The Illusionists Read online

  Just come a little closer!

  Frith was silent.

  White took a risk. He made his way to the fireplace, carefully, as if Frith were a bird and quick movement would startle him away. He stood in front of him, close enough to touch, but he didn’t reach out, not yet. Too soon and it would ruin everything.

  ‘We seem to be bound to each other, you and I,’ said Frith.

  White’s blood ran cold.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We are.’ It was an awful truth.

  Frith half turned, his eyes flickering briefly over White’s face. White dreaded what Frith saw but tried not to hide it, which would only be too obvious. Instead he let everything show – a confusion of emotion. Too many signals.

  Then, there it was.

  There.

  It was the moment he had been waiting for, when Frith held his gaze. Inviting him. White moved his hand forward and clasped his wrist. Frith did not push him away.

  It would take just a moment.

  He wormed his way into Frith’s unguarded mind.

  He thought of green, dim coolness. Wheeling bird song. He thought of love and hurt, and cruel laughter. He thought of Oaker’s downy brown skin, dappled with sunlight. He found Frith’s tail, the line inside that tracked Frith’s everything, stretching all the way back and all the way forward along his life. He could hear Oaker’s voice, if he listened hard. He could see Oaker’s presence on Frith’s line, bending it like a rock balanced on a piece of stretched ribbon, distorting everything around it, drawing everything to it.

  White felt the wrist in his grip move as a vague feeling back there, somewhere. He pushed forward, holding on as tightly as he could to every sensation of the place he was trying to get to – the smell of damp earth, the tiny scratches of claws on bark, the way the grass would spring back against his hand if he pressed his palm against it.

  And then the grass was there, tickling his fingers.

  Frith was beside him in the clearing. He sprang apart from White like a startled dog, looking about him.

  ‘What the fuck did you do?’ he screamed.

  White stared at a Frith unmanned, too grey and sick to wonder at the sight of it. Frith out of control was embarrassing, and horrifying.

  ‘Where the fuck is this?’ came another scream.

  White only shook his head. He watched Frith stalk closer, knowing he didn’t have the strength to move.

  ‘Tell me now, or I’ll slit your throat,’ said Frith.

  White felt a panicky laugh rising, and the end of him if he should let it escape. He forced out the words.

  ‘Woods in Tregenna,’ he managed. ‘From your childhood.’

  Frith looked around again. ‘You can’t Jump someone without Talent,’ he said, eventually.

  ‘We haven’t Jumped. Not … in that way.’

  ‘You’re making no sense. Make some.’

  ‘We are in your memory.’

  Frith laughed. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

  ‘We are in your memory,’ said White again, levering himself up to a sitting position. Would this greyness ever dissipate? He had never felt so tired; it had sucked everything out of him. Cho had always loved it when he’d done this trick with her. It never used to be so hard to do, as a child. It used to be as easy as thought. Perhaps because children’s lines and memories were so simple, made up of such easy colours and smells and tastes. They hadn’t yet learned to complicate things.

  ‘So you’re saying that physically we’re still in your room, by the fireplace?’ said Frith.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But that somehow we’re now in a memory? That this … ’ he indicated the trees. ‘This isn’t real?’

  ‘No.’

  Frith laughed, threw up his hands. ‘How many other things can you do that you’ve been keeping from me?’

  ‘A few,’ said White. Frith watched him speculatively. White hated that look. It was an experimental look, the look of an engineer itching to take a machine apart to find all its secret workings.

  ‘You still do not believe me.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said Frith. ‘You wouldn’t claim such an incredible thing that you couldn’t prove. So prove it.’

  ‘If you go to the riverbank,’ said White, ‘you will find yourself there, and Oaker, at age fifteen. I do not know which moment it will be. Perhaps the moment he disappears. Perhaps in one of the hours you spend waiting for him to come back afterwards. I think it is dependent on which moment affects you most.’

  ‘Why did you do this?’

  ‘Because I want to hurt you,’ said White. He hesitated. ‘And I thought about killing you. But I cannot. I cannot do it. I am not built that way.’

  Frith laughed. ‘I see. Why now?’

  White was silent. He was reluctant to say her name, but Frith saw it anyway. His face darkened like a sky pregnant with storm.

  White said, simply, ‘You took Rue from me. When you knew how I felt about her, you took her away from me.’

  He wanted Frith to deny it. He wanted that very badly. But it was so wearily unsurprising to see that he had no intention of that.

  Frith sat himself back down beside White in an imitation of companionship.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘If you want to know what happened, I made a deal with the Worlders. I said that if they promised to leave you alone, they could have any of the new students. They just had to choose. So they sent Wren off to see which of them he thought was most Talented. I may have told them of your thing with Rue.’

  Thing was said with the utmost venom. White recoiled from the sound of it. Why did it still surprise him when Frith showed him the depth of emotion he hid so successfully from the world?

  ‘I met with Wren’s manager,’ said Frith. ‘He had apparently begged her to have the chance to take Rue, when he learned that you felt something for her. He really does hate you. Do you know why?’

  White sighed. He ached. Everything ached.

  ‘It’s because you’re far more gifted than he is. You were the first person he ever met whose Talent absolutely outstripped his own. I wonder if you’ll ever experience that in your lifetime.’

  ‘I have wondered myself.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Frith. ‘And that’s a dangerous thing.’ His composure was back, wrapped around him like a cloak.

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Frith was looking out across the clearing they were sat in.

  ‘Are we going to fight?’ he said. ‘I have a knife with me, memory or no. I can still feel it in my boot. I have several ways to kill you on my person. Can you die here?’

  ‘I do not know,’ said White. He collapsed as Frith leapt on him. The ground smacked against his back and shook his bones. He could feel the muscles in Frith’s thighs twisting and bunching as he was squeezed close. He could feel the prickling of the knifepoint at his belly. Frith was over him, on him, fingers pressing on his throat. He wheezed. He looked up into Frith’s eyes.

  ‘I don’t know what to do about you,’ said Frith, his face inches from White’s, his eyes carefully searching, as if he could find the answer he wanted. ‘You’re too unpredictable but too valuable. I argue and counter argue, I weigh the pros and cons of keeping you alive. I have done ever since I first met you. I’m good at decision making, but you fog me somehow. Do you see?’

  ‘I see,’ said White, his voice raspy. ‘Will you try to make me love you, too?’

  Frith recoiled. It was enough. White punched him in the face, as hard as he could.

  He couldn’t Jump about in the space of someone else’s memory – it wasn’t his to manipulate. He could only move into it and out of it, and right now was far too soon for out. He hoped that Frith would not realise in time what power he had here in his own mind.

  Frith was sat back, shaking his head. He would be up in a second. White dragged himself to his feet and leaned back against a tree, watching him. His hand was buzzing in shock. Soon enough it would hurt, even in a memory. The mind replicated whatever it cou
ld.

  Frith stood up slowly. He touched a finger to his nose and it came away smeared in blood.

  ‘Why are you throwing everything away for her? What the hell is so special about her?’ he said. The words were muffled and numbed.

  White just shook his head, too weary to try to explain.

  ‘She tried to sleep with me,’ said Frith, his voice thick and cold. ‘She came to me just before she left and she tried to sleep with me. She cares nothing for you.’

  White could see the child Frith used to be, so clearly. Frith’s weapons were leaving him. He had only child cards to play. Maybe, trapped in a memory from his childhood, he couldn’t help but revert backwards, growing smaller and less controlled.

  ‘No, she didn’t,’ said White.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I know.’

  Frith paused.

  ‘She’ll never understand you, White,’ he said, finally. ‘You’re something else, a creature apart. She’s just an ordinary girl with a bit of Talent. You’ll grow out of her. You’ll leave her behind. You’ll cause her pain. Do you really want that?’

  White closed his eyes, trying to will that poison voice silent.

  ‘What do you think will happen now?’ said Frith, after a moment.

  ‘I just want you to leave me alone. I want everything to do with you to go away.’

  ‘Will you go back to World?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You’ll go back to prison.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  Frith stared out past White’s shoulder.

  ‘This place is exactly how I remember it,’ he said softly.

  White heard the breeze setting branches far above them dancing, the noise like the sound of the sea.

  He asked the question before he could stop himself.

  ‘What happened to that boy? The hedgewitch’s son?’

  ‘He’s dead,’ Frith said, and laughed. It was a sharp, tangled noise. ‘He got run out of the village, eventually. His mother tried to hold the other villagers back, but it didn’t work for long. They said he was a demon, and that he’d use his gift for spying on them and reporting back to her. So he went up North. Used his talents to turn thief, and sold himself to buy food. He lasted a few months. There was a brawl one night between local criminal gangs. He got caught in the crossfire. He died. I don’t know why he didn’t just Jump out of there and save himself. Perhaps he didn’t see it coming.’

  Birdsong dipped and spun overhead.

  ‘Do you feel something?’ said White, curious.

  ‘I didn’t sob into my handkerchief when I found out, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘No, Frith. I am asking you now, do you feel something?’

  Frith shrugged. ‘He was just … someone. He was much less than he persuaded me he was. But then, we are easily persuadable when we’re young.’

  ‘But you think about this place, and him, often.’

  ‘Occasionally, perhaps.’

  ‘No,’ said White. ‘It is always there. I saw it. It influences everything you do. Why do you let it?’

  Frith sighed shortly. ‘Believe what you will.’

  They fell silent. The noise of the wood washed over them. White felt an enormous tug of weariness. It was the memory’s power. The longer he stayed here, the harder it would be to leave. Frith’s mind would not let him. The grass looked invitingly soft. It was warm. Calm.

  ‘I am so tired,’ he said softly.

  ‘Stay with me,’ came Frith’s voice. ‘I’ll protect you. Just as I’ve always done.’

  He felt eyes on him, inviting.

  ‘You will hurt me.’

  ‘No. Not if you stay.’

  White hesitated a moment. Was he going to see it through? Was he going to live with it?

  Yes. He would live with it. At the end of it all, if someone stood in judgement on the things he had done, he would be okay about that. He would take whatever punishment was given him, and he would have to be okay.

  He walked towards Frith, who stood waiting, a small smile on his face.

  He started to let it go.

  Let it all go.

  The feel of Frith, the sound of this place. The hate that had begun to eat at him, the hate that smelled and felt like Frith.

  He was halfway there when Frith noticed what was happening.

  White pushed, hard. He had very little time.

  The last image he had as he left was of Frith giving a scream of fury and pulling his knife. But it was too late. He’d gone, leaving Frith stuck in his own memory, alone.

  When he woke, it was to find himself standing by the fireplace as before. Frith was beside him. White let go of his wrist and took an alarmed step backwards, stumbling on legs that felt like a stranger’s.

  Frith didn’t move.

  White reached out a hand. It was a bad idea, but he had to make sure. He pushed Frith on the shoulder. His body gave under the push, but nothing more happened.

  ‘Frith,’ he said.

  Frith was silent. He blinked, once, but his gaze stayed on the grate.

  ‘Frith,’ said White again.

  This was worse, much worse, than he had thought it would be. He had been expecting something like sleep, peaceful and unaware. But Frith’s eyes were wide open, and he stood as he would at any other moment. He had not collapsed, moved or done anything. He just wasn’t there any more.

  He was trapped in a memory.

  White backed up to the door, in case. There was a part of him that was convinced Frith was pretending, that he would start to move, stir to life, and look around for him. He couldn’t stop watching. If he took his eyes away, Frith would come back.

  But then, Frith wasn’t Talented. White knew what a horrible, relentless pull that memory would have on him. He might never get out.

  And even if he did, White would be well away from him.

  You’re supposed to kill him now. Kill him so you never have to worry about him again.

  But White couldn’t do that. He saw that now, as clear as anything in his life. He saw himself as a murderer and laughed at the idea of it. Take a knife, walk up to Frith and stab him with it? Feel it forever after, echoing in his arm at bad moments when his mind wanted to punish him?

  No, and never. The thought made him sick to his soul.

  So this, instead. A temporary death.

  Maybe it was worse than killing him. White had never left anyone trapped inside themselves before. He had no idea what would happen to Frith, over time. It was a horrible thing to do. A disgusting, despicable thing.

  I’m sorry, thought White. I’m sorry, Frith. I’ve done this to you. I’ve done it and there’s no going back.

  But there wasn’t any other way.

  You’d have had me killed soon. I know it. Every time you looked at me, I could see it. You’d have destroyed me the way you destroyed Oaker, and I won’t let you. You took Rue from me. You’ll take away everything I’ve ever wanted and you’ll leave me with nothing but you.

  I don’t want you.

  White pulled the message bell, then leaned against the wall next to it for a moment. He couldn’t bring himself to leave Frith there alone, uncared for. Even if there were cameras on them right now, it might be a while before anyone realised there was something wrong.

  Frith stared into the grate.

  White took a breath, feeling sick, and Jumped.

  CHAPTER 16

  WORLD

  CHO

  A faint popping noise made Cho turn her head, unthinking.

  There behind her was a face.

  She screamed.

  It’s the police. They’ve come for you. They’ve got you and you’re going to prison. You’re going away just like your brother did, but this time no one’s going to help because no one cares about you.

  ‘Fuck!’ she said hoarsely, when she realised who it was.

  Rue stared up from her crouched position in the corner of the room. She looked panicked.

  ‘I’
m sorry!’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to! I didn’t. I’m sorry! I –’

  Rue stopped, looking around wildly.

  Cho threw the T-shirt she was clutching at Rue’s head.

  ‘Don’t DO THAT!’ she shouted, her heart galloping.

  Rue seemed puzzled. ‘You’re not bothered?’ she said.

  ‘Bothered? Yes, I bloody am! You can’t just come barging in here whenever you feel like it!’

  ‘No, I mean … you seem okay with what I just did,’ said Rue, looking more confused than ever.

  ‘Well, you’re Talented, aren’t you? That’s what you told me last time.’

  ‘But … I didn’t think you knew what I was talking about.’

  Cho snorted. ‘Oh please. I grew up with one. You lot are all the same. My brother hadn’t the faintest idea about privacy. Nosy sot.’

  This seemed to shock Rue into silence. She opened her mouth, her face urgent, but Cho cut her off.

  ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ she said. Inside her head she winced at her own rudeness. Why did she have a pathological inability to just be nice?

  Rue didn’t seem the least bit affronted, though. She straightened, hugging her arms to her body. She was squirmy and furtive.

  ‘Hiding from someone?’ said Cho, wry.

  Rue seemed to struggle to answer this, turning it over and over before answering with a defiant, ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Then go away,’ said Cho.

  ‘I just need to talk to you,’ said Rue. ‘It’s important.’

  Cho sighed, her gaze on Rue’s face.

  She’d be called plain by a lot of people. Chestnut hair, but not even highlighted to bring out the red. Soft brown eyes, but no gold rings or colour flecks to make them interesting. Nothing fantastical about her at all. But there was something gorgeous, there, if you looked at her for a while. She was touchable. The kind of girl you wanted to curl up against and grip.

  Rue shifted her gaze to Cho, forcing her to drop her eyes. Harder to have thoughts like that out in the real, where blushes couldn’t be controlled. She cleared her throat.

  ‘So come on, then. Talk. What’s so important?’ she said.

  ‘I need help,’ replied Rue, simply.

  ‘You don’t mess about, do you? What kind of help?’