Disharmony

rapidity. I’m pretty sure that she just refers to each of them as “darling” because she has difficulty remembering them all. And my father – well, my father is in a place I’m sure you’re both very familiar with.’

She used tongs to drop sizzling bacon rashers onto the plate of eggs.

‘What are you talking about?’ said Luke.

Georgia slid a tray of thickly sliced toast out of the enormous oven.

‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ she said, using a knife to scrape wads of butter over the toast. ‘He’s in gaol, just like you were.’

Luke stared. Zac said nothing.

‘What do you want to drink?’ she said.

‘What makes you think we were locked up?’ Luke said.

‘Well, mostly your shoes.’ She carried the platter over to the oversized dining table. ‘I had a boyfriend who was locked up in Dwight. I used to visit most weekends. He wore those shoes. What are we drinking?’

‘Lots of people wear these shoes,’ said Luke.

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But you were in Windsor and so were the transit cops who were looking for you. Also – um, I don’t mean to be rude, but have you seen the state of your face? You look more like someone stomped on it than that you spent the past couple of days reading poetry at your private school. I knew straight away you’d run away from Dwight.’

She walked back towards the fridge. ‘I’ve got juice, Coke, coffee, milk or wine,’ she said. ‘And pretty much everything else, actually.’

‘What were you doing in Windsor?’ said Luke. ‘When you live in a place like this?’

‘I have friends there,’ she said. ‘Drink?’

‘Coke,’ Luke said.

‘Zac?’ she said.

‘Water,’ said Zac. ‘And I don’t eat eggs.’

‘That’s a shame,’ said Georgia. ‘You haven’t tried mine, though. Maybe I can change your mind. Still, there’s heaps of bacon here.’

‘I’m a vegan,’ said Zac.

Georgia threw back her head and laughed. ‘Well, of course you are!’ she said. ‘How gorgeous. A vegetarian escapee from a juvenile detention centre.’

‘I’m vegan, not vegetarian,’ said Zac.

‘And we didn’t say we escaped,’ said Luke.

Georgia sighed and pulled two cans of Coke and a bottle of water from the massive stainless steel fridge.

‘You know, champagne would have been great with these eggs,’ she said.

Pantelimon, Bucharest, Romania

June 30, 9.09 p.m.

As they approached the exit doors of the Ghost Train, Samantha felt like crying. Tamas would have to let her go.

‘Sam, what’s the matter?’ said Tamas. ‘Are you mad at me? You look sad all of a sudden.’

A flash of fake fire, the ride’s last hurrah, lit up his face as she met his eyes, the flame reflected in their inky blackness.

‘You’re going to let me go when those doors open.’

He laughed. ‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry. Boyfriends tend to hold their girlfriends more than once.’

Boyfriend! Her heart leapt. But the red doors loomed ahead like a waiting mouth and the feeling of doom redoubled. She couldn’t help it – for some reason, cheesy and lame as it was, she felt compelled to say it.

‘I’ve loved you my whole life, Tamas,’ she blurted. And then cringed in embarrassment. But she hadn’t been able to keep the anxiety from her voice as disquiet buffeted the cable car, blown in with the wind beyond those red doors.

He smiled and pulled her close, but she caught the worried look in his eyes. Then their cart crashed through the doors.

And the world really went to hell.

***

The first person she saw was Mirela. And Mirela was screaming.

Tamas pushed Sam down into the cart.

The next person was Boldo, the gypsy king’s bodyguard. He stood by the gates to the ride, his pistol held loosely by his side. He seemed relaxed. In the other arm he gripped Shofranka by the shoulder, her pigtails swinging, mouth trembling, her spectacles reflecting the carnival lights.

Tamas reared up beside Samantha. She could feel the anger fizzing inside him. He reached into his jeans and pulled something from his pocket. She heard a snick, and then the attendant coughed.

‘Um, you need to get out,’ the pimply boy said.

Tamas now stood over her, a switchblade knife in his hand. He completely ignored the attendant.

In the queue waiting to board the ride, somebody screeched, adding to Mirela’s screams for help.

A knife versus a gun. This was not going to work. From the hard plastic seat underneath Tamas’s straddled legs, Samantha frantically tried to summon the honeyed light to send it out towards Boldo. She didn’t know how the stuff worked, but maybe if she could send some his way he’d decide that the world would be a nicer place if he just packed up his gun and bought a kebab on the way home.

But nothing happened. Instead, Boldo told Tamas, ‘Send your witch over here. You’re making a scene.’

Tamas politely declined the request. ‘She’s not going anywhere with you, you pig,’ he called.

Boldo moved Shofranka a little further in front of him, tightening his grip. She whimpered in pain.

At the sound, Samantha felt fear and love jet into her bloodstream. She began gathering the energy into a ball, just like she had in the back of the van.

‘This will not go well for your family, Tamas, son of Besnik,’ said Boldo. His cowboy hat hid his eyes, his voice was gravel. ‘That little Gaje witch is not even your blood, our blood. She’s filth.’

There was silence for two seconds. Samantha used the time to gather energy.

But then Tamas spoke again.

‘Boldo, you need to listen to me very carefully,’ he said evenly. ‘I promise you, right here and now, that you will have to kill me to get her out of this park.’

The anger emanating from Tamas was white hot – Sam felt as though she stood in the centre of a bonfire. Her stomach recoiled at the strength of his emotions, and her focus shifted. The golden sphere in her mind dispersed into dust motes. Panicked, she tried rapidly to re-form it while she waited for Boldo’s reaction.

‘Be careful what you ask for, little boy,’ he said.

The ride attendant was on his radio now, his face milk-white. People had been drawn by the screams. Some held phones to their ears, but most used them to record the show.

‘Looks like you’ll have to shoot a lot of people then, Boldo,’ said Tamas, using his knife to indicate the growing crowd. ‘And the cops will be here soon.’

Boldo was silent for a moment. ‘Yeah,’ he said, finally. ‘I think I’m gonna split.’

He began to walk backwards, gripping Shofranka’s arm. Shofranka began to cry.

‘When you’re ready to swap your sister for the witch, you know where to find us,’ Boldo yelled over his shoulder.