Discovering Magic, page 10
part #2 of Anaïs Blue Series
The shade had moved further down the street. Without taking her eyes off it, Anaïs ran to catch up. Running ungainly on her high heels, the librarian struggled to keep up. Anaïs stayed on her side of the street and shadowed the apparition until it stopped in front of a huge plate-glass shop window.
The shade reached into its suit pocket and produced a little square, gold-plated tin and a matching gold cylinder. The cylinder was no longer than its thumb. The shade turned its back to the window. It removed the cap from the cylinder and screwed its base. A bright-red tube of lipstick emerged. It flipped open the tin. It was a compact with a mirror inserted into the lid. Anaïs saw the mirror glint in the sun. As the shade brought the compact up to its face, the reflected sunlight flashed across the facade of the building.
The shade looked over its shoulder at the window behind it. It lined itself up so that it could see its own reflection in the compact’s mirror. Anaïs watched it pull its lips taut across its face and meticulously apply the lipstick. Satisfied with its appearance, it dropped the lipstick in a suit pocket. It pulled an embroidered handkerchief out of its trousers. The shade peered into the compact and patted its lips.
The librarian pulled up next to Anaïs, puffing.
The little witch frowned. ‘This is not good.’
‘What?’ The librarian tried to catch her breath.
‘The shade, it’s flaunting itself.’ Anaïs turned and assessed the librarian. She frowned. ‘You’re not very fit, are you?’
The librarian leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees. ‘Of course I am,’ Immi panted. ‘You try running in these things.’ She nodded at her stilettos.
‘No thanks,’ said Anaïs.
‘What are you worried about anyway?’ The librarian straightened and tossed her head dismissively at the shade across the street. ‘Perhaps the best disguise is one where you don’t hide. Nobody else seems to be worried about it.’ She cracked her back and looked down the street. ‘In fact, I think, if anything, it’s driving people away rather than attracting them.’
Anaïs shook her head. ‘No, I think this is going too far.’
‘You think?’ The librarian examined her own manicured fingernails and scrutinised the shade. ‘It looks fantastic. I, for one, am impressed.’
‘You would be. Are you going to take notes?’
‘Maybe,’ said the librarian with a hint of sarcasm.
Nan stepped into the line of sight of the two women. The librarian scowled at her for blocking her view and looked over her shoulder at the shade across the road.
The caretaker folded her arms and eyeballed them. ‘Can the two of you stop?’
Anaïs was irritated and also tried to look past Nan. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Stop arguing,’ said the shade.
‘Ok, then, I will do that,’ said Immi, not hearing the shade.
‘Do what?’ enquired Anaïs perplexed.
‘Take notes.’
Anaïs shook her head. ‘No, Nan just told us to stop fighting.’ She turned her attention to her caretaker. ‘We’re not arguing, Nan.’
The librarian pulled a face and rolled her eyes. ‘I’m not taking orders from a shade.’
Anaïs sighed. ‘Whatever! Listen, I’m curious to know who it really is. Aren’t you?’ She rummaged in her beret and pulled out her sunglasses. ‘Let’s have a look.’
Anaïs polished the lenses using the corner of her coat. She hooked the sunglasses over her ears. The world turned a reassuring shade of purple. She focussed on the shade. Her eyes widened. ‘Wow!’
‘What is it?’ exclaimed the librarian.
Nan turned to look at the shade. ‘Yes, what? Who is it?’
Anaïs was beside herself. ‘Wow!’ she said again.
The librarian puffed her cheeks. ‘Enough already with the wows. Who is it?’
Anaïs stared open-mouthed at the shade. She failed to hear the other women. She was dumbfounded. ‘You won’t believe who it is.’
Nan looked at Anaïs. ‘We won’t have the opportunity to believe anything unless you tell us.’ The caretaker became infuriated. ‘Tell us!’
Anaïs was preoccupied with her own thoughts. She doubted her first impression. She lifted the sunglasses and peered out under them. She repositioned them on the bridge of her nose. She tilted her head and knotted her brow.
‘No, maybe not,’ she said with uncertainty. ‘I’m not sure.’
She took the glasses off, dropped them in her beret and stepped around Nan. ‘Wait here. I need to get a closer look.’
THE LOOKING GLASS
Mirrors reveal all. Even the things we don’t particularly want to see. They expose us to ourselves.
In the case of shades, mirrors reveal their true selves. Mirrors enable them to see beneath their camouflage. In general, this is the only way a shade perceives itself. As a shade it is very difficult to see your own disguise. Naturally, you do see elements of your camouflage if you look down at your body. But if you look at your reflection you will only see what lies beneath. The only way to see your camouflage as a shade is in a reflection of a reflection.
If you hold something up to a mirror you will see it in reverse. This is particularly obvious when you hold a piece of text up to a mirror. It is disguised. Not only is it in reverse, it is inverted. If you use a second mirror the text will be reversed once more. The original will become apparent. It will be revealed as it truly is. It’s magic.
Most shades are unaware of this trick. Most of them assume the rest of the world is able to see the real them. This is not surprising, as it is the way they see themselves. On rare occasions shades have come to understand the nature of their predicament. However, without outside help very few crack the secrets hidden behind a mirror.
Naturals have always had a soft spot for preening themselves in front of reflective surfaces. A high quality mirror was very difficult to come by in ancient times and the modern mirror was not advanced until the Venetians set their minds to it. It’s not really surprising they were the ones to advance this technology, considering how self-absorbed and fashion-conscious they were. Also, they had the added advantage of being experts in glass blowing.
Before the Venetians founded a thriving industry in mirror making, a pool of water was your best option. Stones were polished for portability. Later, with the development of alloys, sheets of metal were used. However, the reflections were rarely flattering, or flat. It is a complicated process to achieve a perfectly uniform surface. In order to see a reflection, you need a smooth surface much more than something that is a particularly good reflector. Also, a metal alloy such as copper or bronze produces a tinted reflection. Perfectly fine if you prefer to see yourself with a permanent suntan. However, it requires a serious amount of work to keep such a surface clean and shiny.
The worldwide obsession with perfecting something to satisfy people’s egos continued. Searching for the ideal mirror took millennia. This did have the advantage of concealing the dead from the living. There are now considerably more opportunities to see them uncovered. That is, if you know where to look. Fortunately, most naturals are too busy looking at their own reflections and not those of others.
Developments in glass-making provided a better, although complex, solution to maintaining a polished reflective surface. Glass makes an excellent coating for a sheet of metal. Even with its advent, the flatness of a mirror could not be perfected. Blowing glass usually produces something that is concave, creating a distorted reflection. In the end, alchemy played a decisive role.
The global obsession with vanity got dirty. Where money is involved this invariably occurs. The first mirrors were very valuable objects and rumours abound that someone even offered an entire country estate for one. Supposedly they thought it was a good deal. This demand led to the final stage in mirror development.
Witches got involved in the spread of this much-sought-after technology. One of them broke the cardinal rule of not influencing the real world. Financial reward was not the catalyst; looking good was. Vanity is an affliction not confined to naturals. An especially vain witch, using her alchemist connections, encouraged industrial espionage. Strategically dropped hints were placed in open ears, and the technique of adhering a perfect reflective surface to a glass coating presented the Venetians with a golden opportunity to cash in. The modern mirror achieved near perfection.
In order for them to work properly, mirrors depend on reflecting a high quantity of light. Without light there is no reflection. So how do shades see themselves? They are shadows, after all. A light burns within all of us. Dead or alive this inner source of power shines through. I cannot tell you why this is or how it exists. Just take my word for it. Religious beliefs and other organisations have given it a name. Witches also have a name for it. They call it the source. You know you have it. You can feel it. As long as anybody exists on any plane, supernatural or natural, it is there. It is where we draw our vitality from. The source is an energy so powerful it will always shine through.
Anaïs was about to meet someone who had discovered the key to manipulating reflection. This shade was special. It was incredibly vain. This preoccupation was so strong it had helped it harness and take control of death—something quite odd, really. Its drive for perfection, for outer looks, had led it to the discovery of the simple but complex nature of mirrors. All this narcissism came from a lifetime spent in front of one of them. It had a deep affinity with the reflected image. It had found a way to see not only itself but also the camouflage that covered it. It had altered its own disguise.
This shade was an abnormality, an anomaly.
THE MISFIT
The little witch looked up at the shade and gave it a nudge. ‘Do you always do this?’
The shade looked down at her incredulously. ‘Excuse me, child, did you say something?’
Anaïs smiled to herself. It was a woman’s voice echoing in her head. ‘Yes, I did. I said, "Do you always do this?"’
‘Do what?’
‘Flaunt yourself. You know, parade around dressed like this.’
The shade pointed at its chest. ‘You mean like this?’
Anaïs nodded.
The shade slouched and put a hand on its hip. ‘There’s nothing wrong with this.’ It looked over its shoulder, lifted a foot and flexed its ankle. It examined its footwear. ‘Give a girl the right shoes and she can conquer the world.’
The librarian, slightly out of breath, pulled up beside Anaïs. ‘Can you please not take off like that?’ She studied the shade’s face, ran her eyes over the rest of its body and frowned. ‘What did it say?’
Anaïs turned to Immi. ‘She said something about a woman’s shoes conquering the world.’
The librarian grinned. ‘Oh! I like this one already.’
Anaïs rolled her eyes. ‘You would!’
‘Who is it, by the way?’
‘I’m not sure yet. I’m still checking.’
‘So, you’re a witch then?’
Anaïs took a step back in surprise. ‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘For a start you can hear me. You’re not the first one I’ve met.’
‘Really?’
‘Most of them are not as forward as you, but yes, I’ve met a few.’
‘Is that so?’
The shade nodded. ‘Just like you, they’re always warning me not to be so blatant about my appearance. They tend to worry I’ll expose myself. I usually tell them to leave me alone.’ She held the compact up to her face and examined her features. ‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate their concern, but I prefer to do my own thing. It is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. I like what I do. I do what I like.’
‘You mean you like it this way, being a shade and all?’
‘Of course! What’s not to like? Living was scary. Death is easy.’ She grabbed Anaïs by the forearm. Her grip was a little too firm. A cold spike ran the length of the witch’s arm. It shot all the way up to her shoulder and the entire limb went numb. The shade pulled her across to a nearby advertising pillar. It was decorated with shards of broken mirror. They were glued onto the masonry, completely covering it like a mirror ball. ‘Look! Do you recognise me?’
Anaïs squinted at the reflection in the collection of little mirrors. The image of the shade without its camouflage was splintered but still discernible. She saw exactly what she had seen from across the road. A woman in her mid thirties, crowned with a shock of platinum blonde hair. She wore a strapless, sleek, ankle-length dress which clung to her body and left very little to the imagination. Anaïs was delighted with the colour: a brilliant tone of electric purple. The shade had a slender waist and an extreme hour-glass figure. She pouted at Anaïs. The witch could now clearly see her face, which had been obscured before.
Her eyes lit up and a grin split her face. ‘I knew it. It is you. Marilyn? Marilyn Monroe?’
The librarian’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What?’
The shade swelled her generous breast and proudly proclaimed, ‘Indeed, the one and only!’
Anaïs began to shake uncontrollably. The shade’s icy grip had spread beyond her arm and through the rest of her body. It hurt and she grimaced. She clamped her jaw shut to stop her teeth chattering and murmured, ‘Could you please let go of my arm?’
Marilyn released her grip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Of course.’ She kneaded her hands as if trying to warm them.
Anaïs rubbed her shoulder and shook her arm in an effort to get the blood flowing again. She flexed her fingers and squeezed the tips together. The feeling began to return.
‘But …’ stammered the librarian.
Anaïs ignored her. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she said.
‘Oh, the pleasure is all mine,’ said Marilyn.
Anaïs went to shake her hand but thought better of it. Her arm had only just returned to a normal temperature. ‘Why do you take such risks with your appearance? Don’t you know there are unfriendly forces out there looking for people like you?’
‘Yes, I know. I’ve seen them. They are pretty easy to spot. But they don’t bother me. Well, at least, I don’t let them bother me.’
‘Anaïs? We have to go.’ This time the voice in her head was Nan’s.
‘Not right now, Nan,’ said Anaïs with an edge of irritation. ‘I’m talking.’ She turned away from the mirrors which now also held Nan’s image. She looked at the camouflaged Marilyn. It was a very good disguise, albeit a bit strange. ‘Now I’m curious. How do you get away from them?’
‘Easy. I’m a chameleon. I’ve had more than a lifetime of experience playing around with my appearance. If I want to, I am very good at hiding. Anyway, they always give themselves away.’
‘How?’
‘They’re never alone. There is always some kind of strange beast hanging around with them.’ Marilyn lifted her head and nodded with her chin at something behind Anaïs. ‘Just like that one over there.’
CONFRONTATION
A sly smile contorted his face. This was too easy. The Inquisitor let his hand drop and ran his knuckles over the dog’s hard head. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth. Tilting back his head, he shot a jet of blue smoke into the air.
He weighed the situation. This time it was different. They were in a group. A big target. They had no transport. Even if they separated and went in opposite directions, he would still catch one of them. One shade was better than none at all.
The girl had aged. It had taken him by surprise. Her face was the same. A little more elongated and thinner, but it was definitely her. Before he left, they had said she was special and to be prepared for the extraordinary. A pity they could tell him no more. At least he now knew one thing. She was not a natural, nor was she a shade. He could discount her. He was not there for her. Don’t get distracted again. She is only bait.
Just as before, the way she had been communicating with them had given them away. He ran his eyes over the group. The cross-dresser, or whatever it was, and the old woman. They appeared apathetic and lethargic to him. They had to be shades. He was not sure about the other one, the one wearing a fluffy coat. She certainly dressed a lot like the bearded one, but she was not a shade. She was also strangely familiar. Had he seen her before? No matter. Chances were she was a natural. More animated than the others, she did not have the vacant stare of a shade. She was alive and kicking. He could forget about her. Whoever she was, it was irrelevant. She was not a target.
He drew deeply on the cigar and exhaled, letting the smoke pour out through his nostrils. The rather robust shade, the thick set woman, would not be able to move fast. The bearded one would be hampered by those incredibly high heels. Excellent!
He smirked again. He was in control. It was a good feeling. He studied the girl and had a passing moment of sympathy for her. She was very young. He was not entirely comfortable with the fact he was dealing with a child. The shades did not matter, for they had squandered their chance at life and their time was over. A child still had something to live for, even if that child was not entirely natural. Not that he had been tasked with getting rid of her. What happened to her was not strictly his concern, although deep down it troubled him. Whenever possible, he was tasked with protecting the innocent.
Stop thinking like that. Do your job, he urged himself.
He shook his head to clear it, furrowed his brow and focussed on the group across the street.
Right, let’s get down to it then!
He twisted the dog’s chain tighter around his palm. He took a last long pull on the cigar, dropped the butt at his feet and ground it into the pavement. This time he would not wait for them to make the first move. He had the advantage of surprise. He checked for traffic and stepped out onto the road.
