Flicker (23 page)

This room was considerably larger than the other. Cases and shelves lined the wall
s, crammed with books
.
Tables dominated the floor
, crowded with bottles, dried plants, packets of powder, books, odd-looking amulets, and scraps of paper covered in Filo’s handwriting.
Dark beams split the ceiling. Bundles of plants, roots, mushrooms, and what appeared to be animal pelts hung from the beams
, dangling
above the tables
on pieces of
twine.

A brick fireplace was built into the far wall, the grate filled with ashes, directly beside a closed door.
A
pile of rumpled blankets and a flat pillow
lay before the fireplace
. Three windows brightened the righ
t-side wall. This must be
Filo’s workroom.

Lee picked her way
across the floor
, careful not to disturb anything. She tried the door beside the fireplace, but it wouldn’t budge.
Another
door stood half-ope
n on the left side of the room.
She pushed it open, stepping into what could only be the kitchen.

The floor was pale yellow tile, with a long counter covered in jars, piles of plants, and even more books. Cupboards lined the walls above and below the counte
r. Dirty dishes
were stacked around the metal sink. Beside the sink was a
n honest-to-goodness
wooden icebox. Lee had never seen one in person, and as she sifted curiously through its contents, she thought
of
the candles and the light bulb that
didn’t turn on. Was Flicker
connected to any electrical power source? She wondered if Filo was paying any utilities, and how water came to the building.

Lee
opened
the first
cupboard
.
It held a jar of peanut butter,
two loaves
of bread,
ten
or twelve glass jars of peaches,
and more
canned goods and
packages of Top Ramen than L
ee could easily count. Eyebrows raised
, she gathered ingredients and set about fixing herself a breakfast of orange juice and scrambled eggs, which she cooked on the gas stove.

After she’d eaten, Lee
washed
her dishes and put away everything she’d used. Though she itched to do some cleaning, she returned to her
cupboard
excavation, knowing that if she became distracted now, she might not finish later.

Glass bottles in various shapes, sizes, and colors crowded the next cupboard. She selected a slender, dark blue bottled and uncorked it; the liquid inside smelled sweet, like flowers. She tried another, this one short and bright green—and gagged at the noxious odor that erupted from it. Eyes watering, she hurriedly corked the bottle and opened the third cupboard.

It was filled with books: notebooks, ancient leather-bound volumes, paperbacks, more. She thumbed through them, eventually tucking a slightly weathered sketchbook under her arm. The next few cupboards were filled with more bottles and jars, stacks of papers, shoeboxes filled with odd little knick-knacks, notepads, and packets of powder.

By the time she closed the
last cupboard, Lee was puzzled. Somehow, she had thought that a boy who could change scraps of paper into money would have more food, or at least more variety. But she didn’t dwell on that. She still had exploring to do.

* * *

“A spell must be imagined with perfect clarity,” Lee read
quietly
. She was sitting below one of the windows
in the workroom
, the b
ook of magic
open in her lap. “The spell-caster must know exactly how his magic will behave when it is released. He must see, hear and feel his magic. He must smell and taste it as if it is already a tangible spell.”

Lee had spent the better part of the morning alternately reading and sketching with some pencils she’d scrounged out of a drawer in the workroom. She’d conjured up as many memories of the revel as she could, and tried to draw them, but nothing came out the way s
he wanted. She filled
pages with half-finished sketches of the same image: a young man with
dark
hair and emerald eyes, too lovely to be real and too real to be a dream.

He was so bright in her mind that she was conv
inced
she knew him.
But
he was never quite right
on
paper. She couldn’t capture the angle of his jaw, or the shape of his mouth. He was too perfect, and no matter how hard she tried to summon it, the artist—her magic, she reminded herself—simply wouldn’t take control of her limbs and help her. In the end, she became so frustrated that she set the sketchbook and pencils aside
entirely
and started reading.

In the movies, magic was easy. There was nothing to it but the wave of a wand and a few strange words, maybe a pentacle
scratched
in chalk on the floor.
Anybody
could do that.

But m
agic,
real
magic, wasn’t at all like
in
the movies. Ac
cording to the book
, willpower and belief had more to do with magic than wand-waving and special words. It was willpower that activated the ingredients in potions, and belief that made spells take effect.

It seemed
that magic was all abou
t focus and control, not just
uttering
an incantation and waving her hands around mystically.

“Anybody home?”

Lee jumped at the sound
, but
relaxed as the door opened and Nasser stepped
into the workroom
. He saw her s
itting on the floor and blinked
.

“
Oh—hi, Lee.
Is Filo around?”
He set
his pack on the floor.

“
No.
He left this morning. I don’t know where.”

The door swung open again. A good-looking boy with
tousled
sandy hair and slate-gray eyes leaned casually in the doorframe. He looked oddly familiar.

“Hey, Nass,” the boy said, nodding toward Lee. “Are you gonna introduce us, or what?” There was a lilt to his voice, something pleasantly musical.

“Oh. Right.” Nasser gestured between them. “Lee, this is
my brother
Jason. Jason,
this is
Lee.”

Jason stepped forward, extending his hand; Lee shook it gingerly. What had
first
seemed
like
only a vag
ue familiarity
was now an obvious resemblance: Nasser and Jason had the same hair and eyes, and their faces were similar, li
ke echoes of each other. Jason was a bit shorter than Nasser, though, and his features were sharper
, more defined. They certainly looked like brothers.

“Hello,” Lee said, and Jason grinned wolfishly.

“Nasser was right,” he said. “You
are
beautiful.”

Lee reddened, and when she looked at Nasser, he
looked
away. “Um,” she began. Nobody had ever called her beautiful before—not a boy, anyway, and certainly not one she’d just
met.
“Thank you?”

Jason’s smile widened. “No need to thank me.”

She managed to return his smile, though it felt lopsided and forced. She willed the blood to stop rushing to her face, suddenly certain that Jason was making fun of her.

“So,” she began awkwardly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Filo wanted Jason to come down and give him a hand with a few things,” Nasser explained. “I was going to leave once they got started, but since Filo’s not around, I guess we’ll hang around until he gets back—if that’s
all right
with you,” he added.

Her blush deepened. “It’s fine.”

As
Jason meandered into the
front room, Nasser plucked a book from the floor. He
retrieved his backpack, stowing the book inside. Lee gave him a puzzled look an
d he shrugged
.

“
This isn’t as bad as bad as it looks,” he promised, looking sufficiently guilty. “
You won’t tell Filo, will you?”

“Not a word.” She paused to study him a moment longer
. Perhaps Jason wasn’t teasing
. Why else would Nasser look away from her like that?
Beautiful.
What a word to be called. “I guess I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said eventually, and left the room.

In the front room, Jason was casually rummaging through the drawers of the desk. He held a compass-like object up to the
light
, then pocketed it.

Lee raised an eyebrow. “Do you boys steal a lot of things?”

Jason’s expression was carefully
neutral
. “Filo can’t keep track of all this,” he said, gesturing around the apartment. “This place is too big. He won’t notice anything’s missing. If anything, we’re doing him a favor.”

“By stealing his stuff?”

“He’s probably forgotten about half of this junk,” Jason insisted. “We’re just making use of some of his extra supplies. Is that so bad?”

Lee shook her head. “I guess I’m just wondering why you two are
making use
of Filo’s stuff if you have a shop of your own.”

“A shop?” Jason laughed. “Who told you
tha
t?
”

“Filo said you
have a place on the other side of town, so I just assumed
…
”

“Jason and I are independent practitioners,” Nasser
clarified
,
entering the room.
“There’s no shop. We just work out of our apartment.”

“And I take it you’re not as
…
well-stocked
as Flicker?”

“Not quite.”
He paused, then asked, “That book you were reading—where’d you get it?”

“Filo gave it to me. Last night.”

“Is he planning on teaching you?”

“Not precisely.”

“So he’s going to let you teach yourself magic?”
Nasser
asked dubiously.

“Is it that hard?”

“You bet it’s hard,” Jason said. “Screw up your measurements, and your potion turns into poison. Lose focus during a big spell, and you blow yourself up. Here. Look.” He pushed up the sleeves of his dark green sweater, held his arms out to her—and she gasped.

Jason’s hands and forearms were almost completely covered in burn scars, a strangely hypnotic pattern. The burns were slightly faded with age, but Lee could see that they had once been extensive. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“I did this to myself during a spell the summer before I turned thirteen,” Jason explained. “I shouldn’t have tried it—I wasn’t ready for a spell
like that. But
I never was very smart.”

“That’s horrible,” Lee said. Her arms tingled with imagined pain.

Jason shook his head. “You should have
seen
it.” As he spoke, Lee blanched. “Nasser had a real time fixing it, especially with me screaming like I was. The skin was hanging off my arms like strips of wet cloth. I—”

“What he means,” Nasser interrupted quickly, “is that learning magic requires a certain amount of guidance, at least when you’re getting started, and it’s easy to get in over your head.”

Lee bit her lip. Filo had tricked her. He’d given her the boo
k to keep her busy, like a child underfoot. S
he had magic, but he had no intent
ion of helping her
harness and use it. And
to think, she’d actually thought
Filo was
moving
past his initial dislike of her. She should’ve known.

“I guess that means I’m finished with the whole magic thing,” she sighed.

“Says who?” Nasser asked.

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone to teach me.”

“Well, I could teach you, if you wa
nt,” he
suggested.

For a moment, Lee was thrown by the statement. Then she recovered herself. “I’m sure you have better things to do than try and teach me magic.”

Jason l
aughed. “Not really.
We don’t have enough customers to fill the day. It would be nice to have something to do for once.”

Nasser
shot Jaso
n a look
. “If you’d rather not
, Lee
—”