gripping his head and squeezing and now, at last, was letting go.
“What can you smell now, Reason?” Mere asked.
Reason was leaning back on one of the kitchen stools. She did not look good. “Nothing weird. The smell’s gone.”
“Stopped by the feathers?” Jay-Tee asked.
“Stopped by the feathers,” Mere agreed. She looked tired.
He sat down next to Mere, opened his mouth to ask how they were going to find out what the thing had been.
“Are you hungry?” Mere asked. Tom closed his mouth. He was starving. Magic always made him ravenous.
“Yes,” Jay-Tee said tiredly. Reason nodded.
“How about pizza?” Mere suggested.
“Sure,” Jay-Tee said. “Hey, you going to order beetroot pizza, Reason?”
“Eww,” Tom said. “No one has beetroot on a pizza. That’s disgusting.”
Jay-Tee laughed. Reason didn’t say a word.
7
Old Magic
I ate the pizza without tasting it. I was trying to make
sense of what I had learned when the thing had touched me again. In that nanosecond of contact when the barest tips of my index and middle fingers had made contact with it . . . I had learned what it was.
“Now,” Mere said. Tom closed his eyes, pushing circles of magic into the feathers. His hand tingled pleasantly as the magic built. Doing magic always felt right. Well, except that once, in New York City with Mere.
“Stop.” Mere snatched up the box and then tipped the feathers onto the thing. The golem slipped back under the door before the falling feathers touched it. Mere, Reason, and Jay-Tee pushed the feathers towards the sliver of a gap between the bottom of the door and the floor.
Reason let out a yelp and stumbled away from the door. Mere shoved more feathers into the gap. “Did it touch you?”
“A little,” Reason said, but she looked green.
They stepped back, staring at the back door. The feathers stuck firmly, as if held by glue. There were no gaps. The protection was working. “It’s gone.” Mere turned to Reason. “Are you—”
Reason moved her head slightly in what could have been a nod and then dashed to the bathroom.
Tom grabbed a clean glass and held it under the tap. The water ran hot from the pipes baking in the sun. He pulled the glass aside and let the water run over his hand until it cooled.
A deafening thud came from the back door.
“It’s him!” Jay-Tee screamed.
Tom spun around, water from the glass splashing out across the kitchen. The door was pulsating, liquid ripples running across its surface, making a sound like metal on wood that set his teeth out of alignment. Then the noise switched back to dull thudding as the door bowed into the kitchen. Something large and round was pushing from the other side.
Mere and Jay-Tee just stood there staring at it.
“Shouldn’t we—” he began.
“What is it?” Reason yelled over the thudding, closing the bathroom door behind her. She took the glass from Tom; their hands touched briefly and Tom gasped, jerking his fingers away.
“What?” Reason asked. No one else had heard him. She wiped her mouth, gulped down the remaining water. “Why’d you do that?”
“Nothing. Static or something.” It wasn’t nothing. Reason had felt wrong. For an instant her skin’d been like burnished metal—too smooth, too cool, not skinlike at all.
“He’s angry!” Jay-Tee yelled. Her cheeks were flushed. “He sure isn’t happy with our little feathers.”
Tom looked down. Despite the convulsions of the door, the feathers hadn’t shifted a millimetre.
“We made that weird-ass thing go away and he’s pissed,” Jay-Tee continued, still shouting. “We win. See?”
She was right. The door was still rippling, but more gently, and the noise had almost stopped. Tom felt like a giant hand had been gripping his head and squeezing and now, at last, was letting go.
“What can you smell now, Reason?” Mere asked.
Reason was leaning back on one of the kitchen stools. She did not look good. “Nothing weird. The smell’s gone.”
“Stopped by the feathers?” Jay-Tee asked.
“Stopped by the feathers,” Mere agreed. She looked tired.
He sat down next to Mere, opened his mouth to ask how they were going to find out what the thing had been.
“Are you hungry?” Mere asked. Tom closed his mouth. He was starving. Magic always made him ravenous.
“Yes,” Jay-Tee said tiredly. Reason nodded.
“How about pizza?” Mere suggested.
“Sure,” Jay-Tee said. “Hey, you going to order beetroot pizza, Reason?”
“Eww,” Tom said. “No one has beetroot on a pizza. That’s disgusting.”
Jay-Tee laughed. Reason didn’t say a word.
7
Old Magic
I ate the pizza without tasting it. I was trying to make
sense of what I had learned when the thing had touched me again. In that nanosecond of contact when the barest tips of my index and middle fingers had made contact with it . . . I had learned what it was.
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