Unreal Alchemy Read online

  “You looked like you needed cheering up,” he said in a deadpan voice.

  Yeah, right. I gave him a filthy look. “You friends with Holly or Juniper?”

  Skinny Goth Waiter smiled with all his teeth. “Juniper wanted me to punish you for skipping band practice. She said I could get creative with my methods. By the way, someone tweeted your location and there’s a bunch of thirteen year old fans outside who want your autograph.”

  I’m pretty sure I had a haunted look on my face as I looked up at the picture windows.

  Skinny Goth Waiter just about killed himself laughing. “I’m kidding,” he said. “But that was great. Can I get a selfie with you?”

  “Sure, just let me stick this fork in my neck real quick.” But I let him take the picture and even put a deliberately suffering expression on my face while I did it.

  On another day, I would have appreciated his trolling tactics for the minor work of art that they were.

  He didn’t let up on the sound system, so I wrote my angry This Is How The Band Breaks Up song to the background melody of Fake Geek Girl’s greatest hits.

  Magic is such a huge force in our lives. Even people who don’t have much of it — I reckon their lives revolve around it even more. My parents obsessed over how to keep it out of our world. These days, now I know how much power I have bubbling under my skin and how dangerous it might be if I let it loose — I can never not think about it.

  Even if I wasn’t such a freak of nature, I’d still be the sort of bloke who spends all his time trying to figure out how everything works, from the inside out, and magic is a big part of that.

  It’s not an original thought. Hell, pretty much every student at the College of the Real is trying to figure out how magic works, from first principles.

  But give me a band. A band — a good band, one that really speaks to people — is a perfect combo of instruments, performers, fans, lyrics, beat, heart. It’s all set list and history and atmosphere and singing yourself raw on a Friday night.

  No one’s ever going to write a thesis on how that kinda magic happens. But it is magic, it’s the best kind of magic, and it only works when all the ingredients are in sync with each other. Take one thing away, and maybe you can recover. Take two things, and it’s broken.

  I wrote, and I drank coffee until Skinny Goth Waiter cut me off and asked pointed questions about when I last ate anything, and I wrote more, and while that was happening my phone blew up with more messages — not from Holly this time, she’d given up on me after yesterday — but Juniper, mostly, harassing me about skipping practice in her perfectly grammatical texts.

  Dec, too, because I’d blown off a mirror raid I promised to play with him yesterday. I was letting everyone down, I knew it.

  I’ve never been real good at letting go of stuff, and I didn’t know how to let go of this. I didn’t know how to come to terms with Fake Geek Girl being that thing we did one time before our lives got started.

  When I was done, I had three songs, and they were all written for Holly’s voice, and Juniper’s cello.

  We were so screwed.

  I blinked when a plate full of grilled sandwich and hot chips appeared in front of me, like a mirage. Hebe sat across from the table, with that little frown line between her eyebrows she gets when she’s worried. “Will said you looked like you were about to keel over,” she said.

  “Who the fuck’s Will?”

  She pointed to Skinny Goth Waiter who gave me an embarrassed sort of salute.

  “Huh.” I started to eat the sandwich and discovered after about three bites that yeah, I was hungry.

  “What’s going on with you, Sage?” Hebe asked softly.

  And this was it, right? The point where I unloaded all my bullshit and she fixed it somehow, or at least helped me come to terms with what couldn’t be fixed. That’s how it usually goes.

  Me and Hebe, fixing things.

  But she had a look on her face that was maybe not about me, and it felt all of a sudden like I’d spent so much time this week being pissed off at her mirror image that we’d hardly seen each other.

  “You first,” I said, and went back to attacking my sandwich.

  Hebe bit on her lower lip. “Well…” she said uncertainly.

  It all came tumbling out. How she was pretty sure — at least, Holly had put it together — that Ferd was a null, which made no sense, not for a third year Basilisk King, but if you put it together with the Thaumaturgy explosion last year, and the rumours, and the…

  I had my own side to add at that point, because it was pretty damned obvious in the alley last week when his friends were all powered up and I couldn’t feel a spark from him, and then again on the night of the fire alarm when he walked through the wave without a peep. But I’d been too wrapped up in my own head to pay attention.

  “His tattoo still moves,” I said thoughtfully.

  “That’s not him, though, is it? Magical tattoos are — well. They have their own sources of power.”

  I couldn’t imagine it. Moving through our world without any magic at all, that would be hard. I spent the first seventeen years of my life being pressured to avoid, ignore, do without it, but it was still there in the air around me.

  Going from that, though, from full-blown legacy student of the Real with so much family expectation to… nothing. How did a Basilisk King cope with that?

  “I guess,” I said thoughtfully, wiping up sauce with my chips. “If he’s lucky, he’ll find a cool place to live, and a bunch of new friends who won’t be all judgy and weird about it. He could flirt with a girl who doesn't see him as a stepping stone to the wealth and privilege of the Founders. He could enrol in some courses at that College of the Unreal I hear so much about. Maybe even pick up a few non-magical life skills along the way. And — I feel that an introduction to tabletop games and the wonders of the internet would help round out his experience of being among the Unreal peasants.”

  Hebe gave me the most ridiculous grin. It was a good look on her. “Sage,” she said fondly. “Are you suggesting that there’s nothing to be fixed here?”

  “Take it as a win, darling.”

  That, right there. That was a quit while you’re ahead kind of moment. I should have finished my chips, sent Hebe on her way to take things up a notch with the sizzling Ferdinand, and wandered over to see if Skinny Goth Waiter wanted to give me his number.

  Instead, when Hebe looked serious and said “Now it’s your turn,” I told her the truth.

  I told her that I was pretty sure Holly was going to break up with the band, to leave all the geeky in jokes and internet fame behind in exchange for a more normal solo career.

  And Hebe thought about it for about thirty seconds, then replied: “Well, maybe she should.”

  We were still yelling at each other when we got back to the house.

  Chapter 8

  Hurt/Comfort and Holly

  WEDNESDAY

  Hey Noracakes

  I know it’s been forever, and you’re busy selling out living a directionless and uncreative life working, but I wanted to check in.

  Big question, and no one around here is up for giving me an unbiased answer, so I thought

  Obviously I can ask Hebe because I can tell Hebe anything, but she’s so damned perfect and all our friends are really her friends, and how did that even happen?

  I’m pretty sure I used to be the popular one.

  Thing is, when I came back to the house yesterday because I was all weirded out by this lunch I’d had with Campion (yes, Campion and I are back together, he’s really grown as a person and no, no he hasn’t I have no excuse) the first thing I heard was Hebe and Sage going at it, really fighting, and you know they never fight, they didn’t even fight when they broke up, though it might have been better if they did...

  Back to today. Hebe yelled “for the last time, Holly is not my FAULT” and they slammed doors at each other, and I don’t even think either of them knew I was home.


  It wasn’t meant to be cruel or anything

  But

  So I had a question to ask you. How do you know when it’s time to stop?

  I mean, it was easier for you I guess because you graduated, and that’s like finishing high school when you realise something huge in your life is coming to an end, so maybe it’s a good time to finally break up with your latest terrible boyfriend, or start a band with your sister’s ex because he’s one of your favourite people in the world and you don’t want him to disappear from your life.

  But let’s say you didn’t graduate last year. Was it still the right time for you to quit the band? What if there aren’t any major milestones coming up, but maybe it’s still time to

  Campion thinks I should go solo, that maybe I’ve gone as far as I can with Fake Geek Girl.

  He’s a dick, I know he’s a dick, and I really need to break up with him again

  (but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong)

  Maybe I’ve gone further than I ever meant to with a band that advertises to the world that I have no idea what I’m doing

  I just

  This is the stupidest email I have ever written. I can’t even

  You were always really good at taking the stupid shit that I wrote and making it amazing. Maybe we should have called it a day when you left

  Juniper misses you heaps.

  I

  You are still the most cool person I know and singing Someone is Wrong on the Internet without you is so beyond weird that we’ve got a new arrangement now just to keep it making sense to us, and any time, literally any time you are passing Hemlock Square on a Friday night (or maybe a Thursday for Karaoke we’re not proud) come see us

  Love

  Hollyrageous xxxxxx

  Chapter 9

  A Gentlewitch’s Guide to Saving the World, by Miss Juniper Cresswell, Esquire.

  THURSDAY

  Step 1: Bond with a certain Mr Ferdinand Chauvelin over the many ways in which we are now disappointing our families, and also our mutual admiration for the Hallow sisters.

  * * *

  Step 2: Pause to unravel the amusing misunderstanding that we might in fact be romantically interested in the same Hallow sister. Thank goodness we’re not! Moving on.

  * * *

  Step 3: Talk to Sage to find out exactly what happened

  * * *

  Step 4: Smack Sage around his over-muscled shoulders several times because he’s a self-destructive moron.

  * * *

  Step 5: Talk to Hebe

  * * *

  Step 6: Talk to Holly

  * * *

  Step 7: Reconvene with Mr Ferdinand Chauvelin to lament how terrible Sage, Hebe and Holly are at using THEIR WORDS when it comes to things that FREAKING MATTER.

  * * *

  Step 8: Tea and biscuits

  * * *

  Step 9: Agree to an over-elaborate plan which involves Ferdinand and myself luring Holly and Hebe separately to the Desiree O’Dowd Unreal Library on Thursday evening, and locking them both in the highly unhexable resources cabinet so that they can talk about their problems without interruption.

  * * *

  Step 10: Arrange for Sage to collect them from their impromptu prison at midnight without telling him that this is so that the three of them can in fact have a sensible conversation about NOT BREAKING UP THE BAND GODDAMN IT.

  * * *

  Step 11: While awaiting the results, discover that Mr Ferdinand Chauvelin is entirely unaware of First Impressions, the BBC TV series from the late 90’s in which the story of Pride and Prejudice is retold as a non-magical alternate universe, featuring Julia Sawahla and Rupert Graves. Squee!

  * * *

  Step 12: Kick Dec out of his own flat so that Ferd and I can watch the DVD box set of First Impressions uninterrupted for several hours. With cake.

  * * *

  Step 13. More cake.

  Chapter 10

  Hebe and the Library Resource Cupboard of Doom.

  FRIDAY [about a minute after midnight on a Thursday night, that counts as Friday, right?]

  The key turned in the lock, finally, and Sage stood there to release us — a sheepish, guilty-looking Sage. “Before you start, this wasn’t my idea,” he said. “I think we might actually have broken Juniper…”

  “Not yet,” I said, and slammed the door of the resource cupboard shut in his face, turning back to my sister. “We’re not finished.”

  “You realise you live together, right?” Sage said through the door. “You have a really comfy couch at home, and also snacks.”

  I ignored him, and leaned against the door. “Say it again.”

  “You’re my sister and I love you,” sighed Holly.

  “Not that part. I know that part.”

  Holly took a deep breath and met my eyes, looking at me with a bleak expression. I don’t know how people struggle to tell us apart. My face is nothing like her face. “You and Sage have been falling over yourselves to tell me that I want a solo career, that I was always going to grow out of fronting a band that’s all about your nerd stuff.”

  I stared at her, because we had been circling this for hours, ever since Juniper and Ferd pulled their trick on us. We had, admittedly, spent an awful lot of the Resource Cupboard Discussion Time going over issues to do with Holly’s renewed relationship with Campion Merryweather, and why she had felt the need to hide it from me, and yes she was TOTALLY breaking up with him this week because OMG he was bad for her.

  But the band stuff — this was material we’d never actually gone into, not the two of us. It was amazing how you could live with someone, share a family and a house with them, and spend so little time talking about what matters.

  “We just assumed,” I said desperately, and hoped Sage was listening, because this was for him too.

  “You thought I was too shallow to write songs about things I actually care about,” Holly protested. “Like, I must have had nothing better to write songs about, so why not your shit?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I spend so much time writing and singing about things you love because —” and she paused there, running out of steam. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Don’t stop,” I whispered.

  “Can I come in yet?” Sage asked through the door.

  “No!” we both snapped at him.

  Holly twisted her mouth at me. “You and Sage and Juniper and Mei and Dec and Nora — you care about the things you love so much. It doesn't always make sense to me — you really don’t make sense to me like half the time, it’s ridiculous — but it’s interesting. It’s worth singing about. I’ve never loved anything as much as you love your fictional characters and their imaginary relationships and that secret language that you all speak —”

  “It’s not a secret language, it’s just how people communicate on the internet.”

  “WHATEVER.” She threw up her hands. “Do you remember the first song we did? Me and Sage, before we found Nora and Juniper and made it a real band?”

  I started smiling, because I did remember. “Time Agents Stole My Sister.”

  “High school was nearly over and we saw less and less of each other. I read Athena Owl, all fourteen volumes of that stupid bloody manga, because I was sick of not being able to talk to you about anything anymore, and I hated it.”

  I laughed. “You pretended to like it.”

  “I. Hated. It. I wrote the song because I was genuinely pissed off but then Sage helped me with it and somehow it turned out funny and you thought it was good.”

  “It was great. It’s still my favourite. I didn’t even know you knew half the in jokes you reference in that song.”

  Holly gave me a sideways grin. “I didn’t. I still don’t.”

  “Liar.”

  She shrugged. “I suppose I’ve picked up a few things over the years… and I do like the queer subtext in all your dumb shows.”

  “Sometimes it’s not even subt
ext. Sometimes it’s just text.”

  “Yeah, but those two dudes in The Bromancers are never going to get together, Hebes. Never ever.”

  “Is there hugging yet?” Sage said pitifully through the door. “Can we skip to the hugging.”

  “Nearly,” called Holly, and then she hugged me just to spite him. “Thing is, I started Fake Geek Girl, and I stuck with it, because I love the way you love things. The way you look at the world. It’s weird, but it’s interesting. I’ve never felt that passionately about anything but music, and I don’t want to make a career of writing songs about being a musician, that’s one step away from circling the drain.”

  Sage did open the door, then. He looked, if possible, about twice as pitiful as the first time he did it. “So you’re not ditching Fake Geek Girl to run off and sing songs about — I don’t know, love and breakups and boring shit like that?”

  Holly rolled her eyes at him as she hugged me again. “Sage, Fake Geek Girl is my band. If you try to take it off me, I’m going to go after you with that replica dwarven axe Hebe keeps under the bed.”

  “Also,” I said, pushing Holly’s hair out of my face. “All your songs are about love and breakups already. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

  Holly and Sage looked at each other and did their silent apology thing.

  “Come on,” said Holly. “I need to write a song about how dumb you both are. Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 11

  Generic Love Song (Something About Spoilers)

  by Fake Geek Girl