Song of the Day | Under the Milky Way by The Church| Spotify | YouTube
Mick convinced everybody that there was no further world-saving to be done on an empty stomach, and pulled some cheap pizzas out of the freezer. Soon they were drinking beer while Rowan and Red fended off an endless stream of excited questions from Mick and Kitty.
Soda was still laughing to herself as she went out to the garden with her hard-earned joint. It was a classic Brisbane sharehouse scene: rusty Hills Hoist clothesline with last week’s clean sheets still flapping in the sticky breeze, long, straggly grass breaking out in clumps, and a feral Bougainvillaea vine smothering the fence, exploding with lantern-like magenta flowers and huge thorns. An old bathtub was filled with dirt and various kitchen herbs bolting and gone to seed. She breathed in the humid evening air. The Stone hummed. She could feel it more all the time, and it seemed to call out to the living things around her. She had no idea what that meant, and so far no one would tell her. Her frustration bubbled. The waxing moon hung big and heavy in the sky, reminding her they were running out of time. She stuck the joint in her mouth and was about to light it up when a calm voice broke the silence.
“Hello Soda, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Sitting casually under the bougainvillaea on an old wrought iron bench, with one leg crossed over the other, was Evangeline Lorenze.
Soda froze. Panic and fear warred within her. The Stone started to glow under her shirt. The warmth reached into her heart, and coursed down her arms and legs. It made her feel steadier, stronger. Stranger still, there was the feeling that something was pooling in her hand, like invisible water.
She clenched her fists. “Are you here to kill me?”
Evangeline let out a low, melodious chuckle. “With all that firepower in your hand? We'd blow up half the hillside.”
She was speaking quietly, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Soda felt like reality was tipping sideways again. This woman, her face on billboards and buses and magazine covers, this terrifying villain who was planning to destroy the world, was in Kitty’s back garden.
“Please. I’ve had a long day. Are you going to let me hit that joint or are you going to let it set your hair alight?” She held out her hand.
Long, narrow, pale fingers and a perfect glossy red manicure. Soda looked down and saw her joint really was in danger of setting her dumb mullet on fire.
"Aw shit." She shook it a bit and handed the joint over.
Evangeline made it sound like such a reasonable request. She took a long drag, holding it in for a second then blowing it all out of her nostrils. She sneezed delicately and handed it back.
“Oof, you kids make the stuff so strong these days.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and straightened up. “Soda, it’s taken me all this time to find you, and the reason I’m not here with the cavalry in tow is because I’m hoping you’ll listen to reason. You’re in terrible danger with Rowan.”
“Oh yeah?” Soda was feeling cranky and tired again. “I’ve heard that one a bit lately. Seems like a matter of perspective to me.”
“I couldn’t agree more."
Soda looked at her joint longingly, but didn’t want to risk a puff in case of any funny business, so she stubbed it out under her boot.
“But it’s important that you have all the information. Rowan and Red are liars by nature, and they’re lying to you now. Rowan only wants one thing. The Stone around your neck. She’s waiting for the right moment.”
“She’s already tried multiple times to take it. She can’t. Neither can you.”
She was trying for a bravado she didn’t really feel. Who knew what Evangeline could do? Plus she had something nobody else had: the Book, the First Sorceress’s book of spells that could unmake the world.
“If you think she’ll stop trying, you’re naive.”
Soda’s chin set stubbornly and she folded her arms.
Evangeline shrugged. “Have it your way. But listen. If Rowan gets a hold of the Stone, she’ll try to use it. Without the other Artefacts, it’s a ticking bomb.”
“I promise I know that already. I'm trying to do the right thing.”
Soda's hand hovered anxiously over the Stone. It was steadying her. Like the smoothest dram of whiskey, warm and comforting. But the Forest was also there, waiting…
“That girl, the Artificer in Oakland? Why don’t you ask Rowan why she went to go see a specialist in experimental magic transfer?”
“What does that mean?” There was a glimmer of doubt in Soda’s voice.
Evangeline leaned in a little. “That’s right, she builds devices specifically to drain other witches’ magic. What a wicked thing to do to another person. I’d be careful about throwing in your lot with criminals, Soda. You’re in big trouble. You need someone you can trust to help you through this. I’m working with the Enclave on finding a solution to this madness.”
“Soda! Did you fall asleep out there?”
Soda spun around like she’d been shot, startled out of whatever strange bubble she’d fallen into. She looked back, but the garden was empty. No, wait. There was a business card, left on the seat where Evangeline had been. It only had four words on it, in spidery, precisely inked handwriting:
Hold me and clap
Soda stared at it for a moment, brows deeply knitted. Was she being had? And if she was, by who?
“I’m so outta my fuckin' depth here."
She pulled out the Stone, put her hand around it, and closed her eyes. I could really use your help, she thought, trying to send all her anxiety and fear like a prayer. Should I tell the others? Fizz-zap. That was a distinct no. Should I pick up the card? Zmmm-zmmm-zmmm. Well. Maybe it was a good idea to have a backup plan. Was it really so hard to believe that Rowan would try to take the Stone again? She even said she wasn't the same person. Not that Soda even knew any of these extremely strange strangers anyway. But Rowan in particular was totally opaque, either broodingly silent or bursting with anger. What a cowboy dickhead. Cowgirl. Whatever.
“Soda?” Mick's voice became a little more insistent.
“Yeah I’m still here,” she called back, and quickly snatched up the business card. It crackled around the edges for a moment, the magic a vibrant green. She pocketed the card, and put the Stone back inside her shirt. When it touched her chest, she felt warmth spread over her. She was just going to have to see things through. She walked back up to the kitchen door.
“Hey Mick. Put this number into your phone please. If you get into trouble, and I’m not here, I want you to call and ask for help.”
“Soda. This is all pretty exciting but I’m a bit worried about you, hey. If I’m honest.”
Mick was really young, wasn’t he? Soda studied his face, still a bit round with baby fat, well on his way to being strong-jawed and handsome. But it was anxious and fearful too. He was looking at her for guidance. Do I look like I have my shit together? She wanted to ask, but to her surprise, she was actually feeling better. She put it down to actually having her own plan for once, instead of being tossed about like a ragdoll. The Stone hummed.
“Yep this is all really fucked. And it’s really dangerous. These people are so serious Mick, that’s why I want you to have the number. But only call it if things are really dire, okay?”
“Okay, okay.”
Soda surprised them both by dragging Mick into a quick, awkward hug. He grinned and swept her up in a bone-crushing squeeze.
“I love you Sodagirl!” He smooshed his cheek into hers.
“Thanks mate."
“Say it back or I’ll keep squeezing,” he said in a sing-song voice.
“Alright! Hurgh–alright, I love you too Mick,” she managed.
"You don't usually offer hugs." He let her go and pretended to examine her. "Did you get a head injury already?"
“Shut up butthead, and get this number from me.”
***
It happened much sooner than Soda was ready for. It was in the dark of the early morning. The nearby city was almost silent, sleeping, until a strange cracking and creaking started. Across the Brisbane river, in Davies Park, an enormous old Moreton Bay fig tree slowly pulled up its mighty buttress roots. It shook itself, raining figs and startled birds and possums, stood up, and began shuffling off. Sleepy residents in nearby apartment towers watched, baffled, and wondered what the tree knew that they didn't.
Soda was deep in an exhausted sleep on the living room floor. A cheap pedestal fan whirred, pushing the humid air about fruitlessly. Soda didn’t notice the careful and deliberate movements around her, or even the gentle feeling of a small chunk of her hair being snipped off.
Instead, she dreamed of the Dark Forest.
But this time it was different. There was a voice, she realised. She hadn’t heard another voice here before. It seemed to slither directly from the darkness around her into her ears.
“This is the promise that was made to us. This is the price you must pay for power. This is the way of all things. Shadow and light. Good… and bad.”
Soda whipped around, trying to see who was talking. “But I don’t want any power! I just don’t want to die! I don’t want my friends to die!”
Pairs of deep red eyes appeared, glinting with animal madness. She flinched violently, clutching the Stone through her shirt.
“The deal has been struck. You are here. The deal has been struck. This is the price.”
“But I can’t even use it!”
Soda felt heat in her hand and looked down. She saw that the fist she’d made around the Stone was turning to shimmering gold, and it was spreading up her arm. Mocking laughter coughed in the darkness.
A pair of eyes broke off from the increasing swarms of Things, darkness flowing around like a cloak. It approached the edge of the clearing, forming into the shadow of a massive boar. Even though she was certain to die, dream logic fixed her in place. It paced just beyond the edge of the light, its eyes and tusks dripping oily flames.
“You are weak. You will not see what is already true. You are here. The price has been paid.”
“I’m not weak. I’m just overwhelmed! I don’t know what to do!”
“Then others will decide for you.”
Soda woke abruptly. She was suspended in the air, and she couldn't move. She tried to drag herself upright but could only inch her head up to look around. Rowan was standing beneath her, sparking purple static, her eyes filled with bright light. The room boiled with an invisible thunderstorm rolling out of a cube-shaped device that had been set on the ground between them. It was small and silver with complicated geometric etchings on its surfaces.
“What…the…fuck…?” Anger surged. Really? She was really going to do it? After everything they’d been through?
“Please understand I’m trying to help you Soda." Rowan's voice was dreamy and calm, with fizzy edges.
“How…does this…help…”
“The Stone is far too dangerous to stay in your care. You and your friends are going to get killed, and I don’t want to be responsible for any more innocent deaths.”
Soda struggled furiously. The air was getting thicker. She turned her head with agonising difficulty and spotted Big Red in the doorway.
“Red! Do…something!”
He stayed where he was, tail lashing. “Sorry kid. She’s right. You need to be protected.”
Soda’s eyes welled with tears. Rowan had been expected. Red really stung. How dare they. How fucking dare they think so little of her. Hadn’t she been chosen? The price was already paid! Heat flooded her cheeks, and she felt her heart swell. The Stone began to sing its pure crystal note. Molten gold started dripping from her fingers, first in little spatters, then in great glowing torrents. She felt the air clear around her and she fell to the ground, stumbling on her feet, but then straightening up. Wild magic rushed around the room like a hot summer wind. With one last surge that blew out every window and sent the doors bursting off their hinges, it was over.
Soda shivered uncontrollably in the ringing silence. Rowan had taken up a defensive stance, her hair and eyes alight. Red jumped in between them just as George appeared. Kitty and Mick were in the hallway, still tousled and sleepy.
“What the fuck you guys! Especially you!” She pointed at Red, who flinched. “Why did you think that would fucking work!”
“It should’ve worked. I should’ve done it sooner.” Rowan's voice was flat and dreamy.
“Fuck you! What happened to helping each other!”
“Hey what happened to the windows man?" George was pouting, but nobody seemed to notice.
“I must get that Stone!” Rowan rushed towards Soda.
Terrified, she threw up her hands in defence and made a solid gold wall between them. It showered golden sparks as Rowan crashed into it furiously and battered her fists.
“She was right about you!” Soda yelled from the other side.
“Who was?” Red sounded worried.
Well he fucking should be. The business card was still in her pocket. She pulled it out, held it in one hand and clapped once, as hard as she could.
“Evangeline! Help me!”
The gold wall dissolved. She caught a brief glimpse of Red, his face full of anguish.
“Ah, feck."
An instant later, Captain Esther Pereira popped into existence beside Soda. She put her hand on her shoulder and took the time to grin triumphantly at Rowan. Then they both disappeared with another pop.